At the side of the room, Georgia reveals a whiteboard with several categories on it. Skating lessons, swim lessons, soccer clinics, etcetera.

“Look, guys. I know that time constraints are real. You have a big job to do here in this building, and you’re all dedicated to your own success. That’s what I love about you. So the scheduling is going to be tricky. That’s why I’m also hiring a dozen coaches to run these programs for us, so that you’ll only have to drop in when you’re in town…”

A hand shoots up. It’s one of the Bruisers. “Are we really going to teach these kids to play soccer? What if we don’t know the rules?”

“The YMCA coaches will help you out. And if you really can’t mingle with kids, you can stick to the black-tie fundraisers. Your famous faces always bring in the cash.”

“Even Baby Bayer’s face?” some heckler teases.

“Oh, especially his,” someone else chirps.

I just bet it does.

“Our first ticketed fundraiser is coming up in November. But our fitness classes for teens begin in two weeks.”

Charli’s hand waves in the air. “Will the time commitment be significant? Most of us work other jobs just so we can afford to be professional hockey players.”

“It’s only as significant as you make it,” Georgia says. “The Bombshells’ practice schedule is in the evenings, to match with the game schedule. We wanted you to have big blocks of time in the early part of the day for other commitments.”

“And they wanted all that ice time for the men,” Charli says under her breath.

“But no pressure. And if you do participate, you’ll earn twenty-five dollars an hour.”

There are a few more questions and comments, and then the meeting is dismissed. “Bombshells, come and get your welcome packets,” Georgia says. “And don’t forget to look at the signup sheets. You don’t have to commit right this second, though. I’ll move the sheets online after today.”

I head right over to the signup sheets, so that I will have first pick. There are teen swimming instructor and lifesaving coach slots in the middle of the day. I’m a great swimmer, and that sounds like fun. So I write my name down immediately.

At twenty-five American dollars an hour, this is perfect for me. I can earn some extra cash and play with kids. What’s not to like?

“Swimming coach,” Bryce says from right behind me. “Do you know where the pools are located?”

I turn around and offer him the pen. “I’ll find the place okay. Are you going to join me?” If he’s that worried about my welfare, maybe he will.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I do not speak enough English to teach people to swim. What if someone struggles, and I forget the word for…” He makes a frantic motion with his hands.

“Kick?” I try.

“Oui.” He puts the pen back on the ledge where it belongs.

Okay. Fine. There goes my opportunity to parade around in my bathing suit in front of him.