Page 2 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

I lefthis office and walked the ten blocks back to PacTel Arena. It was a rare sunny winter day, and I enjoyed the fresh air and the chance to play hooky from the office. The Millionaires had been more than generous by offering me a management role as soon as I’d retired. But making the switch from a life of action to a life spent in meetings was rough.

“Hi Leona,” I called out to my boss’s assistant once I got back to the office. “Where’s Swanny at right now?”

“Oh hey, Lucky,” she said with a big smile. “He’s in the small boardroom. The weekly status meeting is on.”

“Thanks, gorgeous,” I told her and she giggled.

When I got into the boardroom, the only people left were Donald Swan, and his boss, Rhett Batchelor, the team’s Assistant General Manager.

“Sorry I’m late,” I murmured as I slipped into a seat. It wasn’t a big deal; everyone knew that I had to go to physio and doctors’ appointments. There was a half-empty plate of doughnuts and muffins on the table. I reached out and took a doughnut with thick pink icing on it. For some reason, it reminded me of Gerri, this woman I had partied with on the weekend.

“No problem,” Rhett told me, and then turned back to Swanny. “So Thomas Richardson’s been charged with sexual assault?”

Whoa. My hand froze in the air before I could take a bite of doughnut. Sounded like I had missed the first exciting meeting around here.

My boss shook his head vigorously. “No, no, no! Don’t use that phrase—there have been no charges and no mention of anything specific. All my information is confidential and unofficial, and we need to keep it amongst ourselves. My source said that his Executive Assistant quit and then filed a civil suit alleging sexual harassment.”

Rhett shook his head. “Okay, what do we know officially?”

Swanny put on his reading glasses and opened up a file.

“Here’s the press release: Thomas Richardson, President and General Manager of the Vancouver Vice, has temporarily stepped down from team operations. This action is part of a mediated agreement, which the team hopes to resolve shortly so that he can return to work. Gregory Richardson, Director of Brand Management, will assume his responsibilities in the meantime.” He held up the paper. “They released this on Christmas Eve, obviously hoping the story would get lost.”

“What did he do?” I asked. I searched my brain for memories of Thomas Richardson. He was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman, and the last person I’d imagine as an ass-grabber. But even though we both worked in hockey in the same city, I’d rarely seen him. The Vice were supposedly the AHL farm team to our NHL organization. But in reality, our relationship was pretty frosty.

Swanny shrugged. “These days sexual harassment could be anything from saying the wrong thing to sexual assault. If Richardson stepped down though, it’s probably something serious.”

If saying the wrong thing to women was a crime, I could have been in prison for life. But I’d been through sexual harassment training, and it was pretty common sense. Showing respect and knowing how to take no for an answer. Stuff my mother had drummed into me when I was a teenager.

“But you know what this means, right?” Swanny asked Rhett.

“A huge opportunity for us,” Rhett replied.

Swanny rubbed his palms together. At times he reminded me of Mr. Burns—both were balding guys in suits. In fact, working in the Vancouver Millionaires head office was a lot like a bad episode ofThe Simpsons, and I was Homer, the guy who was always screwing up. I finally took a bite of my doughnut.

“Why is it a huge opportunity for us?” I asked.

They both shot pitying looks at me. “It could be our chance to get in there and buy the team.”

“Why would we want the Vice? They suck.” They were the worst team in the league. We lent out our prospects to other AHL teams rather than have them absorb the losing attitudes and crappy work ethics in the Vice organization.

Swanny sighed and shook his head. That was what he did whenever I stated the obvious—except it always turned out that what I thought was obvious was completely wrong. He leaned in and I knew I was about to get schooled again.

“Used to be that all teams on west coast had their farm teams out east. But a few seasons ago, that all changed—everyone moved their teams out here—except us.”

Rhett cleared his throat. “Strictly speaking, that is not true. Our official AHL affiliate was right here as well, the Vancouver Vice. But we made one huge mistake. We relied on a handshake agreement with Vince Richardson instead of owning the team ourselves.”

“Wait. I thought we were talking about Thomas Richardson.” I hated interrupting because that meant more tut-tutting, but I was already confused.

Swanny scowled at me. “Were you paying attention at all during your playing years? Surely you must have known lots of players who got called up from the farm. Didn’t you know what was going on in the rest of our organization?”

“Look, I focused on the ice. I never let distractions keep me from the task at hand.” I was grateful that the team was giving me a shot at management and bringing me along slowly. But I was an action guy, and I hated feeling useless and dumb. My biggest contribution was being a cardboard cutout to trot out at fan events. “Look, everyone. It’s former team captain, Lucky Luczak. Shake his hand, take a selfie, but watch the back.”

Rhett nodded. “And we all appreciate what you did. Vince Richardson headed the Vice when the team first started. But he had a sudden stroke and died three years ago, then his younger brother Thomas took over. That’s when our relationship went south, and we started dealing with other AHL teams.”

I nodded. Okay, now this was making more sense.

“What are the advantages of us working with the Vice, Lucky?” Swanny asked. He saw himself as a Jedi master, so his training methods were to assign me simple, repetitive tasks and suddenly challenge me with difficult questions. It felt like high school, when the teacher called on me and I had no fucking clue what she wanted.

---