Page 7 of Pucker Up
The boat engine roared as we settled into the harbour and the passengers started to line up to disembark. “Well, Morton, if you insist. Where are we going for lunch?” I didn’t care where we were going. I would’ve choked down some oysters, the only food that made me sick just thinking about it, if it meant one more minute with Goldie. All I needed was more time. I could win her over.
“We’re going for pizza. Is that all right?” Mel was the first one off the boat and we fell in stride next to her as we wove through the crowd. Luckily, I was in my dirtbag disguise, and walking through a crowd undetected, in the city where I was a hockey star, was almost as exhilarating as each time Goldie’s coat sleeve brushed against mine.
“Only if it’s the best place in the city.”
“Big Slice?” Mel asked.
Goldie and I both scoffed at the same time. Mel laughed. “All right, if it’s not Big Slice, who’s got the best pie in town?”
“Al’s,” Goldie and I both spoke at the same time.
Mel had an amused look on her face. “You two have to be the only people in the city who think that Al’s is the best pizza in town.”
I held up my finger. “The best pizza I’ve had is in Chicago, but for Toronto, Al’s is a close second.”
“Are you talking about Four Corners Wheel?” Goldie asked.
“Of course.” The woman had excellent taste in pizza. “When I played for Chicago, I ate there almost every day. It’s steps away from the rink. Did you live in Chicago, Goldie?”
“I did for a while, right after high school. What about you?”
“I lived there for one season when I played in the Northern Professional League.” I wondered if we were there the same time, if we had rubbed elbows at Four Corners. As quickly as I had the thought, I shook it off. Goldie wasn’t the kind of person you forgot; there’s no way I could’ve brushed past her and not noticed. “I miss their mozzarella.”
“Me too,” Goldie said. “And that pesto they made in the summer, from the stuff they grew on their rooftop garden.”
“What about the pepperoncini?” I asked, my mouth watering just thinking about it.
“Oh, the pepperoncini,” Goldie moaned. “So good.”
“You two don’t need to get a room, you need to get a pizza.” Mel laughed.
“No, trust me.” Goldie grabbed her friend’s arm. “The pizza here is good, but Chicago is a whole other level.”
We were about a block away from Al’s. “Shit.” Mel stopped. “I totally forgot that I have to…do something.” She took the leash from Goldie’s hand. “I’ll take Morton home with me so you don’t have to deal with people trying to save him from the cold.”
“But…” Goldie tried to take the leash back from Mel. “What do you have to do? What about lunch?” She put her hands on her hips.
Mel was already three steps away from us, in the direction we had already walked. “I have an appointment.”
It didn’t take a body language expert to know that Mel was bailing on lunch, and that Goldie was pissed about it. “Mel.” Goldie’s voice was low, almost a growl. “You didn’t have an appointment when we planned our day.”
Mel’s lips drew into a line, then she threw her hands into the air. “If you must know, I’ve got diarrhea.”
The pedestrians next to us slowed, and a couple of guys raised their eyebrows at the beautiful woman shouting about shitting her pants on the street. “I’ll see you later. It was nice meeting you, Ace! I’ll bring back Morton on Monday.” She broke into a light jog. Morton hopped in delight, and then matched her pace.
“She’s really committing to her story.” Goldie raised her eyebrows. Mel and Morton disappeared around the corner, leaving me and Goldie steps away from the pizza shop.
“You don’t think she really had to go?” I asked.
“Maybe.” Goldie shrugged. It was obvious that she did not believe that Mel had a looming disaster pants emergency. I knew a wingman, or rather wingwoman, when I saw one. Mel had just set Goldie and me up on our very first date. At least, I hoped that’s how she would see it.
“I know that Morton wanted to buy lunch, but if he’s not here, I’m happy to step into his shoes. Or paws.”
Goldie’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled. “It’s not the first time he’s forgotten his wallet at home, but no, I owe you lunch. You saved him.”
“Well, as long as it’s coming out of his biscuit allowance, I guess it’s okay.” I hated the idea of Goldie paying for lunch, buta gnawing feeling in my gut told me that if I insisted on paying, she would cancel the whole thing.
We were seated in a booth at the front of the restaurant. It was one of those days where the sun beamed through the window, and even though it was below zero outside, inside it felt like a hot summer day. Goldie’s coat hung over top of mine on the hooks outside the booth, but soon enough we had both peeled off another layer of clothing. Underneath her puffy coat, she had been hiding curves, and they were better than the ones I had imagined.
