Page 3 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

I swallowed the piece of doughnut in my mouth. Time for a big whooping guess. “Because they’re close?”

“Exactly. We can keep closer tabs on player performance. Call-ups are easier, and the two sets of coaches can meet regularly. We can realize some savings too, in terms of training staff and facilities—possibly even marketing.”

Rhett and Swanny both smiled. Nothing made them happier than cost savings.

“So which one is Gregory? The acting GM?” I asked. What I did know was that the Richardsons were one of the wealthiest families in Vancouver.

“Vince’s son,” Swanny answered. Too many Richardsons. Okay, so Thomas was the naughty one, his brother Vince was the dead one, and Greg was Vince’s son. I filed that in my head.

Rhett squinted. “So, is he someone we can work with? Like his old man?”

Swanny shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll have to find out. I’ve already set up a meeting for first thing tomorrow morning.” He tapped his fingertips again and I heard the word “Excellent” echoing in my head. I hid my smile though; I’d gotten in trouble for laughing at the wrong time around here. The executive offices were a grey place. Swanny added, “Ultimately, it doesn’t matter though. If the family is in crisis, it’s the perfect time for them to sell and get this troubled franchise off their hands. We’ll be doing them a favour.”

“Take Lucky with you,” Rhett suggested.

Swanny didn’t look too excited at that thought. Who could blame him? In meetings, I mainly sat there like an idiot. I was exactly like Homer Simpson, right down to the doughnut. I dropped the remaining half onto a napkin and pushed it away.

Rhett slapped me on the shoulder. “We need someone with your charm to convince these guys to sell the team to us.”

I nodded. I wasn’t really charming, but I liked people. And everyone felt like they already knew me because of what I had done on the ice.

2

Stealth Mode

Chris

“Right this way.”

The cute blonde receptionist led us down a hallway with worn-out carpets and flickering fluorescent lights. The whole place was dingy and cramped, especially compared to our offices. The Vice head office was located in the basement of the team’s arena. The Richardsons certainly hadn’t spent any of their moolah on this place. Still, maybe that was better. Why spend tons on carpet that nobody would see? But they didn’t seem to be spending it on the team either. Maybe that was how they stayed rich, by not spending on anything.

Keeping track of money was key, and something I’d done from Day One. I got a financial advisor when I signed my first contract at eighteen. Not a friend or anyone’s buddy either, I’d gone to one of the big banks and gotten an established guy from their investment group. My dad said if the advisor messed up my money, the bank would make good on it. I’d heard enough horror stories from other players to know that was solid advice. My conservative approach had paid off. Even though I was out of the NHL a couple of years earlier than I expected, I didn’t have to worry about my financial future—ever.

“Here you go, gentlemen,” the blonde said, opening the door of the boardroom. She was a sweet little thing with nice round tits. Like to see those babies bouncing as she rode my cock.

I smiled at her. Usually that was enough.

She smiled back and exhaled loudly. That only drew attention to those squeezable tits. “Oh my gosh. You’re Lucky Luczak, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “You got me. What’s your name?” I heard Swanny snort behind me.

“I’m Tori.” She leaned forward and I took in the view down her blouse. My dick hardened at the sight. “Can I ask you for a big favour?”

“Anything.” This was too easy. Just like right after a game, when scoring chicks was like shooting fish in a barrel. Plump, sexy fish in a tight little barrel.

“Could I get your autograph....” she hesitated and blushed. I wondered which body part she wanted signed. I’d signed shoulders, arms, legs, stomachs, and of course, tits. I pulled a Sharpie out of the breast pocket of my suit jacket. “...for my mom? She’s a huge fan of yours.”

My cock deflated along with my ego. I heard Swanny snickering as Blondie pulled out a piece of paper. I addressed my name to “Susan” and passed it back to her.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Luczak.” She tottered off on her high heels. I was too depressed to even watch her ass twitching in her tight skirt.

“Welcome to real life,Mr.Luczak,” Swanny said. “This is what it’s like for normal guys—old guys like us—trying to score with young ladies. No more NHL superstar status to get them all hot and bothered.”

“I’m not old,” I protested. I was only thirty-four. That wasn’t old, was it? Okay, maybe my body felt like it was eighty-four, but I was doing physio daily and getting better. Swanny was pushing forty, but he’d never played hockey. He was a lawyer who had moved into management. I felt the beginnings of more heartburn pain. I reached into my pocket, took out a ginger root capsule, and swallowed it.

We sat down at a scuffed boardroom table. There was a lopsided flip chart and a whiteboard with some half-erased numbers on it. This whole place was depressing. I sat down in a creaky chair and picked at the loose edge on the fake wood table. With a sharpcrack, a piece of the veneer came off in my hand. I dropped it on the floor and tried to hide the missing section with my body.

“Can you imagine working in a shithole like this?” I asked, but Swanny was on his phone.

---