The Tao of Hockey (Vancouver Vice #1) (5 page)

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?

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.

“
E
ric
, 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.”

He held up two fingers. “Next option: you have a so-so season. Good, but not really turning any heads. Less options, maybe another AHL team if you stay clean, but probably back to Europe. You rolled the dice, but let’s face, it you’re getting too old to be a rookie anymore.”

I sat back. Yeah, anywhere else in the world, 23 would be young—but not in hockey. Even though I had taken a half-season off and my body had less wear and tear on it, I was still competing with guys two or three years younger. Who had better reputations.

“I don’t have to tell you what option three is. Don’t go there.”

Option three was me screwing up again. Boozing and fucking around. Crapping the bed on my last chance to make the NHL. And possibly even fucking up so badly that I couldn’t go back to Europe. But I wasn’t going there again, I’d learned to tame that side of myself. As long as I could keep it under control when I was under real pressure.

Lance frowned at me. “Is this going to be an issue for you? Especially playing for a party-hearty team like the Vice. I told you—there’s one team in New York State that might give you a tryout.”

I shook my head. “No. I really want to stay here.”

“I get it. Family support and all that.”

Yeah. That was part of it.

T
he other part
of it was no longer leaning against a polished marble wall when I got out. Josie and her buddies had taken off, and the only sign they had ever been there was a crumpled Starbucks takeout cup. Would she even call me? Or would she wash my number off her arm when she went home with one of those skinny bike jockeys?

After talking to Lance, the importance of this season loomed even larger. He might think I was a shoo-in to make the Vice, but I wasn’t as confident. I decided to head back to the gym and do some more work.

Tony was still there, of course. He gave me a head nod when I walked in, and I wondered if this had been a test too. Seeing whether I would make up the two hours I had missed. Tony was such a master of psychology that was impossible to stay ahead of him.

As I got changed, I wondered what would have happened if I had hooked up with Josie instead of coming back. Maybe women were trouble. But when I closed my eyes, I imagined her half-naked, pressed up against the smooth marble wall with my cock pounding into her. Her head would be back and she’d be a screamer for sure, because she didn’t give a shit about what other people thought. When I imagined us together, it wasn’t about how good it would feel to fuck her—that was a given—but how good it would be to make her feel something. I wanted to rock her world and shatter that chill exterior.

I did a light workout, and then focused on my stretching. Tony came in to see me after he was done with his other clients.

“How did your meeting with Lance go?”

“Fine. He told me how great you think I am,” I joked.

Tony grimaced. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not? Isn’t a little encouragement a good thing?”

“I think players work harder in an atmosphere of uncertainty. Being too comfortable leads to complacency.” Suddenly he smiled. Tony’s smile was a little crooked, like it was rusty from disuse. “You know, Eric. I don’t think I’ve discussed my philosophies of sport so much with anyone before.”

I smiled back.

“One thing I encourage all my players to do is to consider their careers after hockey. Is that something you’ve done?”

I shook my head. “I guess it’s taken me so long to climb back up the mountain that I can’t see beyond the peak.”

“You should think about it. Most guys get a pro career that’s only a few years tops at any level. That’s not going to set them up for life. It’s not uncommon for players to become depressed once their career is over, because they’ve done no preparation. It’s good to have something else to look forward to—in your case, it may alleviate your fears.”

I nodded, but I was surprised that he had identified fear as one of my issues. I tried to be fearless out on the ice, but maybe he was right. I never thought beyond making the NHL. Suddenly, an idea occurred to me. “What would it take to work with you?”

Tony’s eyes widened. He didn’t reply right away, and he seemed to be actually considering this. “Well, your yoga background is intriguing…and you’ve read a lot about sports psychology. But to be honest, most guys in my business have some kind of degree in the field.” He lifted his shoulders. “If not with me, personal training might be a good fit for you. I’ll put together some information for you. But like most things, having been successful in hockey will ease whatever you do afterwards.”

That’s what everything hinged on—how successful I was this time. At least he wasn’t saying I had to make the NHL, only that it would be easier.

“Tony, do you think that under pressure, we all revert to our true selves? I’ve worked so hard not to let my anger rule me. I think of it as the red side, but it’s like that rage is always there. It’s one thing to train and scrimmage—but in a real game, when things matter, it’s different. And Lance underlined how important this season will be for me. So when everything is on the line, how will I keep my emotions in check?”

He stared at me, deep in thought. Then he answered. “You can’t. And you shouldn’t. The best players have rage and unpredictability. And they do cross the line sometimes, because they want it so much.”

“But, once I cross that line—” Wouldn’t everything fall apart then? One lapse and I could be back at the bottom.

“It’s wrong to injure someone deliberately. But in hockey, a little fear will keep your opponents a bit unsettled, maybe they’ll give you that extra space you need to make a play. Our game has violence in it. That’s inherent. Sure, it’s going to be in direct contradiction to some of the philosophies you’ve studied, but that’s hockey.”

I didn’t have trouble hitting guys, and I wasn’t above a little stick work. And I had fought too. But Switzerland had been different—the bigger ice meant less crashing in the corners and a passing game that had suited me. Was I ready for the hard-driving North American style again?

“Besides, Eric, what is your true self? You played hockey for years without crossing any boundaries. Then after your accident, you began to have control problems—that’s what you need to examine.” He was right. But I hated going there. It was over, and the farther away it got, the less I had to remember.