Page 31 of The Tape Job
Johnny stops scrolling the menu and looks at me.
“I know Liam. I can tell when he’s pissed. He wasn’t himself during the opening game, nor at the bar last week, and he’s been snappy ever since he got here. He’s been fighting for Christ’s sake. We’re talking about Liam. What’s going on with you two? Please enlighten me, Victoria.”
I hate it when he ‘Victoria’s’ me.
“What’s it got to do with you?” I ask.
Johnny’s cheeks turn pink, and he sucks in a breath through his teeth. “It’s frustrating when my best face-off guy is constantly in the penalty box and not taking any face-offs.”
He has been spending a lot of time in the box recently. Is that my fault? Probably. And I feel terrible about it. But what can I do? Liam’s a winger but has always been exceptional at face-offs, much to Ryan’s frustration. But come on, he’s got to give him something. According to Johnny, the plan included maximizing Liam’s participation in face-offs, even if he was substituted right after the draw.
“Fine. We briefly spoke last week. I told him I wanted him to keep away, and he obviously didn’t take it very well.”
He didn’t handle it well. Liam got a five-minute major for fighting and a few two-minute minors sprinkled on top, which is why Johnny is pissed.
“Oh. Well, I’m not surprised. I understand you two are no longer a thing, and I’ve told you before, it’s probably for the best, but you need to remain professional, Vic. What the fuck are you playing at?” Johnny snaps.
Wow. That’s the first time I’ve actually heard him admit, out loud, that we were dating. Johnny ignored it before now. Even when Liam and I went to the same college, he pretended like it wasn’t happening.
“Nothing. I tried to keep away last night.I—”
Johnny interrupts me. “When is this going to stop? When will you stop throwing your toys out of your crib and get your fucking act together?”
He raises his voice and people snap their heads towards our table. Blood floods to my face; I must be the colour of a damn beet. I can’t bring myself to look at Johnny, so I busy myself with the menu on my phone instead.
“Someday, Vic, he’ll move on for good and you’ll have to cope.”
Liam move on? He wouldn’t, would he? “He can do what he wants. He’s a single guy.” As soon as I say it, I feel sick. Because it’s always been us.
I remember the first time it became us.
I’d spent a full year thinking he wasn’t all that keen on me; he’d hardly said two words to me—apart from that first time I went to his house. He told me how good of a cook his mom was. This was after my dad was having his usual fight with my mom about what time she was picking us up from the barn.
There was one evening in particular: my mom was stuck in surgery; she was undertaking a ten-hour operation which she could hardly just up and leave. But my dad, well, he wasn’t happy that his plans were being stomped on—his plans to see his latest girlfriend, no doubt. Liam’s mom, Lois, had invited Johnny to have dinner with Liam and Ryan, but my dad would only let him go on the condition that I go with him. I was being forced to tag along with Johnny. I felt like a spare part or an unwanted puppy that someone had been gifted for Christmas but didn’t really want. But Lois had made me feel so welcome. She had told me she loved having a girl around because she was sick of boys. She had said it to make me feel better, but it helped.
It was a full year before Liam spoke to me properly, despite seeing him twice a week, every week by that point—even sometimes on weekends too.
It all started subtly. He’d sit next to me in the back of his mom’s truck, our knees touching. Occasionally, his hand brushed against mine, but we hardly spoke. I found it odd that I had the impression of knowing everything about him. He’d always linger when I was at his place, often just hanging back a little when Johnny and Ryan had gone into the yard to play hockey or something—as if he was going to talk—but he never did.
Until one day.
I had a Canucks game on in the background, but I wasn’t really watching it. Johnny and Ryan were goofing around in the yard with mini sticks, while Liam grabbed a drink in the kitchen. Lois always made sure I had the couch opposite the doors to the yard to myself when I visited, and I sort of camped there with my schoolbooks and a novel I was reading.
“Do you genuinely like hockey?” he asked me, then he did something he’d never done before. He slumped down next to me.
His leg was touching mine just the slightest amount; I could feel the tickle of his leg brushing against my skin.
“No,” I shrugged, looking over at him. I remember feeling self-conscious that day because I’d got glasses for reading, and I was worried about how they would look.
“Really?”
“I don’t mind it, in all honesty. It is what it is,” I said.
“You sure as hell know a lot about it for someone who doesn’t mind it,” Liam grinned and reached across the sofa to where his guitar sat on a stand next to it. He picked it up and began strumming gently.
How did he know I knew a lot about hockey? My mind was racing, trying to figure it out. But then it clicked—he listened to me. “Well, I have to watch it a lot.”
I stared at him, watching how his fingers moved, and I wondered how rough his hands were. I pushed my glasses upmy nose, and he shot me a look before putting his attention back on the fretboard of his guitar.
