The Tao of Hockey (Vancouver Vice #1)

by Melanie Ting

  Margie was reminding me of my high school girlfriend, Sunny: someone who always had plans for both of us. Joe started drilling again, but in between he continued his advice.

  “I’m not really complaining, Margie’s a great gal. But for a young guy like you, get your priorities straight. You could make some pretty good money if you make it to the NHL.”

  “If I was driven by money, I’d be back in Switzerland. I’d probably make more money there.”

  “Yeah, but long term you’re not going to make millions in Switzerland.”

  “It’s not about the money,” I told him.

  “That’s nuts. It’s always about the money.” Joe continued his lecture. “In the movie industry, I’ve seen more than a few good guys get side-tracked from the main chance. So, I tell everyone that they need to pursue their dreams hard.” He picked up the drill again.

  “I agree with you, Joe, but I can’t play hockey 24 hours a day.”

  Joe pointed the drill at me. “Women are complicated. They take time and energy—which is exactly what you need for hockey.”

  I shrugged. That was a matter of opinion. When it came to women, you had to steer clear of the head cases, for sure. But sex was good for your game. It was like the ultimate way to relax.

  I walked out to the garage to get another load of cupboard doors. When I closed my eyes, I could see X again. She pulled me towards her, our lips met, and the heat of that kiss melted off our clothes. Her naked body was taut and tanned. I reached out to squeeze those pointy little nipples and felt a sharp pain. Like an idiot, I’d been caressing Joe’s workbench. Fuck, now I had a splinter and a boner. Maybe Joe was right. I was getting too obsessed.

  5

  Silk Stalking

  As the days passed, I got used to Tony’s training program, and my initial exhaustion cleared. I was still pushing my body to new limits, but my stamina was building up and I could recover faster. Tony was a real stickler for details. He watched me doing deadlifts and then pointed out exactly how I needed to position my wrists as I was lifting and what position my feet should be in. He believed that tiny changes in technique made huge differences.

  “You have to train exactly right to maximize strength and prevent injury. You’re lucky, Eric. Your yoga background has increased your flexibility. But I’ve never met one player who couldn’t improve his core strength.”

  He was the first person to call anything about my hockey career “lucky.” The fact that I was still getting to play pro was a good sign. And my fitness level and diet were at a better level than most. That was something I could thank my mom for. Guys used to laugh at my “healthy crap” diet, but now everyone was doing it.

  As usual, there was bitching about the wholesome choices at lunch, but it was mainly the younger guys. The older you got, the more you realized that your body was in a delicate balance and needed proper fuel to function at peak performance.

  I loved the food here. But my favourite part of lunch was when Tony weighed in with his opinions on game psychology. In fact, all the guys seemed to enjoy discussing the mental part of the game. Maybe the intensity of the program attracted guys who liked this kind of debate.

  Dirk started today’s conversation off. “You know what I don’t get? Yogi here is so into meditation and keeping calm. Isn’t that the opposite of what you want for hockey?”

  Reeds snorted. “Don’t worry about Yogi. He’s all zen off the ice, but put a puck in front of him and he’s a fucking menace.”

  “Still bitching about that hit on Tuesday?” I asked.

  “You don’t hit people in a fucking training scrimmage,” he replied, rubbing his shoulder. He was right though: I was in another zone on the ice. But that only made me feel more confident—like all the parts of my game were coming back.

  Tony said, “Intensity is important. Meditation is a form of concentration that can help your mind focus.”

  “‘Focus’ is a word that’s overused,” Bomber said. “Everyone wants to be more focused, but what is that exactly?”

  “That’s a great question,” Tony said. “I like to think of it as stopping time.”

  “Stopping time?” Dirk asked. “Like in sci-fi movies?”

  “Yeah, like The Matrix. If you could operate out of time, imagine what an incredible player you would be. So by honing your hockey skills with repetition, you can attain a certain amount of extra time. You can pull the right shot or pass out of your muscle memory. But more than that, you have to be able to factor in the physics and human factors of the situation to determine where the puck will go next. That’s the key: how well you can predict the future.”

  Bomber nodded. “Like Gretzky said, ‘I skate to where the puck is going, and not where it’s been.’”

  Tony nodded. “Everyone aims to do that, but half the time they do end up skating right at the guy with the puck.”

  “That’s because consciousness disrupts your focus,” I said.

  “How so?” Bomber asked.

  “You don’t have time to think about what you should do. You need to do it without consciously realizing it. For me, the best shifts are when I get off the ice and I can hardly remember what happened. But all my synapses were firing and I feel great.”

  “You’re so weird,” Dirk said, shaking his head. “If you can’t remember how you scored a goal, how can you do it again?”

  But you could never score the same goal again. Each time, the variables would shift. Maybe the next time, the ice would be fresher, or the d-man would be out of position, or the pass would be the right play. You could never predict the future, but you could prepare.

  Once Tony took off to do some paperwork, the conversation got more personal.

  “So, did you get a line on Cinderella yet?” Reeds asked me. He was the most interested in my pursuit of X.

  “Yeah. I’m not going to make a detective anytime soon. I found out that she works as a stuntman, or woman, I should say. But I asked the only guy I know in the film business, and he won’t help me.”

  “Did you look online?” Reeds asked.

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a directory or something.”

  I pulled out my phone and checked. One quick search and a site called Stuntlist came up. Another click on Canada West, then Women, and I was scrolling through headshots.

  “Shit. Why did I not think of this?” I muttered.

  “Because you’re just a pretty face.“ Reeds laughed.

  “Here she is.”

  Her name was Josie Ray. Ha, ha, like X-Ray. She looked different in the photo because her hair was long, but she had the same deep eyes and ripe lips. Even looking at that mouth was making mine water. She was looking at the camera without smiling, hand on her hip, wearing a tank top so you could see the muscles of her arm. You could also see the outline of her tits, although this time she was wearing a bra. As an added bonus, her vital stats were listed: 5’10”, 140 pounds.

  Dirk was looking over my shoulder. “Soo-ey. When you nail her, I want all the details. A stuntwoman. Shit, maybe she’ll throw you around or something.”

  “Maybe. Now I’ve got her name. But unless I’m a stunt coordinator, I’m not getting her contact info.”

  “Do I have to do everything for you?” Reeds asked. “Now you’ve got her name, search Facebook or Twitter. Or maybe that Internet movie database. Something’ll come up.”

  Bomber groaned. “I am disturbed that you know all this, Reeds.”

  “Okay, I’ll search her out tonight.” It would give me something to do in the evening.

  Josie Ray turned out to be a ghost. I found her credited on a few movies, but she wasn’t on any social media at all. Another fucking dead end. This was beyond frustrating—at least my sex life had been the one place where I had total control. But now that was turning into another failure.

  * * *

  Joe’s girlfriend, Margie, felt sorry for me. She had kids on their own in Toronto, so she worried about m
otherless me. If she saw my light was on, she’d pop down and invite me up for dinner. Joe didn’t seem to mind. I was burning a ton of calories every day, so I didn’t mind either.

  Margie worked in the film business like Joe, except she was in the costume department. Her current job was a television series about some superhero. She was a talker, and she was telling me about her day while Joe was out barbecuing. I was only half-listening until a familiar name popped up.

  “Sorry, did you say Josie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Josie Ray?”

  Margie nodded. “How do you know her?”

  “I met her at a pub last week. But we keep getting our wires crossed, so I haven’t been able to connect with her.”

  “Oh.” She gave me a skeptical look.

  “Do you have her number by any chance?”

  She started slicing tomatoes. “Nope. We’re not friends or anything.”

  “Hey, maybe I could drop by the set. Where is it?”

  “East Van. There’s a big property off Hastings Street, but it’s a closed set.”

  “What time do you finish shooting?”

  Margie laughed. “Gee whiz, Eric. This is the most excited I’ve seen you about anything other than food. Have you got a crush on her?”

  “No way.” It was more like an obsession. “Uh, what’s she like?”

  Margie was watching me with a big grin on her face. “She’s nice. Kind of a loner, but she’s a professional. Comes in and does her job. Gets it right the first time. The crew all appreciate that. I don’t think she gets that much work because she’s so tall. Not many actresses that tall.”

  She continued as she poured dressing over the salad. Ranch, and way too much of it. “I was fitting her yesterday in this evening gown. She sure looked good in it. You know, I might have a photo on my phone. I was proud of that one.”

  Joe walked back into the kitchen and laid a platter on the counter. “Steaks are done.”

  “Did you know Eric here has a little crush on this woman I work with?” Margie asked.

  He frowned. “Who would that be?”

  “Josie Ray. Do you know her?”

  Joe shook his head. “Does she do stunts?”

  “You do know her,” Margie said.

  He scowled at me. “How did you find out her name?”

  I blushed. “Uh, I finally remembered it.”

  “I don’t like it. Sounds like trouble to me. I told you, you should be concentrating on hockey and not women.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joe. Josie’s all right, why shouldn’t he see her?”

  Joe took the platter to the dining room. “Let’s eat.”

  Margie followed with the salad, and I brought in the bread and corn. We talked about other things through dinner. Afterwards, I helped Margie with the dishes while Joe watched the Whitecaps game.

  “Okay, thanks for dinner,” I said. “I’m off.”

  At the top of the stairs, Margie pulled me aside. “Give me your number,” she whispered. “I’ll text you the next time she’s on set. If you wait by the main gate at the end of the day, you’ll see her.”

  “Wow. Thanks, Margie.”

  “No problem. Don’t mind Joe, he’s a grouch tonight. You and Josie would be cute together.”

  When I got back to my suite, I lay down on the couch and wondered what was the best way to handle my second chance with Josie. Maybe Joe was right. She was becoming a distraction. Sometimes stuff like this took on its own momentum, and I ended up pursuing a goal for no other reason than it was challenging. That wasn’t right when it came to people. I wouldn’t go, and I’d tell Margie I had to focus on training.

  My phone vibrated, and I found a message from Margie. She had sent me the photo. Josie had on a fancy wig, glittery make-up, and a gold evening gown. She looked incredibly beautiful. I wanted her so bad that I could taste it. But staring at her polished image on the phone, she seemed even more unattainable.

  6

  The Outlaw Josie Ray

  A few days later, I finished training and went to my locker. When I pulled out my phone, there was a message from Margie.

  Josie’s working. Did you want to know when we’re wrapping up for the day?

  Yes!!!

  Shit. Three exclamation marks reeked of desperation. Then Margie sent me back a text full of heart and smiley emojis, and I had officially crossed into chick world. Maybe I should just wear pink tonight.

  “What are you doing, Yogi?” Dirk asked me. “You just got dressed and now you’re getting undressed.”

  “I’m taking a shower.”

  Reeds laughed. “Hmmm. He checks his phone and now he’s taking a shower. Sounds like someone’s getting laid tonight.”

  That was the plan anyway. I took off for the shower. When I came back, the guys were hanging around.

  “Why are you still here?”

  Dirk grinned. “We want to see her. Where you guys meeting up?”

  “You’ve seen her already.”

  “Is it that girl from the catering place?” Reeds guessed.

  “Stella? No.”

  His forehead creased. “Is it that physio chick, Brooke? Oh wait, I know—”

  Bomber interrupted Reeder’s next guess. “If we go through every chick who has a crush on him, we’ll be here all night. Who is it?”

  “Josie Ray.”

  That name didn’t register with anyone except Reeds. “Oh, that long, tall drink from the pub. The one who turned you down.” He laughed. “How did you get her to change her mind?”

  I combed my hair. “I haven’t yet. I’m going to accidentally bump into her, and we’ll take things from there.”

  Bomber shook his head. “Like that’s not borderline creepy.”

  “Yogi can get away with it,” Reeds said. “Who wouldn’t trust that angelic face?”

  Dirk snickered. “Who cares if she trusts it, as long as she sits on it.”

  Margie’s instructions were very specific, right down to a photo of the main gate, so I wouldn’t get lost. It was a huge fenced-off compound that covered a couple of city blocks. I was standing outside, leaning against a car, when Josie finally showed.

  She walked out in a red leather motorcycle jacket, ripped jeans, and another one of those faded t-shirts. I couldn’t tell from here if she had no bra on. My cock rose a little just at the sight of her.

  “Hey, Josie.” I waved and tried to sound casual, but considering how much time and effort I had put into finding her, this felt like a big deal.

  She didn’t look surprised to see me and crossed the quiet street.

  “Hey, if it isn’t The Fast and the Fucked-Up.”

  “Uh, yeah. So, I was wondering if we could pick up where we left off the other night.” She liked direct, so I was going for it.

  “Where was that?”

  “Something about fucking our brains out at my place....”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not? This time we can take a taxi,” I said. I had cabbed it here.

  “Where’s the blow-mobile?”

  “The blo—? Oh, I left my truck at home.”

  “Aren’t you the boy scout? Bet you have a pocket full of condoms too.” She threw her head back and laughed. Her laugh was low, throaty, and contagious. I laughed too. We were getting along.

  Then she started walking away, and I followed quickly.

  “Josie, wait. Do you know how hard I had to work to find you? You didn’t even give me your name.” I fell into step beside her.

  “I know. ‘A’ for effort. I’ll let your professors at Stalker School know. Are you that desperate and dateless?”

  “No. It’s you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You need to start watching better movies, Ricky. See ya.”

  “It’s Eric. Okay, how about dinner instead? There’s an Italian place near here.” Dinner would be better anyway, that was the way things normally went.

  “If you’re ESL, I ca
n say ‘no’ in a whole bunch of languages.”

  “I don’t get this, last week you’re willing to fuck me and now you won’t even eat pizza with me.” And that kiss. She couldn’t have forgotten how hot that was.

  Josie whirled to face me. “I was willing to fuck you because I wouldn’t have to see you again. But I don’t want to date you—especially now that I know what a creep you are.”

  I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. I felt her warm body underneath the smooth leather, and Josie softened a little at my touch. “I can do that. I can be your fuck buddy.”

  I leaned my head down and kissed her on the neck, up the curving line exposed by her short hair. And then the strong line of her jaw, up to her mouth. I felt desperate. When my lips met hers, everything I felt surged up. Her mouth was so soft and yielding—unlike her attitude. The attraction hit me like a tsunami. Surely I couldn’t be the only one feeling this all this. I could barely pull my body away from hers.

  I watched for her reaction. Josie’s nostrils flared slightly, and she looked up at me. Her eyes were as dark and unreadable as ever. I was aching for her—I wanted to strip her down and kiss every inch of her hot skin. I wanted to fuck her and see her sweating and squirming under me. I wanted to make her lose control.

  “Is that it? One kiss and I’m supposed to swoon?”

  “Admit it, Josie. You felt something.”

  She took a deep breath in and I watched the rise and fall of her tits. No bra again.

  She smiled. “You’re right. I think I felt my stomach rumble.”

  “So, you’re hungry. Dinner, then?”

  “Man, you’re persistent. Do you sell timeshares too?”

  “No, I’m a Tantric sex master.”

  Josie laughed. “Whatever that is.”

  I caught her hand and lifted up to my mouth—kissing the palm. I intertwined my fingers with hers and caressed her forefinger with my thumb. Her eyes widened like they did when I sucked her finger. I explained in a low voice, “It’s when we have sex for extended periods of time—like an hour or more—to achieve sexual connection on a whole new level. It’s all about prolonged orgasm for both of us.”