Page 6 of He Has Game (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
Finn and Vivvie first met at summer camp in Snow Lake, Manitoba when she was only sixteen . . .
Wait, that would make him twenty. That’s too old for him to be at summer camp. He’s four years older than me, or just about. I turned twenty-one last month.
Finn and Vivvie met at a hockey party at BC where his teammate Ryan O’Rourke played and they came to a college party . . .Because? There’s no reason whatsoever two Boston Brawlers hockey players would attend a college party unless they were totally desperate, and they are most definitely not.
Geesh. This is a tough one. But then maybe I should keep it simple and go with Finn’s suggestion.
Finn and Vivvie met at the Boston Public Library . . . at an exhibit on the history of hockey . . . .The BPL had one last year. The meeting could have happened. I was there. I didn’t see any hockey players, but they might have been there incognito.
The couple clicked as they viewed the exhibit, exchanging hockey stories from their childhoods, went for coffee, and have been seeing each other since at quiet, out-of-the-way places . . .for a year?
No. A year is too long for us to have had a secret relationship. Everyone knows Finn goes to bars after every game with some of his teammates—the single ones. I have to assume he’s seen with other women too, which would make him a big fat cheater. Not good for rehabbing his image.
Okay, this is it.
Finn and Vivvie met at a bar.No one knows I’ve never been to one. Not since that time during spring break in Fort Lauderdale a year ago. The margarita night. So it’ll work.
They met a couple of months ago, connected with crazy chemistry, and had a whirlwind courtship at quiet out-of-the-way places.
I wonder if I should tell my parents? What should I tell them? The truth or the fabrication? My chest squeezes at the prospect, but I take a deep breath and go on. I’ll tell them . . . something. It’ll be okay. They trust me. They’ve always trusted me because I don’t lie.
Until now. Now I’m going to be telling the whole world a big fat whopper of a lie.
Oh. No. The muscle under my left shoulder blade tightens and the sharp pain settles into a throbbing companion for the rest of the day. It deepens as I read Finn’s file. Whatever crush I thought I had on him before bubbles up to hot air balloon proportions.
* * *
At ten minutesto five I knock on Mary’s door. I’m early more because I’m anxious for this day to end than to rack up brownie points. She grunts from behind her desk for me to come in and I take the seat in front of her desk. I sent the file via email before I left my office.
“Where’s the background?”
“I emailed it because you—”
She makes a face and clicks on some keys and the printer whirs behind her. She rips the paper out and hands me a copy.
“Let’s go over this briefly.” She skims the page. “It’s a little thin, but I like that you made it a short affair. What’s the name of the bar where you met?”
My mind goes blank. Didn’t I include that crucial detail?
“Um . . .” Think, Vivvie, think.
“It can’t be The Fours on Canal Street because that’s where the teams goes all the time and the others would know it didn’t happen,” Mary says.
“621 Tavern on Route 1 North of Boston,” I blurt. I went there once for my brother’s graduation party.
She nods her approval. We finish going over the details and she stands. I want to ask about that one detail in his file, but I don’t have the nerve. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should pretend I don’t know because it’s clearly none of my business. I mean, I’m not really his fiancée.
“I went to the weight room to tell Finn privately that he has a choice between bringing you out with him after the game tomorrow night, or getting together at a nice quiet neutral location to review the cheat sheet and get to know each other better so you have a shot at convincing people you’re a real couple.”
She pauses, looking at me with that permanent groove between her eyebrows deepening.
“Close your mouth, Vivian. You volunteered for this. Now we’re both stuck with making this work out.”
“Which did he choose?”
“The neutral location.” Inside, I’m dancing up and down. On the outside, I smile and let out a breath of relief.
“Where’s the neutral location?”
