The Tao of Hockey (Vancouver Vice #1) (11 page)

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?”

“
W
ake 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?”

She smiled. “Sorry. I needed a little reward for everything I’ve done for you in the past ten hours.”

I pulled on the grey t-shirt. It read
Team MBC
in black letters and was a little tight.

Five minutes later, we were in my truck.

“Why are you driving?” I wondered.

“Because you may still have an elevated blood alcohol level. And you need to eat everything in the bag.”

I peeked inside. Besides a bottle of Gatorade, there was toast, a banana, and salted nuts. I felt queasy just looking at food, but I nibbled at the toast. Josie seemed to be on a mission.

I swallowed. “Um, I can’t remember everything I said to you last night. I hope I didn’t say anything stupid.”

“You mean the wedding’s off?”

“What? I didn’t....”

Josie laughed. “This is too easy. You must have fried some brain cells last night.

“I feel pretty slow this morning.”

“Okay, Eric. Let’s get serious here. You know that guy—Ram, or whatever?”

“Rams. Yeah, he’s the captain.”

“He’s an asshole. He set you up. He got you drunk, hoping that you’d miss the mandatory practice. Or even get hit with another DUI.”

“How do you know this? I don’t even know this.”

“I don’t have proof. But it makes sense. He’s not your friend, and you’re an idiot if you keep trusting him.”

I started eating the banana. She might be right, but how would he even know we were having a surprise practice? “Why wouldn’t he want me on the team? I can help the team.”

“You go around in this love-peace-om daze. Wake up. People have a zillion different reasons to do shitty things.”

“That’s not good, Josie. You have to look for the best in people.”

“Okay, forget it. Just listen and do what I say. You go into that hockey arena, and don’t let anyone know you’re hurting. Play your guts out, and be good. If anyone asks if you’re hungover, deny it. You feel great. Got that?”

I nodded. “Yes. I feel great.”

“What is wrong with you? Did he roofie you or something? It’s like you’re still totally out of it.” She pulled right up to the door of the arena.

“I’m not a morning person. There’s Rams now.” He was walking in from the parking lot. He peered into the truck at the two of us.

“Kiss me,” Josie said. I leaned over and was surprised by how passionate she was getting. She ran her hands all over the back of my head and practically pushed me onto the seat. Abruptly, she let go. “Now get out.”

I put my hand on the door handle. “Um, how will I get home?”

“Text me, and I’ll pick you up.”

I got out, and Rams was waiting there. “Hey, Burner. Are you hurting this morning?”

“Nope.”

Josie rolled down the passenger window. “Eric baby, last night was incredible! I’ll pick you up after practice for Round Two.” Then she blew me a kiss and drove away.

“Wow. She sounds like a happy woman.” Rams said. “So that’s what you did instead of coming to my place. Dude!” He held out a hand for me to slap. I slapped it, but watched his face. Did he look disappointed? Maybe Josie was right.

C
oach Panner was using
the whistle a little too loudly at practice.

“Come on, guys. Wakey-wakey. Let’s see who was out too late last night.”

Obviously, this practice was his way of seeing who partied hard and who went to bed early. I was going through the motions during practice, but at least I was performing instead of barfing into a toilet or waking up in some random’s bed.

Coach kept getting after me, but I had zero anxiety. It felt like a miracle that I was even here. I was more worried about upchucking on the ice. At least nobody was hitting. I realized that about half the guys looked as green as I felt.

I skated up beside Devo. “You feeling okay?”

He nodded. “I left early and went to bed. I was worried that Coach Panner might pull this stunt.”

“Why? Has he done it before?”

“Sorry I didn’t mention it. I overheard a couple of the vets saying something, but I wasn’t 100% sure.”

Fuck me. Josie was right.

One of the younger guys threw up onto the bench, and the stench was making everyone a little queasy, so Coach called the practice a few minutes early.

“Fairburn.”

“Yes, Coach?”

“You up to your partying tricks again? You didn’t have a very good practice.”

“No, sir. I’m fine.” I wasn’t going to admit to anything—not even a bad practice. And I hadn’t been that bad.

I texted Josie before I got changed. Rams came up to me in the room.

“A few of us are going out for lunch. You want to come? I’ve heard some stuff about team composition that might interest you.”

“Thanks. But I have to meet someone.”

“Oh yeah. That chick in your truck. She’s hot. Needs a little more up here though.” He motioned to his chest.

I shook my head. “She’s perfect.”

“Whatever. Later.”

Yeah, when hell froze over.

I got outside the arena just as Josie was pulling up.

“Hey, good timing.” I hopped inside. “Wow. It’s nice and clean in here.”

“Yeah. I had your truck washed and detailed. Had to get rid of your empty water bottle collection though.”

“Wow. You didn’t have to do that. Let me repay you.”

“The receipt’s on the dash. And I did have to. Driving the vomit comet wasn’t good for my reputation.”

“So, what happened last night?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“It all comes back eventually, but I was hoping you’d give me a little recap.” I reached over and took her hand. “The most important thing is that I owe you huge for everything you’ve done for me.”

She checked the side mirror and pulled out. “Be a shame to waste all your hard work now.”

“Yeah. You called that setup thing right. Apparently, Coach Panner does this every camp—the unexpected practice. So, Rams was screwing me over, and a bunch of the other guys too. Man, you’re smart.”

“I’m normal. You’re too trusting.” She turned onto Hastings Street. “Did you want lunch?”

“Sure. But you know, in hockey, there’s this huge trust between teammates. Even if your best friend was on the other team—” I swallowed. My throat was dry, and I took a swig of water. “Anyway, your friend would be the enemy and you’d always stick up for your team. Like war.”

“Yeah, but in a tryout, everyone is your enemy. You’re not a team yet.”

I nodded. This was the exact advice I’d given Foxy, and I’d been too stupid to take it myself. “I wish I was as smart as you.”

“I know nothing about hockey. I’ve been piecing things together from what you’ve said to me.”

Feeling like I was an idiot wasn’t good. A guy who’d been around should know better. “Owls are so good at sitting back and assessing the situation.”

Josie hooted and parked in front of a crappy little diner. “Don’t give me any of your food lectures. Everyone knows that burgers and fries are the best hangover food.”

She was right again. I could almost sense the grease sliding down my digestive system, but I was feeling better and better. Little bits of the night were coming back. Me talking nonstop.
“Oh babe, you’re so great to come and get me. You’re so amazing. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”
And then, shit. Did I tell her I loved her?

“Uh, Josie... I seem to remember saying some, um, sentimental stuff last night.”

Her eyes met mine, and she smiled. “You are correct.”

“What did I say exactly?”

She laughed and ate a French fry. Then she didn’t say another word.

“Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Why? You said you remember everything—eventually.”

I tried hard to remember more. I especially wanted to know what she had said back to me. “It feels like you have the advantage on me.”

“Always.”

Suddenly, there was a click of clarity.
“Josie, I think I’m falling in love with you.”
And her answer:
“Don’t. People love me, and then they leave.”
Could that be right? Josie—being vulnerable?

“It’s not fair. You know so much about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“That’s me, international woman of mystery. Don’t worry, I’m sure there’ll be a time when I get completely trashed, call you to rescue me, and bare my soul.”

I snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re always in total control.” That came out more insultingly than I’d intended, and I looked up at Josie to see if she was mad. She wasn’t. She doled it out, but she could take it too.

“I like myself. So I don’t need to alter my reality.”

“Are you saying I don’t like myself?”

She shrugged.

“No, really. Tell me.”

Josie exhaled. “You spend a lot of time worrying about what people want you to be. That seems like a waste to me. But it’s your life, do what you want.”

“It’s easy for you. You’ve got a great place to live and a job you love. I’m not in the same place yet, I’m still getting there.”

I watched as she dragged her French fry through the ketchup on her plate. She drew an “X” over and over. When she finally spoke, her voice was hesitant—like every word was costing her. “Life is never easy. You should know that better than anyone.”

“I’m sorry, Josie. I shouldn’t be making assumptions about your choices.”

“Enjoy today. Stop stressing about everything you’ve done and everything you still have to do.”

Her philosophy sounded too simplistic to me. I had thought so much about flow and being in the moment, and achieving a higher level of consciousness. “That sounds too much like an unexamined life.”

“No. You crave this state of nothingness—like not thinking. I would never want that. I like to turn ideas over in my head. And when we have sex, I like to be conscious of it all.”

That was hot.

“Actually, that reminds me—there
is
one time when you lose control. I think it’s between the third and fourth orgasm.”

Josie flashed a smile and held up her hand. “Check, please.”

I
played
the first preseason game on Saturday. The series was with the Manitoba Moose. They must have been tired from their trip here, because they were going through the motions in the first period. I was on a line with Rams and Foxy, and we scored on our second shift. It was a tic-tac-toe play with Foxy burying the puck over a sliding goalie.

Foxy was excited back on the bench. “That’s a good thing, right, Burner? Coach’ll like that I scored.”

I slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re the man, buddy. Nice mitts.”

We had a two-goal lead going into the middle of the game, when Ortiz stuck a lazy leg out on his check and took a penalty. Then one of the d-men put the puck over the glass and suddenly we were defending a five-on-three.

“You’re up, twelve,” Panner called out. It took me a moment to even understand that he meant me. I was wearing the number twelve for the first time. And I wasn’t exactly the star defensive player on the team, so it was weird that I’d be the only forward out there. I hopped over the boards.

The Moose were coming out of whatever funk they had been in and gaining momentum on the power play. They were moving the puck around the perimeter and taking a few shots from the outside, but we never managed to get possession. The seconds were ticking off, and we were all getting tired. Suddenly I noticed that one of the points was about to make a pass across to the far boards. I darted out, and picked off the puck, and took off for their end.

The Moose defenders were trying to catch up, but I was already at top speed. The goalie was sizing me up, but neither of us knew each other’s tendencies. I faked a move to the right, then cut back and let go a wrister that he deflected out. One of the defencemen picked it up and passed it hard into our zone, where our two d-men had barely managed to change. The Moose forward got a shot off, and Bloc managed to freeze the puck. Exhausted, I made it back to the bench, and Rams took my place on the P.K.

I was catching my breath, when suddenly, Coach Panner appeared beside me, and grabbed my shoulders.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you, Fairburn?” he screamed in my ear. “It’s a fucking 5-on-3, and you handed them their best scoring chance of the period.”

“Sorry, Coach,” I muttered. But I didn’t agree with him. I had a chance to score, so I had gone for it. The goalie had barely stopped it, and I hadn’t fired a slapshot because I understood the dangers of a big deflection.

“It’s a fucking team game, and we play a fucking team defence! When we’ve got a lead, you need to think defence first.”

Seriously? I was supposed to skate the puck into the fucking corner when I had a breakaway? I understood team defence, but that was insanity. I shook my head. Coach Panner walked away to yell at the penalty killers. Unfortunately, the Moose scored on the remaining power play, and Panner decided he needed to yell at me some more. That was really crazy, because I wasn’t even on the ice for the goal and what I had done was thirty seconds earlier.

But I was Panner’s whipping boy. He decided to bench me for a few shifts as a punishment. Since this was my chance to show my stuff in a real game, that was pretty discouraging. Coach Lee patted me on the shoulder during my grocery stick stint, but he didn’t say anything. The head coach was the boss around here.

I played again in the third period, but instead of playing on the top line with Rams, I was demoted to the fourth line. Ortiz took my place on the first line.

“Don’t worry,” Devo told me. “Coach wouldn’t be yelling at you if he didn’t want you to improve.”

“Thanks.” But maybe Panner’s real mission was to show that my defensive issues outweighed my offensive potential. The only break I got all night was the fact that we managed to keep the lead and won. If we lost, I would have been Exhibit A for selfish play. As it was, Coach Panner glared at me in the room, but at least he didn’t say anything more. I didn’t even have Josie to turn to for comfort because she was working out of town until Monday.

He read out the team for tomorrow night’s game. All the guys who had sat out were in. And I was out. Tonight had been my one big chance to make an impression. One assist and one screw-up. Even if I still didn’t agree that I had done the wrong thing.

A
fter the second game
—a loss to Manitoba on Sunday night—Coach Panner told us that the coaches would be meeting that evening, and individual meetings were tomorrow. He would post a list of meeting times in the morning. This was typical of the Vice’s half-assed way of operating. They should have just pulled the fucking bandage off all at once by posting the roster, instead of extending everyone’s pain. And it also meant that we had to come in first thing to see our meeting times. These guys were sadists.

Since I was still in a suit, I didn’t need to hang around the room. The mood was mixed. A few guys were happy, sure that they were making the team. Others were resigned, ready to go back to the ECHL, or wherever they had come from. A lot of the guys were young enough that this was good experience for them. They’d be back and be better next time.

I felt calm inside, even though I had no idea what my fate would be. I had had a good camp, maybe even a great one. Coach Lee was really high on me and wanted me. But after the big night out, I had fallen out with Rams. I wasn’t rude, but I wasn’t interested in his bullshit. Usually, what another player thought didn’t matter, but he was the captain.

The real question mark was Coach Panner. For whatever reason, he had a grudge against me personally. Was my on-ice performance enough to overcome that? There was no question that my past was reason enough to cut me, but if that were true—why even invite me to camp?

Panner was the guy in charge of the roster. Unlike most teams, the GM didn’t seem to get overly involved in the player selection process. Thomas Richardson had barely been seen at camp. According to Rams, the GM was busy assembling the best possible squad of Ice Girls, which was a stupid waste of time. But since the Richardson family owned the team as well, that wasn’t going to change soon. The reasons for the team’s problems were crystal clear once you spent a few days around here.

The next day, I headed back to the arena. Not surprisingly, I was the last guy on the meeting list. I decided to go to the gym to kill the time before my meeting. I could do a light workout and a long stretching session to get the kinks out.

I was halfway through my routine when Foxy interrupted me.

“Hey, Burner.”

I untwisted myself. I couldn’t tell from his neutral expression if he was in or out. “What’s up?”

“I got cut.” He tried to shrug like it didn’t matter. “So I guess it’s back to Wichita.”

“That’s a shame,” I told him. It was dumb. The kid had potential, and all he needed was a chance. If I ran a losing team, I’d take guys with lots of upside over guys who would deliver a solid but average game. Panner seemed to prefer the sure thing, judging from last season’s roster. But Foxy was on the small side, and some coaches liked the big, bruising players. “You’re good though. I’m sure you’ll get more chances, you just need to work on a few things.”

“Yeah. Thanks for all your training advice. I will work on bulking up.” He grinned. “Don’t know about the yoga though.”

“Flexibility. It’s important.”

He told me everyone he knew who had made the team. It seemed to be mainly the same guys from last season, although I was happy to hear that Wendell Black, the asshole defenceman, had been cut. The other good news was that Daniel Ortiz had been cut. Less competition in my position was a good sign.

“You’re gonna make it for sure,” Foxy said.

“Nothing’s for sure. Especially around here.”

“Well, I guess you could go back to Europe then. I wish I could do that.”

“You should look into it.” But they had limits on import players, and I wasn’t sure if Foxy was good enough.

We shook hands, and he took off. I finished up my workout and still had enough time before my meeting for a shower. As the water poured down on me, I thought about Josie. Was she the reason I was feeling so calm? But getting cut would make things that much more difficult for us.

I got dressed and headed towards the coach’s office. One of last year’s Vice forwards walked out into the hall, looking pissed. He ignored me, and I assumed he had just been cut as well. Were they saving all the bad news for the end? I knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Coach Panner barked.

“It’s me.” I poked my head in. Coaches Panner, Tellier, and Lee were all crammed into the little office. There was one empty chair, and I took it.

Ian Lee began. He pulled out a sheet and pulled down his glasses. “Eric, you’ve had a good camp. You had the highest scores on the fitness testing. Your play throughout camp was also excellent. I was impressed by your ability to absorb direction and make the adjustments we requested.”

Coach Panner interrupted. “Let’s stop the love fest right here. We’re all aware that Eric has the tools. Hell, he was a first round draft pick—but that was five years ago. But your biggest issue is between your ears. Once the season starts and the pressure ramps up—can you hack it? We don’t need some fucking prima donna going all psycho and cheap-shotting everyone. Nobody wants that shit in the game.”

I breathed deeply. He was trying to bait me, but he was right. You couldn’t replicate the real stress of the season in a training camp or preseason games.

“I’m a different player now. I’ve cleaned up my lifestyle. You can look at last year’s season for proof.”

“Waltzing your way through a bunch of Euros is not the same as playing with the big boys in the A.” That was the kind of stuff I heard from people who had never been out of North America, so I ignored his insult. Guys in the Swiss League were tough too.

“But we’re not here to argue. We’re going to offer you a contract—but, and it’s a big but—there’s a morals clause inserted in it. If we think you’re up to your old ways, like boozing, whoring it up, or being a distraction in the room—you are out of here. No second chances, because you’ve already had enough of them.”

“Okay. Thank you. You don’t have to worry about that stuff anymore, I’m in a better headspace now.”

Panner rolled his eyes, but the other coaches smiled at me. Maybe they’d had to lobby for me to make the cut. Coach Lee stood up. “Since we’re done here, I’ll get you set up.”

We both walked down the hallway. He clapped me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Eric. I didn’t tell you before, but Mike Guildford is a good buddy of mine. He was the one who convinced me we needed to give you a good look.”

“Thanks a lot, Coach.” His genuine enthusiasm was finally making me felt good. Panner’s backhanded offer had dulled the fact that I was finally here. Not in the NHL, but a big step closer.

Or was I still worried about screwing up? I couldn’t deny that Panner was right—what would I be like under real pressure? But I had handled last season’s playoffs, and I managed to stay in control.

“Rob’s bark is worse than his bite,” he assured me. “The guy cares a lot about winning, and he understands that you can help us.” The Vice had one of the lowest goals-for totals in the league last year, so scoring was something they’d be leaning on me for. A lot would depend on who my linemates were, but having Coach Lee in my corner was going to help that.

“Damn. You’re the last player today, and I’m missing a handbook. I’ll be right back.” Coach Lee disappeared, and I sat on the edge of his desk. I pulled out my phone, and Lance had called twice. I called him back.

“Hey, Eric. Congratulations—you made it.”

“Thanks. Feels good.”

“Okay, my assistant looked over your contract. Everything is standard except two things. The money is league minimum and there’s this wonky morals clause they’ve inserted. I’d like to negotiate on both these issues before you sign.”

“It’s okay, Lance. I’m ready to sign.”

“Look, it’s my job as your agent to get you the best possible deal.”

“But I get to tell you when I’m good with a contract, right?” I knew a lot about the Vice organization now. There wasn’t going to be any more money, and I wasn’t going to screw up. I felt good about myself and happy about living in Vancouver and having Josie on my side.

Lance argued with me, and we finally agreed to him negotiating some performance bonuses. “I’d like to sign everything by tomorrow morning,” I told him. I wanted everything in black and white before Panner changed his mind. And Josie was due back in town tomorrow night, so I wanted to celebrate with her.

“Done.” He wasn’t completely happy with me, but I figured he would be if I managed to make it to the next stage. Coach Lee had returned with the materials for me.

“Thanks, Coach. Just talking to my agent.”

“Well, we’ll get everything done up right. You’ve got two days off, and then we start the season for real. Practices and games are in the schedule. You’ve been here before, so I don’t have to explain how things work, right?”

I nodded, and we shook hands.

T
he next morning
, I went back to the facility and signed my contract. My good mood kept growing. Besides, I had another good thing happening today. I drove to the provincial insurance office where I met with Maude, who had been supervising my driving restrictions since I moved to Vancouver.

“Big day, today,” she said when I got there.

“Huge,” I agreed.

She went out to the truck to check the readings. “Looking good. Let’s go back to my office, and I’ll get the paperwork done.”

She filled out a bunch of forms on her computer and began printing them out. Once I took them to the garage, I could get my interlock removed.

“Well, Eric, I spoke to you about responsible driving on the first day we met. Driving is a privilege and not a right. Your readings have been perfect, and I’m happy to see that you’ve been taking this so seriously. Are you drinking at all any more?”

“I only drink if I’m not driving. So, if I know it’s going to be a night out, I arrange for a ride or take a cab.” I shivered thinking about how close I’d come to blowing this accomplishment the night of the bar crawl. But still, I hadn’t actually driven—something in my brain had stopped me.