Mr. November (Vancouver Vice Hockey Book 4)

by Melanie Ting

  Camille shrugged. “As long as she has a credit card and her passport, she’ll be fine. Can I borrow your car tonight?”

  “I guess. I have an assignment to finish, and I’m going to update the books for V.I.C.E., oops, I mean the Vancouver Cat Haven.” Maureen and the rest of the board had decided to go with one of the names that Amanda Richardson suggested. Their new website was being developed, and Elaine could hardly wait to see it. She had done a list of the features they needed, including a donation page. “Why don’t you take Mom’s car?”

  “She’s so fussy. One little dent in the back and you’d think I’d totalled it.”

  “If you damage my car, I’ll kill you,” Elaine threatened. “And make sure you put gas in it. Last time, I was late for work and the tank was nearly empty. Grrr.”

  Camille just laughed. “I’ll be good. Who could tell if your car was dented anyway? I’d like a car of my own.” But that would mean keeping a job for more than a few months. Thanks to Camille’s friendly personality, she found getting jobs easy. However, the grind of getting to work regularly and on time meant Camille had problems keeping a job for very long.

  Elaine checked her phone as they went down the escalator. “Oh goody, there’s a Snapchat from Nate.”

  “The Yellow Fever guy?” Camille asked. “I thought we hated him.”

  “He’s been sending me photos of Knightley so I don’t go through cat withdrawal. That cat is so adorable.” She tapped to watch the cat’s latest antics. A video began to play. It followed Knightley running around the house, chasing a woolly pompom on a string. He ran a circuit between the kitchen and living room, then finally turned around and hid behind a door. Marty came running out with the string trailing behind him. Knightley sprang from his hiding place and pounced on Marty’s leg. The huge man shrieked like a little girl in surprise. And then the video disintegrated into jittery images as Nate laughed and Marty swore. “Are you filming this?” was the last thing they heard.

  “Oh my God, that is adorable,” Camille declared. “That enormous guy running around with wool on a string. Play it again.”

  Elaine ran the video again, and they both burst into laughter at the pouncing scene. Her sister peered down at the screen. “He looks better than when I met him. Like, hotter.”

  Did he? His clothes looked better for sure. But clothes never mattered to her. Elaine looked at his mouth and remembered how his kiss had begun so soft and then intensified. She shivered.

  “I wonder if I made a mistake.”

  “Yeah, I don’t understand why you dumped him in the first place. Fighting happens in hockey. It’s not like he’s some psycho that goes around looking for fights. Besides, it was kind of hot.”

  Elaine’s eyes widened. “You think fighting is hot?”

  “For sure. Dating a hockey player would be cool, especially a big guy like Marty. Remember how we got rid of those guys just by saying he was your boyfriend? Guys would be falling over their feet to get away from you.”

  Both sisters laughed.

  “You may need that, but I’m not exactly fighting guys off with a stick,” Elaine said. They walked up the stairway to the parking garage.

  “You’re too picky. If you said yes more, you’d have dates every night.”

  That didn’t appeal to Elaine at all. She wanted a boyfriend, someone steady and reliable. Having to make small talk with a different guy every night would be torture. Besides, she was busy.

  After paying the ridiculous airport parking fees, they found Elaine’s old Corolla in the crowded lot and headed home.

  “Why don’t you ask him out again?” Camille asked.

  “Who, Marty?”

  “Yes. What did you like about him in the first place?”

  Elaine tried to put her attraction into words. “Well, I like that he’s a real man.”

  “Gah. Of course, he’s a man. If you weren’t into men, you’d be a lesbian.”

  “No, I mean, that he acts like a man. He takes action when other people stand around.” She remembered how he had helped put the cat room back together. And how he had gotten his toolbox and rescued Knightley. Marty had this strong, masculine quality about him that Elaine was really drawn to. “And he’s so big,” she added.

  “Yeah, he’s big all right. Did you see his big hands and feet?” Her sister leered. “You know what that means….”

  “Camille!” They both started giggling. “You know size doesn’t matter.”

  Camille snorted. “Said every man with a small dick. Well, it’s true to some extent. I’d rather have a guy with great technique than some newb with a big shlong. But if you could have both, why not? I wonder what it’s like to sleep with a professional athlete.”

  “I have no idea,” said Elaine primly.

  Not getting any encouragement, her sister moved on. “What else did you like about him?”

  “I liked the way he acted with Knightley. I liked that Marty appreciated what a great cat he is.”

  “Waaay, Elaine, what is wrong with you? You are going to be a crazy cat lady someday, living in an apartment with newspapers all over the floor, the stink of cat pee, and a million cats. Euw.”

  “It’s not about the cats, but it’s a way to judge character. You know how guys act all perfect at the beginning: they pretend to like all the same things that you like so you think you’re compatible. But later, it turns out they were faking everything.”

  Camille shook her head. “You’re talking about Jerry, aren’t you? He was a loser, and you should never have spent so much time with him.”

  “You can say that now, but at the time I was going out with him, everyone loved him. Mom thought he was wonderful, and you liked him too.” Elaine frowned. She and Jerry had even talked about getting engaged. But then she found out he had a gambling problem and big debts. He pretended that he loved to stay home and watch movies with her, then he’d leave and go out to casinos afterwards. What a fool she’d been.

  The other thing that bothered her was that she was really an all-in person. Once she had started dating Jerry, she tried really hard to be the best girlfriend possible. She loved to do things for him, like cook dinner or buy little gifts. And they had had an incredible sex life. Elaine really loved having sex, but only the kind of relaxed sex you could have with someone you trusted. But since Jerry, she had trouble trusting.

  “Lola never liked him,” Camille pointed out. Lola did like Marty, but Elaine suspected that she had him mixed up with Manny Pacquiao in some senile way. She was getting up there.

  “Well, the next time I date someone seriously, I’m going to do a financial assessment first. The numbers don’t lie.”

  “I think player salaries are public knowledge. I can find out how much Marty makes with an online search.” Camille pulled out her phone.

  “No! Don’t do that. That’s too weird.”

  “Okay.” She kept her phone out though, and Elaine was suspicious.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking my messages, Miss Nosey.” Then Camille whistled.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I’m not checking out anyone’s salary, and I’m not shocked by how much you can make by skating around and punching someone’s lights out.”

  Elaine sighed. “How much does he make?”

  “I’m not telling you. You’re the one who said she didn’t want to know.”

  Then Elaine’s phone started to buzz. “Want me to get that for you?” Camille offered.

  “No. They can leave a message. Oh wait, make sure it’s not Lola. Maybe she wants us to pick up something on the way home.”

  Camille picked up the phone from the console. “Oh my gosh, it’s him.”

  “Who?”

  “Marty!” Then she pressed the accept call button. “Hello?”

  “Camille, stop that! Get off my phone,” Elaine hissed. She made a grab for it, but her sister only leaned away. The traffic was too hectic to do anything other than threaten quiet
ly.

  “Hey. I was just watching a video of you and Knightley. It was adorable.” The two sisters had very similar voices, and Elaine realized with horror that Camille was pretending to be her.

  “Yes. I think you’re right. Maybe we should give things another try.”

  Elaine’s mouth dropped open in shock, but Camille just winked at her as she added, “How about another hockey game?”

  Another hockey game? If she did go out with Marty that would be the last thing she would do. Why on earth would Camille say that?

  “Would it be okay if I brought my sister again? Great, see you tomorrow night. Bye.”

  There was an ominous silence in the car.

  “Okay, I know you’re going to get mad,” Camille said. “But you were just saying you should have given him another chance, so what’s the big deal?”

  “What’s the big deal? You pretended to be me and then accepted a date—with someone I’d already broken up with. It’s up to me if I want to go out with him, not you!”

  “So, call him back and say no.”

  “I can’t. That would be so—” Elaine couldn’t even put into words everything she was feeling. Was it guilt from hurting his feelings in the first place? Or was it anger at herself for being too chicken to take a chance on someone who wasn’t safe and “normal,” someone who attracted her in a new way? The only certain thing was that she didn’t want to call him back and hurt his feelings again. Unexpectedly, her eyes stung, and she began blinking desperately.

  “Oh Lainey, I’m so sorry.” Camille finally seemed to realize what she had done. “I’ll call him back and confess everything. I’ll say it was all my fault and you didn’t even know what was happening.”

  “No, don’t bother. You’ve done enough.”

  Elaine was furious with Camille, but she wondered what would have happened had she answered the phone herself. He had been adorable in the video. And she had definitely made a mistake when she assumed he would be as violent off the ice as he was on it. She had done some research since then and discovered that enforcers were often the smartest, most-liked players on their teams. There were NHL enforcers who had graduated from Ivy League schools but realized that the only way they could get to the top level of hockey was with their fists. Her idea of fighters as brainless Neanderthals was way off.

  Camille was quiet for the rest of the ride home, which was unusual for her. She also volunteered to take care of dinner, another rarity. Elaine went to their bedroom and lay down on her bed. Her phone rang again, and she picked it up.

  “Hi Elaine, it’s me.” She recognized Marty’s voice, and it sounded like he was smiling. “I’m sorry to bother you again, but maybe I didn’t make it clear that I’d like to take you out for dinner afterwards. And your sister too, if she wants.”

  “Uh, Marty, I have to tell you....” she began. And then she realized it was a do-over. If he were asking her out right now, what would she say? What kind of guy was he really? In a flash, she knew. He was a guy who would build a superhighway and make a fool out of himself with a pompom and string—all for a cat.

  “Yes, what is it?” he asked.

  “What time is the game at, again?” As soon as the words left her mouth, a wide smile broke out across her face. It was the kind of smile that came from deep inside her. She felt sunshiney, even though it was grey outside.

  “Seven. And the tickets will be at the box office, like last time.”

  Elaine could not stop grinning. “Okay, I’m really looking forward to it.”

  15

  Team Bonding

  Marty knew it was ridiculous to be extra nervous before a game, but he kept wondering if having Elaine there was a good idea. After all, a hockey game was where she got all upset when he got in a fight. But she was the one who had suggested a game in the first place, so how could he say no?

  “What’s wrong?” Leper asked.

  “I don’t know. I hope I don’t have to fight tonight.”

  He nodded. “Well, the Condors have been struggling. But there’s this one guy, Gorski. Holy shit, that guy is scary.”

  Marty knew him. They’d had a dance last season. The guy was huge and nuts. If he had to fight, Marty preferred guys who fought in a business-like way: get in and get out. The crazy guys would lose their minds and keep whaling away long after things should have stopped.

  “Well, if they’re crappy and we’re crappy, maybe the score will be close,” Leper said.

  “Yeah, good point.” A close score usually meant that nobody would risk taking a major penalty for fighting. Especially if one team had a good power play unit, which the Vice did not.

  During the warm-up, word had gotten out that Elaine was here. Marty hadn’t said anything, so it must have been Jonesy. Every single guy on the team seemed to have his eyes glued to Section T. Elaine was wearing a flower print jacket and jeans. Her hair was down, and she was smiling and chatting with her sister. She looked prettier every time he saw her.

  Jonesy crashed into him and interrupted his thoughts. “Elaine has a sister? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that before?”

  Marty shook his head. “Because I don’t want you bothering her.”

  His friend looked up at the two girls. “Elaine’s hotter, but her sister isn’t far behind. What’s her name?”

  “Um, Camille, I think. I’ve barely talked to her.”

  “What are you doing after the game?”

  “We’re going out for a late dinner.”

  “Is the sister coming?”

  “I’m not sure. I invited her.” Last time, Elaine had met him alone though, so he wasn’t sure what to expect. If Elaine was still nervous about him, maybe she’d want her sister to be there too.

  Jonesy nodded. “If the sister’s there, I’m in. Hey, I’m the one who got Elaine back here. That Knightley video sealed the deal.”

  “That Knightley video was completely humiliating,” Marty said. “I can’t believe you sent it to her.”

  “Yeah, two big pussies in one video!”

  His roommate started laughing so hard that Coach Gauthier yelled at him to focus. “It’s a big game, Jones. Get serious.”

  It was a big game. If they won this, the Vice would be above .500 for the first time since Marty had been traded here.

  The game was a close one. The score was knotted at 2-2 after two periods. Marty felt like he was having a good game. No fights, and his line had a lot of energy. They hadn’t scored or anything, but they’d kept the puck in the Condors’ end. When the fourth line played hard and pushed the pace, it seemed to inspire the rest of the team. Coach Gauthier had patted Marty on the shoulder and congratulated him after one hard shift, which was huge. Marty really preferred the new coach to their old screaming one. But it was tough to get a read on him.

  The third period was high energy. Both teams traded scoring chances, but there were no goals. When it was time for Marty’s line to go out, Foxy, one of his linemates, suddenly swore.

  “My skate blade is loose,” he called out, and the trainer rushed over. Marty and Lionel were already over the boards.

  “Damn,” Coach Lee muttered and looked down the bench for a substitute.

  “I’m on it,” Burner called out and suddenly the best left-winger on the team was on Marty’s line. Burner took charge. “Lionel, win the draw and get the puck back to me. Devo, go right to the net.”

  Lionel didn’t win the draw, but he managed to scramble it and kick the puck back to Burner. Marty didn’t even watch the play; he headed straight for the Condors’ net. Burner was the fastest guy on the team so he was going to be ahead of him no matter what.

  Then Marty got set up in front of the net. If he blocked the goalie’s vision, Burner could wire a shot by him. The Condors defenceman tried to hack and shove him out of the way, but Marty would not be moved. Burner was moving around, trying to find some space, and Lionel was creating havoc on the other side.

  Suddenly Burner’s shot streaked towards the net. T
he Condors defenceman fearlessly blocked the shot, and the puck trickled off him. Marty battled for the puck and sent it back to Burner.

  Then, like in all the best plays, time slowed down and everything was quiet. Marty watched as Burner’s stick moved back and he got ready to one-time the puck towards the net. Marty ignored the pain of being cross-checked in the back and slashed around the ankles, and let his muscle memory click in. The black disc sailed towards him, and he lifted his stick until the blade nicked the puck and deflected it up. He turned and watched the puck go up and over the shoulder of the goalie who was going down to stop the original shot. The twine at the back of the net bulged, and the red light came on.

  Then Marty heard the beautiful noise of the crowd erupting in joy. He skated towards Burner who was pointing at him with an enormous grin, but before he could get there a huge shadow came between them.

  It was Gorski, and he shoved Marty back.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re no goal scorer, asshole.”

  “Looks like I just scored one though,” Marty said. “So fuck off.”

  He tried to skate past Gorski. He knew the guy was trying to goad him into taking a penalty, but the Vice were on top now, and he wasn’t doing anything stupid.

  “C’mon. Let’s go.” Gorski pushed Marty in the chest, but he didn’t drop his gloves. Being the first one to drop the gloves could get you an instigator penalty.

  “I’m not fighting you,” Marty protested. “There’s no point.”

  “Bock, bock, bock.” The hulking winger flapped his elbows like the world’s biggest, ugliest chicken.

  Then Dom skated between the two of them. The big defenceman stood toe-to-toe with Gorski. “You want to fight someone? Fight me.”