Illusions

Loren had just changed into her pajamas when there was a series of knocks at her door. Puzzled, she glanced at the clock, which told her it was nearing midnight. Clearly she wasn’t expecting anyone and she hadn’t a clue as to who it could’ve been. Her stomach clenched when she realized it could be Rhea or any various member of her family. However, she knew Rhea and knew she wasn’t one for confrontation, no matter what front she clung to so desperately.

“Jordan?”

And Jordan it was — 6’4” and 200 pounds of pure anger stood in front of her, face red from climbing the seven flights of stairs to her apartment and breath equally shaky. He didn’t say a word to her, just pushed his way in, and obviously had not come up with a game plan on the way over.

“Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“About Rhea. That her brother plays hockey?”

“Of course,” Loren answered honestly. “What are you doing he—”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Jordan, what does it matter?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jordan mocked, “maybe because she was probably using me as an in for her brother?”

Loren couldn’t help herself as she audibly laughed. “Really, Jordan? That’s what you’re pissed about?”

She moved into the living room and folded a leg underneath her as she took a seat on the couch. Jordan didn’t follow her. He stayed in the kitchen, pacing and sighing, and flashed her another menacing glare.

“What’s funny about this?”

“You’re being such a hypocrite!”

“What?” Jordan shrieked, finally moving into the living room. He stood in front of her, seeming twenty feet tall from Loren’s spot on the couch.

“You used her first, Jordan. What did you honestly expect?”

He scoffed. “I didn’t use anyone.”

“No?” Loren’s eyebrows shot up. “Then what do you call only picking someone up in a club to take them home?”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he seethed. “She could’ve told me and I would’ve been fine with it, but finding out in the fucking locker room after the game was not high on my list of ways to find out.”

Loren rolled her eyes. “What do I have to do with this?”

“You could’ve told me!”

There was an obvious look of distress across Jordan’s features. Loren wanted to tell him to relax, that everything would sort itself out, but that would only blow up in her face with Jordan’s current anger level. There was no calming him. Loren had dealt with damage control countless times throughout her career but never anything like this. She never had to talk someone off the proverbial ledge. And she knew, deep down, that she wouldn’t even know how. Jordan wasn’t an open book.

“I’m sorry,” Loren relented, “I just didn’t think—”

“That much was obvious,” Jordan muttered under his breath.

“I didn’t think it was important, Jordan. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

Unlike himself, Loren was easily figured out. Her apology lacked substance, only coming about to diffuse the situation that he alone was responsible for. However, it did little to calm his nerves, which were currently working themselves inside out. Unable to pinpoint the exact cause of his anger, he grew frustrated, finding little, meaningless things to direct it at. Loren was the most accessible. As she sat in front of him, trying desperately to remove herself from his line of fire, he was able to focus on her alone because she wasn’t fighting back. Jordan knew, though, that once she did, all bets were off. It wouldn’t take long for her to put him in his place.

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

Loren sighed and pulled her knees against her chest. “What do you want from me now? It’s over and done with.”

“Is it? Or am I going to have another lovely surprise waiting for me the next time I’m in the locker room?”

“I don’t know, Jordan!” she shouted, finally snapping. Jordan shrank in size as she stood and whatever level of intimidation he’d been holding over her head shrank, too. “You picked up a random slut in a bar — what exactly did you expect? Sunshine and rainbows and happily ever after?”

“Don’t patronize me—”

“I think I have every right to call you on your shit when you nearly break my door down at midnight and go on a fucking rampage—”

“You’re no better than me, Loren!”

“Ha!” Loren shrieked, using all the strength she could muster to shove Jordan in the direction of the door. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson now, yeah? But this — whatever this was — had nothing to do with me. You want the truth? Get it from Rhea and keep me out of it. I don’t think she used you, Jordan, but I can’t even believe you’d ask me that in the first place. If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, then—”

“This isn’t about her! You should’ve told me!”

Loren rolled her eyes. “What did you want me to say? ‘Hey, Jordan, did you know the girl you’re fucking has two brothers playing for Wilkes-Barre? I don’t want to speculate but she could be using you.’”

“Two?”

“Does it matter? Christ!”

“Okay, okay,” Jordan relented and held his hands up in defense. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“Get out!”

“What? Loren, I—”

“You what? I’m so tired of dealing with you arrogant, self-centered hockey players! Not a single one of you has the capacity to care about anyone other than yourselves—”

“That’s not fair,” Jordan argued. “Just hear me out—”

Loren shook her head. “I asked you to leave, Jordan.”

With a heavy sigh, Jordan nodded and shut the door quietly behind him. Loren didn’t bother to watch him, just retreated back to her spot on the couch to reflect on what had just transpired. Loren wasn’t stupid, nor was she naive. Jordan was young, probably too young to be in a position such as his, and he was still trying to find his footing. That much was obvious through a simple Google search — mug shot and all. People expected things of him and he expected things of himself. He had brothers to shine brighter than, a family back in Ontario to appear normal for. His secrets couldn’t slip. He couldn’t be a disappointment.

Loren decided it’d be best to leave things as they were. No one else had a place in the situation and burning even more bridges wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Calling Robbie or Rhea or even Sidney would only bring about more trouble that she was too exhausted to handle properly. Jordan had drained her. If she had ever been more sick and tired of her job she couldn’t recall when. Even when Sidney was at his worst she didn’t feel as awful. No, this was personal now. Jordan had purposely sought her out only to tear her apart; no one else had ever done that before. Not even Sidney, who had merely used her as a punching bag for ten months. This wasn’t just business anymore, and, quite frankly, Loren had no idea how to make the transition.

&&

The following morning provided no new insight. When Loren finally woke up, sometime after ten, the atmosphere of her apartment felt strange. Something was off-centre. The light of the Pittsburgh morning didn’t shine through her bedroom windows as it normally did; the sound of the traffic a few stories below didn’t sound quite the same. Loren would expect the world to feel this way on a foggy, miserable Monday, but surely not a Wednesday.

She sat up in bed, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the temporary dizziness that came over her. By instinct, she reached to her right, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. Once her vision returned to normal, she scrolled through her missed calls — all 21 of them. Something was undoubtedly off now. Half of them were from Kris. A few were from Jordan, two were from Sidney, and the rest were from various members of the Pens’ front office. Every caller had left a voicemail and Loren made no attempt to mask the overwhelming feeling of nausea that settled in the pit of her stomach. What now?

Just as she went to listen to the myriad of messages, her phone rang again. Loren desperately hoped it would register as an unknown series of numbers, that it was a stranger calling to offer to switch lives with her, but she had no such luck. Sid’s name flashed across the screen and she whimpered quietly.

After taking a few deep breaths, Loren finally answered. “Hello?”

“Finally! Were you dead?”

“Something tells me I’m going to wish I was.”

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed. When Loren groaned again, he defended himself, “What? No use in sugarcoating it.”

“Just tell me what I unknowingly got myself into.”

“You mean you have no idea?” Loren shook her head even though Sidney couldn’t see her. “Fuck, Loren, I figured you knew and were just ignoring everyone.”

“I just woke up.”

“Must be nice,” he teased, but he stopped immediately when he didn’t elicit the laugh he hoped he would. “Jordan told me what happened last night—”

“He—”

Sidney cut her off. “Before you say anything, I’m not picking sides. I told him he acted like a jackass and you had every right to say what you did. That’s not the point, though.” He paused for a moment as he tried to find the most diplomatic way to word the rest of his explanation. “It looks like this Robbie thing is turning into more of a nightmare than just him pissing off Staalsy.”

“What does that mean?” Loren asked warily. As she spoke, she could feel the color draining from her face. The last thing she needed was to pile more drama on top of what she already had.

The voice on the other end of the phone sighed and Loren knew instantly that drama was well on its way. “I don’t feel right being the bearer of bad news now that we’re, uh…” He wanted to say now that we’re friends but he didn’t want to seem presumptuous. Were they friends? “Just check the internet.”

With that, Sidney disconnected the call and left Loren to her own devices. His guidance wasn’t much of that as she had no idea where to start looking because she had no idea what she’d done wrong. She hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary when she spoke to the press and what she said to Robbie surely couldn’t get her into trouble. Sidney Crosby was a brilliant athlete, there was no doubt in Loren’s mind about that, but what he made up for in talent, he lacked in common sense.

Loren threw her slim legs over the edge of her bed and slipped her feet into a pair of Penguins slippers. They’d been a birthday gift from the team and if they hadn’t been so practical (Kris overheard her whining about how cold the hardwood floors of her apartment were in the winter) she would’ve tossed them out the second she got home. However, any thought of prior courtesy from the team slipped her mind as the goofy slippers guided her back into her living room where her laptop was waiting for her on the coffee table like a jail sentence. Again, Loren made no attempt to swallow the sudden bout of nausea.

As soon as she connected to the internet, her e-mail inbox pinged with dozens of new messages. Most of them were spam. A few were from local journalists looking for an interview or an update on Sidney, but one, toward the very bottom of her ‘unread’ folder, was exactly what she’d been on a quest to find. You should probably take a look at this was all the subject line read. The body contained a link to an article and it only took Loren a second to recognize the site it’d been posted on.

“Fuck,” she swore out loud.

When the page loaded, Loren knew her time in Pittsburgh was coming to a close. The title read, in sickening bold letters, CAPTAIN’S GIRL PALLING AROUND WITH TEAMMATE? She only skimmed the article but the message was loud and clear: she’d been caught red-handed cheating on a man she’d never dated with Kris Letang and one of Sidney’s anonymous teammates was the source. Forget that Loren was a professional and obviously more than Sidney’s arm candy. Forget that there had never been any proof that she and Sid were more than business acquaintances. Forget that the only evidence of a so-called affair with Kris was a photo of them at lunch (and even that only showed the back of her head) and a bullshit he-said-she-said story. Robbie Campbell just lost Loren her job.

This went beyond that, though. Robbie cost her more than a contract and impressive paychecks. He turned everyone against her: Jordan, Kris (who undoubtedly was not able to take a blow like this), and the rest of the Penguins organization. The only one who seemed to still be in her corner was Sidney. While that might buy her a few extra hours to clean out her office, it wouldn’t do much in the grand scheme of things. Mario and Ray would clean up the situation on their own — she’d be long gone and back to Erie by that time that happened — and Sidney and Kris would maintain their pristine images. Loren would be nothing more than a bad taste in everyone’s mouth with no possible chance to redeem herself or tell her side of the story.

They’d replace her. Someone else would take her job. Knowing Mario, he’d never take a chance on anyone ever again. Sidney’s next publicist would be a male with a lengthy, impressive resume and no history of fucking up. The next girl Jordan went home with from a club would be someone the rest of his teammates knew and were familiar with on more than an exterior level. The next girl Kris expressed interest in would be a girl from back home — one that couldn’t name a single one of his teammates. The next lie Robbie told to a meaningless journalist would be about someone else who had no idea their world was about to come crashing down around them with no way to stop it.

Rhea’s words echoed in her mind: “You’re going to regret ever fucking with me.” She’d had this planned from the beginning. Not only was her brother her in with the National Hockey League, he was the devil’s advocate. He did her dirty work because she wasn’t in a position to do so. Ruining Loren’s life was almost too easy. There was no satisfaction in it because anyone could’ve done what Robbie did and got the same result. On top of that, how could Loren regret not doing anything wrong?

Through her panic-filled haze, Loren couldn’t see the positives. The first was that Robbie Campbell (or anyone in the Campbell family) would never play another NHL game. The second was that, unlike those who had conspired against her, she was able to look at herself in the mirror and know she’d done nothing wrong. She’d face the consequences of what she did not do but she wouldn’t have to answer to anyone for it. It would sting for a while but she’d move on eventually. However, the thought of someone filling her shoes made her heart ache.

Even though it’d been ten months of pure hell, Loren had adjusted to her new life. Driving Sidney to practice or to an appointment gave her something to look forward to. Giving press conferences filled her with pride. She was twenty-four and facing the masses with her head held high because she was doing what she loved, even if her clientele weren’t the easiest to get along with. In a short time, she’d made a name for herself. Now it was being tainted at someone else’s hand.

What would Sidney think of her now? What would Kris think? Poor Kris. The quiet, humble defenseman didn’t have skin thick enough to overcome such an accusation. He couldn’t afford to be thought of as the type to betray his captain, one of his closest friends, in such a horrific way. And her family. Just like Jordan, she had family back home who kept up with her every move. They swelled with pride just like Loren did at her achievements. Would they be upset with her or simply regard her as a victim of circumstance? She didn’t want their — or anyone else’s — pity. She worked hard to find her way in this business and if she was on her way out she’d find her way there, too.

Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she’d walk into Lemieux or Shero’s office and they’d give her a slap on the wrist and tell her to be more careful next time, even though there wouldn’t be one. Surely everything she’d done for Sidney would redeem her, right? It had to count for something. They couldn’t throw her away so quickly over something as juvenile as a vengeful rumor. But she didn’t know how they’d react, what her fate was, and that was the hardest part. She didn’t like the unknown.

All she could do was prepare for the worst as she readied herself to face the music, which, in this case, was orchestrated by two of the most intimidating men Loren had ever worked for. No amount of collegiate training could’ve prepared her for this. As confident and self-assured as she appeared on-camera, she was the exact opposite now. For the third time since she woke up, nausea made itself right at home in the pit of Loren’s stomach as she returned Mario and Ray’s calls.

Whatever fate had in store for her, she just hoped it’d be kind.