by Melanie Ting
Mr. November
A Vancouver Vice Story
Melanie Ting
Copyright © 2017 by Melanie Ting
All rights reserved.
Cover by Indie Solutions.
Developmental editing by Jodi Henley.
Copyediting by Amy J. Duli.
ISBN 978-0-9952433-3-o
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Introduction
1. Mistress of My Domain
2. Talking Turkey
3. Calendar Boys
4. A Knightley in Shining Armour
5. Practice Makes Perfect
6. Adopt a Cat
7. Caught in a Web
8. First Date Jitters
9. Fight Night
10. A Whole New Man
11. Say Yes to the Dress Pants
12. Zen and The Art of Picking Up Women
13. Where’s Knightley?
14. Twisted Sister
15. Team Bonding
16. Shoot and Score
17. Happy Endings
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Melanie Ting
Excerpt from Better
Introduction
He’s the feared tough guy of the Vancouver Vice hockey team, yet he’s afraid to make a move on a petite woman. It will take the entire team—and Knightley the cat—to convince Marty that he should take a chance on love.
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1
Mistress of My Domain
“The bottom line is that we’re running out of money. If we don’t find new sources of income, we’ll have to do something huge. Like sell the building—or even shut down.”
Elaine Salang tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, but the idea that they might have to shut down the cat shelter was terrifying. What would happen to all the cats they had now? And what would happen to any future cats in need?
The head of the shelter, Maureen McCumber, leaned back in her chair and shook her head. Right now, she looked like a cross between everyone’s favourite grandmother and a movie supervillain. She was wearing a bright blue pantsuit with a coordinated blue-striped blouse, and her white hair was a fluffy halo around her smiling face. But she was also petting a white Persian cat draped across her lap, and there was another black and white cat lying on her desk. She shook her head. “If only my pension was bigger.”
“Maureen, we talked about this. For the charity to survive long term, it needs to be financially viable. Your family has already supported the shelter for years.”
The older woman nodded. “Otherwise, when I kick the bucket, the place will have to close anyway. Well, we’ll have to do another fundraiser.”
Elaine sighed. The ladies who volunteered at the shelter were all lovely, but bake sales and catnip mice weren’t going to raise enough money. As the treasurer and youngest member of the board, she was always trying to drag everyone into the twenty-first century.
“Again, I’d like to suggest that we get our website updated. We can get donations directly then.” The Vancouver Indigent Cat Enterprise website looked like something from the dawn of the Internet.
Maureen frowned. “That reminds me. We got the strangest request. Someone wants to buy our domain name. Do we have a domain name?”
“Yes, that’s the hostname for our website,” Elaine replied, but she could see that meant nothing to Maureen. “Can I see the email?”
“Oh, there’s no email. It’s an actual letter. It’s possible I deleted their previous emails, thinking they were spam.” Maureen began searching through the papers on her desk. Finally she had to dislodge Oreo from the in-box. The cat gave them both a disgusted look and stalked off to join the rest of the cats in the main room. “Ah, here it is.”
Elaine scanned the letter. The Vancouver Vice hockey team wanted their domain name, and they wanted a meeting to discuss compensation possibilities!
“Oh, wow. This could be huge.” Her excitement level was rising. It was like they needed a miracle, and one had appeared. Everyone knew that hockey teams in Canada were a license to print money.
Maureen was less enthusiastic. “Who are these people? I thought the local hockey team was called the Vancouver Tycoons or something.”
Elaine was no hockey expert either, so she pulled out her phone and did a quick search. “Yes, the NHL team is called the Millionaires. But the Vice are the American Hockey League team. That’s one level below.”
“Why are they called American if they’re in Canada?” Maureen wondered logically.
“No idea.” Elaine twisted her mouth as she read more. The Vice were definitely not millionaires or even successful. The search was bringing up headlines like “Vice make history with AHL’s longest losing streak.”
She picked up the letter and read it again. “Still, the letter is from Amanda Richardson.” Amanda had been the latest speaker at the Women in Business breakfast where Elaine volunteered each month. Amanda had spoken so confidently that Elaine had gotten an instant woman crush. If there were posters of young women executives, Elaine would have decorated her bedroom with them, but she settled for Pinterest boards instead.
“Well, I know of the Richardson family, of course,” Maureen said. The Richardsons were old Vancouver money. “But why do they want our domain?”
“Her hockey team is called the Vancouver Vice, so people are probably clicking on our V.I.C.E. site by mistake.” Elaine ran her finger over the final paragraph. “But they want to discuss a fundraising opportunity with us—as compensation. Even if it’s not a lot of money, this could really help us out!”
Elaine watched as Amanda Richardson presented her pitch. The boardroom they were in was disappointingly dark and dingy, but Amanda herself was as confident and in charge as a good role model should be. And Amanda was wearing a Stella McCartney pantsuit straight from the pages of Vogue! Elaine added “elegant designer pantsuit” to her list of life goals. She wondered if her own outfit of a red peplum jacket, a white shell, and a black pencil skirt was too girly. Elaine liked bright colours and feminine details, but she admired Amanda’s sleek fashion sense.
Amanda leaned her hands on the edge of the table, and her voice dropped to a persuasive timbre. “What we’d like to suggest is a joint fundraising project: a calendar featuring your cats and our hockey players.”
Nancy, Amanda’s assistant, started up a slide presentation of calendars that other hockey teams had done. Hot men—some without shirts—posed with adorable baby animals. Most featured dogs. Nobody could deny that dogs were better actors. They would lick your face or sit down on cue. But they lacked the basic adorableness of cats.
However, cats were such divas. The chance of getting both hockey players and cats looking adorable in one photo would be slim. Weren’t most hockey players kind of unfortunate looking anyway? All scars and missing teeth? Heavy Photoshopping must have gone on in these calendars.
Elaine snuck a look at the actual hockey player in the boardroom. Eric Fairburn had the features of your basic Greek god. His only role so far was to shake their hands and smile. Elaine suspected that he was invited to soften up both her and Maureen, and that idea irked her. They were businesswomen, not giggling schoolgi
rls. Luckily, Maureen was made of stronger stuff. While she looked fluttery and gentle, she was extremely smart and decisive. Whatever Elaine might recommend that V.I.C.E. do about this calendar offer, it would ultimately be Maureen’s choice.
Handsome men never moved Elaine. All her life, her mother had warned her against good-looking guys—they would take your money and cheat with other women. That was her mom’s experience anyway. Elaine’s dad lived in the Philippines, and she had only met him twice. And he didn’t seem particularly good-looking.
Amanda switched to a new slide. “Finally, in order to minimize the disruption to your web traffic, we will set up your new site and ensure that search engines are pointed correctly to the new name. We took the liberty of doing searches on a few of the available names.”
Elaine read the suggestions: Van City Cat Rescue, Vancouver Cat Haven, and Vancouver Cat Charities. All sounded better than their current name, since nobody even knew what “indigent” meant.
“Thank you, my dear,” Maureen interrupted. “If we decide to accept your kind offer, we are perfectly capable of thinking up our own names.”
Darn. It sounded like Maureen was unimpressed with Amanda. Elaine was ready to jump on this offer right now. Publicity and now a new website? Where could she sign up?
Amanda smiled warmly. “Of course, you can. We were only trying to make things easier. Now, do you have any questions?”
The older woman leaned forward. With today’s yellow pantsuit and a jewelled cathead brooch, she looked ready to announce that fresh cookies were coming out of the oven for everyone.
“Yes. I have done a little research, and I discovered that the Vancouver Vice have a rather unsavoury reputation. Several of your players have criminal records, and your president was involved in a sexual harassment lawsuit. I am wondering if this is a team that we should even consider associating our kitties with.”
The entire room went dead quiet. Elaine almost choked on the water she had been sipping. Nancy’s mouth had dropped open, and Eric’s ears were bright red. Did that angelic-looking man have a criminal record too?
But Amanda didn’t miss a beat. “Mrs. McCumber, I am so happy that you asked this question. If we are going to be partners, it’s important that we are honest with each other. Everything you say is true, but I am happy to assure you that the team is both changed and changing. Since I took over management of the team in January, I have been working to create a family experience. Our players now do more charity work than any others in the league. Many of the players you mentioned are now gone. We have a strong sexual harassment policy, and that president is gone as well.”
Elaine couldn’t help but admire Amanda’s confidence. She had taken an objection and turned into an asset. But Maureen wasn’t done yet.
“I understand that your last animal promotion wasn’t that successful,” she began. “The Bring-Your-Dog-To-The-Game night?”
A slight wrinkle appeared on Amanda’s smooth forehead. Nancy looked like she was trying not to laugh.
“Well, yes. That was ill conceived. Apparently some dogs don’t take too well to being in close confines with other strange dogs.” Amanda cleared her throat. “But on the bright side, we got some publicity and no lawsuits were filed.”
“And only half the janitorial staff quit,” muttered Nancy, but only Elaine heard that.
“Did I mention that we are prepared to offer you 100% of the profits of the calendar?” Amanda added.
“If there are any,” Maureen replied. Elaine thought this was too harsh. All they had to do was provide cat models, and they’d get a calendar, publicity, and a new website. A website where people could see all the good things they did for cats.
Now Amanda spoke directly to Maureen. “I know all about your distinguished career in the foreign service. Being a woman diplomat in those days, you were a trailblazer for working women. Thank you for that. And now your organization is doing so much to protect the lives of cats. As the owner of a rescue cat myself, I would very much like to promote your work.”
Even Maureen couldn’t help but soften a little at that. The two of them going toe-to-toe reminded Elaine of an Animal Planet show where female meerkats were battling for dominance. But who would win? She knew that Maureen would not be rushed into a decision, no matter how Amanda tried to close.
After a little more discussion, and reassurances from the handsome Eric that the team was 100% behind this calendar, the meeting wound down.
“Thank you for coming.” Amanda shook both their hands. “I’m hoping that we’ll hear something positive from you soon.”
Elaine couldn’t read Maureen’s expression; as a former diplomat she was a master at hiding her emotions. But Elaine was going to make sure this project happened. For the sake of the cats.
2
Talking Turkey
Maureen started up her old Mercedes sedan, and they exited the parking lot.
“Well, what did you think of their pitch?” Elaine asked.
“Not much. They’re scarcely offering us anything for our web domain. And I think that a calendar photo session will be upsetting for the kitties.”
“We can set up guidelines for the photography. What if we do it at the shelter? Then the cats won’t have to leave their familiar surroundings.”
“Hmmm.” Maureen signalled a right turn. “But this hockey team doesn’t even seem to be that successful. Apparently, they’re not selling out their own games. Otherwise they would have offered us money. I believe that’s how these things are usually done.”
Elaine grinned. Maureen had gone from someone who didn’t know what a domain was to an expert on Internet values.
“You know that our bake sales are not cutting it anymore, right?”
Maureen laughed. “Yes. I have seen the numbers.”
“If we don’t do something big, we won’t have enough money to cover our operating costs. If we sell the shelter building, that could fund us for a period, but then we’d have to find a new place to rent.” Vancouver rents were so high too, and there would be zoning headaches.
“Is it really that bad?”
Elaine nodded. She had explained the financial situation several times, but the ladies on the board had been ignoring her hints, so she would have to take a firmer stand. “Maureen, this opportunity fell into our laps. We trade a website that we weren’t using anyway for a chance to make some money. If it fails, nothing is lost.”
And the best part was that the Vice’s own expert web designer would do the new site. Elaine had been trying to get a website redesign for months, but since the other board members were forty years older, nobody else was as keen.
She continued to press the matter. “The truth is that when people want to find a cat charity to support these days, they look online. With a new website, we might get new volunteers as well as donations.”
“What’s wrong with our current website?” Maureen asked. “My nephew designed it.”
“Ummmm.” Elaine didn’t want to offend anyone, but their website was a hot mess. It was completely static and instead of cute cats up for adoption, the photos featured the various maimed cats that had been rescued and rehabilitated. Even Amanda had mentioned something about kittens and “whole cats” when she talked about the potential calendar. “But that was some years ago. That technology changes constantly. We need a site that shows we are current and professional.”
“Well, I don’t like to make decisions on the spot. Let’s get lunch at that Filipino restaurant you’ve been talking about.”
When Maureen said she was done, it was time to shut up. Elaine hoped she had presented all the right arguments. She directed Maureen to a tiny restaurant that had been opened by a friend of one of her aunties.
“Elaine! You’re back.” Pearl, the owner, came and gave her a big hug. She was a petite woman in her sixties. Elaine introduced Maureen, and Pearl hugged her as well. Maureen looked surprised but not unhappy.
The restaurant was a tiny one with
a steam table.
“For lunch, you choose two dishes with rice,” Elaine explained. Maureen peered into the steel trays.
“What’s that dish?” She pointed at a dark brown stew.
Pearl grinned happily. “That is dinuguan, very delicious. Takes a long time to cook. We call it chocolate meat.”
“Oh, chocolate. I love chocolate,” said Maureen. “That sounds like a Mexican dish.”
Elaine shook her head. “Can I suggest one of these pork dishes instead? The giniling?” Sometimes Filipino foods had nicknames that were a bit of a joke. There was no chocolate involved in dinuguan, only organ meats cooked in pigs’ blood. But that wasn’t the kind of recipe information to share with a first time visitor to a Filipino café. Canadians could be squeamish.
But Maureen was both adventurous and stubborn. She ordered the dinuguan and the giniling. They sat down at a plain but spotless table and waited. Pearl fussed over their dishes, adding a little sliced cucumber and tomato to make the plates look good.
“Elaine, don’t you have mid-terms at school right now?”
“Not until next week.” Elaine had a job, school, and volunteer work. Everything was part-time, but she had to juggle a lot of plates.
“Just thinking about your schedule makes me tired,” declared Maureen. “How much longer until you can become a chartered accountant?”
“At the rate I’m going, it will be in three years. If I could go to school full time, it would go faster, but I figure I’ve got the best of all worlds. I’m getting accounting experience in the meantime.”
