Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three

by Ting, Melanie

  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.

  3

  Home Makeover

  “Well,” 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.”

  * * *


  At 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.

  4

  Liar, Liar

  “Kelly, can I see your engagement ring again?”

  I held out my hand, and Minnie-from-Accounting leaned over the reception desk and applied her x-ray gaze to my third finger. In the week I had been working here, Minnie came by daily to chat, which really meant discussing engagements—mine, and her lack of one.

  As she eyed the ring, I held my breath, but the cubic zirconia seemed to be passing. She stuck out her lower lip. “Seriously, I told Jared all about you. The fact that you’re only twenty-one and already engaged. And you know what he said?”

  I shook my head. So far, all I knew about her boyfriend was that he liked craft beer, the CFL, and staying single.

  “He snorted and said that you’d probably end up with two kids and a divorce before you were thirty! Can you believe it? The guy does not have a romantic bone in his body.”

  I sighed. I didn’t know Jared, but our philosophies on early marriage seemed to be in alignment.

  The phone rang, and I picked it up. “Good morning, C2C Sports Radio.” I put the call through to the sales department. Minnie picked up the heart-shaped gold frame on my desk. “Your fiancé is so cute! That dark hair and tan, and his eyes—what colour are they?”

  “Hazel.” They might turn a shade darker if he could hear this conversation.

  “And he works out, right?”

  “Uh huh. He does MMA training.” Well, he sort of did at one point. I had to play up his ass-kicking abilities.

  “Mmmm, no wonder you wanted to lock that down. So, when will I get to meet him?”

  “Jeez, I have no idea. Phil’s travelling all summer. All I get are postcards and the occasional phone call.”

  “Travelling without you? That doesn’t seem right.”

  “It’s something he and his friends have been planning ever since high school.” That was true anyway. Phil always had wanderlust and wanted to do a big trip after graduating.

  I was getting to the end of my lying abilities. All I expected was to ward off guys, but Minnie wanted to discuss wedding plans. I knew nothing of weddings. Finally, she remembere
d she had a job to do and drifted back to Accounting. After she was out of sight, I let out a long breath and nervously felt the bridge of my nose. I had just told so many lies that even Pinocchio would be shaking his head.

  I tapped my fingers on my clean desk. Frankly, it was kind of boring here. Hockey season was over, and we weren’t getting that many guests or visitors. I got up and went to Cheryl’s office.

  I knocked and poked my head in.

  “Hey, Cheryl, have you got a minute?”

  She looked up at me with wide eyes and then dropped a file on the floor. I helped her pick up all the papers and then sat down across from her.

  “I thought everything was fine,” she blurted.

  “Um, it is.”

  “Then you didn’t come in to quit?”

  “No, of course not. I came in to see if there’s more work I could do. You know, when it’s not busy. I’d be happy to do anything.”

  Cheryl blinked at me a few times. “Well, that would be wonderful.” She stood up and took out a fat folder from the filing cabinet. “These are the expense reports. If you could go through each one and make sure that the receipts match the forms. Also, here’s the guideline. Expenses are not supposed exceed certain thresholds, so if you could double-check those as well.”

  I eyed the papers. “Sure. I don’t think this will take that long, so if you have anything else, feel free to bring it.”

  “Thank you, Kelly. I certainly will.” Cheryl looked the happiest that I had ever seen her.

  * * *

  News of the free labour at the reception desk spread quickly, and I soon had lots to do. My favourite work came from the show producers, who gave me research assignments. I was learning lots about different sports, like Major League Soccer, minor league baseball, and lacrosse. And there were promises that I might even get to do some pre-interviewing.