Page 25 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

“That’s not good,” Amanda said. “We need a great fan experience from the moment you walk in the arena.”

I felt sorry for anyone in customer service who crossed our path tonight. Greg agreed with me. “These people get paid minimum wage, and most of them are working other jobs during the day. It’s probably hard for them to get energized.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I couldn’t help but stare at Amanda. Her face was almost pretty when she smiled, and she had put on more makeup too. She winked at me and giggled. “I can’t believe I fooled you into introducing yourself. All those years of drama must be paying off.”

“Can I get you a beer?” Greg asked, as we passed the concession.

“Sure, a Heineken would be great, thanks.” That was one nice thing about hanging out with the Richie Richardsons: they didn’t expect you to pick up all the tabs.

We all got beers and headed out to the stands.

Amanda was completely different at a hockey game. She was all bubbly and excited. In fact, she was one of the most enthusiastic people I’d ever been to a game with. She watched intently, booed every penalty call, and cheered every Vice rush or shot. By the end of the second period, she was high-fiving guys in the next row whenever a big hit happened. Normally, high-fives were for goals, but the Vice didn’t score enough for that to happen.

Amanda had tons of questions about the players. I answered every one and only had to make up a few facts. I was actually surprised at how much she already knew, both about hockey and the Vice. Greg didn’t ask anything, but I could tell he was listening hard. I felt sorry for the two of them. They were trying, but they were totally out of their element. Even Greg, who had worked for the team before, just didn’t have the toughness to run a team. Swanny was right, the best thing for this family would be selling the team.

In the end, the Vice managed to pull out a win in the shootout, which sent Amanda over the moon.

“Isn’t that great?” When she was this happy, she looked like a different person. Her cheeks and lips were flushed with colour, and she was vibrating with excitement. I couldn’t help but smile back at her. All this season, I’d been seeing hockey as a taunting torture, and it was refreshing to remember it was also a game. A game that could make fans really happy.

Amanda started talking to her buddies in the next row. Doing a customer survey, no doubt. Greg and I got up waited in the aisle for her.

“Your sister really enjoys hockey.”

“Yeah. She’s actually a way bigger fan than me. She watched all the Millionaires games and even had a signed jersey and posters of—” He stopped abruptly. “Er, all her favourite players.”

“Oh yeah? Who were her favourites?” I could tell more about her by which of my teammates she liked. Most chicks went for the best-looking guys—like Smitty or Jes. But some liked the shy, hardworking guys. I had no clue about Amanda’s tastes.

“Hey, that was years ago. Prehistoric times. I can’t even remember.”

“Excuse me, aren’t you Chris Luczak?” A kid asked if I would autograph his Millionaires hat for him and then a few more people came by. Fifteen minutes later, we finally got away and went out to the parking lot. We walked Amanda to her car, which turned out to be a crappy little Mazda. Was this family rich or not?

“That wouldn’t have happened if you had worn a disguise,” Amanda said. She was only teasing though. She was the happiest I had ever seen her. “Wow, maybe the three of us going to a game together is good luck for the Vice.”

“I know what you’re going to say next, and the answer is no.”

“You’re a grump-head. Why not?”

“Because it’s good for me to watch games in the press box. I hear stuff.”

I didn’t want to commit to going to every game. But to be honest, attending tonight hadn’t even been that bad. It was different enough that I wasn’t totally reminded of the Millionaires, and Amanda’s million questions were a good distraction. Of course, the press box at Vice games was probably lacking actual press. But there might be the occasional scout or old-timer who would know things.

‘There’s an executive suite too, you know,” I told her. She could watch up there. By herself.

“There is?” Amanda asked. “Have you used it, Gregory?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I forgot about that. To be honest, Rebecca isn’t a huge hockey fan, so I haven’t been coming to that many games.”

“Why are the Vice games not televised?” Amanda asked.

“Look around. You don’t have any fans. The stands were less than half-full. It’s a Friday night, and the Millionaires are on a road trip. If you’re not getting a big crowd on a night like tonight….” I didn’t even bother finishing that sentence. It wasn’t like a lot of AHL games were televised anyway, but all the Vice had was a streamed online radio broadcast.

All the happy energy seemed to whoosh out of her. “And how would things be different if the Millionaires were running the team?”

“You’d get all our prospects. That would improve the on-ice product right away. Any fans who couldn’t afford or get tickets for Millionaires’ games would come here to see the team’s future.” I exhaled. This was the one part of my job I’d really prepared for—closing this deal. “I think the more you learn about the team, the more you realize it’s the right thing to do.”

Greg nodded. Amanda looked up at me. Her expression was slack and her eyes were so sad that I felt bad for busting her balloon. That weird chest pain bubbled up again, and I searched for a ginger root capsule.

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