Reunited

“Busy every time.”

“How many times have you tried?”

“Five or six, maybe. I lost count.”

“Have you left any messages?”

“No, I’d rather talk to her in person, you know.” He dialled her number again. After a few seconds, he threw his phone across the living room onto the couch. “This is so frustrating. Maybe I should just text her.”

“You can’t text her. Not something like this.”

“What the fuck do you know? You have been with the same girl since you were like ten.”

“Really Jordan? You’re going to pull that shit? I know all about the opposite sex. How do you think I’ve been able to keep Vero all this time?”

Jordan sent Marc-Andre a deadly look as he tossed himself on the couch. “What do I do then, Mr Relationship?”

“Leave her a voice mail. Tell her that it’s important that she calls you back when she receives the message,” Marc-Andre told him, smartly.

The large forward sighed and pulled his phone out from underneath his body. He dialled her number for what, he mentally promised, would be the last time that night. A busy tone filled his ear almost immediately.

“You have reached Simone Cheaseur. I’m probably showering and no Maxime, that doesn’t mean you can picture me naked. Anyway, I’m obviously not available, so please leave me a message and I’ll work on returning your call.”

Jordan quickly repeated Marc-Andre’s words and hung up. “I really hope she doesn’t give business people her phone number.”

“How come?” Marc-Andre asked, walking back into the living room. Two bottles of water and a bag of baby carrots were in his arms.

“It’s not very professional, that’s all,” Jordan replied. He gave the goalie a suspicious look. “When did you get up? And was it necessary to raid my fridge?”

Marc-Andre nodded and lobbed a bottle into Jordan’s lap. “I left when you dialled and yes it was. Don’t get grouchy; I brought you a bottle of water.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jordan rolled his eyes and turned his flat screen on. “I might need something a little stronger than water tonight.”

“I doubt that,” Marc-Andre muttered. “If you start drinking, I’m gone. Do you really want the team to find out you were drinking alone?”

“Max would probably think I’m depressed.”

“You’re not?” Marc-Andre joked, earning his second death glare of the night. “Lighten up, Staalsy. What could possibly go wrong?”

“A lot of things, Flower, thanks for reminding me.”

“Wow, could you be any more of a Debby Downer?”

“Fuck off,” Jordan murmured, turning his attention to the television.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Quit being such a baby.”

“Seriously, Flower, fuck off.”

Marc-Andre rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics and bit into a carrot. “Do we really need to watch this?”

“What’s wrong with this?” Jordan asked, looking over at his brunette buddy.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the shopping channel. Can’t you turn on a movie or some highlights?”

“My TV, my choice,” Jordan said, sticking out his tongue at his older teammate.

“Real mature,” Marc-Andre mumbled, stuffing another carrot in his mouth. “Why don’t you have any ranch?”

“What?” The blonde frowned.

“Ranch, you know, salad dressing so I can dip my carrots in it.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I haven’t been to the grocery store in a week or so. And those are my carrots, not yours.”

“Same difference. You don’t have any cheese either.”

“Why do you want cheese?”

“For cheese and pickles.”

“That’s disgusting, Flower.”

“It’s actually really good. Vero’s cousin introduced me to it at her baby shower type thing. You didn’t have pickles either.”

“What is wrong with you?” Jordan’s face held a look of disgust. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter since I never buy pickles anyway.”

“Why would you ask what’s wrong with me? There is clearly something wrong with you.”

“Way to be a dick.”

“You don’t buy pickles!” Marc-Andre exclaimed. He popped another carrot in his mouth.

“Yea so?” Jordan raised an eyebrow. He picked up his remote and started flipping through the channels. “Toss me a carrot.”

Marc-Andre did as he was told. “Why don’t you buy pickles? I thought you liked them. Oh, stop on this channel, I like this show.”

Jordan continued switching channels against his friend’s will. “I never find a reason to eat them,” he shrugged. “And I’m not a huge fan of Prison Break.”

“But you like the shopping channel?” Marc-Andre shook his head. “There really is something wrong with you.”

“That’s it, keep criticising me. Pretty soon I’m going to kick you out.”

“I know this has to do with Simone, but I’m not going to ask. That’s Vero’s department.”

“Do you want me to set up a therapy session with your girlfriend?” Jordan asked with his voice full of sarcasm.

“She’d probably do it,” Marc-Andre admitted. He took a sip from his water.

“How did you end up with such a great girl?” Jordan asked. “All of you guys end up with amazing women.”

“We’re just lucky, I guess. You’ll find someone just as awesome as Vero one day. If you’re lucky, it’ll be Simone.”

“How sweet of you Fleury, you just know the perfect thing to say,” Jordan jeered. “Should I just put a movie in?”

“That’s definitely better than watching some guy try to sell me some useless shit.”

Jordan pushed himself up from his couch and walked over to his shelves. “I feel like I haven’t seen many of these.”

“Just pick one,” Marc-Andre said, tiredly. “Make sure it’s not a chick flick, we all know how much you love those.”

Jordan scowled and put a movie in the player. When he sat back down, his phone started to ring. He picked it up off the cushion and looked at the call display. “I’ve got to take this.”

Marc-Andre nodded and continued eating the carrots as the movie started playing.

“Leave me some of those, will you?” Jordan commented as he walked down the hall. He pressed the green answer button and put his phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, so did you talk to her?”

“Did I talk to whom?”

“That girl you were talking about the other day.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Anyway, you left me a message asking if I was in the city on Thursday, Friday or Saturday.”

“Yea, a friend of mine is going to be there for those three days. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“This wouldn’t be the girl you’re so obviously in love with, would it?”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not in love with anybody.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Not you too,” Jordan muttered.

“Not me too what? Oh, and I’ll be around. We’ve got a couple of games, but they are a home and home with the Islanders.”

“Awesome, do you mind showing her around when she’s not busy with work?”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“Thanks, Marc. You don’t happen to know Eric’s schedule do you?” Jordan asked. He walked into his room and sat down on his bed. He ran his unoccupied hand through his hair and made a note to get a haircut sometime soon.

“You know, Jordan, there’s this thing called the internet. When you use it properly it can tell you any schedule you want.”

“No way!” Jordan gasped, sarcastically. “That sounds too good to be true. You are such a dumbass.”

“What are big brothers for?” Marc asked with a chuckle. “If you want to know Eric’s schedule, ask Eric.”

“I will and thanks for all the brotherly advice. Oh, that’s right, you didn’t give me any.”

“I’d be able to, if you’d admit that you are in love with the girl you want me to entertain.”

“I don’t need your advice, Marc.”

“Oh really, younger brother of mine, you don’t think you need to hear my expertise?”

“Ha! What make you think you’re so wise? You’re what, a year and a half older?”

“That sounds about right, an extra year and a half of experience.”

“Yea, experience in the sack,” Jordan droned.

“Believe what you wish, Jordy. If you want help with this chick, let me know, I’ll work some of my magic when I meet her.”

“Thanks, man, but I have a plan, so I’m not going to need your help.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it then. Text me the details and I’ll make sure I’m free.”

“Thanks Marc. I’ll talk to you later. Flower’s sitting in my living room watching a movie and eating all of my carrots.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Marc laughed. “Talk to you later.”

Jordan hung up his phone and left his room. Upon entering the living room, he grabbed the bag of carrots out of Marc-Andre’s grip as he walked past. Plopping down on the couch, he chomped down on an orange vegetable.

“Took you long enough,” Marc-Andre said with a cocked brow. “It wasn’t Simone, was it?”

“Actually it was my brother,” Jordan told him. “I had called Marc and he was finally returning my call.”

Marc-Andre nodded and took a sip of water. “Can I have my carrots back?”

“No and for the last time, these are my carrots.”