Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three (2 page)

A
fter a week
of partying and celebrating, we finally came down from our championship high. Just in time, because final exams were looming.

“Crap, Tank, I have so much work to get caught up on,” Deirdre confessed on our way back from the varsity gym. “I am so fucked.” She was not the world’s best student.

“Think of this as our
final
final exams. That’ll cheer you up.”

“Said the chick with the saddest face in the universe. What’s up your ass?”

“I can’t believe I won’t be playing competitive hockey next year. I’m going to miss it so much.”

“You should think about this new women’s hockey league. I’m going to play in it. If I get in, of course,” she added. But Deirdre was a Team Canada prospect, so she was a shoo-in. The Canadian Women’s Hockey League had sprung from a recently disbanded league. Women’s pro hockey was a great idea, but not yet a big draw for investors or even fans.

“Yeah, but they don’t pay anything. Plus there’s travel, and I need to get a real job. I can’t take money from my parents anymore.”

“There’s a CWHL team in Vancouver, isn’t there?” Deirdre said. “You could work and still play hockey.”

“It’s in Langley, which is an hour away. Donna Crofton plays for them. But when I talked to her, she said it’s a gong show. The management team is having trouble getting their financial shit in order, and she thinks the team might go under.” And that was if I even got on the team. Unlike Deirdre, I wasn’t a sure thing.

“You’ll still play hockey, Tank. Join a men’s league and the games’ll be competitive.”

I nodded. There were many different levels of beer league, but I knew it wasn’t the same. What I really wanted was to work in a hockey-related field, and I said so.

“How’s your job search going?” Deirdre asked.

“Hmmm. Sucky, suckier, or suckiest. You choose. I feel like I’ve applied to every single hockey organization in the country. For some reason, my lack of experience or related coursework doesn’t make me very employable.”

“So being captain of a C.I.S. championship team doesn’t mean shit?”

“Yeah, if I wanted to work in hockey, I would have a better chance if I had studied business or statistics than played hockey.” Too bad I hadn’t realized that in first year.

“Have you used all your contacts?”

“Yup, every coach or administrator I know. The only remote possibility has been an unpaid internship in the ECHL.”

“Why don’t you take it?” Deirdre wondered.

“Because I can’t afford to do that. I’ve got student loans, and my parents have to pay my brother’s tuition now.”

“What about—” Deirdre hesitated, which was unlike her. “Um, James Frechette.”

“What about him?”

“Well, you know he’s a shit-hot rookie this season. There’s talk he’s going to win the Calder.”

“I’m aware. He’s in my hockey pool,” I replied. Jimmy was one of the few bright spots on my roster.

“Maybe he can help you find a job,” Deirdre said.

“Sure. I can see that phone call going one of two ways. First, he hangs up on me or second, his fabulous new girlfriend hangs up on me.”

“Yeah, I heard he partied pretty hard last year. At university and then all summer when he got home.”

“You never mentioned that before,” I said.

“That’s because I’m never sure how you feel about him. What if I shat all over his rep, and you two got back together?”

I laughed, but why should Deirdre know something I didn’t know myself? After we broke up last January, he had called a lot to try to get back together. I finally told him it would be easier if we didn’t talk for a while, and then he called less. The last time we spoke was in the summer. I had promised to call him, but I never had. I wanted to concentrate on hockey this year and not have any emotional crap distracting me.

My love life had been disastrous this year, with no guy lasting more than one date. It was almost as if I had blown my dating karma too early by having incredibly intense relationships with Phil and Jimmy. Now I was doomed to Loserville.

“What about you, Dee? Work-wise, I mean.”

“Well, I’m going to Calgary. It’ll be the home base for the Olympic team. I can also play for the CWHL team there and rub shoulders with the best. I’ll get some retail job on the side.”

“That’s awesome. I know you’re going to make it this time.” She hadn’t made the national team yet, but she had gotten a long look.

Deirdre punched my shoulder. “Thanks, Tank. You’ve never been jealous like some of the others.”

“Nope. I know you’re better than me, so I’ve got to live vicariously. Remember, the 2010 Olympics are in Vancouver, so I want tickets.”

“Too bad you can’t live in Calgary. I bet you could be a club player there.”

That made me think about Phil. He was graduating this year, and I heard that he had multiple jobs offers in different cities, Calgary included. Stupid engineers. I had no idea what he’d be doing as we hadn’t talked much this year. Last I’d heard, he had a new girlfriend—as usual.

Damn. I really needed a job. You could always depend on a job. Or was that a dog?

“I’m going to miss seeing you everyday, Tank.”

“Me, too.”

After four years, life was going to change so much. My roommates and my teammates were scattering, and all my familiar routines were ending. I could feel a creeping sadness, but I tried to shake it off. There was no time for moping when I needed to study.

“
W
ell
,” said April. “It needs a little work.”

I nodded. The apartment was dark, with years of grime and ugly wallpaper, and carpeting of unknown fibres and colour. The only thing it had going for it was the rent—which was something that April and I could possibly afford. The Vancouver rental market was scary compared to all the places in Montreal.

“But April, shouldn’t you wait until I get a job? I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to front me a few months rent, but what if I don’t get a job?”

“It’s easy for you to say wait. You’ve been living on your own in Montreal while I’ve been stuck in the same lame bedroom I’ve slept in since elementary school—no, since I was a baby. I swore that once I got a steady job, I’d move out. That day is now.”

April had gotten a job as the assistant to the costume designer on a local television series. While on her rare acting jobs, she’d gravitated to the wardrobe department, parlayed those relationships into freelance styling contracts and now a permanent job. Like almost everyone I knew, her job goals had evolved.

“What if the series gets cancelled?” I asked. It was a new show, which April had described as a post-apocalyptic dramedy. I’d have to watch to even understand what that meant.

She put her hands over her ears. “I didn’t hear that. Don’t be such a Negative Nancy.”

Somebody had to be practical. I had no job prospects, no practical work experience, and no assets. The only thing I had was a sinking sensation that April was going to talk me into being her roommate in a complete dump.

Luckily, April was a human dynamo with film industry connections. She had leaned on her prop stylist friends and now had oodles of furniture and accessories. The only thing we had to do first was get the place in shape. So naturally, she threw a party—a work party.

“Remember, Kelly, don’t put the booze out until we’re almost done. I don’t want some wasted idiot painting my walls.”

“By idiots, I think you mean all our friends who are nice enough to come and help us.”

“Don’t act all grateful. Did you not read
Huckleberry Finn
? We have to make everyone feel like they’re lucky to be here. It’s all a matter of attitude. Go get the door, I think someone is here.”

“Hey.” Marcus Craig was standing there with work clothes and his toolbox. He was a key player since he actually had experience in construction. Not that we were going to tear down walls or anything, but any expertise was very welcome.

I hugged him. “It’s so nice of you to come and help us.” April glared at me. “I mean, it’s going to be such fun doing all this, uh, whatever.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, Kelly. I know exactly what I’m in for today. April promised to fix me up with this actress friend of hers. I looked her up online, and she’s worth it.”

“You missed your career calling,” I told April. “You should be one of those political fixers or something. What else have you promised people?”

She smiled knowingly. “Well, let’s put it this way. Don’t make any social plans for the next three months—because you’re all booked up.”

I groaned. “Noooo. You didn’t pimp me out, did you? April?” She ignored me and led Marcus into the kitchen.

The party actually turned into a fun time. There were a few friends from high school but mainly new friends of April’s. We worked hard but had a lot of laughs too. When I saw April’s to-do list, I thought she was overly optimistic, but we got nearly everything finished. The walls were now a fresh white, the carpet had been painfully yanked back, and cheap wood-flooring tiles had been installed under Marcus’s supervision. The final step was bringing up our new used furniture, which had been stowed in a panel van parked on the street.

Now we were all sitting around what was already becoming a pretty sweet apartment. Beer and coolers were flowing, April had prepared lots of food as well, and my job was to pay for the pizza. No move was complete without pizza.

I high-fived her. “Looks incredible, Miz Lachance. I bow to your renovating genius.”

“Did you ever doubt me? I still have to accessorize, but the bones are done. Oh Geoff, can you help me put up a shelf?” She zipped off on another decorating mission. April’s energy could fuel a small planet.

Karen Leighton plunked herself beside me on the couch. “It’s awesome that you’re back in Vancity.”

“Yes, I’m so happy to be home again. All I need is a salary, and life will be peachy.”

“Did I tell you I quit my latest job? It was a sexist cesspool with guys hitting on me every day. Gross.” Karen had graduated from a holistic animal care college in San Diego, but without a work visa, she had been forced to move back to Canada to find a job. The dog masseuse job market was not exactly booming; so she was trying set up her own business while getting temporary jobs on the side.

I made a sympathetic grunt. That wasn’t completely surprising since Karen was so pretty.

“Wait, this would be the perfect job for you!”

“For sure. Sexist cesspool tops my list of career choices,” I said.

“No, it’s a
sports
radio station. Coast2Coast Sports. Perfect for you. Didn’t you say you were interested in sports media?”

“Yeah. Tell me more.”

“Well, you’re only the receptionist. But you get to meet everyone—staff and guests. Connections, right?” Karen nodded with enthusiasm. “I’m sure you can get it. Seriously, the office manager almost started crying when I quit. They’ve been going through receptionists like Kleenex. Apparently her directive is to hire someone attractive, which is illegal.”

I was already having mixed feelings. On one hand, it was in sports media and Coast2Coast Sports was a national media company, so that was happy-making. But on the other hand, I had a university degree and I was going to be a receptionist. Sad trombone. Rampant sexism was only the icing on top. But still—sports media. I was going to have to get some kind of temporary job anyway, and at least it would be in an area I wanted. Didn’t company presidents all say they started in the mailroom? Were there even mailrooms anymore?

“Okay. Maybe you’re right, I’ll give it a try.”

“Super! I’ll call Cheryl, the office manager, and see if I can set up something.”

A
t the interview
, I sensed Cheryl’s desperation. Everything about her was stressed: her flyaway hair, her nervous twitching, and the fluttering piles of paper on her desk. Hiring a new receptionist weekly was taking its toll on her.

“Oh my dear, you’re lovely. When Karen said you were a hockey player, I had a completely different image in mind.” She squinted at me. “You can spell reasonably well, right?”

I nodded. “I graduated from McGill.” That didn’t necessarily guarantee correct spelling, but I figured it helped.

She sighed. “You would think it’s the minimum, but the agency sent one woman who couldn’t take messages properly. How hard can it be to spell ‘Smith?’ So, what is your degree in?”

“Communications and Kinesiology.” Fields which were actually relevant to this industry.

“And I understand you have experience in, er, male-dominated industries?”

How exactly Karen had spun my background? All my years in boys’ hockey had to count for something. “Yes, definitely.”

“Well, you’ll need it.” Cheryl rubbed her temples. “I don’t know why I even bother to ask all these questions anymore. The job is yours if you want it. Karen may have mentioned that the boys here can be slightly, how should I say this? Rambunctious. Yes, that’s politically correct. So, we’ll see you on Monday morning at 8:00?”

“Sure. Thank you very much.” I couldn’t believe how happy I was to get a receptionist job.

My usual way of handling unwelcome attention from guys was to run in the opposite direction or deliver a crosscheck. But checking visitors into the boardroom walls was probably not an option. So Karen came over to our place to work on Plan B.

“The only thing that scares guys off is another guy,” Karen declared.

“Great. Can I borrow a boyfriend?” I asked. Karen always had a new boyfriend, and April was currently dating several different guys—so she must have a spare.

“You don’t need a real boyfriend,” April said.

“Works for me.” An imaginary boyfriend was pretty much all I had.

“Yes, but you have to lie convincingly. That is not a skill you have,” April pointed out. “The key is to stay as close to the truth as possible. We’ll use an old boyfriend.”

“Pull out your relationship photos,” Karen commanded, and I got the memorabilia box from my room.

“Do you have any photos that aren’t hockey?” April complained.

Eventually we found some with guys. Karen discarded any that didn’t have me in them, leaving about five. “Honestly, Kelly, your exes are hot. Wouldn’t you want to keep more photos of them around?”

“I already know what they look like.” All too well.

“This one.” April held up a big photo Jimmy had given me. I knew he wanted me to frame and put it in my room as he had, but I never got around to it. He had his arms wrapped around me, and we were both grinning like idiots. She continued, “This is good because of his freakily huge forearms. Guys can see he’s strong enough to beat the crap out of anyone hitting on his woman.”

“Ugh, that is prehistoric behaviour,” I complained. “Anyway, I can’t use Jimmy’s photo. It’s a sports radio station, and someone is bound to recognize him and say, ‘Oh, you’re pretending to be dating the hottest rookie in the NHL?’ That’ll work.”

April gave me a skeptical look.

“Truth. He’s up for an award.” The Blackhawks didn’t make the playoffs, but he had had an awesome season.

Karen pulled out a photo of me and Phil. “Then, this one. When was it taken?”

“Um, the summer we got back together after first year.” The photo was taken at Third Beach. Phil looked tanned and fit. All these hot photos of my exes were making me feel depressed—and horny.

“Maybe I should just fix you up with someone,” April suggested, and I groaned. April’s ideas on dates and mine had never jibed. One of her work party bribes had involved me going out with a lighting guy who took me to a four-hour Eastern European movie that was all subtitled. Then he got all huffy when I fell asleep.

“You’re so fussy. I don’t understand your feast-or-famine dating history.”

“I was busy with hockey this year. Besides, when I do date, it’s always a disaster.”

“Do tell,” Karen urged me.

“Well, I went on an accidental date,” I confessed.

Karen giggled, and April shook her head. “I must hear this story. That Tanaka cluelessness about guys is what I’ve been missing from my life.”

“It was a guy from my Exercise Physiology class. I thought he wanted to go out for a workout, you know, like a homework thing. But he wanted to workout and go out afterwards. Totally awkward. He was not my type.”

“You don’t even have a big enough sample size to have a type,” April concluded. “Wait, I’m having a brainwave. Say you’re engaged, that pushes it one step further.”

Karen nodded. “Good idea. Too bad Phil is out of town this summer. I bet he’d play along with this.”

I had heard third-hand that Phil was travelling in Asia for the summer before he began some highly-paid engineering job in Calgary. Phil himself had never told me anything, since he had left before I got home.

“Yeah, Phil would do anything for Kelly,” April agreed. I snorted out loud, but she ignored me. “We’ll go shopping and get a fake engagement ring for you.”

“Is all this really necessary? I am very good at saying no to guys.”

“No kidding,” said April.

Karen nodded. “It’s so worth it, Kelly. This job means you have to be nice to people, so you can’t brush them off like you would normally. And some of the guys who work there are the worst offenders. A fake fiancé is going to save you a ton of energy.”

But it felt creepy and dishonest. And I had a sinking feeling that something was going to go wrong.