The Tao of Hockey (Vancouver Vice #1)

by Melanie Ting

  Growing up with a yoga teacher meant there had been lots of instructional books around. Of course, I had never actually been able to hold out for an hour, but I was more than willing to try with Josie.

  She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “Sounds like a crock.”

  I raised my hand. “Scout’s honour. I always tell the truth.”

  Her face lost all expression. “Nobody does that, Ricky.”

  “This is the truth: I think you’re totally unique. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m stalking you, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met. Sure, you’re beautiful and I want to have sex with you, but you’re also smart and funny. I’d like to talk to you and get to know you.”

  She gave a skeptical half-shake of the head. “You’re crazy.”

  I waited.

  “Okay. I have to eat. So, where’s this Italian place?”

  This huge grin from spread across my face. Finally, yes.

  “So, do you see anything you like?” I asked.

  We had walked to Campagnolo Roma, this Italian restaurant that Bomber recommended. I had also looked up Mexican, Vietnamese, and vegetarian places in the neighbourhood—just in case. I felt as nervous as if this were my first date. Except I wasn’t nervous on my first date. It was a movie when I was thirteen, her name was Aggie, and we made out in the theatre.

  But Josie was so hard to predict. She could get up and leave the restaurant on a whim, and I’d never see her again.

  “Mmm, I think I’ll have the pizza. It looks good.” She looked over at the dinner on the table beside us. The guy eating the pizza offered her a taste, which Josie declined. I resisted an urge to insert myself between them and declare that she was mine and nobody else should look at her. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Yeah, I might have that too.”

  I ordered mineral water and so did Josie. Then salads and our main courses. There was a short silence afterwards.

  “So, how did you get into the stunt business?”

  “I was doing stupid mountain bike tricks on Mount Seymour. This guy from a movie was hiring extras for an extreme sports scene, and I got picked. I met a stunt coordinator on the set, and he asked if I’d be interested.”

  She started eating a breadstick and looked around the restaurant.

  “I guess it takes a lot of training.”

  “Yeah, for sure. Depends on the movie.”

  “What kind of training have you done?”

  Josie blinked at me. “Do you think we could skip this whole what-I-do-what-you-do crap? And talk about something real instead.”

  The pizza guy at the next table had a slight smirk on his face. He probably figured he’d move in on her once this date went down the drain, which looked like it might be happening in the next five minutes. I desperately tried to think of something different to say.

  “Okay, let’s talk about what your spirit animal would be.”

  “My what?”

  The pizza guy actually snorted out loud. Fuck you, buddy.

  “Your spirit animal. We all have animal guides who appear to help with the problems or opportunities in our lives.”

  “How do we find them?” Josie leaned forward and looked interested for the first time all night.

  “Well, the best way would be for you to do some kind of physical journey, like a long meditation or a vision quest. An animal might appear to you in a dream.” She looked dubious about this.

  “But the most important thing is being conscious of what’s around you—like animals reappearing in your life. Take a lion, for example. You might see a lion photo on the side of the bus, or when you turn on the TV an African nature show might be on.”

  “I don’t have a TV,” she said.

  “On your laptop. Whatever. Notice what’s around you and be sensitive to the signs.”

  Josie cracked a new breadstick in two. “There is one thing that keeps appearing in my life repeatedly and unexpectedly.”

  “Really, what?”

  She pointed the breadstick at me. I laughed, and Josie smiled.

  “If I had to guess, I would say your spirit animal is an owl,” I told her.

  “An owl? I think I’m more the lion type.”

  “A spirit animal doesn’t mean an animal you identify with. It’s your guide animal.”

  “What does an owl say about me—that I stay up all night?”

  “No, it says that you’re smart and knowledgeable, but you’re watchful. You like to look around and take stock of things before you act. Maybe a little detached.”

  She closed one eye. “Hmmm.”

  “Is that a good ‘hmmm?’”

  “Yeah. You may be on to something.” Then she added, “Hey, you know what? One morning last week, I was out biking near Lost Lagoon, and these tourists had been attacked by baby owls. This woman said that the owls had actually torn out some of her hair and her scalp was bleeding.”

  “Did you see the owls?”

  “Yeah, they were sitting up in a tree. They looked so cute I couldn’t believe they were bloodthirsty killers. I read up on them and found out that they just have crappy vision so when it gets light out, they can’t tell prey from the top of someone’s head.”

  “I rest my case. Your spirit animal is an owl.”

  “Two killer owls do not make a case. Anyway, what’s your spirit animal?”

  “A butterfly.”

  Josie laughed loudly. I joined her, even though I suspected she was laughing at me.

  “Why is that so funny?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know. You’re this huge guy, and butterflies seem so dainty and feminine. It’s the typical first girl tattoo.”

  I winced. Was she psychic? Maybe she was talking about herself. No tattoo on any visible body parts, but I was willing to do a full body inspection to make sure.

  She had seen me checking her out. “I have no tattoos. I hate needles or anything medical at all.”

  Our pizzas and salads arrived. Josie dug in and began to eat. The way she ate was hot—she attacked her pizza with enthusiasm and then licked her fingers.

  “Mmmm, I was hungry,” Josie said after three pieces of pizza.

  “I guess putting your body in danger does that. Fear makes you hungry.”

  Josie’s dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Actually, they say fear is a powerful aphrodisiac. But maybe you’re different.”

  I swallowed. Was this evening going to end up in my bed? Because I would be A-OK with that. The guys next to us got up and left. Pizza guy cast one sad glance back at Josie, but she didn’t even notice. Clearly, our date was getting better all the time.

  “Tell me more about your butterfly buddy.”

  “Well, a butterfly means change and transformation. Which makes sense since I’m going through a lot of life shifts now.”

  “You sound like a personal coach or guru.”

  I got that a lot. “I spent some time in the desert studying with a shaman.”

  Josie smiled. “You know, you’re not at all like I expected you’d be.”

  “And that’s good, right?”

  “Yeah, I had you pegged as a jock.”

  “Well—I do play hockey.”

  “For a living?”

  I nodded.

  She visibly recoiled. “So, you’re like some gazillionaire hockey player?”

  “No. I’m not in the NHL. There are other levels, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.” She didn’t ask me any more questions, and I wondered if going on about hockey was more “what-you-do” crap. But most women found hockey a turn-on.

  “I played in Switzerland last year. But I’m hoping to play here at home this year.”

  “How was Switzerland?”

  The first word that came to my mind was “lonely,” but that sounded wussy. “Great. Mountains. Cowbells. Fresh air.”

  “All the stereotypes. How was the chocolate?”

  “Okay, I guess. I only had it a couple o
f times. I eat pretty clean and avoid refined sugars.”

  “Did you want dessert or coffee?” Our server showed up exactly at that moment with little menu cards.

  Josie took one and glanced at it. “I’ll have the chocolate cake and an espresso. He wants to know if you have anything tofu-based.”

  The server began to stammer, and I ordered an herbal tea. I had this weird feeling that Josie only ordered dessert because I said I ate healthy.

  Once the chocolate cake came, she ate it slowly and deliberately. “This is soooo good.” She inserted a forkful of cake in her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then stuck the tip of her tongue out to lick her lips and even the fork. Fuck. She must know what watching that tongue was doing to me. If not, she would find out once my boner raised my side of the table.

  She lowered her voice to a throaty purr. “Did you know that chocolate is supposed to be an aphrodisiac too?”

  Oh yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing. “Uh, no. Can I have some?”

  “Eric. Of course not. That would not be healthy for you.”

  “Are you making fun of me? Just because I didn’t eat my weight in Swiss chocolate while I lived there?”

  “Well, it’s my experience that people who are uptight about food aren’t much fun.”

  “I am fun.” But insisting I was fun sounded pretty lame.

  When the waitress came back, Josie paid for herself despite my protests.

  “I pay my own way, Ricky.” The date seemed to have taken a wrong turn somewhere between hockey and chocolate. I sighed.

  “So, would you like to do something else now?” I asked hopefully as we left the restaurant. My erection had eased up enough that I could walk normally, but it was still a pretty visible bulge in my jeans. Maybe she hadn’t noticed though.

  Josie yawned. “No, thanks. I’m tired tonight.”

  “Well, we can get a cab. You could come back to my place for, um, coffee.”

  She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “You can trust me, I’m a gentleman.”

  “Then why go home with you?”

  She was completely mystifying, and I let out a grunt of frustration. She walked quickly down the street, and I followed her. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going back to get my bike and go home. I have no idea where you’re going.”

  “See, if you would only ride in my truck, I could have put your bike in it, and you wouldn’t have had to cycle home in the dark.”

  She laughed. “Shame, that.”

  “Why wouldn’t you come home with me the other night? Was it just the interlock or something else?”

  “You’re kind of tedious, Ricky.”

  “I wanted to know—for future dates.”

  “Aren’t you optimistic? I think that if there’s a sign that says sharks in the water, and you go swimming anyway, whatever happens is your own fault.”

  “Okay.” That meant she wouldn’t ride with me while the interlock was in the truck. “I’m graduating from the driver supervision program soon.”

  “Congratulations. I’ll send a gift. Probably not champagne though.”

  We were almost at the gate where I’d met her. A security guard in a turban smiled at Josie and unchained the gate as she approached.

  “So, when can I see you again?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll call you.” She slipped inside, and he slid the gate closed behind her.

  “But Josie, you don’t have my number,” I called out.

  “Yeah, I know.” She laughed and then disappeared.

  Fuck.

  I stood by the gate, wondering what to do next. I’d have to catch the bus or a cab now. All that planning for nothing. But first, I could stop her when she came out and at least give her my number. Or better still, get hers.

  I waited on the sidewalk. The guard slid the chain link fence back, and there was the loud roar of an engine. In the fading twilight, Josie rode out on a motorcycle as red as her jacket. She leaned expertly to one side and accelerated onto the side street, and then disappeared onto Hastings Street like a modern day action hero.

  Could she be any more fucking cool?

  7

  Fate and Karma

  I opened up my locker before lunch and checked my phone. Messages, but none from Josie. I threw the cell back in and slammed it shut. How exactly did I think she was getting my number anyway? Just because she looked like a superhero didn’t mean she was one. I was holding out the hope that Margie might be involved somehow. Too bad I hadn’t seen Margie lately, but both she and Joe had been working long hours.

  “Something wrong?” Bomber asked.

  Dirk snickered. “It’s his big crush, he’s waiting for a call from her.”

  I shook my head. “This is brutal. I hate feeling helpless.”

  “I’m sure Yogi is familiar with the concept of karma. How many girls did you say you’d call and then never did?” Reeds wondered.

  “That’s not the same.” I considered this. “Okay, maybe it is. But what are you supposed to say afterwards if she asks if you’re going to call? No? That would be way harsh.” But the Josie situation wasn’t the same because we hadn’t had sex yet. Maybe this was worse—I was getting rejected on the basis of my personality.

  Bomber shook his head. “This chick is messing with you, buddy. It’s not going to end well. Women who play games are the worst.”

  Dirk laughed. “Yeah, but the ride can be fun.”

  I had to leave training early that day. My agent was in town, and we were meeting for coffee in the afternoon. You could always tell how important you were to your agent based on the kind of meeting you got. Meals were big; when Lance wanted to sign me, he took me and my parents out for dinner. But I wasn’t complaining, I’d been phone-calls-only for years now so coffee was a step up. Besides, I got how important I was in the universe of a big sports agent.

  I had to drive downtown since we were meeting at Lance’s hotel. I parked on the street, fed the meter, and walked the three blocks to the Hotel Georgia. It was a great sunny day, and there were lots of people out. I was almost at the hotel when I heard a familiar low throaty laugh. I spun around and saw a bunch of couriers sitting in the sunshine on a marble building ledge.

  And Josie was in the middle of them. She was wearing black shorts and colourful spandex layers on top. She was leaning against a pillar, completely relaxed—the only woman among a crew that looked like the cast from a Max Mad movie with body armour and layered clothing.

  “Hey, Josie,” I called out.

  She looked up at me and lifted her sunglasses. “Oh hey, butterfly.”

  All the guys turned to check me out. Her casual greeting made me angry. Here I had been mooning over her, while she clearly hadn’t given me another thought since our dinner. Still, I wasn’t going to call her out in front of her tribe. I swallowed my irrational anger.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure.”

  She straightened up lazily, brushed herself off, and walked over. She faced me, but her mirrored metallic lenses weren’t giving me any hint of her thoughts. Again, I was struck by her absolute confidence. I’d found her again in completely different circumstances, but she offered no explanation or apology.

  I opened my mouth to complain that she hadn’t called me, but then shut it. She was wearing a vest that had pens clipped to it, so I reached over and pulled one out. I grabbed her wrist in its black fingerless glove, extended her arm, and then wrote my phone number on her bare skin.

  I put the pen back in her vest. That was a little trickier, and the sides of my fingers lingered against her breast. Josie’s lips parted slightly as she breathed in. I leaned over until my cheek was brushing against her soft hair and my mouth touched the warm skin of her perfectly-shaped ear.

  “You and me,” I whispered. “It will be incredible.”

  Then I walked away. I could hear the voices of the guys and Josie’s sarcastic tones, but I didn’t turn around. If she was
into playing games, I was into winning games.

  “Eric, you’re looking good,” Lance told me. He meant fitness-wise, of course. If he wasn’t making tons of dough as an agent, he could have been one of those guys at the fair who guess your weight… and your body fat percentage and conditioning level. There was no fooling Lance if you were getting out of shape.

  “You were right about Tony. It’s not only fitness; the guy is into every aspect of playing. I’m so ready for this season.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad you took my advice. Tony’s kept me apprised of how you’re doing. He thinks you’re a very hard worker.”

  That was a huge compliment and not one I’d ever heard from Tony himself. I grinned.

  “I wanted to tell you, I have been making a few phone calls—trying to get you into a better situation than the Vice. I might have a team back East, but you burned a few bridges.”

  I nodded. I was well aware that I screwed up badly enough that many GMs wouldn’t even consider having me on the team, even after a good season in Europe.

  “Of course, there are pros and cons to every situation. With the Vice, they’re crappy and you won’t get great coaching, but you could still work out with Tony. And you’ll get more minutes. There won’t be any playoffs though.”

  “You make it sound like I’ve made the team already.”

  “From what Tony says, your game is back and your attitude has done a 180-degree turn. Look, you sacrificed some money to do this thing, so I’m sure you want it too. So, let me lay out what can happen.”

  Lance leaned forward. He loved this stuff—scenarios. He played high stakes poker because he believed he was good at assessing situations.

  “One option: you do good. You have a great season, show people your scoring touch is back and you’re keeping your nose clean. Then, at the end of the season, we’ve got tons of choices. A better AHL team or even an NHL tryout. That’s what we’re aiming for. Hell, we might even see some interest in January or February when some injury-ridden team is looking for help.” Then he scowled. “Of course, it’s not a sure thing. I don’t want to get your hopes up. You might only get a good AHL career out of this, but it’d be similar money to Europe.”