Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three (17 page)

“So what did you do?”

“I told my date that my ex-boyfriend was here, and he'd better leave since Ben was homicidally jealous.”

“No way. The guy was afraid of Ben?” Ben was tall and had a swimmer’s physique, but he was so sweet and gentle.

“I told him that Ben was Chinese mafia and trained in the art of Bento.”

“April, Bento is a Japanese lunch box. I think you meant Kendo.”

“Oh, the writer was from some white bread place, he had no clue. He took off so fast he almost forgot his raincoat. Then I went and gave Ben a big hug and a kiss, and I joined him and his buddies for dinner. We had an amazing evening, and I’m seeing him again tonight.”

She eyed me. “Wait, you’re dressed up. Are you actually going out somewhere?”

“I have a date.”

“Wow, that’s great. It’s about time. Phil’s already out there, you know.”

“I didn’t, but it’s not surprising.” In a normal social situation, he got hit on more than a whack-a-mole.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“He’s a Canuck’s prospect.”

“A hockey player? Well, you do have a type. Is he a better player than Jimmy?”

I shook my head. Nobody was better than Jimmy. I started to wonder if this was a mistake. Well, one date was no big deal, was it?

T
urned out it could be
.

April and Ben were sitting on the living room couch when I walked in. The beauty of their no-sex policy meant that I never had to worry about interrupting anything intimate. They were holding hands and looking blissful.

“You’re home early. How was your date?” April asked.

I raised one hand. “I hereby vow never to date again—ever. So boring. He talked about hockey the whole time.”

April laughed merrily. “Now you know how I feel. But isn’t that right up your alley?”

“Well, it wasn’t like we were discussing hockey strategy or anything. It was more like he was telling me all the great hockey things he’d done. Whoopee.” I spun my forefinger. After Jimmy, Peter’s accomplishments weren’t that impressive. I’d already been there, done that, and gotten the t-shirt.

Ben gave me a sympathetic tilt of the head. “You’re probably not ready to date yet. You shouldn’t waste time with losers.”

“Too true.” Was he thinking how much better Phil was than this bozo? This was my punishment for turning down two great guys.

I
was slowly becoming a better
hockey coach. My half of the team was certainly having fun at practice. The day that Constable Reyes came with his radar gun was the best. He was an off-duty RCMP officer and a distant relative of Kimmy Reyes, the smallest player on the team. Constable Reyes was not that tall either, but he looked strong and commanding, and all the kids wanted to impress him. We combined the two halves of the team since everyone wanted their shot velocity measured. Between turns, I worked hard with my group to show them how to improve.

Afterwards, I whistled them together.

“Hey guys, we have something for you. From Mr. Kyrlenko.” That was Tommy’s dad, and he beamed. I produced a large vinyl floor tile and everyone looked stunned. “This is your mini-rink,” I told them. “You can take this home and practice your new shooting techniques without wrecking the floor at home. And you can use it outside. The main thing is to have the same smooth surface as the ice so you can practice the motions you learnt today. No pucks though, you’ll wreck the house. Use whiffle balls, tennis balls, even wadded-up paper balls—the main thing is to practice the motion. And tape your sticks beforehand and then again before games.”

Mr. Kyrlenko handed out a tile to each player. They cradled them like gold bars.

“Thank you so much,” I told him.

“Happy to help,” he assured me. His job was in floor installation, and this project was something Henrietta and I had dreamed up. The tile itself wasn’t important, as much as feeling special and having a visual reminder to practice. Tommy Krylenko was so proud that his dad played such an important role. The two of them strutted off to the dressing room together.

“Excuse me, Coach Kelly.”

I turned and saw Layla. She was the best female player on our team and part of Mark’s group.

“Hey, Layla. What’s up?”

“I want to switch to your group for practice.”

“But you’re such a good player. My group is for players who need to work on their skating and basic skills. I think you’d be bored.”

She shook her head. “Your group is having way more fun. They’re always laughing after. And Kimmy and Tawny are my friends at school.”

Layla looked pretty determined. “I’ll talk to Mark,” I told her. He had a few more players than me anyway. “But you have to work hard. If the drills are too easy, you’re going to have to figure out ways to make them more challenging.”

She nodded. “I can even help other people if you like. I’m the oldest in my family, so I’m used to that.”

“Nothing like a big sister,” I told her. She smiled and took off. But she had just given me a really good idea.

After practice, I went to see Lois, the program coordinator.

“Hi Kelly. I hear that you’re doing really well as the new coach.”

“You heard that already? It’s only been a few practices.”

“Word gets around.” Lois had a finger on the pulse of everything happening here.

“Lois, I need more ice time for my players.”

“Everyone wants more ice time. Sorry, honey, there isn’t any. Too bad nobody can use the ice during the day—that’s when it’s available and cheap. Well, relatively cheap.”

I looked at the upside-down ice schedule. “The kids get out at 3:00, right? So they could take one of these cheap sessions from 3:00 to 4:00?”

“Sure. The problem is that the parents are working. Nobody has a job that finishes that early.”

Except me! “Lois, I have a plan. I’d like to partner high school-aged girls who play hockey with kids on my team. Just to practice skating and later, maybe skills. I know the high schools require thirty hours of volunteer work to graduate, so I’m sure I won’t have trouble getting skating coaches.”

She nodded. “It’s a good idea. The rink, the elementary school, and the high school are all so close together, they could be on the ice and get nearly an hour of ice time before the programs begin at 4:00. But we would have to put together permission sheets and also—” She paused and shook her head. “There would be insurance issues. Minor hockey has coverage and so do rec centre programs. But Kelly, this is outside of both those. You’re going to need insurance and money for the ice. Even though it’s cheap, it’s not free.”

“I’ve got a plan for that too. Can you help me work out the costs?”

She nodded and pulled together some numbers in no time. Then it was my turn to work some magic.

“What? I don’t hear from you for months and now you’re asking me for money?” Tyler Ballanchuk’s voice on the phone was teasing.

“Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever called you. So you could say that every time I call you I’m asking for money. But it’s for a really good cause, and I know what a charitable person you are.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Besides all the cosmic karma? We’ll promote your organ donation charity. I’ll send out a newsletter to all the parents, and we can hang a banner at our games.” It wasn’t a great return, but this wasn’t that much money either. However, I was worried that he got hit up constantly and might turn me down.

“A banner that you have spray-painted like some elementary school art class? Gee, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll get someone artistically-talented to do it, like my mom. Please, Ty.”

“You know, Kelly, I should be hanging up on you. You created the big mess I had to mop up.”

I figured we’d have to get to this topic at some point. “How is he?”

“Hockey-wise, he’s fine. And socially, well—apparently he’s fine.”

“I can guess from your tone that he’s dating someone—someone you’re not crazy about.”

Ty laughed. “She’s okay. But she’s not helping him with all his intensity issues. He’s the leading contender to have a heart attack at twenty.” He dropped his glib tone. “Why did you guys break up? I could tell you were really into each other.”

Ty was the only friend of Jimmy’s who saw the two of us together this summer. “I don’t think I’m the right person for him—for his Chicago life.”

“Which you know nothing about,” he pointed out. “And isn’t that really up to Freeze? But I guess you’ve moved on.”

I didn’t respond to that. If Jimmy knew how bleak my social life was and how much I still missed him, he might get the wrong idea.

“Don’t worry. I won’t mention our little chat to him. He was pretty decimated afterwards, and there’s no point opening that up again.”

A deep pain went through my chest. I never wanted to hurt Jimmy or Phil, and I ended up hurting both. I was like the nuclear dating bomb. I didn’t think I could go on talking about this subject. “Ty, um, I’ll let you think about this, and you can get back to me if you’re interested.”

“Kelly, you’re the worst closer ever. I can see you’ve never sold anything. Look, I’m sorry I brought up the subject of Freeze, let’s get back to business.”

“Fine with me,” I replied.

“I’m happy to do this. In fact, I’ll throw in enough for you to get jerseys with my foundation logo on them. I’ll text you a contact person who will send you a cheque and oversee the jerseys.”

“Really? Ty, that’s fantastic. Thank you so much.”

“No worries. It’s not a lot for what you’re trying to do.”

“Well, it’s not a lot for you, but it will be huge for these kids. It’s not like they’re poor, but they’re not rich either.” I figured that some kids could pay for help, but I didn’t want to force everyone to.

Putting it together turned out to be a breeze. I contacted two Midget girls teams in the area and got all the volunteers I needed in no time. They were thrilled to skate for their volunteer hours, just as I would have been five years ago.

While everyone in my group was happy to get the extra skating time, a few of the boys wondered why all the buddy partners were girls. But it was part of my mission to show everyone how good female hockey players could be. Adding teenaged guys might change skating practice into a hormonal flirting session—boys could be trouble.

We started to see results right away. One extra ice session each week was enough to immediately improve their skating and fitness. Since they were skating better, they got more touches on the puck during a game, and then their skills and confidence went up. It was a cycle of hockey goodness.

“Hey, Kelly,” Mark commented to me after a game where we lost by only one goal. “You’ve been doing a great job with those kids. This is the second game in a row when we didn’t get blown out.”

“Maybe we’ll win one soon,” I said to him.

“Oh, dare to dream.” He laughed. After losing all last season, Mark wasn’t much of an optimist. But the mood of the whole team was happier. Losing a close game was much better than getting annihilated and taunted. I noticed that team camaraderie was improving; there was less division between the “good” players and my group. We were becoming a real team.

“
D
id
you see my goal on Saturday, Coach Kelly?” Layla was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Of course, I did. It was awesome.” I high-fived her, and she skated off to get changed. Today’s skating practice had the most energy and focus ever. Over the weekend, we had won our first game. The celebration in the dressing room afterwards rivalled a Stanley Cup party.

Ed Lantos came over to the bench. Although he had never played hockey, he was one of the most enthusiastic parents. His son, Mickey, was our best defenceman.

“Hey, Ed. What’s up?” I finished putting away all the pucks and began emptying the water bottles onto the ice.

“You probably don’t know this, but I work at an ad agency.”

“Cool.” Did they want to sponsor the team or something? It was a little late for that, but since we had actually won a game, everyone was getting excited. Maybe they could sponsor the year-end party.

“I was wondering, well, we’re doing a commercial that involves hockey. Do you think you could come to a meeting about it?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really? You want my expertise or something?”

Ed nodded. “Exactly.”

Well, there were a lot of people in town that had more expertise, but it sounded like fun. “Sure. I work a really early shift, so if your meeting was in the afternoon, I could make it.”

“Perfect. Here’s my card. I’ll set up the meeting and let you know the details.”

I nodded and then skated off to move the nets for the Zamboni driver.

Ed asked me to come in that Friday. I headed over to the address in Gastown that he had given me. The advertising agency was in an old brick building. It was modern inside, furnished in steel and black leather. The receptionist guided me to a glass-walled boardroom. Ed was already there with three other men, and he stood up to greet me.

“Thank you so much for coming. Guys, this is Kelly Tanaka. This is Szabo, our creative director, and Jacko, and Dan. They work on the Honda account.”

As I looked around, I got the creepiest feeling that everyone was checking me out in a very obvious way. Was it my clothes? I was dressed in my casual producer garb of dark jeans and a sweater, while everyone here seemed to be dressed in an artistic way. Why wear one shirt, when you could wear three?

Ed motioned for me to sit at the end of the table. I was relieved because that meant nobody could look at my body anymore, but now they seemed to be staring at my face. I discreetly checked for food bits from lunch, but found nothing.

Szabo began talking. “You see, Kelly, the ongoing concept for this campaign is ‘Expect the Unexpected.’ We want people to know that the Honda Accord may look like a regular sedan, but it has more performance and features than other cars in its class. Every spot we’ve done has an element of surprise in it.

“For the commercial I’m proposing—” He motioned to a board with a series of little illustrations. “You see a tough hockey player, coming in with the puck, hitting people, getting by the last defenceman, and scoring a highlight reel goal. The other players come in to congratulate him, his helmet comes off, and it’s a beautiful woman! She turns and says, “Expect the Unexpected.”

Seemed good to me, but there was a technical flaw. I assumed that’s why I was in the room, to pick these things up.

“Actually, you can’t hit people if you already have the puck.”

“No?” asked Jacko.

“No, you can only hit people who have the puck. But that could be even better. The woman could come in and deliver a crashing hit, take the puck off the other player, and then go in and do the rest of the stuff.”

“Yesssss.” Szabo closed his eyes and seemed to be imagining this new scenario.

Dan spoke up. “You see, Kelly, we actually had this concept a few months ago, but we could never find the right player. You need someone who can do all this in one shot, so you know that the same player that did all the hockey stuff is also a babe. Most of the talent we looked at was a little too, uh, butch.”

They weren’t looking in the right places. I knew people who were babes and good players. I could totally help them there.

Szabo continued, “Yeah, the rest of the players are all guys, you just see them peripherally, but it gives you the impression that everyone’s a guy. So you need a player who can believably play with guys and hit and score on cue. And Ed tells us you can do this.”

“Me?” Was he kidding?

“Yeah, have you ever played with guys?”

“More than half my hockey career, actually.”

Ed broke in, “It’s your fine features and your feminine face that are key, Kelly. We could dub your voice, but you actually have a husky, sexy voice that is just right.”

“My face? My voice?” I felt like someone was going to pop out of the closet and yell, “Punk’d!” at any moment.

“And she’s half-Japanese,” Dan muttered. “They’re gonna love that.”

“So, could you do all of this?” Ed asked.

Well, actually I could. As long as the goalie promised not to try too hard to stop my shot. I could definitely do the hitting and deking.

“Sure,” I replied.

“Great! We’ll need to shoot a test of you in makeup to show the client. This weekend, if you’re free. It’s not a done deal, Kelly. We need the client to sign off first. But they liked it when we originally presented, and it would be perfect for insertion in sports programming. Honda’s a sponsor of the NHL, you know.”

Ed started barking commands and getting everyone going on different tasks. I still had my doubts, but I knew that with the right makeup, anyone could be a babe.