"You Can't Stay a Saint in This City"

“Why does your boyfriend live across the country?” asks Mike as I walk into my house chewing a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich. That’s one luxury Milan is probably missing in Boston; you can’t eat ice cream sandwiches in the autumn.

“That’s where he works” I reply as I place my Brian Atwood shoes inside the wine cellar.

“Yeah but LA’s a big city I’m sure he could find a comparable job here.”

“Is that what you did? Ask for a job transfer?” I ask feeling a little cheeky.

“Do you always just go ahead and say whatever is on your mind?”

“Only when my guard is down” I tell him as I try and figure out where to put my new shoes so that everything is still color coordinated. “I like it here in LA and he likes it in Boston.” Actually I never asked him. Maybe he doesn’t like Boston after all.

“But don’t you think that one day one of you is going to have to give something up?”

“Well it’s not really that serious.” At least I don’t think so. All we are is official but we haven’t talked about the future.

“So you’re not one of those chicks holding out for a ring.”

“No, I guess not.” I’ve never understood why girls would break up with a boyfriend for not proposing. If everything’s fine I wouldn’t change a thing. “I’m just taking this day by day.”

“How’d you meet your boyfriend anyway?” Mike asks as I take out my purple Louis Vuittons and move them next to the Jimmy Choos covered in indigo Swarovski crystals.

“I met him in high school back in Vancouver. We dated. I broke up with him to go to LA for work after high school. I was back in town and we got reacquainted”

“That’s interesting…”

“You know what? I don’t care what you think Mike.” After relocating several shoes I finally find a place for my new Brian Atwoods.

“I didn’t say anything Ambrosia” he says being a smart ass.

“I know what you were thinking” I say as I walk up the stairs and out of my basement

“And here I thought I was the only one who knew”

I sigh in frustration as I continue on the stairs to my bedroom.

“I never knew you were just one giant cliché Ambrosia.” Mike says confirming my suspicions.

_______

“Guess what I have Amber.” Greg says gallivanting into my office with an envelope.

“Tickets to the San Francisco Antique show like you were supposed to?” I say as I check how Boston did last night against the Hurricanes.

“Well yeah” Greg rolls his eyes “but something even better came in the mail.” He puts down a black envelope with the name and address of my offices scribbled messily in gold pen.

The envelope is already opened. “What? Last time I checked I was part of Ambrosia Li Interiors” Greg says as I give him a look.

I pull out a single piece of paper from the envelope. “Dear Miss Ambrosia Li, The entire Anaheim Ducks family would like to present you and any guests with lower bowl center ice tickets to the Ducks’ home opener at the Honda Center. While we understand that you are a season ticket holder to our rivals, the Kings. We hope that you will accept the complimentary tickets and possibly in the future consider becoming a season ticket holder for us, the other—and in our opinion—much better hockey team in Southern California. Signed the Anaheim Ducks.” I look up and Greg is beaming at me.

“Why’d you read it aloud?” Greg asks I gesture to Tyler who is in his usual spot filming us. This is the way it is when you’re on a reality show. All your calls are on speakerphone and all pieces of paper are read aloud. Plus on the third Tuesday of the month we head to a sound stage to film those scenes where they separate us and we insert our opinion and commentary on what is going on in the episode.

“Where are the tickets?” I ask staring into the empty envelope.

“I think we pick them up at the front office or something when we show up.” Greg says staring at the 27 inch screen of my iMac. “Your boyfriend lost”

I sigh “Yes Greg, losing happens”

“Anyway I’ll be over at your place at five.” Greg says hopping off of my chair.
_____

“Hey,” Greg says as he walks into my closet, Tyler trailing behind him.

“Hey,” I say and for once Greg is dressed more appropriate than me. He has on a Team USA Bobby Ryan Jersey—those Oklahomans are very patriotic—a pair of white skinny corduroys, and shiny black Oxfords.

“I’m here to help you get dressed.” Greg says as he walks over to the shelves where I keep all my jerseys.

“Great.” I reply as I pull a Logan Couture jersey off the shelf and hold it over my corn flower blue Diane Von Furstenberg wrap dress.

“The Ducks are the ones who are giving you the tickets. We don’t want to piss them off. Do you have any Ducks stuff?”

I frown as I try to recall. I should have all my jerseys cataloged. “I have a Jonas Hiller home jersey.” I say pulling it off and Greg lays it out on the floor.

“Wear the Hiller one, it looks cute on you” Greg says going through my black crocodile Birkin bag. I go into another room and pull on the kids sized Hiller jersey and pair it with a pair of True Religion cut offs.

It’s my turn to drive and Anaheim is about forty minutes south on the I 5. I’ve been to the Honda Center before. During Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals to be more specific. It was my first year in LA, I was living in a crappy apartment in West Hollywood but doing pretty well for myself. One of my clients was a Ducks season ticket holder and offered me tickets to watch the Red Wings play them at the Honda Center for Game 6 because they had a business meeting in San Francisco and wasn’t going to make it. I was over the moon when I got the tickets but the Red Wings ended up losing and I almost cried which was just me being dramatic. But I hadn’t been there since.

Greg sings.

”Hustlers grab your guns
Your shadow weighs a ton
Driving down the 101
California here we come
Right back where we started from.”

[California – Phantom Planet]

“We’re already in California.” I tell him as the graffiti stricken concrete barriers flies past the tinted windows.

“Yeah but this is the theme song to the OC” Greg tried to explain.

“Yeah I know.” I say waiting for a better explanation.

“Anaheim is in Orange County”

“OK” Greg smiles like he’s won the case and I roll my eyes as I change the song on the playlist Greg has created for the trip.

“This is much better.” I smile as the familiar riffs of All Time Low fill the car.

“Our time is fleeting
So we take control
From California to my home sweet home
Our days repeating like it's all we know
It's all we know/Out here the hills roll on for miles
The sun is like my own sense of direction
I'm always drawn to each horizon
When it's rising, when it sets
When all I can think about is sex…”

[Let It Roll – All Time Low]

The two of us sing as we continue our journey to the Honda Center.
_______

“Wow what’s this about,” Greg asks as we walk past the crowds gathered around the blue carpet.

“It’s their home opener it’s kind of a big deal.” I say heading directly to the box office by the looks of this crowd it seems that we might have a sellout.

“Who is that?” Greg asks as Teemu Selanne walks onto the blue carpet.

“Ew Greg he’s like old enough to be your dad”

“What? He has really great hair”

“He totally does” We venture further away from the parking lot “Hi,” I say to the teenage girl behind the Plexiglas of the box office. Her face buried in the latest issue of InStyle it’s kind of like staring in the mirror from the past.

“Sorry we’re sold out.” She says not bothering to look up and pointing at the sign taped onto the glass.

“I’m Ambrosia Li and I believe there are tickets here for me.”

The girl looks up clearly in shock “What?! I’m so-“

“Hello Amber, we’ve been waiting for you.” Says the man I presume to be her boss “Here let’s meet with the players and do some press before the game.” He says leading Greg, Tyler, and I towards the locker room. I’m not sure having Greg and I in the locker room is the best idea.

“Hi, I’m Ryan Getzlaf, the captain” says well Ryan Getzlaf, he looks like he’s been waiting a while and balding. If Ryan Getzlaf is all we’re going to get I think Greg and I will be able to behave ourselves.

“Hi, I’m Greg and that’s Amber.”

“We got you some personalized jerseys.” Ryan says handing Greg and I each one. I don’t have a customized jersey, my last name is too short so I’d always thought that it would look stupid but they have “Amber Li” written on it. That’s my new nickname of sorts, it’s what the tabloids call me and so do those anchors on late night entertainment news shows. They say it like it’s all one word so that it sounds like Amberly. I kind of like it.

“Thank you,” I say as Greg and I pose for a couple of pictures. If I knew we were coming here for the Ducks to get press I would’ve worn more makeup and put on a pair my new Brian Atwood heels instead of my black and white chevron printed TOMS.

“Good luck against the Sharks” Greg says after all the press has finished their pictures and we are free to go.

“Enjoy that game.” Ryan Getzlaf says as Greg and I walk out of the dressing room.

______

The arena was in a good mood after Jonas Hiller’s shut out in a 1-0 win over the Sharks. The Honda Center didn’t even come close to the number of dining options the Staples Center had but Greg and I managed with several orders of nachos.

“I’m glad you didn’t let me wear my Couture jersey.” I say as I put on my seat belt.

Greg laughs “A Couture jersey? Like a couture gown?”

“Yes Greg, ha ha, his last name means dressmaker in French.” I say.

“I think you chose the wrong team to buy tickets from, the Ducks overall are way cuter. Wait, I have a playlist for our return trip.” Greg says plugging his iPod into my Bentley’s sound system.

“The thing it's our new religion
Each model and celebrity
Changes how I look at me
Oh, don't tell me, don't tell me
I'll never be
A superstar 'cause I know I could
Look like a girl in Hollywood”

[Hollywood – Lady Gaga ]