‹ Prequel: Heart of Man
Seeing Red
Chapter 2
I stumbled into the apartment I now shared with Dana, slamming the door a little too hard. Not that it mattered to anyone but my sleeping roommate, and I wouldn't care then. Slipping my shoes off, I dropped the car keys on my way into the kitchen, disposing them on the counter. Opening the refrigerator, my hands shot towards the carton of orange juice.
Closing the door, I opened the cabinet and grabbed the first glass I saw. Snatching the bottle of vodka off the back of the counter, it was only seconds before I was throwing the mixture back into my body. Pouring a second, filling the tall glass up this time of orange juice and Stoli, I left the kitchen and collapsed onto the couch. The living room as dark, the only light source that could be found were the city lights that shone through the window, illuminating the night life of Tampa.
My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans, and I quickly fished it out. Turning the screen on, my eyes winced at the bright light of the screen. Dustin wrote a simple message, only asking how things went in Toronto. “Anna?”
Setting the phone on the armrest, I took another sip as Dana took a seat next to me. He took the glass in his hands, quickly drinking what was left before putting it on the ground next to the chair, out of the way. He held his arms open, quickly pulling me into a hug before kissing my forehead. “Want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I kept my attention out the window as he laughed lightly. “I’m going up to Detroit in a few days, so you’ll have the apartment to yourself for the rest of the summer.”
“What happened to not wanting to talk about it?”
“After I go to Detroit, I’m going back home. My mom left a message with flight information, and I miss her.” I laughed before punching the Canadian in the leg playfully. “Don’t sleep in my bed with those girls you bring home. There’s only so much bleach and pine-sol can clean.”
July 1st. It was easy to see why people dreaded the calendar date, whether it was awaiting your favourite player’s decision or praying to every hockey god in existence to let your phone die and never come on again. But why should anything be made too easy? Ever since Dustin had presented the offer from the Kings, it acted as the flood gate.
We were on Day 5 of the free agency period, but I had barely kept up with other signings. Mike left to go to Phoenix, Simon obviously went to LA, and Sean went to the Panthers. I knew we had gotten a few guys, but everyone’s focus had been on Brad Richards. Where would he end up? I was actually thankful that Dallas didn’t have to put up with him anymore. They deserved someone with a better attitude towards their organization.
Talbot signing with Philly was also another big deal. Washington let Semyon go to Colorado, Teemu signed another year for Anaheim, and the #JagrWatch games began. Detroit, Philadelphia, or Pittsburgh? Philly got him on the first day, but that was a nightmare to say in the least. He had called from London around 4 in the morning, wanting to chitchat.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to force your hand on these matters.” Nodding at the aging man, he pulled me into a hug, pulling me from my thoughts instantly. Ruslan Salei had spent the better part of his life working for his team and raising his family. Even the best decisions feel like the worst, initially. “Yuri and Brad are inside, so whenever you are ready, we’ll go in together.”
Before I could blink, we were sitting in a conference room that the hotel the Russian GM was staying in provided for us. Pleasantries were explained, before three sets of eyes turned to me. There was no doubt in my mind that McCrimmon was here to help the NHL players come to the thought of leaving. He sighed, before voicing his thoughts. “Anna, are you sure that you want to do this? If you’d rather wait a bit, or would rather not do it at all, then tell us. We want to help you.”
“I wouldn’t have offered, Anna, if I didn’t want to help,” Cocking an eyebrow at Ruslan, he smiled and rubbed my shoulder. Was it worth spending a year away, in a country that I could relatively call home? Take some time away and work on a team with a man who was willing to help me improve my game and help me mature as a player? “Besides, we will still be close to Moscow for whenever you have to meet with Tretiak.”
That was a whole issue in itself. With the issues Medvedev and Tretiak presented to us hardly a week ago, there would be meetings between the FHR and whomever else in the Kremlin that I’d have to appeal to quite often, in order to resolve everything. They had suggested signing with a KHL club to make things easier, and within the hour I was on the phone with Salei. Sighing, I squirmed in my seat. “Let’s do this then.”
“I’ve looked into the salary cap, and because the KHL has no restriction on players coming from the NHL, we’d like to write in 6.2 for you. Does that sound alright?” Corin would have a heyday. Shrugging, Yuri only let out a laugh before typing something into the laptop, no doubt the figures into my contract. “I also assume you will accept wearing an A? That’s our condition on signing with us.”
Letting out a groan, all three men rolled in their laughter, highly amused by something I’d probably never understand. Even when we decided that sticking with ‘Trovato’ on the jersey, they had these looks between each other before bursting into laughter again. It’s definitely Tease Anna Day.
The printer started up again, Ruslan’s contract having been printed before we came in, and a decently thick stack of papers started shooting out. Brad slid a pen over to Ruslan, following his own pile of papers. He skimmed through with an approving nod, before scrawling his name on the appropriate lines. “What number did you want, Anna?”
Sitting back in my chair, I turned to my new GM. “57.”
“Vitaly has 57, and before you say 28, Sasha Kalyanin has that one too.” I felt my face flush as he showed me a piece of paper with the free numbers on it. Grabbing the pen off the
desk, I almost circled 91 to spite Stammer, but I circled 27 instead.
"Welcome to the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl hockey club, Miss Trovato."
“Anna, this is lovely, sweetheart!” Rubbing my face, my mother began to explore the decently-sized apartment I had acquired in downtown Yaroslavl. Well, I probably couldn’t call her my mother anymore, but who knew. At this point, I trusted her over my “father” and I wanted answers from as close to the source as possible. “I am very hungry after flying for so long! Can we get something to eat?”
Glancing towards the kitchen she had just raided, I remembered than I had no food yet. Hell, I had hardly eaten in the past few days anyways. I had scored an endorsement with CCM since Ovi went with Bauer, so between that and getting everything set up, I had forgotten the mere concept of food. “Would you mind if we waited a few minutes? There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Vera frowned while nodding as she took a seat on the couch, twirling her dark brown hair around her fingers. I pulled out one of two bar stools and took a seat, simply watching the woman I had known as my mother all of my life. She had always appeared youthful, looking no more than her early thirties, but as a woman hitting her late 40’s, she was quite lucky in that department. “Out with it, Anna.”
“I know about the adoption papers and the birth records.”
I don’t quite remember seeing anyone turn as white as my mother did in that very second. It was quite possible she broke the world record for that, even for the short amount of time it took for the strong woman to burst into tears. I watched her cry for a second, unsure of how to handle the situation, before hopping off the stool and sitting next to her. Wrapping her in a hug, she began to hiccup. “I was never able to give birth. Your father and I tried so many times, and it was a miscarriage every single time. Even we went with the c-section and the child was already gone. We just wanted a little one to call our own, and your father was in Russia for a meeting when he came across you.”
Letting her continue, I placed my head on hers. “He told me that he saw you playing hockey on the frozen river, and that you looked like you had potential. Imagine that, close to four years old and already playing hockey. He said that maybe we could raise you to play on the national team, because I loved hockey growing up. We never told you because we didn’t want to hurt you. I was the happiest woman in the world when you called me “mama” for the first time.”
My mother too, was just a pawn in my father’s scheme. He wasn’t the man to adopt because his wife wouldn’t bear children. He was the type of man to adopt a child for reasons, such as hockey.
“Your father scolded you so much to where you never spoke Russian, and when you began learning in school and picked up it so quickly, it was frightening. We almost thought you knew what had happened,” She began to laugh as I offered her a Kleenex, smiling at her words. “Your accent adapted quickly to Italian, so we left it alone. We figured it was all in the past.”
“You know that the adoption wasn’t legal, right?”
My mother ignored my words completely, letting out a shrill of laughter. “You see? Your little accent is back! Just like when we first brought you home! I think you have been in this country too long; It has already been only a few days!”
Huffing, I grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her up. Snatching the car keys up, I pulled her out of the apartment and down the stairs. I had left my Lotus with Dana, but Jaromir had luckily brought my Porsche by when he had come back to pack. Smart man.
“Oh, is it too early to say Happy Birthday?” Covering my face with my free hand, Vera laughed out loud again. “Only a week to go, innamorata!”
“I’m aware, Mama.” Yeah, a week to go and I had a voicemail burning a hole through my phone, extending me an offer to come to Moscow for the day. Of course, that was under the pretenses that I would be spending my birthday “alone”, as Ovechkin had so nicely put it.
Rude.
“Speaking of birthdays, you’ll be 25 and I want grandchildren.” I dropped the sandwich we had gotten from Subway on my plate, instantly wishing someone would put me out of my misery already. “So that means if you need to shack up with that little Russian boy you’ve been playing around with over there in America, then so be it, but I want little ones to spoil.”
“Fuck me.” Groaning, I wasn’t sure what part of her schpeal I should be taking offense to.
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to, inamorata, but that’s beside the point.” Standing up, I had lost all of my appetite and threw my trash away. I knew my face was red, but my mother, blood or not, knew how to get under my skin. “Remember what they called you at school, Anna? Pomodoro Trovato, and you would turn so red and then they’d sing even louder?”
What mother refers to their child as a tomato? One who has a child that turned the shade of a tomato, practically, whenever embarrassed. Unfortunately for me, however, the nickname stuck.
Closing the door, I opened the cabinet and grabbed the first glass I saw. Snatching the bottle of vodka off the back of the counter, it was only seconds before I was throwing the mixture back into my body. Pouring a second, filling the tall glass up this time of orange juice and Stoli, I left the kitchen and collapsed onto the couch. The living room as dark, the only light source that could be found were the city lights that shone through the window, illuminating the night life of Tampa.
My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans, and I quickly fished it out. Turning the screen on, my eyes winced at the bright light of the screen. Dustin wrote a simple message, only asking how things went in Toronto. “Anna?”
Setting the phone on the armrest, I took another sip as Dana took a seat next to me. He took the glass in his hands, quickly drinking what was left before putting it on the ground next to the chair, out of the way. He held his arms open, quickly pulling me into a hug before kissing my forehead. “Want to talk about it?”
Shaking my head, I kept my attention out the window as he laughed lightly. “I’m going up to Detroit in a few days, so you’ll have the apartment to yourself for the rest of the summer.”
“What happened to not wanting to talk about it?”
“After I go to Detroit, I’m going back home. My mom left a message with flight information, and I miss her.” I laughed before punching the Canadian in the leg playfully. “Don’t sleep in my bed with those girls you bring home. There’s only so much bleach and pine-sol can clean.”
July 1st. It was easy to see why people dreaded the calendar date, whether it was awaiting your favourite player’s decision or praying to every hockey god in existence to let your phone die and never come on again. But why should anything be made too easy? Ever since Dustin had presented the offer from the Kings, it acted as the flood gate.
We were on Day 5 of the free agency period, but I had barely kept up with other signings. Mike left to go to Phoenix, Simon obviously went to LA, and Sean went to the Panthers. I knew we had gotten a few guys, but everyone’s focus had been on Brad Richards. Where would he end up? I was actually thankful that Dallas didn’t have to put up with him anymore. They deserved someone with a better attitude towards their organization.
Talbot signing with Philly was also another big deal. Washington let Semyon go to Colorado, Teemu signed another year for Anaheim, and the #JagrWatch games began. Detroit, Philadelphia, or Pittsburgh? Philly got him on the first day, but that was a nightmare to say in the least. He had called from London around 4 in the morning, wanting to chitchat.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to force your hand on these matters.” Nodding at the aging man, he pulled me into a hug, pulling me from my thoughts instantly. Ruslan Salei had spent the better part of his life working for his team and raising his family. Even the best decisions feel like the worst, initially. “Yuri and Brad are inside, so whenever you are ready, we’ll go in together.”
Before I could blink, we were sitting in a conference room that the hotel the Russian GM was staying in provided for us. Pleasantries were explained, before three sets of eyes turned to me. There was no doubt in my mind that McCrimmon was here to help the NHL players come to the thought of leaving. He sighed, before voicing his thoughts. “Anna, are you sure that you want to do this? If you’d rather wait a bit, or would rather not do it at all, then tell us. We want to help you.”
“I wouldn’t have offered, Anna, if I didn’t want to help,” Cocking an eyebrow at Ruslan, he smiled and rubbed my shoulder. Was it worth spending a year away, in a country that I could relatively call home? Take some time away and work on a team with a man who was willing to help me improve my game and help me mature as a player? “Besides, we will still be close to Moscow for whenever you have to meet with Tretiak.”
That was a whole issue in itself. With the issues Medvedev and Tretiak presented to us hardly a week ago, there would be meetings between the FHR and whomever else in the Kremlin that I’d have to appeal to quite often, in order to resolve everything. They had suggested signing with a KHL club to make things easier, and within the hour I was on the phone with Salei. Sighing, I squirmed in my seat. “Let’s do this then.”
“I’ve looked into the salary cap, and because the KHL has no restriction on players coming from the NHL, we’d like to write in 6.2 for you. Does that sound alright?” Corin would have a heyday. Shrugging, Yuri only let out a laugh before typing something into the laptop, no doubt the figures into my contract. “I also assume you will accept wearing an A? That’s our condition on signing with us.”
Letting out a groan, all three men rolled in their laughter, highly amused by something I’d probably never understand. Even when we decided that sticking with ‘Trovato’ on the jersey, they had these looks between each other before bursting into laughter again. It’s definitely Tease Anna Day.
The printer started up again, Ruslan’s contract having been printed before we came in, and a decently thick stack of papers started shooting out. Brad slid a pen over to Ruslan, following his own pile of papers. He skimmed through with an approving nod, before scrawling his name on the appropriate lines. “What number did you want, Anna?”
Sitting back in my chair, I turned to my new GM. “57.”
“Vitaly has 57, and before you say 28, Sasha Kalyanin has that one too.” I felt my face flush as he showed me a piece of paper with the free numbers on it. Grabbing the pen off the
desk, I almost circled 91 to spite Stammer, but I circled 27 instead.
"Welcome to the Lokomotiv Yaroslavl hockey club, Miss Trovato."
“Anna, this is lovely, sweetheart!” Rubbing my face, my mother began to explore the decently-sized apartment I had acquired in downtown Yaroslavl. Well, I probably couldn’t call her my mother anymore, but who knew. At this point, I trusted her over my “father” and I wanted answers from as close to the source as possible. “I am very hungry after flying for so long! Can we get something to eat?”
Glancing towards the kitchen she had just raided, I remembered than I had no food yet. Hell, I had hardly eaten in the past few days anyways. I had scored an endorsement with CCM since Ovi went with Bauer, so between that and getting everything set up, I had forgotten the mere concept of food. “Would you mind if we waited a few minutes? There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
Vera frowned while nodding as she took a seat on the couch, twirling her dark brown hair around her fingers. I pulled out one of two bar stools and took a seat, simply watching the woman I had known as my mother all of my life. She had always appeared youthful, looking no more than her early thirties, but as a woman hitting her late 40’s, she was quite lucky in that department. “Out with it, Anna.”
“I know about the adoption papers and the birth records.”
I don’t quite remember seeing anyone turn as white as my mother did in that very second. It was quite possible she broke the world record for that, even for the short amount of time it took for the strong woman to burst into tears. I watched her cry for a second, unsure of how to handle the situation, before hopping off the stool and sitting next to her. Wrapping her in a hug, she began to hiccup. “I was never able to give birth. Your father and I tried so many times, and it was a miscarriage every single time. Even we went with the c-section and the child was already gone. We just wanted a little one to call our own, and your father was in Russia for a meeting when he came across you.”
Letting her continue, I placed my head on hers. “He told me that he saw you playing hockey on the frozen river, and that you looked like you had potential. Imagine that, close to four years old and already playing hockey. He said that maybe we could raise you to play on the national team, because I loved hockey growing up. We never told you because we didn’t want to hurt you. I was the happiest woman in the world when you called me “mama” for the first time.”
My mother too, was just a pawn in my father’s scheme. He wasn’t the man to adopt because his wife wouldn’t bear children. He was the type of man to adopt a child for reasons, such as hockey.
“Your father scolded you so much to where you never spoke Russian, and when you began learning in school and picked up it so quickly, it was frightening. We almost thought you knew what had happened,” She began to laugh as I offered her a Kleenex, smiling at her words. “Your accent adapted quickly to Italian, so we left it alone. We figured it was all in the past.”
“You know that the adoption wasn’t legal, right?”
My mother ignored my words completely, letting out a shrill of laughter. “You see? Your little accent is back! Just like when we first brought you home! I think you have been in this country too long; It has already been only a few days!”
Huffing, I grabbed my mother’s hand and pulled her up. Snatching the car keys up, I pulled her out of the apartment and down the stairs. I had left my Lotus with Dana, but Jaromir had luckily brought my Porsche by when he had come back to pack. Smart man.
“Oh, is it too early to say Happy Birthday?” Covering my face with my free hand, Vera laughed out loud again. “Only a week to go, innamorata!”
“I’m aware, Mama.” Yeah, a week to go and I had a voicemail burning a hole through my phone, extending me an offer to come to Moscow for the day. Of course, that was under the pretenses that I would be spending my birthday “alone”, as Ovechkin had so nicely put it.
Rude.
“Speaking of birthdays, you’ll be 25 and I want grandchildren.” I dropped the sandwich we had gotten from Subway on my plate, instantly wishing someone would put me out of my misery already. “So that means if you need to shack up with that little Russian boy you’ve been playing around with over there in America, then so be it, but I want little ones to spoil.”
“Fuck me.” Groaning, I wasn’t sure what part of her schpeal I should be taking offense to.
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to, inamorata, but that’s beside the point.” Standing up, I had lost all of my appetite and threw my trash away. I knew my face was red, but my mother, blood or not, knew how to get under my skin. “Remember what they called you at school, Anna? Pomodoro Trovato, and you would turn so red and then they’d sing even louder?”
What mother refers to their child as a tomato? One who has a child that turned the shade of a tomato, practically, whenever embarrassed. Unfortunately for me, however, the nickname stuck.
♠ ♠ ♠
So I went to submit this once and Mibba wouldn't let me, so here it is again. Blah blah blah I forgot what I put down here. The LA & Loko thing has been planned since last May, so it's not spontaneous.pomodoro = tomato
innamorata = sweetheart
learn yo italian
I really don't remember, so thoughts? :))