Between a Jock and a Hard Place

© 2011 Mona Ingram

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places

and incidents are either the

product of the author’s

imagination, or are

used fictitiously, and

any resemblance to actual

persons, living or dead,

business establishments,

events or locations

is entirely coincidental.

“I’m not taking no for an answer and that’s that!” Zoey was shouting to be heard over the background noise. “Listen, I know sports bars aren’t your favourite thing, but you have to get out.”

Claire knew it was a waste of time to fight with her friend when she was in one of her moods. She’d just keep calling until she caved. “Oh, all right. I’ll be there in about half an hour.” She disconnected and tossed her cell onto her bed. She knew she’d probably regret giving in, but Zoey was right, she did need to get out. Even though it was Saturday, she’d spent the day working on a project. That was the trouble with being a freelance graphic designer...the work was always sitting there, waiting.

She flicked through the clothes in her closet and grabbed the first thing she saw. A black turtle neck sweater and black slacks. She changed quickly and looked at herself in the mirrored closet door. “Great,” she muttered aloud. “I look like a piece of licorice.” Her cap of flaming red hair was the only colourful thing about her. “To be more specific” she said, a wry smile on her lips, “a licorice cigar. The kind with the little red sprinkles on the end.”

Claire fought her way through the crowd. Her friend was in the usual spot; seated at one of the many long bar-height tables, facing one of the massive screens. The table was littered with beer jugs, glasses, nacho baskets and the remains of an order of hot wings. She miraculously found a stool on the opposite side of the table and cleared a space. “Where’s Tony?” she asked, looking around.

“Gone to the head.” Zoey had taken to dropping nautical terms into her conversation ever since taking a party cruise a few weeks ago. Claire knew it would pass...the sooner the better. Her friend lowered her voice a couple of notches. “Listen, I just spotted a guy I want you to meet. He’s hot, hot hot. We see him in here all the time, and he’s hardly ever with a woman.”

“No thanks, Zo. I’m not interested right now.” When would her friend learn that jocks didn’t interest her? She ordered a white wine spritzer from the server and climbed up on the stool.

“Well too bad, ‘cause he’s on his way over here right now.” Zoey raised a hand. “Hey Kyle, I want you to meet my friend Claire.”

“Well, hello Claire!” He braced an elbow against the bar and gave her his full attention. She’d be willing to take bets that he rehearsed the move at home.

“Hello, Kyle.” She stuck out her hand. He hesitated for a moment and she suppressed a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

He recovered nicely and brought her hand to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She almost groaned aloud but was thankfully distracted by the arrival of her drink.

“Let me get that” he offered, reaching for his wallet.

She already had her money out. “Thanks for the offer Kyle, but I like to buy my own drinks.”

“Fair enough.” He gestured to her glass. “What are you drinking?”

“It’s a spritzer.”

He made a face. “Nobody drinks those any more.”

She gave him her sweetest smile. “They do if they have to work tomorrow.”

A roar went up from the crowd and Kyle turned around. “What did I miss?” he asked Zoey over his shoulder.

“Vancouver scored!” Zoey was bouncing up and down, the oversized Canucks shirt flapping at the arms.

Claire watched the delirious crowd as they watched the replay. All over the province the same scene would be playing out...in bars, homes, and on radio. She sometimes wished that she could be more enthusiastic about the great national pastime, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

“You’re not watching!” Kyle’s eyes were lit with excitement. “That was a classic goal.”

“She never watches.” Zoey had settled down and took a drink from her beer glass.

“You don’t like hockey?” Kyle looked at her as though she’d grown horns. “Why not?”

She didn’t really want to explain, but the disbelief in his tone compelled her to speak. “I grew up with hockey. My father is obsessed with the sport and he had my brother on skates as soon as he could stand up. It was all anyone ever talked about in our house, and to be honest I just got to the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

Looking back now, she had to admire her father’s dedication. The early morning practices, the endless purchasing of equipment, the unfailing support. She couldn’t begin to count the number of games she’d been to, sitting cold and miserable on the benches in the unheated rink. Fortunately for Cameron, he was a chip off the old block. And now he was playing in the minor leagues, with dreams of NHL stardom. She loved her twin; there would always be that unbreakable twin bond, but she didn’t have to like his sport. Her one concession was Cameron’s games. She’d attended every one since he started in the minor leagues, cheering him on along with her parents and his current girlfriend. The latter was subject to change without notice; it seemed that hockey players had their pick of willing women and her brother was no exception.

“So.....” Kyle was struggling to come up with something to say. His gaze darted around the bar, resting briefly on each of the screens. “Do you like any sports then?”

Claire pretended to think. She didn’t know why she was being so difficult, but she was enjoying winding him up. “I like tennis,” she said finally.

That blank look came over his face again and she took pity on him. “I started watching Rafa Nadal when he was seventeen and I’ve followed his career ever since.”

He opened his mouth and she thought he was going to prolong the conversation, but he’d spotted Tony returning to the table. “Hey, man!” he said, relief flooding his face. “You missed a great goal.” They fell into a discussion and Claire turned back to Zoey.

“Why do I bother?” her friend said, shaking her head. “What’s wrong with this one?”

Claire gave a small shrug. “Nothing, really. He’s actually very good looking.”

Zoey hunched over the table although there was no danger of their conversation being overheard in the cacophony of the bar. “Listen, kiddo. You had a bad experience with Harrison, but it’s over. How were you to know he was married?”

Her friend was right, but it didn’t make the hurt any less. “I know, but I’m just not ready yet.” She met Zoey’s eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay, but promise me you won’t bury yourself in work to the exclusion of everything else. What’s that all about, anyway?”

“I’ve got this crazy idea that I might take a month off in the spring and go to Hawaii. I’ve looked online and there are some fantastic places to rent, right on the beach.”

“You’re kidding! You...Claire Collins, actually taking a month off? Pull the other one.”

“No, Zoey, I’m serious.”

“And when were you going to discuss it with me, your best friend?”

“I just started thinking about it. Remember last week when it rained for three days in a row?” She gave a small laugh. “That was enough to make anyone think about sunshine.”

Zoey shrugged. “Ignore me. I’m just jealous that I can’t go with you.” She shot a quick glance at her fiancé. “Tony’s parents are having a big do for their fiftieth wedding anniversary in May and we’ve promised to go to Toronto.” She groaned. “Not exactly a tropical destination.”

“Never mind, it’ll be fun.” She motioned toward Zoey’s engagement ring. “And you’ll at least know them before the wedding.”

“Yeah, there is that.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. Claire waited for her to come back from wherever she’d gone.

“Have you ever thought about doing a blog?” she asked, apropos of nothing.

“Like I have so much extra time.” Claire frowned. “Besides, I don’t have anything I want to blog about.” She paused. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s the newspaper. The owner thinks we should have a blogger. Someone anonymous to keep it interesting.”

Claire snorted. “Anonymous so they can get away with saying outrageous things, is more like it.”

Zoey grinned. “That, too.”

Claire thought for a moment. “It might not be such a bad idea. Those new owners are smart, I’ll give them that. For one thing, they hired you to oversee production. When you told me about the group of people willing to buy an old web press and start a new, hip newspaper I thought they were crazy. Especially with traditional newspapers closing all over the place.”

Zoey nodded. “They know their market.” She glanced at Kyle, who was still deep in conversation with Tony. “Who knew there were so many people our age who still want to read newspapers?”

“And with the newspaper’s online presence they cover all the bases.” Claire tilted up her glass, surprised to see that it was empty. “If I think of anyone, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Zoey’s attention was back on the screen behind Claire. Time to go.

“I’ll call you in a few days, okay?” She winced as the sound went up several decibels. “Maybe we can meet for lunch. Somewhere we can hear ourselves think.”

“Okay.” Zoey was tugging at Tony’s shirt, pointing to the screen.

Claire left the bar and stood outside, hesitating. Cab or bus? If she was even going to think about a holiday, she’d better get more serious about conserving cash. Besides, it was a short run on the bus straight down Robson Street and there was the bus now. She hopped on, got off a few minutes later on the corner of Denman and walked the block and a half to her apartment.

A fine mist was falling, but she was lost in thought and scarcely noticed it. Zoey was right, of course. She couldn’t automatically assume that every man she met was going to break her heart. She opened the front door, walked into the generic lobby and pushed the button for the elevator. In those quiet, introspective moments that seemed to come more often these days, she had to admit that she was angry at herself as much as at Harrison. Angry because she hadn’t recognized the signs that he was married. They were clear now, but back then, in that first flush of what she’d thought was love, she’d been blind. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see them, but they’d been there. She wouldn’t be fooled again.

She let herself into her apartment, kicked off her shoes and wandered over to the full length window. It overlooked the harbour, and in the daytime she could see parts of Stanley Park. She raised her eyes to the lights of the North Shore. Over there, off to the left in West Vancouver, her parents were no doubt watching the late news before retiring for the night.

She pulled the drapes and wandered into her office. The rough layout of her latest project was taped to her drafting board and she turned on the light, studied it for a moment. She liked to sketch out her ideas before turning to the computer. She found it easier to adjust her thinking at this point, rather than after she’d put in several hours on the computer. She was setting up a major commercial website and wasn’t sure if she liked what she’d done so far, but something told her to leave it alone tonight and tackle it in the morning.

She should have known it was going to be a bad day when the cream curdled in her coffee. She bit back a curse word, poured it out and settled for a cup of herbal tea. She slumped down at her drafting board and eyed the new project. Had someone come in during the night and changed her entire concept? They must have, because it wasn’t anything like she remembered. She ripped the paper off the board and taped up a new sheet.