Page 6 of Hard to Get

“Oh yeah. Thanks to you.”

A kid comes running toward us. I was going to go off on whoever threw that, but it’s a kid, so… “This your ball?” I hold it up.

A dog gallops ahead of the kid and stops, eyeing his ball.

“Yeah. Sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“It’s okay, I got it, but be careful, my man.” I hand the ball over to the boy.

“Sorry.” The kid turns and throws the ball again for his dog.

I look around. Where is Frank? Oops. He’s over by the fence taking a dump. “Be right back,” I say to the woman.

“We have to go anyway,” she says, standing. “It was nice to meet both of you.”

“Oh.” My heart drops like a puck at faceoff. “Would you like to get a coffee? Or a drink?”

She hesitates and purses her lips.

3

STELLA

He’s asking me out.

I’m not sure what to make of this.

He’s cute. His boyish smile is open and friendly, and makes two dimples appear in his cheeks. The breeze ruffles his thick, brown hair, long and mussy on top, and he looks at me so attentively, his eyes a mix of brown and bronze, like sunlight on polished wood.

I’m pretty tall, five feet eight, but he’s still about a half foot taller than me, with a lean, fit build. His softly faded jeans cling to muscular thighs.

I’m tempted by his invitation, not gonna lie. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out with a man. But I don’t even know this guy. And we have our dogs with us.

“I’d better get Betty home,” I say. “Thanks, though. It was nice to meet you.” I give him a bright smile. “Bye, Frank.” I reach out to give his head a rub. He looks so much like Betty, but not quite the same.

“Yeah,” the man says, still smiling. “Nice to meet you, too. And you, Betty.”

I turn and walk toward Richards Street, past the kids’ play area and the fountain with the small stream running between benches shaded by big maple trees.

I want to turn around so bad, but I resist. When I get to the street, I do take a peek out of the side of my eye to see if they’re behind me. And they are. Not far behind me. Frank’s sniffing a tree. Are they following me?

Nah.

I turn left and stroll along the sidewalk past the apartment building, and when I get to the intersection, I have to stop for a red light at Helmcken. I casually look around. The guy’s not behind me… Well, he is, but he’s walking in the opposite direction, immediately recognizable by his height and athletic build.

Why the hell did I turn him down? He’s attractive and it was fun talking to him. We could have easily gone for a coffee and maybe… more. I’m not looking for a relationship. Love is only temporary and marriage is for suckers. I don’t need a man… except for, you know, fun. A fun outing once in a while. A little horizontal hustle. Bedroom rodeo.

I grin at my own thoughts.

I own a successful business. I support myself. I have a fantastic new condo, the best dog, great friends, and a vibrator that has never ghosted me. Having a boyfriend is not on my wish list. What is, though? Perhaps a little bit of monkey love…

Two days later, I’m at the Seabrook Centre, the hockey arena where the Vancouver Orcas play. This season, the league will be using our new tracking system. Over the past year, we’ve done a ton of work to prepare for this; our work crews have been traveling to every NHL arena on the continent, first to survey the facility and determine the best locations for our infrared cameras. Contractors then laid down new wiring and our other crews went in to install and test the hardware.

Then they had to calibrate the devices, which is intense and time-consuming, basically mapping the surface of the ice and tracking movement. We tracked everything except the players, at first, and corroborated speeds with handheld radar guns. Then we held scrimmages and dry runs to test the system. Tonight, the Orcas play against Edmonton in their first pre-season game and we’ll be tracking an actual NHL game.

I’m with the league’s VP of technology, Chris Sharma, at ice level. Troy is up on the catwalk, looking down on the ice. Here, I’m watching equipment managers slide small electronic devices into pouches between the shoulder blades on the back of the players’ jerseys. All the pucks used tonight have microchips embedded in their core, with light emitters top and bottom, all painted black so they’re virtually invisible.

The players file out from the dressing room and pause to have their device attached. They know what’s going on and seem eager to see the results of the new tracking system.