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

The concierge from the front desk called me a cab. And it took me back to TD Garden, where I had gotten off that train so many hours ago.

Amber: She isn’t that bad.

Greg: What? You didn’t get into a cat fight at Saks?

Amber: No, I don’t want the bad press. “Ambrosia Li tackles Boyfriend’s Ex into Marc Jacobs Display at Saks”

Greg: What does Andy Warhol always say?

“Don’t pay attention to what they write about you. Just measure it in inches.” I say as I enter the Garden.

Brittany was … nice. She was kind of like the female best friend in high school I never had.

I sigh at the fucked up mess that is my relationship as I hike up the stairs leading to the boxes
______

I’ve never got the whole deal about boxes. I was so isolated from the action but from what I hear the fans at TD Garden would eat me alive if I had the seats I usually had at the Staples Center. Here I would be known as Milan Lucic’s Girlfriend not Ambrosia Li the original celebrity interior designer, now I knew how Mike Fisher feels. The good thing about LA is that no one at the Kings’ games were too into it. Everyone kind of minded their own business and cheered politely when they scored and booed when they got bad penalties. There was no loud chanting of any sorts at the Staples Center or throwing of beer cans onto the ice.

“Oh, Milan...” I say as he heads to the dressing room for a misconduct of some sorts. This game is actually quiet comical but none of the other wives and girlfriends seem to think so. They all have stern expression on their perfect faces and are actually looking quite worried. I bet the players are frustrated too.

It’s just a game. A game where the home team earns 72 penalty minutes. Bruins hockey at its best I suppose.

Mike: You at the Bruins game?

Amber: Yeah how’d you know?

Mike: Because they just showed you in the box yawning with the line “even Ambrosia Li wants this game to end”

Fuck.

Amber: Wait what are you doing watching the game aren’t you supposed to be… I don’t know playing hockey?

Mike: Finished the pregame skate. It was on in the waiting area.

Amber: I hope you have better luck against the Blues.

Mike: Thanks, who’s taking your place behind the bench?

Amber: My cameraman Jeff and assistant Greg.

Mike: You have your personal cameraman?

I look up as the buzzer sounds signalling the end of the game.

Amber: I’ve got to go now, game just ended.

I slip my phone into the pocket of my new Stella McCartney jeans and watch as the crowds of black and yellow filter out of the TD Garden.

“We usually go down to the dressing room to wait.” Tammy Horton says snapping me out of my trance.

“Great,” I say following her down the stairs.

“I love your show,” she says. Apparently our significant others have some sort of bromance going on. It’s essential that we like each other or at least be friendly. I can do being friendly, after all I’m not a complete bitch.

“Thanks, I like your bag.” I say scanning her outfit for something I could complement her on.

“Thank you. I just got it the other day at the Marc Jacobs store on Newbury. Have you been there yet?”

“No, I’ve barely been here for a day” I tell her as I take a seat on… OMG that’s the “Milan” couch.

“Do you like it?” asks Melissa Thomas.

“I love it.” I say taking a seat on the grey contemporary couch it’s much more comfortable than it looks.
______

“Hey there.” I say to the petite Asian girl taking one final bite of her banana.

“Milan!” She yells running into my arms she seems to be in a much better mood.

I had hoped to get her a win but I guess she doesn’t seem too bothered. “I’m taking you out for dinner.” I tell her as we walk to the players’ parking lot.

“Where?” Amber asks as I open the door of my Range Rover for her.

“Back Bay Social Club. It’s just across the street from your hotel.” I say with suggestion.

“Oh,” Amber says slightly taken aback “I guess that was a pretty tough loss for you.” She says batting her eyelashes

”Yeah, the toughest.”

“I guess I’d better try and make you feel better then. That’s what a good girlfriend would do.” She says looking at me the way only Amber can, all sexy and suggestive while still looking completely innocent.

“How about I get you fed first.” I suggest as we drive turn onto Boylston Street from Charlesgate.

“It’s very beautiful here.” Amber says glazing out the window at the Berklee College of Music.

“I think you’d fit right in,” I say definitely noticing Amber’s more toned down appearance of dark jeans, a sequinned black and yellow striped tank top, and a black wool blazer. Without all the thousand dollar dresses, bags, and shoes competing for attention you can really see how beautiful she is.

Amber pulls her blazer tighter around her body “It’d very cold here,”

“It’s only like 45 degrees” I tell Amber reading the electric thermometer on my GPS.

“LA must be softening me. It only goes as low 60 degrees in October, still flip flop weather.” Amber says as I find a parking spot.
_______

“All these one way streets must suck.” I say looking out the window.

“It’s not that bad,” Milan says in the middle of stealing one of the shrimp from my shrimp cocktail.

We’re seated on the second floor of the establishment, this feels right, Milan and I. To everyone else we’re just a lovely young couple enjoying a late dinner in the swanky part of town.

“Who had the chicken and waffles?” asks the charming waiter.

“I did,” I say cheerfully as the plate arrives in front of me. It smells like deep fried love.

“Gee, I wonder who the professional athlete is.” Milan asks as I devour the deep fried chicken skin dipped in maple syrup.

“Just shut up and enjoy your steak.” I say with a smile as I thoroughly enjoy the crunchy texture of the chicken with the fluffy waffle.