Heart of Man

“Wake the fuck up, Anna.” I ignored my teammate, thinking about the other hockey game currently going on in Washington D.C., only moments away. During the second period, they had made two goals, after being tied zero to zero, which was the main reason for my stress. I wanted to play Nicky and Semyon, plus beat Harper’s ass senseless.

Rubbing in the series loss to Alexander Semin wouldn’t hurt either.

“Simon, shut up for a moment. They gave Semin a penalty for hooking. Are you kidding me? He probably did much worse than that.” I held my phone up to my face, as we sat in Pittsburgh’s visitor’s dressing room, waiting to finish the remainder of the game. We were up four to one, so it’s not like it mattered much. Even Staal hadn’t managed to wear on my nerves. By the love of some divine power, I had only been on the ice once with him, for mere seconds. Of course, it only took seconds for the boarding call against me to be called on him, but you live and let learn. “They are two-zero. Hank is going to be pissy.”

“Anna.” We had been taking reckless penalties, but they didn’t really hurt us. The only goal they got past Dwayne wasn’t even on the fucking power play. Shit, I even had an assist with Simon for Marty’s goal. It was a mildly productive game, and the Penguins’ fans were hating it. Ignoring my teammate again, I continued to scroll through my phone through the Capitals’ updates.

My phone was snatched out of my hand, and flesh hit the side of my cheek. Jerking my hand to cool the already steaming flesh, I looked up to Simon’s very angry face going through my phone. He hit the green dial button, shooting me a look. “Gagne, give me my phone.”

He didn’t say anything, as we could both hear the voicemail pick up of whoever he was calling. “Yes, Alex, this is Simon Gagne. I realize this is Anna’s phone, but she’s being a bitch about it and won’t get over her small crush. If she keeps me up one more night, screaming about how you need to pull your ass together and help your team, I might kill you. Good luck with the rest of your game. God knows the rest of our team already knows what happened so far, with the way Anna’s been opening her goddamn mouth about it.”

He snapped my phone shut, tossing it back towards me, before walking away. Snatching it back, I didn’t even check anything before ripping the battery out and throwing both pieces into my bag. I knew I should have deleted his number a year ago. “Gagne, get your ass back over here!”

I was furious. Yeah, I should have been a bit more aware on the ice, and no, I shouldn’t have asked Jamie to hold my phone so I could check it every time I got off the ice, but come on. Yes, I missed a few shots. It was life. He had no right to touch me. He turned on the heel of his skate blade, stepping back to me, a weird look on his face.

“Anna Trovato, you are better and smarter than this. Jordan Staal..” He caught my attention with the blonde’s name. “Every time you miss or something doesn’t work right, he becomes a smartass. If I have to listen to him say again how much you’d be begging for him by the end of the night, I might kill you and him, and your little crush. Before you think about punching the shit out of my face, save it for Staal.”

I had to admit, he knew me fairly well, as I had every intention of smashing his face in for touching me, but knowing how the Penguins’ current leader was treating my team, was enough to infuriate me. “Pull a stunt like that phone shit, and I really will go at you.”

He shot me a skeptical look, a grin plastered on his face. “Oh my God! He scored! He scored the fucking game winner! Carey! Carey, did you see?”

“I need to call Sasha and confess my undying love for him!”

I narrowed my eyes towards Simon and Marty, who snuck up behind me to participate in the mockery. “It was a good shot.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it was a great shot.” Dana winked from behind Simon, making me flush horrendously. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done. “Oh, Alex! Marry me so we can runaway to Russia forever, and you can make sweet, passionate, game-winning love to me!”

Half of the dressing room burst out into laughter at Dana’s high-pitched version of my voice. I couldn’t help but crack a small smile. There was a small part of me that wanted to settle down, but that was not Alex Semin.

~

I rubbed my shoulders roughly, hoping to seep warmth into my body. Everything with McGregor and Tuukka seemed to finally hit me. His arm around her waist protectively, Sergei’s around my own, simply because I was there. Helping Vinny, just to smile and close the door behind him while he made right with Carol. Watching Pavel’s daughter so him and his wife could have alone time. Taking Parker for Eric and Tanya. Hell, even Harper had the Crosby kid.

Nearly every one of my teammates talked about their others, and the families back home. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but little Kubina was behind the bench, screaming encouraging kid-words to us, in which a few other random kids joined in, copying what their leader, baby Kubina, said. Pavel was the proudest father in the CONSOL Energy Center.

But even my stupidity couldn’t bring my mood down any farther. We had three and a half minutes left in the third period, and both sides were scoreless for the twenty minutes, when they called Pavel for interference, giving the Penguins the powerplay. I had yet to face Staal, and the mere fact alone, was giving me an adrenaline rush.

“Chill out there, Sparky. You’ll get your chance.” Dana nudged my side, as the Penguins made a line change seconds after we did. Dana being replaced by Marty, and Simon at my side, I was pretty happy with it all. Especially once Jordan came out.

Lining up for the face-out in our zone, I faked, barely scraping the ice, causing him to do the same. Pulling back in time, we won the puck, Victor receiving it. He brought it around Dwayne, as we hit the three minute mark. A bench door shut hard, and I snapped around to see Marc-Andre Fleury on the Penguins’ bench, leaving the net wide open.

Pushing back behind Staal, Victor snaked around Maxime Talbot, knocking the puck between his legs. It hit Simon’s blade, as he twisted it forward past the fuming Talbot. A stick hit my back, as Staal’s shaft as shoved against my shoulder blades. Not even thinking about my hated for the man for a moment, I rushed forward, the blonde still on my tail.

Glancing back for a second, Simon pulled free of the French-Canadian for a split instant, before he was checked roughly into the boards. I snatched the free piece of rubber away, beginning my legs not to slow down, before flicking my wrist. It was a clear goal that did not please Jordan Staal, whatsoever.

“Vinny, Sean, Ryan, go. Stall them off. Dana, your line is next. Anna, you guys are next. Rest up.” Saluting Mr. Angry Pants Boucher, we stepped through the door and onto the ice, not even giving us a chance to celebrate. It really wasn’t anything to be proud of. “Congratulations Anna, on your first NHL playoff goal.”

Nodding to him, I high-fived Ryan before he left, and did the same to Ryan as we sat down. Trying to intake as much water as possible, I felt myself running on a high. Even the few playoff games with Avangard weren’t this exciting.

Seconds ticked down, to the remaining thirty seconds, where I was again matched with the Talbot-Staal-Neal line. James wasn’t that bad of a guy, to be honest. Loui talked a lot about him, since they played together a lot. He was traded to Pittsburgh before the trade deadline, from Dallas.

“Trovato time’s up.” Jumping up onto the wall and sliding over, I tapped Steven’s helmet, only to be called back to Boucher for a moment. “Anna, I really don’t encourage fighting, but I’d like to remind you of that crest on your jersey, and how badly that Penguin trashed it. It may be a part of hockey, but there’s a line you should never cross. He’s found it, so do the honours?”

I raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment, before it clicked. Of course he would give me the okay for that. Grinning like a fool, I skated out to center ice, up against Jordan Staal. “Hey there, little girl.”

Ignoring him, I bent down into position, silently wishing it was okay to high-stick his face and ruin that baby face of his. Sneaking a peak over to Talbot, who was yapping his trap to Simon, looked like Simon had enough with whatever was going on, and proceeded to ignore him. He looked at me, nodding for a moment.

Offering my attention back to Staal, the ref held the puck out infront of us. “I’d rather be a little girl than Talbot’s salope de la journée.”

His face darkened, before the puck dropped. He won the face-off, dropping it back to one of the Penguins’ defensemen, before Talbot skated close by, shoving his stick into my shoulder “Back off, whore. Go back to wherever you came from. We already have enough female talent; we don’t need you ruining their names.”

Shrugging, I watched Jordan Staal not skate off, only standing there with the same dark look on his face. The ref was watching us, play stopped. They’d probably get Talbot for the roughing, but the next bit was going to be a hell of a lot more fun. I dropped my stick onto the ice, Talbot raising an eyebrow as I threw my gloves aside, Jordan doing the same.

Sighing and clenching my fist, I used the other to snag Staal’s collar, and smash my fist against his face. One of his hands pulled against my own collar, trying to pull me down. Trying to knock my hand into his face a few more times, it unfortunately only connected a handful of those few times, him returning one good one on my cheek, where Simon has slapped me earlier.

Giving up attacking his face, I shoved him back as hard as I could, which sent both of us to the ice. Sitting up slightly, I reached back, before bringing my hand forward again, stopping maybe a few inches from his face. “Stay the fuck away from my team.”

While I was being escorted to the penalty box for the remaining twenty seconds, Ryan and Simon’s laughs could be heard amount the angry shouts and jeers around me. While Pittsburgh was angry, and the few Tampa fans were somewhat excited, were they really proud of me?

Was I the best player in the NHL? No, I was the farthest thing from it. I worked hard all of my life, and maybe things stopped being funny a long time ago, but was this really worth it? If you say you are good, you get put down, if you say you suck, you get put down. What kind of game has this turned into?

I’m not as good as McGregor or Harper. Home-grown talent in their own country, I might as well not even be here. People care more about Americans in America, than Finnish-Italians in America. I may not be as good on the ice, and I may have a god-forsaken life off of it, but I consider myself to have the highest confidence of any person I had played, since March 3rd. Maybe that was a bad thing, but it kept us alive in Omsk.

The final buzzer rang out, knocking me from my thoughts. We won game 2. Two more at home, and then hopefully only one more here and we could take the series. It was the fifteenth, and Harper’s hearing was supposed to be taking place soon. Hopefully it would work out, but it would be funnier than your mother showing half-naked pictures of you to your first boyfriend, if her Flyer ex won. Maybe the courts were weren’t as corrupt as back home.

The mere thought about Italy’s court system was enough to make me want to strangle myself. Shaking my head and making a point to inform Anatoly of next season’s decision, I only needed to talk to Yzerman. They shouldn’t waste cap room, thinking I would sign. Hell, they may even retract my offer. Fuck it.

Stepping out of the penalty box to greet Ryan and Simon, they each bore shit-eating grins on their faces. Cocking an eyebrow, I only stood, awaiting an explanation. “You have no idea what you just did, you do?”

“Is Abby here, Ryan? I’m sure her, Will, and Coop are much better company than their father.” I smiled, as he feined hurt. Tapping my shoulder with his stick, he headed back towards the massive group of Bolts, both sides lining up for the handshake.

“Come on, thunderbolt.” Nudging my side, Simon and I made our way behind Dwayne, taking up the rear. “Congratulations on the Gordie Howe. We’re proud of you.” I beamed, finally understanding why they were all excited all of a sudden. The Penguins began coming through our line, the handshake obviously a little stressed. Making our way through a few of the defensemen, Pascal Dupuis grabbed my hand, but didn’t let go.

“Nice job out there, Trovato. It’s nice to see fire on the ice, for once, and not out of attitude, but pure skill.” He had a warm smile on his face, nodding in his sincerity. Returning the smile, I shook his hand.

“I enjoy playing against your team. Every single one of you is extremely gifted at what you do. It’s been a pleasure playing against you so far, I can only hope the rest of the series goes as swimmingly.” Shaking hands with Letestu, my best friend in the whole wide world was next.

“Trovato.” Sighing, I held my hand out, not moving until he accepted it. Unfortunately, he only stared at it, before cracking a small smile, and shaking my hand. “Nice work out there, but you won’t take this series.”

“Jordan Staal, I can guarantee you, that you won’t talk away.” Taking my hand back, I continued past the Canadian, not even his sourpuss self could bring me down from my somewhat-high. “Talbot.”

“Congratulations, Anna.” Smiling in return, we passed each other after shaking hand, continuing on with the standard ‘Congratulations’ or ‘Good job’. Behind him was Kris Letang, who offered short words, a soft smile, and a quick handshake.

“Fleury, stop being a bad-ass.” He grinned like a madman, before enveloping me in a hug, one I happily returned. Pulling away, he looked surprisingly happy, despite the 5-1 loss. It really made me admire the man. “I’m serious, I don’t know how we’re going to beat you.”

“Anna!” I looked up, to see Geno standing next to a familiar brunette, both of them in formal wear, ties and all, minus their jackets. Now out of the extensive line, I skated over to him as fast as I possibly could, more than excited to see my friend.

Dropping my stick and gloves, he met me part of the way, as I crashed into him. “Geno, where’ve you been? You could have said hi sooner!”

He pulled me into the hug tightly, laughing, before letting go and dragging me to his friend. “I’m sorry, but your face was priceless.” Smacking his shoulder, I turned to his brunette friend. “Anna, this Sidney Crosby, Captain for the Pittsburgh Penguins. He has concussion, so he can’t play rest of season.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anna, though we’ve met before, haven’t we?” I shrugged, accepting his hand. Geno looked confused, glancing between us. “Oh, Geno, I met Anna in Vancouver. Of course, I didn’t know it was her, given the quiet circumstances.”

“Still has handsome as ever, Crosby. Harper’s one lucky lady.” I complimented him, not forgetting my manners. His face brightened, when I mentioned his girlfriend, and it practically made my heart turn to mush. Why are all of these couples so fucking cute?

~

I had nearly forgotten what it felt like, to skate on home ice. It was a beautiful Monday night, the humidity enough to strangle anyone. Have a good night in Tampa? Lose to Pittsburgh 3-2. Have a shitty Wednesday night in Tampa? Probably lose to Pittsburgh in second Overtime.

I had an assist with Marty and Vinny in the second period, giving us at least a point against Pittsburgh’s already two points. Sean tied it up a few minutes into the third, but ever since, it’s been scoreless. However, we took very few penalties, even less than Pittsburgh, but we couldn’t gain an edge.

“Pull it together! I know you guys are tired, but if they win tonight, they will lead the series, 3 to 1. If they win one more, we are out. If that happens, I guarantee you, this team will not have a summer break, and we will start the very next day, for the 2011-2012 season. Do you understand?” Boucher was stressed. We all were. The heart-attacks that came along with the second overtime, was mind-numbing. You are jittery, on-edge, and can’t breathe. “Steven, get it together. You’ve had some great shots, focus on getting it under Fleury. Pavel, careful with slashing. You’re lucky they haven’t called you on it. Anna, you’ve had some great hits and shots tonight, keep it up. Ryan, stop chatting up Talbot.”

But as soon as we got back out there, it was over. Within minutes, James Neal, former Dallas Star, took us to a Game 7. We were going to go there, because I’m pretty sure half of my team wouldn’t live with themselves if they lost. There was no way, we were going to lose to flightless birds.

~

“Fuck yes! Simon, come here, you fucking beast. Where did this come from?” Smashing my teammate into the glass, we were in fits of laughter. American terms were getting the best of me, I wouldn’t deny, but it couldn’t change how fucking excited I was for my team. Boucher had this new line-formation for us to try, and it was working exceedingly well. Three minutes into the first period? We’ll take a goal, thank you. One point for me, for an assist, and one for Simon, for the goal. Stammers got the next one, on the fucking power play, with Marty and Eric.

Why could we win away, but not home?

Vinny scored in the second period, with Steven and Marty assisting. Simon scored again, two points for each of us. Steven scored again, point number two of him, another assist for me. Third period, Pavel scored twice, with myself and Sean assisting. I lost count of how many points I had, that’s how well we were doing. Reckless penalties, no thank you. Five points for me, a 8-2 win for the Tampa Bay Lightning, and very drunk players on the plane home.

~

Another Monday in the gorgeous city of the Tampa Bay Lightning. It would have been a glorious morning to wake up in my apartment, but no. I was currently next to Dana, Simon and Marty sharing the other bed in one of Tampa’s hotels.

Boucher came to the conclusion, that away teams were doing well, and that maybe it would give us an edge. We had to force a game 7, we could not afford to lose tonight. Hence, he dragged our asses to some random hotel, and shoved us in there for the night.

Thus became Movie Night.

Of course, walking away with a 4-2 win was definitely a point in his favour, he teased us the entire flight to Pittsburgh, of how we doubted him and his ‘mad coaching skills.”

I hadn’t heard from Teemu or Val, but I had kept up with the recordings at my house, and online. It looked like both teams were going to the next round. It’d be hilarious if they played each other in Conference Finals.

Washington took care of New York, and if we won, we’d be facing them. Was it sad that I got some sort of sick satisfaction in wanting to smash Harper’s face into the ice, on her own home ice? At this point, I had come to a realization about how I felt about the American captain.

She was cocky, arrogant, and had no right to be. Modesty and humility was one of the best ways to play. Yes, it was one thing to get excited when good things happen, but she took it too far. However, I guess she had the right to be excited for a while. She won her lawsuit.

Scrolling through my email, I opened up Hank’s email, something about the details of his wedding. His bachelor party was scheduled for the 15th, Loui was flying out with me, since he already booked the tickets. Although I was encouraged to come to his part of the wedding festivities to ‘babysit’ them, his future wife invited me to her half. Why they didn’t have a Stag and Doe, it was beyond me, but it was still cute. The date of the wedding was the next day, and he only needed my sizes for the bridesmaid dress.

So I was kinda close to my Swedish friends, so sue a person. Saving the email, I powered my phone off, ready for the third period of Game 7. Kris Letang, right now, was like godsend for the Pittsburgh Penguins. If I even so much as looked into the Penguin zone, he was right there infront of me. Eight shots. Twice I had been close, only for him to somehow knock them away. Fleury was on fire, but it didn’t stop the goal by Sean, or the fact that Pittsburgh was done with the 2011 Stanley Cup Playoffs.

~

I slowly made my way to the Penguins’ locker room, kind of unsure what to do. Should I even ask him for help? We didn’t get along, but I couldn’t risk telling my team. It would be too much, and I‘d probably be out for the rest of the season. Putting pressure on my abdomen, I leaned against the wall for a moment, catching my breath and hoping to alleviate the pain. “Anna, is everything alright?”

Becoming used to the surprises, I briefly considered flying to Buffalo and meeting Paul, over facing Kris Letang’s face in front of mine, hands on my shoulder. “I’m fine, Letang. I just need to speak to Staal, if that’s alright.” He looked at me wearily, before nodding and pulling me towards the home dressing room. I stumbled a bit, and he kept looking over, before finally wrapping his arm around my waist, holding me up in case I fell. Way to be co-dependant, Anna.

After making our way into the Pens’ area, he held me with his left arm, his right opening the dressing room door. “Hey, eh, is Jordan in here?”

“I’m here, why, what’s up?” I almost rolled my eyes in anticipation. My stomach lurched again, and I feared it was going to uproot itself. It had been pretty calm for a few days, but it just came back, never hurting like this. Why can’t I just be a normal fucking person, and get allergies?

“Jordan, someone’s here to see you.” Kris looked back at me, holding a finger up to Staal, more than likely, and reached into my back pocket, pulling my cell out. Typing in a few numbers, and then his name, I assumed he saved his number in my phone. Nodding lightly, he held the door open for me, releasing his hold. Nodding my thanks, I stepped inside to see a nearly empty locker room, only holding Marc-Andre and Jordan.

~

“Staal, I don’t mean to bother you, but I have a favour to ask of you.” I avoided his face, and Fleury’s silent laughter fit that he was going through.

“Jordan.” Looking over to him, seating in his stall, his tone surprising me. I had figured he would have been angry, upset, or something else. Least of all, pleasant, but it was certainly unexpected.

Shaking my probably look of shock, I pressed against my stomach again, looking at him questioningly. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Jordan, Anna. Jordan.” He grinned, throwing a water bottle at Fleury, who instantly began roaring with laughter. He returned the water bottle, along with various items along the wall in the room, including a manual on how to operate the coffee machine. These boys did not need any coffee.

Smiling softly, I watched it all take place. “Jordan, can you help me with something?”

He stopped, lowering the coffee manual from being launched. “Like what?”

“I need to take care of something, but I don’t want to go alone.” Rubbing my arm and looking away from Jordan, I instantly felt guilty. I ruined his possible Stanley Cup, and here I am, asking for more. Hell, I probably should have asked Letang or something. Geno should have answered his fucking phone.

He came down off of his happy high, his eyes starting to narrow, observing me. Fleury stepped inftont of me, looking worried. “Have you asked any of your teammates?”

“I don’t want them to find out.”

~

“I’m sorry, friends can’t be in the room. Only family.” The two clamoured at the nurse at the same time, cries of ‘I’m her boyfriend!’ and ‘I’m her fiancée!’ not helping matters a bit. However, the two hopefully seemed to put the nurse in a good mood, as she allowed them back in to the room that was containing me. “Very good then. Doctor Morrow will administer the blood tests and spinal tap, if necessary.”

I didn’t want the duo to see me, already uncomfortable with how I looked, I could only imagine my appearance now. Marc-Andre smiled at me, taking a seat at my left, Jordan occupying the right chair. “How are you feeling, Buttercup?”

Shrugging, I swallowed the saliva that accumulated in my mouth. “Tired. I’m glad they let you guys back. I can’t do this alone. Though, I’m interested in how I have a fiancée and boyfriend at the same time, when one of you already has a girlfriend, who is quiet the charmer.” I stuck my tongue out at Marc-Andre, in which he returned the favour.

“Yeah, yeah, you laugh now, but when she doesn’t invite you to the wedding, we’ll see who has the last laugh. Kris is here, Jordan. I need to go. Vero’s been worried, and her parents are in town.” A knock sounded at the door, to reveal the man in question, #58 himself. Fleury patted my cheek, before mumbling something in French to Kris, and then proceeding to make his leave.

~

“Why didn’t you ask me in the first place?” I let go of Kris’ hand, as the needle left my spinal cord, and the doctor left the room. Only shrugging, he shook his head. “I want a better answer than that. Despite the hard bitch you play on the ice, you’re a lonely, miserable person off of it. What gives?”

Looking around for Jordan, I remembered he went to the cafeteria. “Why do you say that?”

“Despite the bullshit we went through in the series, you are different off the ice. Different from what I pictured you as. If you need someone there for you, and we can help, then we’ll do it. It’s what friends do.” Jordan Staal’s words echoed around us, as he popped through the door, tossing Kris a sandwich, and me a Jello cup.

So I might as we have died and gone to heaven. I had a serious problem with the gooey goodness.

Jordan Staal

Anna fell asleep, after sharing her Jello cup with us. It was the cutest thing ever. Raging homicidal bitch likes to share Jello. “Mr. Staal, Mr. Letang, my name is Doctor Ashford. I have the results of the test.”