2nd Intermissions

We didn’t have sex, by god. We did have quite a make-out session and it was rudely interrupted by his special ring tone for the Blackhawks employees.

I leaned against the doorway, thinking ‘what if’ we did it? Would he dump me after that?

Before he had to leave to get there early, he asked me an abstract question.

“You’re my girl, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” My brows knit together and he kissed my cheek and jumped into his truck to motor away.

As I walked back up the stairs, I said to myself, “Well, that was weird.”

I went in to work while the guys practiced on Thursday and Saturday, meeting up with Adam on Friday because he wanted to take me to dinner and damn, he did. He took me to a nice restaurant on the lakefront and I knew it cost an arm and leg, but he wouldn’t let me pay my half of the bill and I swore I’d get him back.

Sunday, we hosted the Calgary Flames at six o’clock.

Adam said he wanted to pick me up and drive me to work. I agreed for the hell of it and we walked into the United Center together talking away.

“You look to damn refreshed.” I sipped my coffee as we made our way to the locker room.

“It’s the pre-game nap I take.” He smiled.

“Oh- I see. No need for coffee?” I took another sip and lavished in the warmth.

“Nah, plus it gives me the gitters before games. I already get anxious, but the coffee makes me shake, and we can’t have that.”

“No way Jose.” I smiled up at him and we reached the door that he opened for me and before we passed the locker room filled with guys and coaches, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and we parted ways.

We had to get to the UC around 4:30 because of the start time and I finished most of my work the practice before so I dawdled in the office, peeked into the coach’s room and asked if I was needed until after warm-ups.

“Nope, go take a walk around.” Havi assured, going back to his defense plays and I happily walked out of the back offices and the locker room.

Exiting the great big stainless steel door, I breathed in the early game scent of the rink.

I started my walk around the very first few rows near the ice. The buzz of the zambonis going around making the ice solid lulled me and I took a leisurely walk around most of the rink, then around the concourse.

Soon enough, the players went on the ice for a pre-game warm up and some fans were in their seats. I walked around the glass again, finding a seat and sitting in the nearly empty arena.

I watched the players spin around and shoot pucks, saw Khabi warming up, followed by Huet. Player after player practiced different shots.

Duncan- slap shot, Marty- wrist shot, Colin- snap shot, Patrick- slap shot, Brent- snap shot, Adam- wrist shot. Some players deked to the net, others skated full strength.

I closed my eyes and let the sharp sound of the pucks hitting glass and pads, then the sound of skates making snow of the ice lull me into a near sleep.

A puck bounced off the goal post closest to me and my eyes shot open, and the first face I found was of Toews, smiling a big ass smile and high-fiving Adam.

“Oh, you ass.” I said, glaring at the two. They laughed and skated off, their job of frightening me out of my near sleep with a carefully aimed shot at the pole.

I looked up at the Megatron and saw that it was 20 minutes until the puck drop.

The players started to clean up the ice and I bolted through the fans and into the hallway that led to the locker room.

I skidded into my office and breathed a sigh of relief. I had beat the players and managed to get through the masses of people with a minute to spare.

I smiled and caught my breath, sitting in my chair and clicking my pen.

Finally, the players started coming back in, this time quieter and more at ease I guess, with the familiar sound of pucks and skates and ice.

Before the pep talk and their dramatic entrance to the rink, they came into the training room, grabbing water and stick tape and Gatorade, some staying to request Motrin for headaches or other aches.

Wisniewski came in again and looked at me with a sad puppy dog look.

“Wiz, you have a torn ACL, your recovering in rehab, but seriously man, its not going to get better over night. I’m thinking December 13th.” I breezed out.

He looked hurt. “December 13th?”

“Yes, the 13th. That’s a whole lot earlier than I would usually say, but since your so damn determined to get better, maybe that will have good effects.”

He still resembled a kicked puppy.

“Wiz, relax. It isn’t that bad.” I walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder.

“Meh. This sucks. Another night watching it from the crowd.”

“Hey, I have to watch it on that TV, at least you get the experience.” I smiled, trying to cheer him up.

He perked up, “Can you watch it in the lounge with me?”

I figured it wouldn’t hurt so after the guys exited, we made our way up to the lounge around center ice.

We could hear the anthem start and we walked with longer strides, trying to get there in time for the puck drop.

We got there just in time and sat in the big ass chairs and watched the game with zeal, finding cheer in each other’s company.

“So are you seeing anyone?” He prodded.

“Yeah, you can say that.” I smiled.

“Is it anyone I may know?” Wiz poked me in the shoulder.

“Yeah.” I dawdled.

“Whooo?”

“He’s on the team..”

“OH-OH, I’m gonna guess.”

“Go for it.” I laughed.

“Stevie?”

“Nope.”

“Brou?”

“Nope.”

“Kaner?”

“I’d have to survive the fan girl wrath.”

“Tazer”

“Nope, fan girl wrath. Remember.”

“Is he a rookie?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I was going to say Fraz, but no. Uhh- Its not Dunc is it?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm, lets see,” He counted on his fingers, “Brent? Ah, no, he’s an ugly one isn’t he?” Wiz laughed.

“Brent isn’t ugly and no, not him.”

“Okay- okay- Bur?”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Maybe. Yes. No. Yeah, fuck it.” He looked away from the game and towards me.

“Yeah, its Adam.”

“OO! First name basis. Sexy,” He glanced back at the game and asked, “Have you done him yet?”

I pushed his arm, “No, but even if I did, what business is it of yours? What kind of question is that anyway??”

“Just wondering. He seems really happy. You never know. You don’t strike me as the easy type.”

“Good, because I’m not.” I glared at the side of his head.