Free There's a Shark in My Hockey Pool by Dave Belisle Page A

Sylvie.
    "How's this for ambience?"
    She smiled and looked over his head at the
far wall where a Blue Jays cap rested atop a stuffed nine-foot
marlin. Somehow she knew this restaurant's inventory didn't include
candle-holders. The closest thing to a trio of violin serenaders
was a linesman on the screen breaking up a fight.
    "Ah," she nodded. "A locker room without the
smell."
    Derek glanced at the menu promising
all-you-can-eat bullpen buffalo wings. The fine print read, "Tastes
like chicken!" He stole a glance at the monitor as the Leafs
defenseman crossed center ice and pounded the puck into the
Vancouver zone. He was only into the second day of his assault on
Mount Everest, but he felt on top of the world, nevertheless.
    Marcotte raised his arms, holding court in
their small secluded booth.
    "I feel like celebrating. You should have
been there. It was great. I grabbed my old stomping grounds with
the first pick and never looked back."
    Sylvie took a slow sip from her gin and
seven. His phone call back to the office hadn't included details
beyond an invitation to the bar tonight. She'd been waiting for him
to hit on her. A lot of women might fret and wade knee deep into
the nearest container of Hog-in-a-Daze ice cream. She knew better
than to check with her perfume girl at Suzie Chic. It wasn't her.
Some men just needed a hand ... others a hand grenade. But Derek
had been busy with the marketing pitch.
    "It sounds like you and Artie must have done
okay."
    He leaned closer to her.
    "You mean, Artie, me ... and you."
    Sylvie blushed slightly. Hold the Leafs,
nine-foot marlins and candle-holders. Reality check. She paused to
look at Bobby Baun's ankle cast.
    "With our proposal complete, I thought you
wouldn't be needing me any longer."
    "On the contrary, my dear. I can keep you
busy."
    Their eyes measured one another for a few
spacious seconds ... a subtle but tantalizing confrontation in the
ball game of love. Sylvie, the pitcher -- or person being hit upon
-- wasn't sure what to go with. Derek, the designated hitter, had
already decided what she was going to throw at him. A curve? No.
You always had to keep your eyes open for one ... but it might mess
things up here. A fastball? Not likely. This could easily leave him
flailing and embarrassed. No, if his mental notebook gave him any
indication, she'd go with the ol' female pay-off pitch -- the
change-up. Keep him off guard. He'd take a big, fat swing at it,
alright. If he connected, he'd be running home ... with her.
    "Oh?" she said.
    Derek's forearms twitched. She was coming in
right over the plate.
    "Well, Artie and I'll be on the road," he
said. "It'll be quiet at the office. I'd like to have you there to
keep an eye on things. Let's face it. You're a good luck
charm."
    "And I'll be getting paid for this?" She
smirked. She had a ballpark idea of what the firm's operating
budget was. May-Ja-Look was a maple lost in a forest of Douglas
firs. But it was a maple with heart.
    "You make it sound so ... professional," said
Derek.
    The word "professional" and the alluring look
she gave him in return triggered a chain reaction between them. It
made the toes of Derek's woolen socks curl. He had been working too
hard lately. He'd forgotten the finer things in life. A Leaf goal
overhead went unnoticed.
    "Did I just fall prey to some invisible
pick-up line?" she asked.
    "I don't know. It's been so long since I've
used one."
     
    Sylvie opened the door to her Lakeshore
Boulevard high-rise apartment and poked her nose in. She crossed
her fingers that her roommate had gone out for the evening.
    "Angela?"
    No answer.
    "Maybe she's asleep," said Derek.
    "Not likely. Sleep and Friday nights don't
mix with her."
    "Hangovers and Saturday mornings are the
winning combination?"
    She elbowed him in the ribs and stepped
through the doorway.
    "Come on in."
    She turned for the kitchen. Derek paused to
take in the spotless surroundings. Stucco walls, dark drapes, Ming
vases and throw pillows. Lots