Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three (24 page)

J
ames

W
e were flying
home from Edmonton when Baller flopped into the empty seat beside me.

“Can I join in? Or is this pity party only for one?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, pulling off my headphones.

“I thought I was going to trip over your bottom lip. You’ve been acting like someone stole all your candy. Or in your case, whatever high protein natural supplements you’re eating this month.”

I debated whether I should talk to Baller or not. He knew Kelly, so maybe he could help. I leaned closer and quietly told him everything that had happened, even though it made me look bad.

“Shit.” He made a face. “Yeah, getting her fired is probably not going to get you guys back together. And that’s apparently what you still want.”

I nodded. Dating Astrid had only proven once again that I was a social freak. It was easy to find attractive girlfriends, but finding someone I could trust was a lot tougher. And Kelly had proven that with her brutal honesty.

And she was right. Sometimes I forgot how privileged my life was and how lucky I was to have gotten everything I’d wanted. I remembered that what I loved about her was that she loved me for who I was—before all the NHL stuff. Yet I had tried to buy her love with expensive gifts and trips. I should have known better. I couldn’t help but think that if Kelly were around to center me, I would be a better person now.

“I know it’s too late. She basically said she could never love me again. But do you think I could maybe earn back her good opinion of me somehow? I was thinking I should get more involved in Blackhawks charity work—I do the hospital stuff like everyone else, but something more.”

“Well, I have a suggestion,” Baller said. “I didn’t mention this before, because first you were all grouchy, and then you were dating the blonde ballbuster. Last fall, Kelly asked me to sponsor this hockey team. They sounded like some Bad News Bears deal. She wanted to get them extra ice time so they could work on their skating.”

That was so Kelly. She was always trying to help the worst kids at camp. Come to think of it, the times she was sweetest to me were when I was feeling low—like after the NHL awards.

Baller pulled up a photo on his phone. There was Kelly standing behind this ragtag team of boys and girls, all of them grinning a mile wide and wearing these green jerseys.

“Tyler’s Organ Donors? That must have gotten a lot of chirping from the other teams.”

Baller laughed. “Kelly said they use it as their war cry. They want to turn their opponents into organ donors. They’ve won only three games, but apparently it’s three more than last season, so everyone’s happy.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been talking to her all this time.”

He shrugged. “She’s the one who called me. You know it’s not like that.”

I nodded. We were teammates. Although if I fell off the face of the earth, I was pretty sure he’d be hitting on her five minutes later.

“I thought she got back with her high school boyfriend, but she didn’t. Do you think I still have a chance to get back with her?”

“I dunno. Why did she break up with you in the first place?”

“A whole bunch of reasons. She was worried about the whole lifestyle in Chicago. Mainly because I’m an arrogant idiot—not the nice guy I used to be.”

Baller blew out a breath. “Who is, really? The game changes all of us.”

We both sat in silence for a bit, thinking.

“Freeze, maybe if you dialled things down a little. Like not making her move in with you and act like you’re all married.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re so intense. It’s all or nothing with you. I know from my personal experience that I run a mile once chicks start talking about china patterns and babies.”

“I never talked about china patterns,” I protested. But I had talked about babies. Shoot. I liked to get things nailed down, it was the way I was.

He laughed at me. “You wuss. You’re so easy to read. But Kelly’s a normal person. Maybe if she had another reason to come to Chicago.” He paused. “I don’t know. You know her best, can’t you figure out what she really wants?”

“She’d like a job that does something with hockey.” I knew Kelly’s first choice would be to play hockey—but I couldn’t create that opportunity for her in Chicago.

I started to worry again. Now that she had no job how was she going to survive? But then I could hear Kelly’s voice in my head telling me not to stress about her. I knew she was smart, beautiful, and resourceful—she was going to find something. I couldn’t let my anxiety take over here. Baller had given me a starting point, and I could take action and not have to sit around and stew about things.

Meanwhile, it looked like we were going to make the playoffs this year, so I’d have to focus on that.

A
pril saw
my newly free time as an opportunity to get help with wedding planning. I had picked up a job as a fitness trainer at the rec centre, but I didn’t have many hours yet. It was raining, so we took a bus downtown where she had various appointments set up.

“But you know I’m not good at this stuff,” I protested.

“Yes, my first hint was when you picked that blue bridesmaid’s dress—just because it was Canuck’s blue.”

“Ben likes hockey too,” I muttered. Everyone had positive associations with colours, I just shouldn’t have told April mine.

“Well, I wanted a second opinion on my food choices. Third actually, since Mrs. Cho is meeting us at the hotel at lunchtime. It’ll be delicious. We get to try all these appetizers and entrées. But I need moral support when she’s there.”

“Free food does sound good,” I agreed. My current food budget was limited to Sapporo Ichiban. And Mrs. Cho was a forceful personality. I figured April was her match though.

“Also, if there’s one thing you do know, it’s flowers. So I can use your help in choosing my floral arrangements.

“Okay, sure. Too bad we couldn’t get everything from my dad.”

“I know. Your dad was a real artist with flowers. My mom’s been complaining that she can’t find anyone as good in North Van. Where are your parents now?”

“They’re in Malaysia now. I talked to them a week ago.”

“That’s so exciting. I’m going to be travelling with Ben after we’re married.”

“Really? What about your job?”

“Well, since the series got cancelled and I don’t have any freelance styling gigs coming up—I’m getting involved in the Ben’s family’s business.”

“Wow.” The Cho family business was a vast and mysterious import/export empire. “But aren’t you worried about nepotism? Like getting jobs you’re not qualified for because of Ben?”

April squinted at me. “I presume you’re asking because of what happened to you?”

“Well, yeah. A lot of people hated me at work. I got a job because Ross Laurie thought I could do it, and because…” I hated admitting the next part, “…I had a certain look.”

“But you’re forgetting the fact that the network president was right. You could do that job. Your final interview with the goon was great.”

“I guess. I was getting better anyway. But it doesn’t change the fact that people were constantly trying to undermine me. It was brutal.”

“I talked to Ben. I would only do a job I am good at. Luckily that covers a lot of things.”

“You are so confident,” I said enviously.

“You are too, Kelly. You’re confident about your hockey skills, right?”

I nodded.

“Have you done your demo reel yet?”

“Kinda.” I’d updated it, but it wasn’t properly edited.

“I think when you look at it, you’ll see how much you’ve improved. You have a great work ethic, and you could succeed at anything you put your mind to. You’ve always worked hard.”

“Wow, thanks, April.”

She smiled at me. “I know you’re a little down now. But when you take stock, you’ll know you have a lot to offer. You’re already more confident than you used to be.”

I felt a lot better now. April sensed this and hit me with the list of things we were doing today.

“Holy crapola. I can’t believe all this stuff. I am never getting married.”

“Seeing as you haven’t dated anyone in months, I would say you’re well on your way. Say, Ben has this cousin who is some kind of programming guru, would you be interested in possibly—”

“Nope.”

“But he does statistics on Canucks games. And he’s cute.”

“N-O, April. Working on your wedding is enough to turn me off marriage for years and years.”

“When Mr. Right comes along, you’ll change your mind,” she replied confidently.

But I was more interested in finding Mr. Right Job.

T
hree months
later

I
lay on the ground
, with my legs spread wide and pulled the trigger on my small-bore rifle. The loudness of the shot was always a shock.

Missed the target. Damn. Were you supposed to shoot in time with your heartbeat? Or was that movie fiction? Focus. Aim. Shoot. When you actually hit the black circle, it disappeared. One target. Miss. Miss. Another target. Then I seemed to be out of ammo. I looked at Lief Jacobsen beside me. He had taken out his five targets long ago and was watching me with amusement. He signalled me to get up; I did so awkwardly, and we skied up to the finish.

Leif smiled down at me. He was an extremely tall man of Norwegian ancestry, and in his outfit looked like a colourful tree trunk.

“Well, Kelly, your skiing was good, but your shooting brought you many penalties. I don’t think we would see you on the podium.” He carefully explained how the biathlon scoring worked.

I winced. “I have to say that lying down with skis was painful. It’s very hard on the knees. And then to have to shoot as well—phew. It’s a very challenging sport that requires a lot of different skills at once.”

“I think it’s your first time to shoot a weapon. Am I right?” Lief asked.

I nodded. “Unless Supersoakers count.”

Lief’s face went solemn, which meant he was going to make a joke. “Boyfriends always behave better if they know you are handy with weapons.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks to Lief Jacobsen for guiding us through the biathlon. This is Kelly Tanaka signing off for the Chill Guide. Now where’s that sauna?”

Eric gave the signal, and the cameraman stopped filming.

Lief scowled at me. “Saunas are more of a Finnish thing.”

Doing Nordic sports had taught me these countries had all kinds of feuds going on that I had no clue about. “Oh, sorry.” I scoured my brain to think of something to appease him. “Hey, I really like those Norwegian Forest Cats.”

He rolled his eyes and walked away with as much dignity as a man in neon spandex could muster.

Eric laughed. “Kelly, your charm could alienate an entire planet.”

“Pffft. I bet he’d be nicer to me if I was handy with weapons.”

Rudy, our cameraman, chortled. “But you’re not, so we can all treat you like our annoying little sister. Did you want to see the playback? You look like a road-kill frog lying on that shooting mat.” Rudy’s main goal in life seemed to be catching me at my worst angles. However after the blatant come-ons and sexism of my last job, his brotherly teasing was a huge relief.

Eric looked around. “Time to wrap up our Whistler filming for this season. There’s not much snow left.” It was the first day of May, so we were lucky to have been able to film this long.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think there’s still a lot of snow on the glacier, but we’ve done the skiing parts already.”

Eric Weinberger was a filmmaker who had gotten this idea to make humourous how-to videos about all the Olympic sports. And since he was one of those rare people who had seen both my car commercial and my work on C2C Sports, he decided I would be a good host. The premise was that as a reasonably coordinated person, I would try each sport and show how really difficult they were. It was semi-scripted, so the experts knew what was going to happen and what they needed to say. However, Eric’s favourite part was when I screwed up spectacularly. He said my “physical humour” was going to draw eyeballs. The theme of my career so far seemed to be people waiting for me to make a mistake.

Eric looked at his Moleskin. “So, next week we’re doing figure skating, right?”

I groaned. Although skating was my strength, once Eric showed me the little glittery outfit I’d have to wear I wasn’t as keen. And everyone knew that figure skates and hockey skates were completely different animals.

Rudy laughed nastily. “I want to see her do a jump. Crash city. I’ll get the underpants-cam ready.”

I groaned. “The bruises alone will be spectacular—landing on ice in only a pair of tights equals pain. Okay, send me the shooting schedule so I can get time off work.”

The Chill Guide was a great project to work on. The only problem was that it didn’t pay anything. Eric and Brian, his partner and the sales/marketing guru on the project, had offered everyone involved a percentage of the profits. But there weren’t going to be any profits until Brian was able to sell advertisers on the web series. He figured we’d get more traffic as we got closer to the Olympics. They had a long-range vision of city guides and were starting with Vancouver. There were also guides to restaurants, clubs, and shopping, all with different hosts. I hoped the whole thing took off because I could use the money.

Meantime, I was working as a personal trainer at the rec centre and also at a kayak rental place. Those were the jobs that were keeping me in rent and cheap food.

I turned my phone on and saw a few missed calls. Then my cell rang again and I checked the caller I.D.

Jimmy.

Shoot. Unless I was into double standards, I had to answer, but I really didn’t want to. I knew he was in town since the Hawks were here for the second round of the playoffs. Last night he’d had zero points in a loss to the Canucks. Not that I was gloating.

“Jimmy?”

“Hey, Kelly. How’s everything?” His voice sounded tight and nervous.

“Everything is fine. What do you want?”

“Look, I want to show you something. It’s really important and it has to do with you. All the stuff you said to me before, I thought about it and it’s all true.”

“What stuff?” To be honest, Jimmy wasn’t someone I had thought much about since I got fired. I was too busy trying to hold things together.

He hesitated, and then went on. “You know—about me being an arrogant douche.”

I laughed because it was funny to hear him admit it. “Oh yeah, that stuff.”

“It won’t take long, Kelly. If we could just meet for twenty minutes? Even fifteen. Wherever you want.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to open up this wound again, but it was refreshing to hear him admit his douche-baggery. However, he wasn’t someone I wanted to be seen in public with, since he was on the enemy side in these playoffs and undoubtedly getting recognized more and more.

“I’m at Whistler right now. Why don’t you come by my place after dinner? Say 7:30?” April would not approve, but luckily she was usually out or busy since her wedding day was coming up fast.

Jimmy arrived exactly on time. He had a black messenger bag with him. His casual clothes looked designer and expensive. I reflexively offered him a drink, and once we both had glasses of water, we sat down in the living room. He pulled out his laptop and opened up a Power Point presentation. Some things hadn’t changed.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know that you were the one who inspired me to do all this. Baller told me you asked him to sponsor that minor hockey team. I wish you had asked me instead, but I understand why that didn’t happen. But the idea was so you—you’re always on the side of the underdog.”

I shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. I loved working with the kids, and one benefit of getting fired was that I got to go back and help them finish the season. We lost our only playoff game, but everyone was feeling good by the end. It seemed pretty clear that next year’s team would be at least average—which was a huge improvement.

Jimmy showed me the plans for a program that riffed on some of my ideas—getting ice time during the day at various rinks and introducing kids to skating. The focus would be on neighbourhoods where the kids wouldn’t normally get to learn to skate or play hockey.

“I talked to this marketing guy, and he said you need to be able to sum up the idea in a catchy phrase—we called it ‘Big Brothers on ice.’ But of course, it’s for girls too. And the program is called the Fresh Ice Foundation. It’s kind of a play on my old nickname.”

“Oh right, Freshy. That’s cool.”

“Do you think so?” He looked very pleased. “I like the fact that it’s not about being good at hockey, but skating and playing for fun.”

“Yeah, hockey should be for everyone.” I’d seen firsthand how much kids enjoyed improving and measuring progress against themselves.

“Are you still playing?”

I shook my head. These days, my hours were too erratic to fit hockey in as well.

“That’s a shame,” he said. “I know how much you enjoy it.”

True, but paying the rent came before hockey. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Where are you working these days?” he asked.

“I have several part-time jobs,” I told him. I debated telling him about the Chill Guides one, since that was the most glamourous. But what was the point of trying to impress him?

“Kelly, I don’t want to pressure you in any way. I have no idea where your life is at and what you have going on. But if working on this program appeals to you at all, there would be so many ways you could help us. Ideally, I could see you as a program head or instructor, who also works on our board. So grassroots stuff, but contributing your ideas as well.”

He sounded so corporate, but I couldn’t deny how exciting a job like this would be for me. It was perfect. I hated being in an office all day, and I loved working with kids. But I also got frustrated with the systems, so having input into the programs would be golden.

“Well, how would this whole thing work?”

“You’d have to move to Chicago. Don’t worry—there are no strings attached. It’s a fulltime job that would pay enough that you could have your own place or whatever. If you want, Baller has offered his spare room for you—although I’d make sure there was a better lock on the door first.”

So far he hadn’t said a word about getting back together. But still, it didn’t take a PhD to figure this out.

“At the risk of sounding completely egotistical,” I began. “Did you develop a whole charity program to get me a job in Chicago?”

Jimmy’s expression finally lightened. “Well, kinda. You are the inspiration. You made me remember that everyone wants to be a better—not just the top players. Hockey’s not about money or a job, it’s about having fun. Playing for life.”

He ran his hand over the laptop, like he was caressing the actual project. “Don’t feel any pressure. This is going ahead with you or without you. Once it got rolling, I got pretty excited about the whole deal, so I’m committed now.” He grinned at me. “It would be better with you, though. Unless you’ve got some good thing going on here.”

Was he being sarcastic? He looked completely innocent, so I guess he had no idea of my hand to mouth existence.

What I had going on here was a roommate who was getting married this month and leaving me to find a new roomie. Two minimum-wage jobs with no future and one volunteer gig. A well-used mountain bike and second-hand furniture. In short, I had a lot of things that I wouldn’t mind leaving. I could always come back to work on the Chill Guide stuff.

“I guess I’m interested,” I said.

He smiled. “Well, that’s great, Kelly. Really great.” Then he didn’t say anything else, but I recognized his nervous tics. He began fidgeting.

“So, is that it?”

His gaze dropped and then rose again. “I won’t lie. I’d like us to go out again. But I don’t know what you want.” His intensity kicked in. “Kelly, I hope you can see I’ve changed. And I’d like to keep becoming a better person. Do you know how that could be easier?”

“How?”

“If I had someone in my life to tell me when I was being an… asshole.” He spoke the word almost delicately, since he rarely swore in front of me. His mother’s training, no doubt. His expression was hopeful. “And you’re the perfect person for that job too.”

I threw my head back and laughed. Jimmy correctly took this for encouragement. He moved closer and slid his arm behind me on the couch.

“Would you like to come to tomorrow night’s game?”

I considered this. Duh, would I like to see a playoff game? “Sure. But… I don’t know if I can change allegiances that fast.”

He frowned. “You mean you’re still going to cheer for the Canucks?”

I giggled. “It’s tough to change over ten years of fandom. It took me a year to switch from cheering for the Sens when we moved here. So you may not want to get a ticket for an opposing fan.”

“Of course I do. But maybe I can change your mind.” Did he remember how watching him play made me hot for him? But that was the past.

“Okay, great.”

“And then, maybe you’d like to come to Chicago too? For games three and four?”

I hesitated.

“No pressure at all, Kelly. You can stay with me, but I have two guest rooms. My parents will be in one—so it’s like we’d have chaperones.”

He said no pressure, but I could tell that Jimmy was getting more and more excited every time I agreed to one of his suggestions. The real question was—had he changed? Were things now different enough that we could work things out?

I think I was stronger now. I had certainly suffered through enough crap at work. Even being fired showed me that I could survive. If I did get back with Jimmy, I didn’t think he’d be able to overwhelm me anymore. I had learned to stand up for myself.

And he was different now. I could tell he was nervous and worried that I would kick his laptop, his business plan, and his ass right out the door.

“Of course I’d like to watch the series, both here and in Chicago. But I want to take things between us slowly. I’ll think about the job and check things out more while I’m in Chicago.”

Relief flooded over his face, and he grinned for the first time tonight. “Thanks, Kelly. For even considering all this.”

“Meantime, isn’t this a distraction for you? You’ve got playoffs on.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I better get going.” He shouldered his laptop case and got up to leave. I walked him to the door, and he turned and put his hands on my shoulders.

“How come you always get everything right?” Jimmy asked.

“I don’t. I screw up constantly.”

He shook his head. “You get the important stuff right.” His face came closer to mine, and I felt the heat of his breath. Then his lips touched my cheek—only for a brief, gentle moment. He caressed the side of my face.