Page 54 of Playoff
I had to wait for the elevator to get to my floor, and when it took too long, I stabbed the down button again. And a couple more times. If Justin got done early and was on the elevator, he’d want to know where I was going, and what could I tell him? I’d have to lie to him, and I wasn’t a good liar. I didn’t want to lie to my twin.
The other option, of canceling? No. Not tonight.
Fortunately, when the doors opened it was a car going down, not one coming up. There was an older couple holding hands who smiled a greeting at me. The couple got out on the lobby floor while I continued down to the parking levels.
We’d driven with Fitch since he’d moved to the building, so I knew where his parking slots were. Sure enough, Alek was standing by a brand new… I checked—Mercedes. G-Wagon. Justin had been considering one of those but settled for an environmentally friendly Ioniq. I didn’t check out the car for long, instead examining the man beside it. He wore a black winter jacket over jeans. On his head was a black toque. Sensible—I’d noticed that his hair was growing back but it was still short and this was Canada in February. He was rubbing his stubbled jaw. He didn’t seem to be growing the beard back.
He looked delicious. I pinched my thigh to remind my libido to behave.
“So this is the new vehicle?” Fitch’s Volvo was parked beside it.
He nodded. “There was no point in bringing my car up from California. It would be destroyed in these conditions, and I have no idea how long I’m in Toronto.”
I pushed aside the thought of his leaving and asked about his car. “What do you drive in LA?”
He met my gaze. “A Lamborghini. That what you expected?”
Like this was a test. “Yeah. I mean, you play a sport, you make money—most of the guys on the team have a sports car of some kind.”
He chirped the G-Wagon open. “What about your brother?”
I opened the passenger door and climbed in, inhaling the new-car scent. Alek got in the driver’s seat and started the vehicle.
“He’s got a Hyundai Ioniq, electric. You may have noticed there are charging stations in the parking levels.”
Alek shrugged and put the car in reverse. “That tracks. Now, since you’ve lived here more recently than me, where should we go? Someplace I can see what the car can do. Maybe we could pick up food where no one is going to recognize us.”
The subterfuge was lifting my mood, and that wasn’t good. This was just a one-off, a treat after a difficult day. I pulled out my phone and checked the map while he made his way through the parking levels toward the street. “We could go west—maybe as far as Hamilton? They’ve got some good food, and the Inferno are playing at home tonight so the hockey fans there should be at the game.”
“That’s the farm team, right?”
“Yep. And the Bonfire are playing at home too.” That was the women’s professional hockey team, all three teams sharing the same management and ownership. “Lots of option to keep fans busy elsewhere.”
Alek turned south, heading to the Gardiner Expressway without any assistance from me or the GPS in the vehicle.
“You’re learning your way around?”
“I grew up here.”
Right. I’d forgotten. “Did you come back much, after…” How did one tactfully say after your parents fled the country with other people’s investments?
“I’d been drafted by Florida, so I was down there when everything went to hell. I had no desire to come back to Canada with all the attention my parents were getting. While that was going on, I was traded to Dallas, then other teams in the southwest. The only times I came north were when we were playing a Canadian team on their home ice.”
Did he not have any ties in Canada to bring him back? Apparently none strong enough to overcome the notoriety of his parents’ crime.
“Where do you call home now?”
“Maybe LA? Though now it’s just the place where my stuff is.”
Toronto was home for me because of Justin, and even though he could end up moving, there was always Grandma in BC to give us roots. “Would you ever want to join your parents? After hockey?” Realizing how that could be interpreted, I rushed on. “I’m not asking where they are or how you keep in touch. Maybe just forget I said anything.”
What a stupid question to ask. From one of their victims.
His frown deepened and his knuckles showed white on the wheel. “I have no idea where my family is. I haven’t had any communication with them since two days before they skipped out.”
I didn’t speak, sure that I must have heard him wrong.
He shot a glance my way. “Surprised?”
