Page 21 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

“Ummm, I can’t even remember anymore. Look, why don’t you show me around your beautiful home? Wasn’t it featured in an interior decorating magazine?”

“Two, actually. But who’s counting?” She smiled and began a practised tour. Delia continued to eye me suspiciously throughout, but at least she didn’t start crying.

Cynthia had taken interior design courses after high school, so her house was perfectly decorated. The place was done in black and white with large oversized pieces mixed with antiques. But the best part was that she used ornate and colourful accessories from India, as a salute to her own heritage. Her home was completely grown-up, while I was still living in my childhood bedroom. It wasn’t that I wanted to get married as early as she did; my dreams were to change the world. But I hadn’t accomplished that yet.

When we got to the basement playroom, James, Cynthia’s husband, was playing a vigorous game of mini-sticks with Zachary. They had two nets and rink markings taped off on the hardwood floor. James greeted me with a warm and sweaty hug. He was tall, fair, and… bland. I remembered being surprised when the glamorous Cynthia had begun dating him. However, he had a solid, safe personality, and he worked high up in a bank.

“Is your dad a good hockey player?” I asked Zachary.

“He’s really good. But not as good as Uncle Eric.”

Cynthia made a harrumph noise. “You can call him Eric. He’s not your Uncle.”

The little boy frowned at her. “But he lives with Auntie JoJo. They sleep in the same bed like you and Daddy. So why isn’t he my uncle? I want him to be my uncle because he’s the bestest player on the team.”

Cynthia raised her eyes heavenward. “You mean thebestplayer on the team. James. Please deal with him. I have explained this numerous times.”

James bent down with his hands on his knees. “Okay. Zach, listen to me.”

The little boy looked up with a scowl on his face. His father continued. “He’s not really your uncle, but you can call him Uncle Eric.”

Cynthia’s mouth fell open, and Zachary beamed. The mini-sticks game began again, and Delia had left her perch on her mother’s hip to grab a mini-stick of her own and whack a whiffle ball around. Cynthia seemed torn between arguing with James and taking this moment to escape.

“Let’s go,” I urged her. She nodded, and we went upstairs. She grabbed a perfect camel cloth coat and off we went. On the way, we had an awkward conversation to catch up on the past ten years. Cynthia’s life of marriage, kids, and charity work sounded alarmingly like my mother’s.

We arrived at Sweet Obsessions, a dessert place we used to frequent back in the day. Once we were settled with pots of herbal tea and slices of layer cake, I brought up my main subject of interest these days: hockey.

“So, when Zachary said Uncle Eric—does he mean Eric Fairburn?” From his jersey and the conversation, that seemed obvious, but what was the link between my very elegant friend and the resident hunk of the Vancouver Vice?

Cynthia propped her chin on her hands. “Yes. He’s dating my little sister.”

“Josephine?” Now this was a complete disconnect. The last time I’d seen Josephine, she was a gawky young teenager with braided pigtails and braces. “I’m having trouble imagining this. Your little sister? The science nerd who was always spying on us?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. She got all gorgeous once she grew into her long limbs. Well, maybe gorgeous isn’t the right word, but she has very dramatic looks. Last week, a scout from Elite Models tried to recruit her, but she turned him down flat. She’d rather be a bike courier, I guess.” Cynthia circled a spoon in her teacup. “I don’t trust this Eric guy. He came out of nowhere and pursued her really hard. She’s not that knowledgeable about men and their evil ways.”

I laughed. “Their evil ways? Cyn, you sound like someone’s virgin aunt. Why on earth would he be using her?”

“Well, it’s about money of course. He moved right into her downtown condo. When you have money, you have to be extra careful about men. You know exactly what I mean, right?”

“Yes. I get that.” That was one of the reasons I wanted to leave Vancouver. There were too many people here who wanted to be my friend because my family had money or influence. While phony girlfriends were easy to weed out, guys were more difficult. It was painful never to be completely sure if a guy liked me for myself.

“James and my brother, Richard, both think I’m insane. They say that Eric is a good guy. But we’ll soon find out. There is apparently some NHL team interested in him. If he signs a million dollar contract, he’ll probably dump her.”

“Wait. There’s an NHL team interested in Eric Fairburn? Which one?” This was information I needed to report back to Greg and Chris. If we lost our top scorer, things were only going to get worse.

Cynthia’s eyes widened. “Oh no. I wasn’t supposed to mention it. JoJo only told me when I was trying to find out whether he was paying a share of the condo fees or not. Don’t tell anyone.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but losing a key player would be disastrous to the Vice. I won’t tell anyone where I heard it though.”

She groaned. “Okay, let’s not talk about this anymore. But you get it, don’t you? A hockey player—he’s not one of us. Their relationship can never work long term.”

Her words were bringing back another reason that I had left home: that private school attitude that we were somehow better than everyone else by virtue of our money. No matter how much we slummed it by dating guys who were “below” us, once we settled down, we would find the right man from our crowd. But I was no longer willing to sit back and listen to this crap.

“You know what? That’s elitist bullshit. If the two of them are compatible, why shouldn’t they be together?”

My voice was louder than I intended. Cynthia began to backpedal.

“Okay, maybe that’s the wrong way to phrase it. It’s not just about money though. She and Eric have nothing in common—other than the obvious.” She shuddered slightly.

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