How rude, Robbie thought delightedly, tamping down on the urge to laugh. He turned to Alonzo. “Who would win in a thumb war, you or Robbie?”
Alonzo didn’t know what a thumb war was. Robbie and Emily demonstrated. He obliterated her.
“You cheated!” she complained.
Then it was on to the next set of victims.
“What do you miss most about having Finn Graham around the rink?”
Holly wrinkled her nose and pretended to think about it. “When he was around, nobody stuck a microphone in my face.”
Robbie nodded sagely and held the microphone in front of Stef, who said, “He smells really good.”
Too bad this show wasn’t going to be around much longer, because Robbie could do this shit his whole life. “He does smell really good. Very suspicious. Do you know what it is?”
“It’s his hair product. It’s like, vanilla-tobacco scented. Costs fifty bucks a pop.”
“Holly!” Finn protested from twenty feet away.
“I can almost smell him now,” Stef said, mock wistful.
When Robbie had made his way through the cast and the willing members of the crew, Finn said, “Are you sure you made the right call bowing out? Seems like you’re having a good time.”
Robbie glanced around to ensure the coast was clear and then planted a firm kiss on Finn’s mouth. “Hundred percent sure.”
Finn said, “Try that again with the mustache off.”
Then, Thursday night, Robbie jumped out of a cake at the end of the group performance and led the contestants through a series of silly games. The pair with the most points at the end would win a get-out-of-the-bottom-two-free pass. Emily and Alonzo clinched it in ice charades withAnd Then There Were None.
Robbie got a standing ovation of his hosting skills as Mario Butts, even if his mustache did fall off twice.
“Heart isn’t in it, my ass,” Finn grumbled to him afterward, but he was smiling. “You just didn’t want to share the spotlight.”
When Robbie’sphone rang that morning with a call from his agent, he’d blinked at it with surprise. Since his retirement weeks prior, Bill’s regular phone calls had all but stopped. They’d talked about the TV show of course—Robbie got Bill to look through the contract Sawyer had signed for him just to make sure—but now that he was no longer an active player, the offers for appearances, endorsements, and partnerships came much less frequently. So when Bill told Robbie that he’d gotten a job offer, Robbie raised his eyebrows.
“A job offer for a retired goalie?”
Bill huffed. “They sounded serious, so get your butt down here for two.” Then, like a TV hero, he hung up without saying goodbye, because he knew better than to give Robbie time to negotiate.
Figuring he shouldn’t piss off the man who was in charge of finding him time-filling employment in his old age, Robbie thoroughly kissed Finn goodbye and headed out.
The ride was familiar, but Robbie couldn’t say he missed battling downtown traffic.
Bill stood waiting for him at the arena entrance, and Robbie gave him a look. “It’s like you don’t trust me.”
Bill shrugged. “I was around the corner.”
They headed into Novabank Arena together, and soon enough they were seated across the table from some familiar and unfamiliar faces.
“We’ve been watchingDance Your Ice Off. You’ve proved you’ve got appeal beyond short social-media content,” said one of the suits.
Another nodded. “We were already talking recruitment when we saw the last episode.”
“Let me guess, it was the mustache that did it.”
Suit one, the friendliest of the bunch, laughed. “Oh definitely. So, what do you think, Zeiger? Want to do the same kind of thing for us?”
Robbie considered, tilted his head, scratched a cheek. “So, you want me to do silly interviews of Beavers players while wearing a fake mustache?”
