Page 59

THIRTEEN

GEORGIE

Later that night

Leafs record: 2 wins, 2 losses, 1 tie (in overtime)

Barely five minutes into the first period, the Minnesota North Stars silenced the Leafs faithful with a power play goal to go up 2-0. The unfavourable turn of events, combined with her late arrival after working a twelve-hour shift at the Golden Griddle, made Georgie extra spiky.

She clutched the crust of the pizza slice she’d been wolfing down and glared at the score clock. “Just so you know, buying me cheesy pizza does not an apology make…” With her free hand, she adjusted the bag of popcorn balancing on her lap.

“Apology?” Michael pulled his gaze away from her ’80s-style Mike Palmateer jersey as the two teams gathered at centre ice for a faceoff.

“For interrogating Oliver about”—she stole a glance at the burly man sat to her left who hogged their shared armrest and lowered her voice—“you know.”

“Why are you bringing that up now?”

Georgie ripped the pizza crust apart. “We couldn’t talk last night. Kait was in the cab with us.” She wedged the larger chunk between her lips.

Michael turned back to the game. “Did Oliver say something?”

Georgie continued chewing until her mouthful was manageable, then answered, “He thought you were weirdly fixated on his boss. Everyone did.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why did Leesa mention it in the washroom last night?” Swallowing, Georgie glanced behind him. “Go ahead. Ask her.”

Glued to the action, Leesa budged forward. “Ask me what?”

Michael waved over his shoulder. “Nothing! As you were.”

“You’re lucky I cleaned up your mess,” said Georgie. “I told Leesa and Oliver about your idea to ask his boss for a reference. That seemed to satisfy their curiosity.” She shoved the last piece of pizza crust into her mouth.

“You should definitely ask,” said Michael.

Georgie rolled her eyes.

“Why are you so pissed with me?” His voice rose an octave. “I asked those questions because I care, Gi! The last thing I want is for you to get hoodwinked by someone with a sob story about losing their job when in actuality there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that even happening.” Michael plunged his hand into her popcorn bag and extracted a fistful. “Now that we know he’s not you know with the boss lady and he could very well end up on the chopping block, I say, go for it. Get that reference. Win that promotion.” Two fans rink-side pounded on the glass, and his brow crinkled in annoyance. “And I’m sorry. Truly. I can see now that I handled it badly.” He leaned in, bumping her arm. “You’re my bestie. You know I’d never make you feel uncomfortable on purpose.”

“So why put me on the spot about the meeting?”

His shoulders rose. “It was a little nudge! Gi, if you want that reference, you’re gonna have to meet Amalia. Properly.”

“But I’d rather meet her at a time of my choosing.” And somewhere else besides the museum. She glanced down into her popcorn and gave it several shakes, shifting the M&Ms deeper into the bag.

“You’ll be fine.” Poking through the popped kernels in his palm, Michael separated out the chocolate candies. “Oliver seems nice. I’m sure he’ll take the brunt of whatever weird shit she might throw your way.” He tossed the M&Ms in his mouth and crunched noisily.

The referee blew his whistle, calling the play dead. Randall and Ezio, and much of the Gardens, groaned as one.

Michael’s gaze darted from the snacks in his hand to the ice. “Fuck! What happened?” He shot a look Georgie’s way.

“Dunno. I missed it, too.”

“High stick,” muttered Terry, his bushy moustache twitching.

Georgie fumed as the referee skated to the glass-enclosed booth situated between the two penalty boxes. Talking to the timekeeper seated inside, the ref looked over his shoulder and pointed. Twice.

“Wait—whaaat?” she growled. The crowd erupted with boos as the timekeeper picked up his phone and the referee skated away.