Page 20 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

“Why don’t you get your own place? You could find a short term rental easily.”

“Getting a place would suggest I’m staying a long time.”

There was a noise at the door and Chris leaned in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. Are we still on for lunch, Greg?”

Greg looked at his watch. “Wow, is it that time already? Sure.” He turned to me. “Did you want to join us, Amanda?”

Was that a wince passing over Chris’s face? He clearly belonged to the “no icky girls” club. “No, I’m good. I brought my lunch. Bonita made me atorta.”

“Lucky you,” My brother declared. “See, there are benefits to living at home.”

Chris gave me a quizzical look. “Your mom makes your lunch?”

Greg and I both began to laugh. “Bonita’s our housekeeper. Our mother can’t cook at all,” he explained. “Once she made a casserole, and the whole family got food-poisoning.”

Chris laughed along with us. His laugh was hearty and contagious. I had to give him points for being good-natured. Once more my opinion of Chris flipped.

9

Tea and Sympathy

Amanda

I knockedon the bright red door of Cynthia MacMillan’s house. We had arranged to meet for an after-dinner coffee and dessert. Working every evening was getting boring, and I was looking forward to seeing her.

But now, standing in front of a very grown-up grey stone house, I felt nervous. It was like Cynthia had turned into an adult while I was still a teenager. I had no house, no husband, and not even a permanent job. I could hear voices inside, and then the door swung open. A small dark-haired boy stood there, and my eyes widened. He was wearing a tiny Vancouver Vice jersey.

Outside of the arena, this was the first time I’d ever seen anyone in real life wearing a Vice jersey. Had the divinely-organized Cynthia prepared this as a welcome for me? Or was he an actual fan?

“Umm, do you like the Vancouver Vice?”

He nodded vigorously. “They’re my favourite team.”

Were little kids my new target market? Before I could ask him any more questions, he turned and ran off, yelling for his mom. The back of his jersey was personalized with the name Fairburn, but the letters were so big that the name trailed down both his sleeves. I still hadn’t gone to a game, but everyone I met seemed to be a fan of Eric Fairburn.

Cynthia appeared in the hallway, an adorable toddler on one hip. She looked gorgeous—as always—her long dark hair held back with a velvet hairband and her dark eyes sparkling. She was wearing a black sweater, a pearl and onyx necklace, and wool slacks in winter white. I felt instantly that my dark jeans and buttercup yellow blouse were too casual.

In high school, I had always admired her exotic looks, which were a gift from her South Asian mother. It wasn’t that I was unattractive, but I was bland and average when I longed to be unique. My hair couldn’t decide if it was blonde or brown, my eyes were sort of hazel, and my skin was pale and boring. Meanwhile, mixed-race models were featured in every magazine.

“Cynthia! You look exactly the same as you did in high school.”

“Amanda, you too.” We hugged and cheek-kissed. Her daughter wanted nothing to do with me and leaned her body away from us. “This is Cordelia.”

The little girl muttered something I couldn’t understand.

Cynthia sighed. “I meanDelia.Honestly, how can someone rebel against her proper name before she’s even in preschool? I think you already met Zachary.”

“Yes. I was so happy to see that he’s a Vancouver Vice fan. For a moment, I thought you dressed him in that jersey just to greet me.”

She gave me a mystified look. “Oh, that’s right, your mother mentioned that you’re helping to manage a hockey team. I assumed it was the Millionaires, what with your MBA and everything. But of course, how dumb of me not to realize that it was the Vice. Your dad worked with them, and of course, your uncle—” She stopped herself before she could say anything else. Since her father’s firm was representing Uncle Thomas, she might even know some of the smutty details of the lawsuit.

It was humiliating to have everyone know our personal business. My father had done his utmost to maintain a sterling family reputation, and now we were the butt of dirty jokes. I tried to keep a serene expression on my face.

Cynthia diplomatically changed the subject. “Zachary has done nothing but talk about hockey and play mini-sticks since we went to a Vancouver Vice game.”

“You went to a hockey game? You hated hockey when we were in high school.” I found it very hard to imagine the proper Cynthia at the rough and tumble atmosphere of a Vice game.

“While you were crazy about it. Remember you had a huge crush on that player—what was his name?”

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