Illusions

“That top looked great on TV,” Rhea deadpanned as soon as her roommate walked through the front door.

It was nearing eight-o’clock — not an odd hour for Loren to be strolling in, but definitely strange when all she had to knock out was a press conference. One look at the girl and Rhea could tell something was off. Something had happened. Her bets were instantly on Sidney except she didn’t look defeated. For the first time in what felt like forever, Loren was smiling. The cheshire grin looked foreign, ancient, across her thin face. It’d been so long since she smiled that way.

“What?”

“The shirt you’re wearing,” Rhea repeated, taken aback by Loren’s obliviousness. “Should I book a flight back to Earth for you? You’re on Cloud Nine.”

“I am not.”

Loren moved from the doorway into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer before making her way into the living room where her best friend was seated. As she settled in, Rhea couldn’t ignore the scent of cologne that stuck to her clothes. It wasn’t Sidney’s — she’d been around him plenty of times before and it was too subtle — so the context clues lead her to believe she’d gone on a date.

“Who’s the lucky man?”

Loren morphed into a tomato, her blush reaching all the way down her neck. “What are you talking about?”

“I bet it was Geno,” Rhea joked. “Just because he’d rather fuck you than talk to you.”

“Be nice to him!” Loren scolded, though it was fruitless. “He’s doing the best he can.”

Rhea held her hands up in defense. Jokes weren’t the best tactic when trying to extract information from Loren. She was like a bank vault: highly trustworthy, impossible to crack, top-of-the-line defense mechanisms. One day someone would come along and know the exact combination to enter, making all of her best-kept secrets flutter to the ground, but for now all Rhea could do was prod gently and hope for the best.

“You walk in on me mid-orgasm and you can’t even tell me who you went out with?”

Loren still hadn’t fully recovered from the kitchen incident. Every time she’d see Jordan her face would turn beet red and her palms would start sweating. It was ridiculous, really, as it wasn’t even her that had gotten caught. That type of reaction should’ve been reserved for the two bodies involved but neither of them seemed to mind. Loren supposed that type of indifference came about when you were totally comfortable with yourself. If sex wasn’t a big deal, neither was voyeurism. Well, maybe. She was sure Jordan wasn’t allowed to take that stance, as a sex tape could very well be crippling to his career, but Rhea didn’t have such responsibilities.

“I just went to lunch with Kris.”

“Letang?”

“How many do you know?”

Rhea shrugged. “A handful maybe. Only one or two personally.”

This was nothing new for the pair. Rhea, the blonde bombshell she was, would openly discuss her exploits with anyone who would listen. She didn’t brag, never once stopping to name-drop her latest endeavor. Instead, she told her stories to Loren in a highly comical way, trying to make her realize sex wasn’t one of those things that had to happen because you’d been dating a guy for a year or so and it was just the next logical step. If Rhea was Jenna Jameson, exposed with not an ounce of shame to show, Loren was Eleanor Roosevelt, reserved and distrusting.

“You’re crude.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

Loren topped off her beer, standing to fetch another. “I can’t imagine why. Your picture is probably in the dictionary next to the definition of class.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

A puff of breath was the only reply Rhea was going to get. Whatever was going on between Loren and Kris had no substance, the former’s choice of employers being the great divide. As much as Loren deserved a healthy, fun relationship — one that Kris would undoubtedly provide her with — Rhea knew better than to think anything would come of it. Still, that didn’t stop her from poking fun. She couldn’t remember the last time Loren had gone on a date.

“There’s nothing to talk about, really. He asked if I wanted to get something to eat after I was done with the press conference.”

“And all you two did was have lunch and talk?”

“Pretty much,” Loren nodded. She rummaged through the drawers of the kitchen in search of a bottle opener. “Until Captain Dickhead ruined it, anyway.”

“Nice nickname,” Rhea commented, “you think that one up yourself?”

“Sure did.”

“What’d he do this time?”

“He called and demanded I return to the rink to pick him up and take him home.”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “God forbid he wanted to spend time with you, Lo.”

“What? Why would he want to spend time with me?”

“I don’t know. Why do bears shit in the woods?”

“Because that’s where they live.”

“Look,” Rhea started, joining her friend in the kitchen, “I know it may seem like some ludicrous idea, but there’s obviously a reason he called you.”

“He’s a douche?”

“No. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that when a boy picks on a girl it’s because he has a crush on her?”

Loren scoffed. “Yeah. And then I graduated kindergarten.”

Rhea broke the tops off both bottles and took a seat at the island. “Why does he let you drive him everywhere if he doesn’t want to spend time with you?”

“Because—”

“Why are you the first person he calls whenever he needs something?”

“Because I—”

“Why do you sit through his doctor appointments when there’s a million other things you could be doing?”

“Rhea, it isn’t like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

Loren sighed, unsure of how to describe her relationship with Sidney. “It’s just — I don’t know how to explain it, okay? But it isn’t like how you’re saying.”

“You can’t tell me you just work for him.”

“I do.”

“And all you do is teach him how to talk nicely to others?”

When Rhea had something in her mind, she stuck with it. There was no sense in arguing with her. She’d been on the debate team throughout high school and struck fear in anyone who had to go up against her. She could’ve been a great lawyer if she had the drive to go through with the schooling but she had other plans for herself. Plans that included hockey games, clubs, and men instead of prestigious universities, all-nighters in the library, and six-figure salaries. The only bar she’d be examining was whichever one the Pens were drinking at.

Rhea was the type of girl that could destroy a man. She was the type of girl Loren instructed Sidney to keep a ten-mile radius from. Bad press, bad reputation, bad image — that was all Rhea was to a publicist. To a hockey player she was a dream: killer body, didn’t want to be tied down, understood the game. However, those who didn’t know Rhea as well as Loren did could only take her at face value. There was something worth seeing deep down, something Rhea used alcohol and one-night-stands to cover up.

Before the conversation could go any further, Loren’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She groaned, yearning for one night away from the real world, before digging it out. As much as Jordan and Rhea chastised her for putting her job before all else, it was what paid the rent and kept beer in the fridge.

One New Message: Sidney

Loren didn’t read it, just stuffed her phone back in her pocket. The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense; Rhea wanted to finish their conversation, Loren wanted to do anything but. They were both trying to figure out a way to get what they wanted and kept coming up short. Rhea could easily get under Loren’s skin, pushing the one button she previously knew better than to push. Loren could use Sidney as an excuse, citing a night out she had to chaperone or an old press conference she had to critique.

Her phone buzzed again.

Two New Messages: Sidney (2)

“I have to go,” Loren said to her roommate, who was still sitting at the island.

“Sid?”

Loren nodded. A knowing look flashed across Rhea’s features and it ignited a flame of annoyance within Loren. Everyone thought they knew everything there was to know about her. They knew she’d drop what she was doing as soon as Sidney came calling. They knew she worked too heard and never reaped the benefits. They knew absolutely nothing, really.

The walk to her car was short, the beer not even putting a dent in her sobriety. This wasn’t how her evening was supposed to play out. Sidney wasn’t supposed to beckon for her so late, just go about his superstar life and not think twice about her. Yet she was answering, scrambling to her car so she could call him in private and see what it was he needed. What he needed. Sidney Crosby didn’t need anything except a clean bill of health and a return date.

The phone rang once before he picked up. “You called.”

“You sound impressed.”

If Loren could see the way he was rubbing the back of his neck she would’ve apologized for the bitter tone of her voice. “I figured you’d be looking for a new job after the way I acted this afternoon.”

“I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind.”

“Can you — could you maybe, uh, come get me?”

Loren glanced at the clock built into her dashboard. “Now?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

She sighed before putting the car into drive and heading toward Sidney’s part of town. Hell, all of Pittsburgh was his part of town, but this was the part only a few knew. “I’ll be there soon.”

That’s all it took for Sidney’s head to start swirling, his stomach to clench, and his palms to get clammy. He could’ve bet two million dollars she wouldn’t show up, that she’d tell him to fuck off and find someone to take her place. The way Jordan had acted he figured he’d screwed up for the last time. Maybe he knew more about women than Jordan; he was certainly no Don Juan, as he wasn’t allowed much practice when it came to members of the opposite sex, but he was doing all right for now.

He hadn’t really mapped out the night, just willy-nilly sent two text messages asking her to call him. Even that seemed a bit much. He could’ve sent one and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach when it went unreturned. He could’ve done this in two days when she took him to his appointments. What he’d done ate at him, though, and he knew he couldn’t wait two days to apologize for it. By then it’d be water under the bridge and he’d feel like an idiot bringing up something that happened two days earlier.

A pair of headlights shone through the front window and he sighed, knowing it was now or never. Did he invite her in? Did he meet her at the car? He wasn’t used to this. Jordan would know what to do; so would Max. Max wouldn’t apologize with words, though. Sidney wasn’t ready for that. Not even close.

He pulled the front door open and made his way outside. Pittsburgh always seemed cold, no matter what season it was supposed to be. Nova Scotia wasn’t much better.

“You wanna come in?” he asked through the open window, jabbing his thumb in the direction of his large house. Too large for just him.

“I — Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Sidney laughed despite himself. “I’m not going to lay any moves on you.”

“That’s true,” Loren agreed as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “You have absolutely no game.”

He waited for her to step out of the large SUV before shutting the driver’s side door behind her. As it was his house and she’d never been there before he walked ahead of her, concentrating on taking one step at a time so he didn’t trip and fall on his face. One would think walking on solid ground was the easiest thing a hockey player had to do — if they could glide across the ice as gracefully as they did, walking should be no problem, but Sid’s nerves were tearing him apart.

“Nice place,” Loren commented, stepping into the large foyer.

“Er, thanks.” He made his way into the kitchen, figuring it was the safest room in the house. “Want anything to drink?”

“What do you have?”

Sidney pulled the refrigerator open. “Water, orange juice, milk, protein shakes—”

“Does anything in there have an alcohol content level higher than zero?”

“I have a bottle of wine Flower and Vero gave me.”

Loren grinned. “That’ll work.”

As Sidney pulled two wine glasses out of a cabinet, Loren took a look around. The kitchen was gorgeous: black marble countertops, chrome appliances, not a speck of dust to be seen. To the untrained eye it looked like someone had just cleaned it, but Loren knew better: no one lived there. Not like it deserved to be lived in, at least. Sidney was usually only home long enough to take a shower and go to bed, the rest of his time being spent in hospitals and hockey rinks. That was the life he’d signed up for and he didn’t dare complain. It was a shame, though.

“For you,” Sidney said as he slid a glass of red wine in front of Loren. She’d taken a seat on a stool under the counter of the island, just like the one in her apartment. Her kitchen wasn’t as fancy or spacious but it served its purpose. “I don’t know how it’s going to taste. It’s kind of old.”

“Do you know nothing about wine?”

“Well, I don’t drink much of it.”

Loren smiled. “It’s supposed to get better with age.”

Hopefully just like our relationship Sidney wanted to say but he stopped himself. That wasn’t the transition he wanted to use. It was too corny, too forward. He imagined this apology a million times. He knew the way his hands would work, how his body language would read, how obvious the sincerity would be in his eyes. The only factor he was still unsure of was Loren’s reaction.

“Look, Loren, I wanted to apologize.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “For what?”

“For earlier. I was an ass.”

“Yes you were,” she agreed, finally swallowing. “But why start apologizing now?”

Sidney sighed, knowing he’d have to answer for his actions eventually. “Because you let me get away with acting like a superstar. When you called me on my shit today I realized what a dick I’ve been and it’s not right.”

There was no hint of an ulterior motive behind his eyes; he was telling the god’s honest truth. But it just didn’t make sense. Even though Sidney had just explained why he chose now, of all times, to apologize, Loren had a hard time believing it. They’d been working together for close to a year — a year filled with arguments, frustration, headaches. Sid wasn’t an idiot. His parents hadn’t raised him to be a fame tyrant, thinking he was superior to all because he was good at what he did. He would’ve known from day one that being a jerk was wrong.

“I appreciate your apology, Sidney, really, but—”

“No buts. Please.”

“Fine,” Loren shrugged, giving up the fight instantly. She wanted a night to relax, didn’t she?

“You don’t have to stay. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Loren smiled and swirled the crimson wine around in her glass. “This helps.”

After feeling on edge for so long, Sidney finally relaxed and hopped up on the counter across from where Loren was seated. He had no idea what time it was, only that tomorrow was an off-day for the two of them. There was an optional morning skate that he’d probably attend but that was it. A million ideas came to mind but he swatted them all away. He didn’t want to do anything.

“So, Jordan and your roommate, eh?”

Trying to keep a straight face proved futile as Loren began laughing. “You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

“And get the whole shebang along with it? No thanks.”

“No, really,” Loren insisted. “It was awful, yeah, but he looked like a deer in headlights.”

Sidney grinned. “I’m sure it was a sight.”

“And Rhea is easily a foot shorter than him so it looked like Andre the Giant going to town on one of those Lullaby League munchkins from The Wizard of Oz.”

“That’s disgusting. That’s probably the worst thing you’ve ever said.”

The sound of Loren’s laughter sent Sidney through the roof. He’d heard it once or twice before when she was talking to someone else in his presence but he’d never been the one to make her laugh. He noticed her glass was empty when she got up to put it in the sink. She stopped in front of him, fueled by liquid confidence, and jabbed a long finger into his chest.

“The worst thing I ever said was when I agreed to work with you.”

A twinkle in her eye told him she was joking. The smirk that followed confirmed this. They were okay now, on level ground — or so he hoped. He knew it’d take more than wine and a subpar apology for her to forgive him entirely but he was up for the challenge. So much time had been wasted on unnecessary bickering; he never told her exactly how he felt about her. Not in the romantic sense but realistically. She had been his saving grace. Facing his concussion without her would’ve been a nightmare so bad he’d never sleep again.

There were so many things he wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to know. If they were friends he had a right to ask, didn’t he? There was always the possibility that she didn’t want to get too close, didn’t want to let that line between business and pleasure start to blur. He made friends with his teammates — who were essentially his coworkers — and it wasn’t weird. Why was Loren such a different story?

Eventually he came to his senses, realizing his silence had caused an awkward silence to fill the grandeur space. Loren had returned to her seat at the island, still looking about the place like she was sizing him up. Sidney wondered what she thought about him, about his house. Did it make him seem showy? Was it too much for just one person? What did her place look like? He’d never been there. Now things were one-sided, as she seemed to know much more about him than he knew about her.

“So, Loren…” She eyed him skeptically while he fumbled for a save. A shit-eating grin finally spread across his face as he thought up the only question that wouldn’t put him in the doghouse, “More wine?”