Chapter 9

I'm on a dark kick...I think I'm still angry with my boys or something

"Fuck." 

I looked up from reading about the latest machinations of the Tea Party and watched Pat rip the sports pages into several, small pieces which he then tossed onto the floor like a toddler throwing a fit.

"Problem?" I asked, picking an errant piece of the paper out of my eggs. 

"They always say the same things about me. They're always picking on me," he whined and then kicked the leg of the table, as if it too had done something to him. 

"Then why do you read that stuff?" I asked and went back to reading actual news instead of conjecture about a season that hadn't even started yet. 

"I dunno," he grumbled sullenly and started to poke at his breakfast like he was trying to kill it too. Sighing, I folded the part of the newspaper that I'd been reading, sat back in my chair and watched him squirm. 

"You know damn well why you read that stuff," I urged him. He glared at me with icy blue eyes and shook his head. I narrowed my eyes at him and felt like I was about to have an argument with a five year old over eating his spinach. "You're looking for them to say good things but from what you tell me you know damn well you're the whipping boy so guess what? They're not gonna say anything positive until you do something positive for them to talk about." 

"Oh yeah, like Captain Wonder Pants!" he sulked. I rolled my eyes at the name but inside something stirred in the vicinity of my panties at the mere mention of the Captain of the Hawks. 

"Why don't you...get involved in some kind of charity?" I offered. Pat made a noise deep in his throat that sounded partly like disgust and partly like resignation. 

"I do stuff with the firemen and the troops all the time," he grumbled. I uncrossed my arms and pushed my chair back. Gathering the dishes, I took my time taking them to the sink while I thought about how I was going to say what was on my mind. 

"I know you do things," I agreed quietly. He'd taken me along on one such outing, a fund raiser for two widows of local firefighters back in Buffalo whose lives had been taken in a warehouse fire. "But you don't do them publicly," I pointed out quietly. I heard the sound of disgust he made and smiled. All the things I'd read about him online pointed to his being a selfish spoiled rich kid who spent more money on beer than anything else. That wasn't the kid his parents had raised him to be, but few people saw that Patrick. "I know that's not the point," I agreed as I rinsed the plates and stacked them, one by one, into the dishwasher, "but if you want some good press...." I held up my hand to stop the protest I could hear in my head before he said it out loud. "I know that's not the point but for you...right now, I think it would be...helpful." His father took pride in Pat not calling attention to the work he did with charities back home but this was Chicago and here, his blue eyed boy was a black sheep. 

"Okay, like what?" he grumbled. I smiled and closed the dishwasher. 

 

"There's firefighters here right? Cops play firefighters in beer league...maybe you could do something with that?" I suggested, thinking about some of the tournaments I'd been to back home. Pat looked thoughtful and then smiled at me. 

"Yeah, I guess I should call our press guy," he added thoughtfully, grabbing his phone off of the counter. 

"Tell him not to invite any of the other guys," I called after him as he got to his feet and headed towards the living room. The request was as much for his sake as it was for mine, but I still felt guilty as I took the dish cloth and wiped down the table. 

There had been something about the way that Captain Shoulders had touched me that had made sleep virtually impossible for days. I felt like a silly grade school girl with a crush on the quarterback of the varsity team. All I had to do was close my eyes and my skin still tingled at the memory of his touch and that felt disloyal, not to mention ungrateful. 

"You know you're pretty and smart?" I rolled my eyes but smiled at the touch of Pat's hand on the small of my back. He was still on his phone, obviously on hold by the sound of the ridiculous music coming from the vicinity of his ear. I stuck my tongue out at him but as I tried to head back to the sink he pulled me into his side. "I'll have to go in to the offices. Go put on one of those pretty new outfits and come with me." 

It wasn't a request, but it was an order given with a boyish grin that was infectious, so I ignored a lack of the magic word and nodded. I also ignored the slap on my ass as I headed away from him. I just shook my head when he laughed and flipped him the bird over my shoulder.

"I'm happy you want to get involved in something like this." Norm twirled his pen in his fingers as he rocked his big leather chair back. He didn't look happy. In fact he looked like I'd walked into his office with dog shit on my shoe and besides that he was spending way too much time looking at Beth. 

"I do stuff like this at home," I told him, just as Beth had suggested. "I just thought there might be some groups I could get involved with here."  She squeezed my hand encouragingly and I forced a smile on my face. This meeting could have been worse, I knew. If it had been Stan Bowman he would have straight up called me on my shit by now but Norm was trying his best to figure out my angle. 

"And you don't want to get the rest of the guys involved?" It wasn't the first time he'd asked me this since we'd got to his office and I was starting to squirm. I understood why she'd suggested it, to make sure someone else like Captain Yawn doesn't take credit for it, but I knew that Norm knew that I'd never come up with some shit like that on my own. 

"Like I said, I...uh, work with some of these charities at home so...it doesn't have to be a big thing, I just had some ideas." I could feel Beth staring at me so hard that it felt like she was actually drilling a hole in the side of my head. This was where I was supposed to bring up the idea of a game, cops and firefighters, army versus navy, to raise money for widows and orphans. I just kept thinking that it would be more fun if some of the other guys got involved. 

"We usually have you two working these things together." I knew this was going to come. Tazer and me, we're like the Men in Black, we're always together in all these commercials like we're best friends which isn't exactly the truth. We've roomed together on the road and I guess I get him but I wouldn't say we're buddies.

"Yeah I know but...like I said, I do this at home so...." It was my only argument. I didn't have any other to use, not without actually saying I didn't want Tazer stealing my thunder. That wasn't going to get me any brownie points and I badly needed those. 

"Well...we'll see what we can put together," Norm shrugged and suddenly looked bored, like a cat does when the mouse no longer squeaks and squeals. 

"Actually...," both of us turn and look at Beth, equal expressions of surprise on both of our faces, "I thought maybe I could help with that, or the WAGs could," she adds swiftly as Norm frowns at her. "The uh...ladies are putting together a few other events, so I thought I could add this to the schedule." Norm raises a single eyebrow at her and she visibly tenses. I wasn't ready for this or I'd have come to her defence but I'm as curious as he is where she's going with this. "I'd like to help," she ends quietly, twisting her hands together in her lap. 

Norm looks over at me, still wearing a quizzical expression and for a moment I wonder if he's more shocked at her or at me for being with someone like her. I'm willing to bet it's the latter. 

"Well...yes, certainly the organization is always happy to have an extra set of hands in cases like these," he smiles at her but still looks...curious. "If you'd like to stay behind Miss...Miss...?" 

"Just Beth," she said quietly and smiled at him in that professional sort of `I'm here because I have to be' kind of way that reminded me of Tazer at a press conference. 

"Well, Beth," Norm enunciated her name like he was adding it to his mental address book and made a notation on the big calendar on his desk, "let's see what you and I can put together. You're checking in with the medical staff right Pat?" It was like being dismissed from the table when the adults didn't want you around anymore. I stared at him, half surprised and then got up to go but at the last minute, I turned back and reached to tip her lips up to mine. 

"Thanks babe," I told her sincerely. It was strange having someone actually have my back for a change and I realized that I was grateful. She smiled up at me and reached up and patted my hand where it rested on her cheek. "I'll see you downstairs okay?" She nodded and then turned her attention to the man in the suit across the desk, like she was dismissing me too. I stared at the pair of them, and then shrugged. I wasn't really into the meeting thing anyway. 

"Our goal this year is the same as it is every year," I replied trying not to sound as irritated with the idiotic question the reporter in front of me had just posed, "to win the Cup," I added trying to force myself to smile when I said it. I wanted to say that I didn't want to suck like last year and that I wanted a better effort out of most of the guys but that was something that was best said in the room, not in public.

"Are you looking forward to the season? How does the team look?" I breathed out through my nose and counted, silently, to ten while I ground my teeth together. It was the same questions from the same guys every fucking week and they had the stones to say that sometimes I sounded like a robot when I answered their stupid fucking questions. 

"I can't wait to play," I answered truthfully. Practice was all well and good, necessary even, but it wasn't the same as getting out in front of the crowd of the Madhouse and hearing them cheer and scream my name. "We've got a great group of guys. We're all looking forward to getting going," I added knowing that happened to be more true of some guys than others. 

"What will the lines look like and how long will Kane be out?" I was careful to keep my expression blank as I answered the question. The way Pat had played the last part of the season, injured or not, I didn't much care when he played again. 

"I don't think any of the lines have been solidified. I mean, we have so much talent on this team it's a privilege to play with any of these guys. As far as Kaner goes, I guess you'll have to ask him," I added with what I hoped was a meaningful glance down the hallway, as if Pat could be coming out of the room any minute. He wasn't, of course, but there was something else that caught my eye down the dim concrete corridor. "That's it guy," I dismissed the reporters with my usual `golly gee shucks' grin that made them all smile back at me and leave feeling like they had something. 

I turned my back and waited for them to go, adding my gloves to the collection on the dryer, all the while keeping an eye on the woman that looked like she'd just stepped out of a fashion magazine, in a skirt that was short enough to be almost indecent, boots high enough that they hugged her knees and a mock neck sweater that was the perfect Kelly green to set off her copper waves. She was tapping one foot impatiently on the floor and keeping an eye on her watch as I ambled slowly down the hall, waiting for her to notice me.

Was it my imagination or did her eyes get big as she looked up at me?

"Pat's not here," I told her. Did she look surprised or maybe flustered? She was flushed. The colour looked beautiful in her cheeks. 

"He is," she told me emphatically, hooking her thumb over her shoulder towards the door. I looked up at the name plate. It was the office the assistant coaches shared. I tried but knew that I failed to keep a sneer off my face. 

"What'd he do this time?" She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes at me. 

"Do?" She crossed her arms over her chest. Had I been staring at the way her sweater pulled across her chest? 

"Y'know, mug a cabbie, fall over drunk...you're not pregnant are you?" The first two were facts that normally were skirted around but I wasn't sure she knew and I was just petulant enough to bring up. The latter...well that was for my own information. She gaped at me, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. I'd gone too far and I knew it. I needed to back pedal and fast. "I'm just sayin', he gets himself into these scrapes...it was a joke," I added necessarily as she frowned at me, her gaze making it clear she thought I was being the worst kind of friend. 

"We were organizing a...a thing," she muttered and glanced down the hall like she was expecting someone or maybe she just wanted to be rescued from me. Did I make her that nervous or was she actually angry? I hoped it was the former and not the latter. 

"A thing?" I prodded, leaning on my stick and lowering my voice, trying to sound interested and not like I was prying. In those heels I bet she was as tall as Pat but with my skates on she only came up to the middle of my chest. I could have easily rested my arms on the top of her head. I liked that she had to look up at me. I would have liked it better had she been looking up at me from her knees. 

"A fund raiser kind of...thing," she explained, her eyes darting to the empty hall behind me and then up at me with the kind of wariness that tells me she's definitely smarter than the average puck, too smart for Pat. 

"With the Wags or...?" I prompted her, going for genuine curiosity. She pressed her lips into a thin line and shrugged with one shoulder. There was something she didn't want to tell me. I thought about pressing her, I kind of wanted to just to see how far I could, but I had an inkling she'd only get more and more defensive and I knew if I couldn't get it out of her I could always get it out of Pat. Failing that there was always the new receptionist in the GM's office with the long dark wavy hair. 

I couldn't breathe. 

He was trying to intimidate me one moment and being mocking and arrogant the next and he wasn't so much looking at me as into me as if he was trying to see the thoughts in my head. He smelled of sweat and mildew and I wanted to roll in him like a dog on a dead fish.  

 

"Ready to go?" I almost fell backwards as Pat tugged the door open behind me. I stared at him like I hadn't seen him before. He looked so `normal' compared to the enormous sweaty man who was still leaning on his stick and now looking bemused as I grabbed onto Patrick like I'd been thrown a life preserver. 

 

"So, you're doing a thing...without me?" Jon asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow Pat's direction, the corners of his lips almost turning up in a smile. He reminded me of a big tomcat toying with a mouse before he killed it. 

 

"That's not a problem, is it?" Pat asked, looking and sounding defensive. I rubbed his arm gently, doing my best to be reassuring. 

"No, I just thought we were the two amigos, y'know, we do everything together." Jon had a happy go lucky all American boy smile, with dimples and everything, but I could feel it disingenuous. His gaze slid to mine and there was something dark and brooding in it that made my flesh crawl like I'd touched a live battery. He wanted Pat to feel bad about keeping our plans from him but he wanted me to know he knew I was behind it. 

 

"Uh huh," Pat frowned and then turned, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him down the empty hallway. I smirked at the back of his Goldilocks curl covered head, amused and a little surprised by his clipped non reply. I thought I was the only one with an issue with Captain Hot Stuff. 

 

"What's up with you two?" I asked as we burst out into the late summer sunshine. I hoped my question sounded innocent and naive. Pat grumbled under his breath as he dug in his pockets for his keys. 

 

"How d'ya think it feels to know your always gonna be the smaller, not as good, cheaper version of that?" he snapped and then sent an apologetic look my direction and shrugged. "He gets on my nerves sometimes." I nodded and gave him an encouraging and I hoped sympathetic smile while every word he said lined up with every thought I'd had myself. "Wanna get somethin' to eat?" he asked unlocking the Hummer and climbing in his side. 

 

"Yeah...let's get out of here," I agreed, the angel on my right telling me that I should be loyal while the devil on my left looked longingly back towards the arena.