Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Three Page 3

  “Kelly, you’re a dream,” said Ruby Leitner, as she picked up backgrounders I had done on two Whitecaps players. She worked on the early morning show and was the only female producer at the station. She was a feisty brunette in her late twenties.

  “It’s no problem. What I can’t understand is what the previous receptionists did all day.”

  “From what I could see, vacantly staring into space and remembering to breathe were the main occupations of most of them.”

  “Luckily, breathing comes naturally to me.” I said, and Ruby laughed.

  “You must have more ambition than being a receptionist. You’ve got enough energy.”

  “Definitely. Is it wrong to confess that your producer job really appeals to me? You know, the background and organizational stuff. I don’t know exactly what you do, but everything I’ve seen so far looks interesting.”

  “Funny, I thought you were going to say you wanted to be a broadcaster. That’s what everyone wants, and you’ve got the right looks. Well, maybe you should job-shadow me one day. I know you don’t have any technical education, but you know there’s an intern program here, right?”

  “Ravi’s job, right?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately you missed the intake, but if you wanted to apply next spring, I’m sure you’d have a good chance. I’ll mention it to Cheryl.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem. We women have to stick together around here.”

  That was true. Although my fake engagement was helping, it wasn’t foolproof and there was a ton of sexism here.

  Exhibit A wandered up shortly after.

  “So, Kelly, I was supposed to drop these reports off for Don, but his door is closed right now.”

  Michael Hauser was leaning way over my desk and invading my personal space. He worked in the sales department, and he never took no for an answer—with clients or women.

  “Yes, he’s on a conference call with Toronto. Leave the reports on the package back there, I’ll put them in his office once he’s free.”

  “Well, aren’t you sweet? How ’bout I pay you back with drinks after work?”

  “Not necessary. It’s my job.”

  “Ahhh, c’mon. Loosen up a little.”

  I held up my left hand. “Talk to the ring, Mike.”

  “You know, I don’t completely buy the whole fiancé thing. How come we never get to meet this dude?”

  “I’ve told you a million times. He’s in Southeast Asia right now.”

  “Well then, you must be aching for a little action. I could put out those female fires with the Hauser Hose.”

  I snort-laughed. “Seriously? I guess I’m the first one to tell you this, but hoses are soft and limp. Now, shoo. I have work to do.” Cheryl wanted me to double-check the courier billings, and that required my full attention.

  I really enjoyed having a regular nine-to-five job. I ran early in the morning and then showered and went to work. I had my weekends free for outdoors stuff or going out with my girlfriends. And for the first time ever, I had joined a summer hockey league. I ran into Dave Vanderhauf at a party, and he was happy to add me to his mixed league team since he deemed me a ringer. As he told me, “Most chick players suck balls—not literally, since that would be sweet—but you can actually play so our team can clean up. There’s this one team of assholes I’d really like to take out.”

  Awesome. Who said my competitive hockey days were over?

  I could see that the Program Director was off the phone, so I grabbed the sales reports and the courier package and went to his office. He was a middle-aged guy named Don Johnson, or as he explained, “Same name as the guy from Miami Vice.” This might have been marginally interesting when anyone actually knew what Miami Vice was—“I’ll take Detective Shows of the 80s for 500, Alex,”—but not so much any more. Anyway, Don had this vision for the station as a big deal place, and he was the one who insisted on an attractive receptionist. Apparently he had visited some television station in L.A. so famous for their good-looking receptionists that athletes could not wait to come and hang out. Did I need to point out the differences between Los Angeles, a city filled with aspiring actresses and plastic surgeons, and Vancouver, a city of Gore-Tex and hiking trails?

  I knocked and went inside. “A package and some reports for you, Don.”

  “Oh, thanks. You can leave them there.” He motioned to the credenza. Don’s office was full of sports memorabilia that was probably getting more valuable by the minute. I balanced the package between a signed football and a retro baseball cap. As I turned to go, he cleared his throat.

  “Kelly, a little fashion advice,” he began. Was he kidding me? Don was wearing baggy jeans belted below his huge gut, a wrinkled black t-shirt, and old Nikes. I figured my yellow shirt, black capris, and ballet flats trumped that. “A pretty girl like you should wear skirts and high heels, you know, to emphasize her femininity. That’s the kind of image we want for our receptionist. You do represent the station, after all.”

  He might be my boss’s boss, but I did not have to take this shit.

  “Don, I sit behind a desk all day. Nobody could tell if I was wearing sweatpants and clown shoes.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Well, since they can only see from here up,” he motioned to the place above where his paunch began. “Maybe you should rock a little more cleavage. If you need help in that department, my girlfriend was telling me about water-bras.”

  What the hell was a water-bra? This was beyond sexist, and I was absolutely steaming.

  “Don, fuck right off,” I said and left.

  I figured I’d get fired at the end of the day. I finished the courier reports, labelled the sales packages, and then typed up the backgrounder for the paraplegic athlete coming in tomorrow. Damn it, I had been enjoying this job.

  “Kelly?” Cheryl poked her head around the corner. “Can I see you in my office?”

  I swallowed and stood up. My photo fiancé smiled up at me, but that wasn’t giving me any confidence. At least I wouldn’t have to lie at my next job, which would probably be scooping ice cream for minimum wage.

  I sat down across from Cheryl. I noticed that the piles of paper on her desk had diminished and her twitch was gone. She seemed more relaxed and confident.

  “I understand that there was a little incident with Don today.”

  “Um, yes.” Would it be too juvenile for me to explain that he had started it? I was pretty sure it was illegal or immoral for him to suggest I dress more sexily. But I shouldn’t have cursed him out.

  “Kelly, you’re doing a fantastic job here. You’ve taken on so much extra work. And you’re very professional. I know that the boys can be a little pushy, but you keep them in line. Everyone likes you, and I think you’re enjoying work, right?”

  I nodded. I knew a huge “but” was coming.

  “Well, since I hired you directly and not through an agency, I can offer you a little more money. Only $1.50 more an hour, but that will add up over time.”

  “Wait, I’m getting a raise?”

  “Yes, of course. I really hope you won’t quit, Kelly. When Don told me about your conversation, I sensed there might be a problem. I know he can be an idiot, but that’s always been his way. He shoots off his mouth and regrets it later. Don’t take him at face value.”

  “But—I told him to fuck off.”

  Cheryl’s laughter was a high-pitched trill. “You would not be first one here to do that. You’ve been a lifesaver. I’m letting the whole office know that I will personally castrate anyone who causes you to quit. Please see me right away if there are any problems.”

  “Thank you, Cheryl. That’s great.”

  I stood up and went back to my desk. I smiled at photo-Phil. Looked like we were going to be engaged for a little longer.

  5

  Saving All My Love

  When I looked up, Ben Cho was standing at the reception desk. I hadn’t seen him since last summer. He and April had lasted
for about six months, which may have been a new world record for her.

  “Hey, Ben.”

  “Oh hi, Kelly. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s my new job. What about you?”

  “I’m here to meet Albert Maisonneuve for lunch. He’s an old frat buddy.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” I buzzed Albert’s office. He was a junior sales guy and quite nice.

  “What are you doing these days, Ben?”

  “I’m working for my father’s company. We’re in the import/export business.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, nodding. He looked confident and well dressed. Outside of salespeople, hardly anyone who came in here wore a suit.

  “So, how’s April?” Ben asked with fake nonchalance.

  “Good,” I replied. “We’re roommates now.” Poor Ben was clearly still interested. April bugged me about old boyfriends, but she had left a trail of broken hearts throughout the Lower Mainland.

  “Really? Where are you guys living?”

  “We have a place in Strathcona.”

  “That sounds like—” Suddenly, he leaned over my desk and peered at the photo. “Hey, isn’t that you and Phil?”

  “Oh, do you know Kelly’s fiancé?” asked Albert, who had just arrived at the desk. "Everyone here thinks he’s one lucky guy.”

  Ben’s eyes met mine. I sent a desperate telepathic plea for him not to say anything. He raised one quizzical eyebrow.

  “Uh, yeah, we used to double-date,” Ben said carefully. “I never thought that Phil would actually get a ring on her,” he added, glancing down at my ring.

  Phew. I released one huge breath and watched the two of them leave.

  That night, I got home from work, and April had made dinner. Well, technically, April had brought dinner home from the craft table at work, but I wasn’t complaining.

  “Oh boy, craft dinner,” I said. We ate most of our meals in the living room, since there was no dining room and the kitchen wasn’t big enough. Our place looked amazing now. The walls were all white except one lime green accent wall in the living room. Our furniture was a mishmash from thrift stores and movie sets, but once April had sewn white slipcovers, everything seemed to match. She also used her sewing skills to make cushions and curtains out of colourful fabric leftover from her costuming projects. She brought her collection of antique dressmaker dummies, and displayed her vintage designer clothes as our artwork.

  One night, I had walked into one of the dummies in the dark and screamed my head off, thinking it was a headless monster—needless to say, alcohol was involved. But otherwise, apartment life was perfect.

  “Guess who I saw at work today?”

  “If it’s an athlete, I’m not going to have any clue,” April replied.

  “Nope, it was Ben Cho.” Not only had Ben not blown my cover at reception, he didn’t say a word to Albert at lunch, so my fake engagement was still on. This had rocketed him to the top of my rankings of April’s ex-boyfriends. “Gosh, he’s such a nice guy and really smart too.”

  A frown crossed April’s face. “I know all that. I liked him a lot.” Then she didn’t add anything else.

  This silence was odd. Usually, April was all too happy to diss her exes and make fun of their flaws. Unless—for the first time ever—a guy had broken up with her! But he had still seemed interested when I saw him.

  My curiosity got the better of me. “What happened between you guys?”

  “I don’t know if you’ll believe me. I haven’t told this to anyone else.” She twirled a strand of perfectly-streaked hair. “He wouldn’t have sex with me.”

  “What? Like ever?”

  “Yes. At first, I figured that he wanted to wait until we were more serious. But after three months of steady dating, we still hadn’t done it.”

  “So, were you doing anything at all?”

  “Yes. We made out and everything. And that was great.” She sighed. “But nothing further. I don’t even know what his cock is like.”

  I tittered. “Nothing? Not even a hint?”

  “Well, I can tell he’s not, you know, stunted in that department. Everything felt normal.”

  “Did you ask him what’s going on?”

  “Of course. Have you ever known me not to grab the bull by the horns?”

  “Or the horn in this case.” We both giggled.

  “He said he wanted to wait for marriage.”

  “Wow. So he’s a virgin?”

  “Weirdly, no. He’s like a born-again virgin. He has had sex, but he felt that it was hollow without a real commitment. Ben is so strong-minded. He gets these ideas and sticks to them.” April let out a puff of frustration.

  I laughed some more. “So you’ve met your match.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Guys are always putty in your hands. You use a combination of sex and smarts to keep them off balance, and then dump them when you get bored. Finally, a guy you can’t manipulate.”

  April scowled at me. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be attracted to someone and not have him reciprocate?”

  “You’re twisting things around. Ben is attracted to you; he just doesn’t want to have sex with you yet. You should accept that. Did he actually want to get married?” That seemed bizarre to me.

  “No, he’s not insane. But we seemed to be moving towards something... bigger.” April sounded really regretful.

  “Why don’t you go out with him again? I think he’s still interested in you.”

  “Really? We had so much fun together. Ben’s very sophisticated.” April was all aflutter. Was love finally hitting my cynical bestie? Then she shook her head. “No, the whole thing was too impossible.”

  “You have to decide. Do you need to be in control of all your relationships, or can you let go?”

  She threw a pillow at me. “This is not right. I’m supposed to be the one who gives relationship advice to you.”

  “Ahhh, the student teaches the master,” I assumed the lotus position on the couch.

  “I don’t know. I can’t call him. It would seem too desperate—like I was ready to settle down, which I am definitely not.” There seemed to be some kind of internal struggle going on until she shook her whole body. “No. No way. Anyway, while we’re on the topic of relationships, how did your date with Michael go?” Michael was the last of my home reno dates. He was an actor/musician/cellphone salesman.

  “This fake engagement thing is turning me into a psycho. I thought I saw someone from work and I literally dove under the table. He thought I wanted to give him a b.j., and things went downhill from there.” Not that they had ever gone uphill. He was also a part-time DJ who insisted on going to some loud club and then complained about the sound system and the music.

  She laughed. “I’m guessing there’s not going to be a second date.”

  “Ugh. I’m cursed. What if I never meet any guys better than my first two boyfriends?”

  “Of course you will. Although, they were pretty hot.”

  “Ha. You called Jimmy ‘the Googler’ and made fun of him.”

  “Yes, but he did have a great body, and you thought he was cute. Do you ever think of calling him again?”

  “No. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about me. Pro hockey players have no trouble getting dates.”

  “Too bad you’re not a pro then,” April quipped.

  “I think I’ll keep my dating life simple and stay home. At least until I can engineer a fake break-up of my engagement.”

  “If your dating life were any simpler, you’d be a nun. No sex, no complications.”

  “Apparently I could date Ben then.”

  “Stay away from him,” April hissed.

  6

  Fore Play

  “Hey, I’m here to see Brian Ford.”

  There was a big, athletic guy standing at the reception desk. He had thick, curly brown hair cut short on the sides. His blue eyes looked sleepy even though it was 4:00 in the afternoon.r />
  I smiled cheerfully at him. “Sure, I’ll buzz him for you.” Brian was the producer of the afternoon drive show, so this guy was probably here for an interview.

  He kept staring at me.

  “Have we met before?”

  I shook my head. I was pretty sure I’d never seen him before. “I just moved back to Vancouver, so probably not.”

  “Actually, I don’t live here all year either. I play hockey.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Maybe we met at a tournament?”

  “No, I mean I play in the NHL.” Okay, maybe not. I had to give him credit though, he didn’t sound like a total egomaniac as he said this. In fact, he sounded like he was actually trying to figure out how we knew each other.

  “What team do you play for?”

  “Chicago Blackhawks.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Boy, that was a coincidence. But there was no way we could be connected through Jimmy. I hadn’t seen him since he moved to Chicago.

  He snapped his fingers. “Wait, I think I know—”

  “Tyler?” Brian appeared at the desk. “Thanks so much for coming to the station. I got all your tournament info here, so we can do quick run-through and get you on the air….” They disappeared down the corridor, and I turned to my trusty computer to figure out who he was.

  Tyler Ballanchuk, aka “Baller.” Twenty-six years old, 6’ 3”, 225 lbs. Defenceman. Born and raised in Richmond, B.C. Good stats too. I probably should have recognized him. But that didn’t explain why he thought he knew me. It was a mystery. I gave up and started stuffing envelopes for an upcoming promotion.

  Half an hour later, Brian and Tyler returned.

  “Thanks again, Ty. Best of luck with that fundraiser.”

  Tyler nodded and turned to me. “I’ll see you later, Kelly.” Then he left.

  Brian came over to see me. “You’re a lucky lady.”

  “I am?”

  “Yup. We get to send two people to his golf tourney. Ty specifically requested that ‘his old friend, Kelly Tanaka’ be one. I’m fighting it out with Lenny to see who gets to be the other.”