Page 73 of Zero Pucks Given
After coffee, we walked a few more blocks to a restaurant called Little Brick. It was an old brick house that had been converted into a small restaurant, and there was a line of customers out the door waiting for a table. We had reservations though, so one of the marketing interns went inside to tell the host.
“Steel Wall!” someone in line called out. “What’s on the menu this morning?”
Grayson turned around to look at the fan, who was wearing an Oilers jersey. “Haven’t decided yet. What’s good here?”
The fan almost looked surprised that Grayson had responded to him. “French toast. Best in Alberta, no question. I hope you enjoy it… and then get the snot beat out of you in tomorrow’s game.”
“I hope you’re half right!” Grayson replied.
He took a few selfies with the fans in line, graciously trading quips with them. But it was all good natured, and then we were escorted inside to our table.
“You handled that nicely,” I said when we sat down.
Grayson snorted. “Compared to the fans in Boston or Philly? Those guys were downright friendly.”
“I guess the stereotype about Canadians is true,” I said.
Everything on the menu looked good, so I ended up ordering four different meals. When Grayson stared at me, I said, “What? I warned you I was going to get my money’s worth.”
He chuckled, then asked the server, “Do you have any champagne in your cellar? We’re looking for something expensive.”
“Something that costs at least a few thousand dollars, if possible,” I added.
The server looked at both of us like he was being pranked. “Um. We do not have a cellar. But I think we have champagne…”
“Whatever you have, I suppose it will do,” Grayson said. “A pitcher of mimosas, please.”
“Should you be drinking?” I asked. “You have a game tomorrow.”
“They don’t like it when we drink the night before a game,” he explained. “But they never said anything about drinking in the morning.”
“You’re a lot more laid back than you were on our first date,” I teased.
“I sure am,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Emphasis onlaid.”
I bit my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.
Grayson took the fan’s advice and ordered the French toast, but he also helped me with all the food I had ordered, taking a few testing bites off each plate. We rotated the plates around, sharing them and arguing over which was liked the most and the least.
When we left the restaurant, we saw the fan from outside sitting at a table. “Thanks for the recommendation,” Grayson told him. “The French toast hit the spot.”
“I hope it gives you exactly two days worth of indigestion,” the fan joked. “Enough to last until you’re back in San Antonio.”
Outside, the marketing intern glanced at his watch. “That’s all we had planned for now. You two have some downtime to do whatever you want. I’m sure you don’t want to hang out any more than required, but we need you to meet back in the lobby at six for dinner.”
“I definitely need some time to relax,” Grayson said.
I looked around. “I’m going to go back to my room and take a nap.”
We started walking in that direction, with the marketing intern andManny following behind. “You didn’t get much sleep last night?” Grayson asked me.
“No,” I replied with a straight face. “I did not.”
When we got back to the hotel, Manny and the marketing intern split off to discuss the photographs and when they wanted to post them. A few players were eating breakfast in the bar, but otherwise Grayson and I were alone.
“See you at six?” I said.
“Yeah, see you then,” he replied.
