Rich Man

Have you ever fallen into bed and surprised yourself with a completely blank mind? Mine was vacuous and silent, nothing moving through the cavities and long halls normally thought-ridden and chaotic. I stared up at the whitewashed ceiling and sighed to myself, forcing thoughts to enter the once serene atmosphere.

There was no room to relax now and yet I was forced to think with my gut instincts. It was a feeling that I was forcing myself to adapt to. My level of discomfort was high, yes, but all logic pointed to instinct as a necessary evil. It had done me no wrong so far and my extreme plotting was only making things more complicated.

It was hard to believe that one girl could do that much damage, but then again, it made sense. I identified with Tera to the extent of emotionally destructive significance. I had the potential to devastate all of them. The only difference that I felt was in her recklessness. Even so, she left a crater of apathy and questioning that forced everyone to watch each other with hesitant eyes. I wasn't about to do the same.

Or next destination was Calgary, land of the Flames. I wasn't all that excited, frankly. Part of me was desperate to get back to Boston and regroup before Tera and Blake met up. Before we parted ways he explained their plans. She'd visit him in Boston when she could, then go back home to Florida. The arrangement had been going on for quite some time now, but this next visit was going to be crucial for me.

I was going to meet her, going to decide Blake's fate in my psychological ideals. These next few weeks could make or break me. Hell, they could complicate my stay and force me to stick around until they met up again. God knows when that would happen next.

I groaned at the thought of not being able to meet the witch responsible. That would put me back... Too much. At least I made it clear to Blakey that I'm going to meet her whether he likes it or not. Rolling onto my side, I continued, One way or another, he's cutting ties with her or going public with this bullshit. I'm ending this charade once and for all and then getting out of here.

-

"Sooooo we have an issue," started Blake at the check in counter of our Calgary hotel. The entire group glared at him as if he were the spawn of all evil as he nervously continued. "We have two choices. Either we book ourselves in another hotel or we're double and tripling up our sleeping arrangements."

"Triple."

"Yeah, tripling's easier."

"Tripling."

"Aright sooooo who's rooming where?"

The second Avery and Matt latched onto each other, I knew the whole "girls sticking together" thing was out the window. My first impulse? Half dive on Savvy and stick with the fact that he wasn't going to take a third roomie, by any means. I pretty much yelled, "bedroom buddy" and latched stubbornly onto his arm. The older man chuckled at my enthusiasm proclaimed us roommates, if it wasn't already evident enough, and our plans were set.

The guys were due for practice no more than two hours later, leaving time for conversation all too short. The once overcrowded hotel became lonely to the two other girls and I as we sat together in Avery's room. When I saw that there was only one bed, I smirked and took my seat at the headboard.

"Something tells me you guys aren't sleeping tonight," uncontrollably snaked through my lips.

Avery flailed dramatically and smacked my arm, face florid and dark. She shook her head and grinned, though, as if her smile was betraying the impulses of her physical actions. Lex and I stared at her in what was hardly surprise, but an "I told you so" manner of staring. "Look, if he wanted to, I wouldn't say no, okay?"

Lex chuckled and let it go, her eyes, surprisingly to me, falling on my own. "And I take it you get to play cuddle buddies with savvy?"

My grin widened and I nodded. "Yup."

She smiled. "Is it me or is he the most adorable guy you've ever met?"

Avery instantly jumped in, "He got me the Ed Hardy hoodie I wanted for my birthday last year. I don't even know how he knew I wanted it, but he got it. The man is a saint."

We spent a few more minutes discussing the nature of Marc Savard before Avery broke the folds of our conversation. Game time was already approaching and if we wanted a pregame dinner, we would have to leave shortly. The three of us went our separate ways with the promise of postgame relaxation. For me, the only existing postgame promise was that of plotting and some goddamn peace.

"Hey Aves," I answered, trotting down the hall to get to a closing elevator. The young man inside held the door open for me as I interrogated the girl for our location. "Bailey's in fifteen. Got it. You guys get a cab without me and I'll follow suit. I'm a little late getting out of the building."

The second the elevator doors opened, I made a b-line for the back exit. I found the nearest corner and hailed a cab, never setting my phone back in my pocket. It remained to my ear while my fingers mechanically dialed the next number in mind.

I wanted some advice.

The boy in the driver's seat eyed me suspiciously. Though the sun was sinking in the distance, I pushed the frames of my Versace mirrored sunglasses higher on the bridge of my nose. He could tell I was blankly staring back at him to the tune of the dial tone. I simply handed him a hundred dollar bill and stated with lips of icy seriousness, "Get me to Bailey's on Stranton. You never heard me speak."

"Professor... Why do you never call me by my real name?"

I was so ignorant back then.

"Amanda, why do you never call me 'father'?"

The elderly man watched down on me with paternally loving eyes, his reading glasses low on his nose. A warn and wrinkled face was but a meaningless shell to his true nature. This man was a brilliant scientist with an intellect so full and vast that, from the very moment he adopted me as his four-year-old daughter, I knew I was going to be bred for something great.

He adopted me for the sake of science. However, back when I was just learning to read and write, I didn't understand how unorthodox tactics. He was dad, yeah, but he was also so much more. Nathanial Strauss was a man in search for an heir to his intellectual gifts and studies. When he took me in, he wanted a clean slate.

What he made of me, you see now.

I never knew anything other than the field surrounding his isolated estate for the first eight or so years of my existence. Then again, by my thirteenth birthday I was learning my seventh language. I was sixteen when he allowed me to sit in on a meeting with his corporate buddies. They were all intellectuals, just like him. And it was at that moment, the day I was united with my foreign counterpart, that understood exactly what I was.

A psychological experiment.

-

"Night guys, I'm turning in," I retired with a grin to my room from Blake's. Milan and Krej were rooming with him, currently accompanied by a mass of Bruins and the girls for some late night shenanigans. I chose to get away from it before chaos ensued.

The door clicked shut lightly behind me. Savvy was up, wide awake, this stupidly happy grin on his face when I walked in and dropped my purse on the couch. I eyed the single bed he was splayed out on as he expectantly watched me. The curious look on his face was one of momentary silent question. I was rummaging through the hotel closet for a blanket when he chucked a throw pillow at me.

His aim is fantastic... Fuck.

"You're sleeping with me," he stated matter-of-factly and at a surprisingly subtle sound level. That same warm smile adorned his lips as he scrambled to pull back the covers on the side of the bed beside him.

I didn't bother to point out the wrongness of his statement. He wasn't the type to talk like that anyway. Everything with him was simple and warm, innocent and welcoming. Because of that, I chose to drop the spare blanket in my hands. He watched me watch him until I got a short sprinting start and launched myself onto the cold sheets to his right. The entire bed frame slammed against the wall. Savvy's eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the booming sound. One check for wall damage and a "thank god" later, the two of us were fighting over the odd pillow out.

It was almost twenty minutes later when our tugging, tickling war came to an abrupt end. I managed to steal the pillow and throw it in the closet, proclaiming an immediate draw. He shrugged, pouted a little, and laid down, giving the clock a quick glance before staring back at me. I flicked off the lights to the room and lay beside him, body facing his over the covers.

"Hi," I whispered.

He shifted to get on my level and face me, a drowsy smile overtaking his features in the soft darkness. "Hello."

"Everyone tells me you're the saint of the bunch."

Blinking, he whispered in reply, "I'm not a saint..." The moment I giggled, he retorted, "Everyone tells me you're intimidating."

"Apparently both are lies."

"No, no," he pondered for a brief moment, "You are... But it's refreshing. Bergy explains you differently though."

My ears perked, curiosity officially piked. "How so?"

"Says you're not as brutal as your demeanor is. Then again, you guys are closer than most of us so... Maybe he knows your softer side?"

I giggled. "Savvy, if you want to ask me questions, then ask them. I have nothing to hide."

His voice suddenly became more sheepish and hesitant than it was teeming with innocence. "Why are you so into psychology?" This wasn't a new question on his mind.

"The truth? I was raised to love it. I've always been into people and why they do things and how they do it since I learned how to talk," I answered smoothly, followed by invoking an added yawn. He seemed content enough by my answer, but I was completely sure he still had a mental vault of questions, each and very one of them seeking vast amounts more detail. However, time and my patience were not working in his favor. As sleep sunk the two of us into an ocean of unconsciousness, I couldn't help but acknowledge it.

He reminds me of my father.