“It sounds great, we really appreciate the support from the Crush Foundation on this,” Tara says.
“We’re happy to do it,” Alicia says. “Tara, why don’t we go talk in more detail while Billie meets with Cal about his role in all of this?”
“Sounds good,” Tara answers. “Billie, just bring Cal up to my office when you’re done chatting?”
“No problem,” Billie says, giving a thin smile.
As the two other women leave, Billie turns to me. “Well, this is awkward.”
Indeed.
8
i thought you said valium
Billie
“So, new guy, your name is Cal, then?”
“I said ‘Calum,’ the night we met.”
“I thought you said ‘Valium’ to be honest, but I knew that couldn’t be right. It was loud at the party.”
“Okay.” He looks at me, his profound statement aside.
Well, well, isn’t he the charmer. I walked in all excited this morning to have a way of getting this music thing going, and the guy I have to partner with is the same guy I randomly kissed after the show over the weekend. Oy vey.
“Look, I’m sorry I kissed you the other night. I’d had a few drinks and I thought you were cute, but obviously you weren’t that into it, so…” I give a helpless shrug in his direction.
“This is awkward for me, too. We’re adults, though. We can handle it, Billie.”
He’s not soft about this. It should make me feel better, right? To have him say we’re cool, that we can manage through this weird turn of events and work together? I mean, I guess that’s what he’s saying, right? It’s hard to tell because he’s still just as awkward as the other night, kind of standoffish and uncomfortable. His body language is stiff, like he’s just totally uncomfortable, even though his words are meant to make me feel more comfortable. It’s so weird. I feel weird.
I’m gonna try to shake it off, as the pop juggernaut Taylor Swift would advise.
Not a Taylor Swift fan, though. Just for the record.
“Just so we’re on the same page, Cal, you’re cool about the awkward stuff from the other night, and we can move past it to do this thing together with the kids and the music?”
He nods once. “It’s fine.”
I cringe. “Fine isn’t really the ringing endorsement of enthusiasm that I’m looking for here.”
He just shrugs at me and keeps nailing me with those eyes of his that remind me of the deep blue sea…and other things I shouldn’t be romanticizing. Nope. Not at all.
Holy hell.
I throw my head back and sigh. “Okay. Let’s start over.” I shove my hand out. “My name is Billie Hirsch. I’m the program director here, and I also play drums in a killer three-piece band with the unfortunate hipster name of Love Scrum. We are much better than our shitty name. I love music and hope to help the kids who come here to the club to love it too.”
He shakes my hand…and then he speaks.
“I’m Calum Lefleur. I just moved here from Canada and I’m the new goaltender for the Crush now, even though I didn’t want the trade. The Crush beat us in the playoffs last season. They’re the best overall team. I’m pretty much the best goalie in the league. It makes sense they called me in, but I’m still not thrilled about it.”
“That’s…arrogant,” I say, pushing my lips together in a dubious smirk. “Not sure I’m into the cocky. Dial it back a bit for the kids, okay? They’ll be starstruck and think you’re great anyway. I just want you to be accessible.”
“What does that mean?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.
“It means that these kids come from all kinds of backgrounds. They weren’t born with silver spoons in their mouths, and it will be a treat for them to meet you, let alone learn from you, and I don’t want them to be disappointed if you act like an asshole.”
This seems to surprise him. He leans back, almost like he’s been slapped, and bites his lip, frowning. Or pouting. I think he’s pouting.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t a nice thing to say. But I know your type. You’re spoiled and rich and you’ve been the superstar, but now you’re just one superstar among many and that feels uncomfortable to you. Frankly, I’m not impressed. I grew up among celebrities and they put their pants on one leg at a time, just like I do. Superstars are overrated.”
“That’s not really it,” Cal says. “I mean, it’s not all of it. But whatever. Let’s just get this figured out so I can get back to the arena.”
I breathe in and out through my nose quickly. It’s such a shame when the really hot-looking guys turn out to be spoiled rich boys. I’ve seen my fair share over the years, I but had hoped that this one would be different. Calm, Billie. He’s keen to leave, so give him what he wants so he can get out of here. “Okay, well, I’d like to have you here on a consistent basis. Like, the same day and time every single week. Is that doable with your schedule?”
“I’m not sure. As you know, we have a game schedule that will have us on the road. It’s likely we can set a schedule based on that, but it’s unlikely I can guarantee Tuesdays at four every week or whatever.”
“These kids need someone they can count on,” I tell him plainly. He needs to know this is not just some photo op for his image.
“I understand, but I have hockey responsibilities, and while the team is supportive of this, they also pay me to play hockey. So, we just need to look at the calendar and work something out.”
I feel my face twisting. Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe the events of the other night are coloring my opinion of this guy. And really, that’s uncool since I’m the one who kissed him in the first place. And he’s right, of course, that hockey is a long season with a lot of games and practices and training sessions.
Calum Lefleur is a very attractive guy. As pretty in the daylight as he was the other night in the dim light of the evening. His hair has gorgeous golden highlights throughout and enough of a natural curl to look artfully messy. Great lips, not too full, not too thin. And his eyes—yeah, well, suffice it to say I’ve dreamt about those sea-blue, Van Gogh iris-colored eyes of his more than I should’ve since we met the other night. He’ll look fantastic on those larger-than-life posters the Crush likes to hang outside the arena every season.
“Okay, sure,” I finally say. “I just want you to be clear on this one point, okay? These kids need role models. They need people who show up consistently. They need people who care about them in authentic ways. If you’re just going to phone this in, I’d rather not do it.”
“I’ve been asked to do this by our public relations team,” he answers, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll do what is expected of me.”
My nostrils flare as I grit my teeth, biting back the response I’d really like to give him. I need to stay civil, though. “Okay. Well, let’s go up to one of the homework rooms. There are a couple of home-school kids up there doing some work. They’ll be happy to meet you and it’s on the way to Tara’s office.”