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

“Hi, Milan.” Amber waves as she sits poolside wearing a tiny bikini as if she had no idea what’s been spreading like wild fire around the sports world. I don’t believe it, of course I wouldn’t she’s Amber, she would never do something like that.

“Are you seeing Mike Richards?” I ask jumping right to the chase.

“No Milan, I’m not.” She replies with a frown. “I may have forgotten to tell you but he’s my neighbour.”

“Your neighbour?” I guess that kind of makes sense, it’s not like Amber would meet him at the local bait and tackle store.

“Yup see.” Amber turns the laptop over so that I can see her pink polished toes and Richards on the other side of her hedges pacing on the lawn while on the phone with someone.

“How did you forget to tell me?” I ask as Amber’s face reappears on the screen.

“Gee Milan the same way you didn’t tell me about your living arrangements?”

“Well that’s different…” I try to explain.

“Admit it Milan, if I had never showed up. You would’ve never told me.” Amber looks pissed.

“Amber, it’s not that big of a deal.” I try to explain to her.

“It’s a big deal to me, Milan!” Amber yells before the screen goes black.
_____

“I’ve got a preposition—what’s wrong Amber?” asks Mike as he runs into my living room.

“I picked my first fight with my boyfriend and he still hasn’t spoken to me.” I reply as I stare at my warped reflection in the glass cabinets.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Mike says sitting down next to me.

A cup of green tea Pinkberry with white chocolate shavings? “What?”

“An invite to the Quick’s Halloween party. You up for it, Hollywood?”

“I love Halloween.” I wistfully, I was actually planning to put up my decorations tomorrow. “Who has a party on a Wednesday?”

“All the guys with kids are busy on Halloween and we’re on a road trip down to the Southwest tomorrow.”

“I don’t have this year’s costume yet.” I get my costume custom-made every year by the this Hollywood costume designer so it’s still at the seamstress’”

Mike rolls his eyes “You’re probably not going to know anyone there just wear your old one.”

I frown I love Halloween “What are you going as?”

Mike smiles “A pirate. Why do you want to be my wench?”

At least he didn’t buy us matching socket and plug costumes. “I have a mermaid costume from Kate Hudson’s party last year.”

“Great,” Mike says “Eight o’clock alright?”
______

“Wow it’s kind of quiet.” I say as we pull up to a pretty house in Hidden Hills about half an hour away from Downtown LA and in a gated community in the infamous San Fernando Valley.

“I don’t know what you were expecting. If you thought we were going to a full on rave why did you wear a dress down to your toes.” Mike asks staring at my silver dress with stitched in scales.

“I don’t know.” I reply as Mike parks his car on the curb and opens the door for me.

“Is anyone else going to be there?” I ask as we walk up the pathway.

Mike knocks on the door “Most of the players are going to be there some of the girls but it’s not like one of those parties for the younger guys basically invite every girl within a thirty mile radius.”

“That sounds great.” I reply as the large oak door opens and loud music seeps out. Not so quiet after all.

“Hi Mike.” says a pretty girl who basically looks like the dictionary definition of a WAG. She’s pretty in typical a WAG fashion (pretty but not too pretty) and I’ll bet there’s a university degree in psychology hanging in the living room. Plus she seems like a great hostess and genuinely happy to see us. “You brought a date?” she asks Mike.

“I guess you could say that” Mike says as we walk into the beautiful foyer.

“I brought you a hostess gift.” I say holding out a box of hand milled French soaps I found last minute under my sink.

“Thank you,” She says putting them on the hall table next to two bottles of wine.

The living room is littered with various guys I vaguely recognize and girls who look like C-list actresses. Mike introduces me around and for the first time in my life I feel like an accessory. After the introductions are over Mike places me on a chair around the peripheries of the living room while he goes to get me a diet coke and himself a beer.

I sigh as I check for any sort of apology text from Milan. Nope. I know I should be over the whole living with his ex-girlfriend thing but I’m not. I’m just going to dwell on that because honestly it feels easier to be in a fight with him than be in a relationship with him knowing that he probably wakes up every morning to Brittany making bacon or whatever.

The Kings’ defenseman Matt Green takes the vacant seat next to me “You look lonely.”

“I wouldn’t say that per say. It’s just not often that I’m in a room where I only know one person.” In this town I’m pretty well-connected but here is a whole different crowd plus I’ve always been very quiet when I feel uncomfortable. The last time I’ve ever been in a situation like this is at Scott Kalvin’s graduation party where everyone was talking about their plans for the future and I had not fucking idea about what to say.

“You’re Ambrosia right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He doesn’t exactly seem like someone who takes time out of the day to watch E! News.

“You were the one was on the phone with on the plane to Sweden. Talking about how defence men can’t land chicks.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well one thing defensemen do have is rhythm, do you want to dance?” Matt asks

“I’m sorry but I don’t—” dance. I can’t especially not after a traumatic square dancing incident in the fourth grade.

Mike cuts me off “Ambrosia and were just going to do just that.” As he hands me a can of Pepsi Max.

“Mike I have a confession.” I mumble half hoping he won’t hear me over the loud music.

Mike raises his eyebrow “You’re always full of secrets aren’t you Ambrosia?”

“I can’t dance.” I tell Mike all about my awful experiences in elementary gym class.

“You’re a girl, just shuffle your feet and wiggle a little.” Mike says like he’s a professional choreographer teaching me the two step.

“Fine” I say as I try to shimmy a little to Cobra Starship’s newest album. Forgetting about looking for a so-called apology text. Besides dancing really isn’t that hard and kills time like nothing else.