The Tao of Hockey (Vancouver Vice #1)

by Melanie Ting

  Her bedroom was as minimal as the rest of the apartment. There was this large photograph on the wall: a black and white aerial view of fields and lakes. Sliding closet doors took up a side wall. We were lying in a large bed with soft white sheets and a duvet. The bed was luxurious and comfortable. It reminded me of my bed in Switzerland.

  Josie was so self-contained. Her apartment was exactly like her—sleek and beautiful. I realized that I’d never had a place of my own; I had lived in furnished rentals, sublets, and at home. I didn’t even have a vision of my dream home.

  And maybe that was the key to overcoming my anxieties, knowing that life could be good outside hockey or after hockey. If I had a place like this to come home to, would I be less stressed about the end? Well, a home like this was perfect with Josie in it. She made me realize there was a life beyond hockey. I spent so much time with people who thought about hockey 24/7.

  That’s where my dad and Joe were wrong. Women weren’t a distraction—they helped you put hockey in perspective. Sure, it had been a challenge to get to this point, but stuff that got handed to me wasn’t worth having.

  Still, that meant I had to make the team. Lying here and feeling so good only showed me how important Josie already was in my life. And if I left Vancouver, we’d never get to see how good things could be.

  16

  Excess

  Thursday was the last day of the training camp. I had survived two rounds of cuts, and next we had a couple of preseason games. Rams guessed that they would keep the rest of the guys until after those games and then cut the team down to the final roster for the last preseason game.

  We were all in the room getting changed at the end of the day when Coach Lee walked in. Instead of his usual smile, his expression was tense. The room got quiet fast.

  “Brown, Jablonski, Lirenman, Stazio. When you’re dressed, please come to Coach Panner’s office.”

  Shit. The four players named finished changing, grabbed their gear, and headed out—all without a word. After they left, a little ripple went through the room.

  “Do you think they’re getting cut?” I asked Rams. Lirenman wasn’t a surprise, but the other guys seemed pretty good to me. This round of cuts was unexpected.

  He nodded. “It’s tough, but that’s pro hockey.”

  “What are we down to now?”

  “Five more cuts to the opening day roster.”

  I looked around the room. There were five natural left wingers remaining, but that didn’t mean much. Coaches were constantly switching up wingers and even centres. And the AHL had rules about the numbers of veterans on a team too. It would take a pencil and paper to figure everything out. But there was one big left winger, Daniel Ortiz, who I was most worried about. I was more skilled, but he was bigger. It depended on what the coaches wanted.

  Rams stood up. “C’mon, boys. Why the glum faces? We’ve all survived three sets of cuts—now it’s time to have some fun.”

  There were a few murmurs. Nobody wanted to be the one to screw up now by getting fucked up.

  But Rams was just getting started. “Boys, it’s our first night off in almost two weeks.” We had all of tomorrow off due to some issues with ice time. “You know what they say—all work and no play....”

  It was easy to see why Rams was captain, because he had charisma and enthusiasm. Soon he had everybody excited about going out to dinner and then on a bar crawl.

  “You’re coming, right, Burner?”

  “I have to make a call first.”

  He squinted at me. “Don’t let the old ball and chain stop you. Tell her it’s a team bonding thing.”

  I didn’t really have plans with Josie, but we tried to spend our free time together. She’d been doing stunt work on a movie shooting over in Victoria, so we hadn’t seen each other much this week. While I wanted to see her, I also wanted to hang out with the guys. If this was going to be my new team, getting to know everyone off the ice was important.

  I went outside to call her. “Hey, it’s me. We didn’t have specific plans for tonight, did we?”

  “Not really,” she replied. “Why?”

  “Well, the team’s going out, and I wanted to go too.”

  “Fine.”

  “Really?” Whenever Sunny used to say that things were “fine,” I got in trouble the next day.

  “Yeah. I told you, Eric. If you want to do something, just do it.”

  “I’ve got the whole day off tomorrow. So maybe we can spend it together?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll call you when I get up.”

  It sounded like she was ready to go, but I wanted to keep her on the line. “Sooooo, what are you going to do tonight?”

  “Remember that bar we met at?”

  “Yeah. That British pub place?”

  “I think I’ll go there alone and see if I can meet a hot hockey player.”

  “Josie! You are pissed off. I’ll come see you instead.”

  “I’m kidding. Actually, a friend from high school called about dinner and I turned her down. I’ll see if that offer’s still open.”

  That was unexpected. Of course, Josie must have friends, but she never mentioned any before.

  “How come I never meet your friends? Or your family?”

  “Dude, chill. You’re blowing me off this evening, you should be happy that I have plans.”

  I sighed. “Sorry. I am happy for you. And I know I’m being an idiot. I just want to do it all—see the guys and see you too. Maybe I can come by afterwards?”

  “Oh, the old drunken booty call? Yeah, no.”

  “I’m not going to be drunk. You know that.”

  “Whatever, Ricky. Have fun.”

  Again, I wondered if she was mad at me. But she didn’t sound upset, and Josie wasn’t a bullshitter.

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When I disconnected, I still felt unsettled. I was tempted to change my plans back and get together with Josie. But she was the one encouraging me to do my own thing. Then Rams draped his arm over my shoulder.

  “All set?”

  I nodded and off we went to dinner.

  Rams wanted to do a bar crawl after dinner, so we could find this season’s “official” Vice hangout. He had a whole list of requirements, and the third bar we hit seemed to meet them all. It had a dance floor, a live band, and a good crowd. The drinks were priced right too. But it had a slightly dive-y feel to me. It reminded me of the places we went to in junior when we were underage.

  We were seated at a large round table. I was enjoying being part of a team again. Rams slammed a couple of pitchers on the table.

  “My treat, boys. Congrats on surviving training camp!”

  Everyone reached for glasses and beer started sloshing around the table. The sharp scent of the lager signalled something inside me. One bitter sip would take me back to the time when everything was easy. When all I had to do was go out on the ice and play hard.

  I released the death grip I had on my glass of Coke and turned to watch the band. They were covering nineties rock songs.

  Rams slid into the seat beside me. “You’re not drinking, Burner?”

  I turned back to the table. Someone had poured me a glass of beer. It sat beside my Coke. I looked at the golden colour, the weightless foam, and the glistening drops of condensation on the glass, and imagined lifting the glass to my lips. The cool rush of refreshment—all I wanted was one sip.

  “No…I can’t drink and drive.”

  “Oh yeah. You had a little trouble in that area, right? But you’ve been working your ass off this week, you need to relax.” He leaned in towards me, so close I could smell the beer on his breath. “Tell you what, I’ll stay off the juice and drive you home.”

  “But I’ve got my truck here.”

  “Leave it in the parking lot. They’re not going to tow it. One of the boys will give you a ride back here tomorrow.” I liked the way he talked, like I was one of the team already.

  I hesitate
d. All the stress and pressure of the tryout was getting to me, and I wanted a little relaxation. And it wasn’t like I was an alcoholic or anything. I could have one drink without getting drunk. Even Shaman Felix believed that alcohol in moderation was okay.

  Rams slapped my shoulder. “I can see you need this, Burner. We’re a team, we’ve got your back.”

  “Okay, maybe I’ll have a beer.”

  “Attaboy.” He raised his drink. “To the new season, boys! It’s gonna be a good one!” Everyone clinked their glasses in the centre and drank. The taste of the draft wasn’t quite as refreshing as I’d imagined. But what was good was the feeling of belonging. For once, I wasn’t the odd man out. I was the same as everyone else.

  I didn’t want to get completely wasted, but the buzz felt good. All that pressure that Coach Panner had been putting on me was hard to take 24/7. I’d been dealing in all my usual ways—meditation, yoga, sex—but even Josie was adding to my stress. Even after that night she let me come over and complain, I still didn’t feel confident about us. Alcohol was the easiest way to relax.

  So, I had a few beers. It felt great to kick back and be myself. We were all laughing and joking around in that team way. It hadn’t been like this in Switzerland; because of the cultural barriers I’d always felt isolated. Now, I was home—almost on a team and back in Canada. Hell, it was as close as I could get to Nelson and still play hockey. I couldn’t even remember why I’d been so worried earlier tonight.

  Rams bought a round of shots. He was true to his word though: he stopped drinking and seemed to be everyone’s designated driver. Dirk had been so wrong about Rams, and I resolved to straighten out the record when I saw him again.

  After the shot, I started feeling a little weird. I didn’t think I’d had that much to drink, but it was really hitting me hard. Maybe my tolerance for alcohol was declining.

  Rams was staring at two girls across the room. They wore jeans, high-heeled boots, and skimpy tops. He poked me in the arm.

  “Why don’t you ask those chicks if they’d like to come back to my place for a party?”

  “Me? Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

  “Oh, I could. But I think you might be more likely to get a yes.”

  I shook my head. “They look too young. You don’t want to get mixed up with teenagers.”

  “Are you shitting me? Tight little pussies and they’ve never taken it up the ass. Nothing like an ass virgin. If they squeal a little, I get off on that too.”

  He was one sick puppy. I was already queasy, but he was making things worse. Now Ortiz was saying something about sloppy seconds. These guys were twisted. Shit like this had gone on since juniors, but it seemed worse now that the guys were older.

  I exhaled loudly.

  “You scared, pussy?” Blackie scoffed. He was a big asshat d-man. “We can send the A team then, right, Rams?” They both laughed.

  “Okay, I’ll ask them.” I went over and slid into a chair at their table.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, hottie,” the taller one said with a smile. Her friend looked nervous. Close-up they looked even younger. I wondered if they were even legal to drink.

  “You know, I’ve got a younger sister your age.”

  They both looked surprised at this pick-up line. I was surprised myself.

  “Yeah, so I feel kind of protective of you two. The guys I’m with back there—” I motioned, and they both looked over my shoulder. “They want me to invite you over to a house party. But you know what? If you go somewhere with guys you don’t know, bad things are going happen. Really bad.”

  “Um, why are you telling us this?” They both looked nervous now. They probably thought I was a psycho axe murderer.

  “Because I really think you should leave this bar now and go home. Do you need money for a cab?”

  The nervous one answered, “No, I’ve got a car.”

  “Have you been drinking?” I asked her.

  “Just Coke.”

  “Okay. Shoo.”

  They both got up and left right away.

  I returned to the table where all the guys were laughing.

  “Fuck, Burner. Not only did you strike out, they ran out of the bar,” said Rams. “What the hell did you say to them?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned the ass-fucking.”

  “You moron. You didn’t really?”

  I laughed, and Foxy laughed along with me.

  Rams drawled, “Well, it don’t matter none. I’ve got a whole list of ladies who like to party.” He held up his phone. “Why don’t we go back to my house and invite a few of them over?”

  Most of the guys nodded. This evening was turning into an epic party night.

  He turned to me. “I’ll give you my address and you can meet us there.”

  “I don’t know.” I was pretty sure that I was going to blow over the limit if I went out in the truck right now. But how was I going to get my truck home? Every problem seemed huge right now. “Maybe I better get a ride with you.”

  “Are you shitting me, man? You only had a couple of beers and a shot, right? You’re fine to drive.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t feel fine. “Really? You think so?”

  “I do. And I’m an expert on booze.” He laughed. “C’mon to my place, Burner. There’ll be hot chicks and we’ll have a great time. What did I tell you about being a team player? That’s what they want in the Vice—guys that would lay it on the line for their teammates.” He punched his address into my phone.

  “Okay. I’m going to take a piss. I’ll meet you guys there.”

  I went to the washroom. Once I was out of the noise of the bar, there was a ringing in my ears. The queasiness returned, and I lurched into a stall and leaned over the toilet. My stomach was knotted and my throat felt all choked up. If I could just puke, I’d feel better. Hunching over a toilet was reminding me of something, but I couldn’t even pull a complete thought out of my memory banks.

  I waited, but nothing happened. I took a piss instead and flushed the toilet. I stood there, leaning against the cold metal wall and not moving. I dizzily fixed my eyes on the words scratched into the paint—I love kristy. But did Kristy love him back? Poor lovesick bastard, I felt sorry for him. Fuck. What was wrong with me?

  I went out to the sink and washed my hands. I peered into the cracked mirror. I looked like hell. My eyes were bloodshot, and my face was all slack. It was weird. I didn’t even feel drunk. But everything was in slow motion—like an out of body experience. Hell, some people meditated for hours to reach the state I was in right now.

  When I went back out in the bar, everyone was gone and this waitress with hennaed hair and a skull tattoo was cleaning up our table. She gave me a disgusted look, and I wondered what we had done to earn that. I grabbed my coat off the chair and headed towards the door.

  Then an idea hit me. Maybe I had alcohol poisoning. This seemed both ridiculous and reasonable. My anxiety level was increasing, but I couldn’t remember what to do about that.

  I went out to the parking lot. The fresh air woke me up a little, and I unlocked the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. I automatically reached for the interlock remote and lifted it to my lips.

  Then I dropped it. Shit. Could I drive? Was I drunk or not? A vague memory was coming back to me—of me thinking I was fine to drive when I wasn’t. And then something bad happened. Maybe I should take a cab to be safe. Yeah, that would be the right thing to do.

  I pulled out my phone. But I didn’t actually know the number of a cab company here. That seemed like a huge problem. Maybe I should just lie down and have a nap. I closed my eyes. Yeah, this was the easiest thing to do.

  Shit. What about that alcohol poisoning thing? I still felt terrible and I didn’t want fall asleep and then die here in the truck. Especially when I was so close to making the Vancouver Vice.

  I held the phone up close to my face and poked the redial button.

 
“Hey. I’m kind of fucked up. Do you think you could help me out?”

  17

  Rescue Ranger

  “Wake up.”

  Josie’s voice sounded like it was coming through several levels of cotton batting. My eyes wouldn’t even open, so I gave up. Sleep. Her footsteps got softer and then louder.

  Cold water poured over my face and went up my nose, in my ears, everywhere. Freezing cold water.

  “What the—” I sat up, blew out water, and shook my head. “Okay. I’m up. I feel like crap though. Why didn’t you let me sleep?”

  “Look at this.” She shoved my phone in front of my face. I blinked a little. My eyes were not really open or in focus, and the letters looked blurry.

  On the locked screen was a new message from Coach Panner.

  Extra ice time. Mandatory team practice at 10:00am.

  “Fuck! What time is it?”

  “You have 35 minutes to get ready and get to the rink.” She was already pulling me up. I had been lying in a sleeping bag on the floor beside Josie’s bed.

  “You didn’t even let me sleep in your bed?” For some reason that seemed important.

  “Do you not remember throwing up out the truck window? I’m not into getting the mattress dry-cleaned. But we can relive our tender moments another time.” She yanked off my t-shirt and pushed me into the bathroom. “Shower now. And start drinking water. I left aspirin on the counter, take two.”

  I took a piss and then did everything she told me to. Her shower was one of those rain shower ones and felt great. I was coming back to life slowly. Half of me was stressed, but the other half was moving sloooowly.

  She banged on the door. “Get out now.”

  Josie’s towels felt soft. Her place was so nice. What was in her bathroom cabinet? I was going to peek inside, when the door opened.

  “Eric! You don’t seem to be panicking sufficiently.” She grabbed me and guided me back into the bedroom. “Okay, I found a clean t-shirt that will fit you, and your jeans and underwear are here. Get dressed.”

  I dropped the towel that was around my waist and noticed that Josie was still in the doorway watching me. “What is it?”