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It’s not like Harvey is going to find out, anyway.
Chapter Eighteen
HARVEY
“So,thisisyourlatest model?” I ask, perusing the device in my hand.
I’m in Vancouver and still at the airport. Luckily my cell phone provider has a store here.
The salesperson nods enthusiastically as she gives me the speeds and feeds. “It’s pretty much a computer you can carry in your pocket!”
I nod. I don’t need a phone for much more than to exchange messages and watch videos when I’m bored, but I like the best.
“And can you make sure it has my old number and my service is resumed?” I push it towards her and cross my hands over the teller’s desk.
“Oh, absolutely!” she says with a smile. “I’ll get started on it right away!”
A half hour later, I walk out of the store and back into the airport, with a brand-new phone in my hand.
The limo driver, who I find waiting for me at the arrival area holding a sign with my name, guides me out to where he parked.
“Busy day?” I ask, my bags slung at both shoulders.
“You’re the first one so far!” the driver says. “It’s nice to drive the players around. You guys are nice tippers!”
I snort at his sincerity and pat him on the shoulder for it. “Alright, uh… What’s your name?”
“Joseph, sir!”
I frown. “Okay, I don’t even call my father sir anymore, please call me Harvey. And you put me under obligation, Joe! I’m not even carrying paper money!”
“Oh, it’s alright, Harvey! A picture should do it!” he looks at me and says animatedly.
“Once we get to the hotel,” I say, crawling inside the car and dodging the eyes of a group with hockey jerseys.
Joseph gets inside the car as well and wastes no time in starting the engine.
“Not comfortable with the fans?” Joe asks slight concern in his voice.
“No, I am!” I say, leaning back and relaxing a little. “I’m just going through a tough spot right now.”
“In sports, or…?” Now he’s genuinely concerned.
“Nah, it’s personal,” I say. “My grandmother recently passed, and it’s been tough on all the family.”
“Oh, I see,” Joe nods, taking the car away from the airport and on the road to the city. “Do you think that will affect your game?”
I scoff, half swallowing air, half holding back laughter. “You’re quite the inquisitive type of guy, aren’t you, Joe?”
“Hey, a guy’s gotta make a living!” he says, laughing.
The heater is on inside, but I roll down the window to take a look at the bright shiny Vancouver day going on outside, quite different from the gloomy rain that was going on in Boston.
Joe and I say goodbye to each other after we take a picture by the doors of the hotel where the team is staying.
We’re occupying a whole floor, and when I get there, I announce my arrival by pounding on each door and making as much noise as I can, because everybody needs to know Baker is here.
“Hey, Baker!” Tchekov, our left winger, opens the door and yells from the other end of the hallway. “Remind me to keep on knocking at your door when you’re trying to sleep!”
