Retrouvailles

Martin watched as Sidney shuffled about his kitchen, that familiar determination apparent as if fixing lunch was Game 7 and not something he was doing on a Thursday afternoon. As his publicist, it was Martin’s job to make sure everything in Sidney’s life was going smoothly. It wasn’t. Martin hadn’t been given the same luxuries Loren had—the swank office at Consol, the ability to shadow Sidney at any given moment, or even his home telephone number—so he had to play it by ear. That wasn’t particularly hard given the rumors swirling around following Sidney’s stint in Philadelphia.

Sidney needed to know what to do, not only to alleviate the pressure on him to make a public statement, but to do the same for Loren. After being in the public eye for so long, Sidney knew how the media worked: they either got the story or forfeited their job. Knowing this barely kept him up at night, but it caused him a serious amount of grief. Now that Loren was involved it only amplified.

He plated two sandwiches—turkey and provolone for Martin, tomato for himself—and waited for Martin to say something. As rocky as their relationship had been from the beginning, Sidney had slowly grown to accept his presence. There would be no lustful advances were he to get fired, but they worked together all right.

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Martin said as he swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “I guess it’s better that it’s happening now instead of in the middle of the season, but it’s not ideal.”

Sidney rolled his eyes. He was so goddamn tired of people treating his relationship like the plague. It was bound to happen eventually; surely his fans and the media couldn’t have expected him to wait until he retired to fall in love. That wasn’t fair. He’d sacrificed so much throughout his career that he refused to let another opportunity pass him by. Why couldn’t anyone else understand that?

“I don’t really care if it’s the worst thing that could ever happen,” Sidney retorted, his cheeks growing warm with frustration. “I didn’t ask your opinion; I asked for professional advice, and you’re the professional.” He locked eyes with Martin before he added under his breath, “Supposedly.”

Martin valued his job too much to be offended. He’d butted heads with Sidney since the day he’d been hired and knew there was a slim chance of that changing. He wasn’t who Sidney wanted; there was barely any respect in simply filling someone else’s shoes. He wasn’t Loren.

“She knows how to handle the media. Let her do an interview, let the world get to know her. If you keep her a mystery it’s only going to make things worse.”

“You mean they won’t leave her alone.” Martin nodded. “Are you sure?”

Martin shrugged. “It’s a lose-lose situation, Sid. If she doesn’t talk, they keep calling until she does. Even worse, they’ll find someone who will, and from what I’ve gathered, she left a few skeletons in her closet back here in Pittsburgh.”

That much was true. Sidney was willing to bet all the money in his bank account that a certain Campbell family would sell out his girlfriend for a penny, let alone a high-profile, high-paying interview. They’d done it once; now that Robbie had nothing to keep him in check, there was no reason for them not to do it again.

“And if she does the interview?”

“They’ll find something about her to dislike.”

“What if I do it?”

“It wouldn’t have the same effect,” Martin said. “This time, it’s not you they want.”

Sidney sighed as he began pacing. Martin was right: it was a lose-lose situation and it was a well-known fact Sidney hated losing more than anything. For the first time in his life, he cursed himself for not doing this earlier. Sidney Crosby being in his first public relationship was front-page news; had this been his fourth, fifth, or millionth, it wouldn’t be so dramatic. He could see it now: Crosby seen in public with his third girlfriend this year, but who cares? She’ll be history in a few months anyway.

Maybe it would’ve been easier had he done what Flower or Jordan did and came to Pittsburgh already in a relationship. It surely would’ve desensitized the media and kept them from forbidding he have a girlfriend. However, he doubted it’d do much to curb everyone’s interest in his formerly-vacant love life.

“So what should I tell her?”

“Ultimately it’s your decision. Whatever happens, and I mean if she screws this up, it’s all going to come back on you. If you trust her, let her talk. If you’re not sure, tell her to hold off.”

“And you’re sure it wouldn’t help if it was me instead?”

“Of course it’d help,” Martin said, “but what I’m saying is it won’t keep them from still wanting a piece of her. They know you; she’s shiny and new.”

Sidney pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly at a loss. He’d learned all about hockey but never about any of this—how to make the right decision when every option was blatantly the wrong choice. After so long of playing the villain he figured he’d be used to it, not being able to please everyone, but this time it was different. This was more than highlight reels and NHL Awards and trophies. This was personal, and in the time he’d racked up becoming a champion, he’d forfeited the ability to be normal. Now he was dealing with the consequences.

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“What’s your gut say?”

“Let her do it.”

Martin nodded. “They’ll tear her apart. You at least know that much, right?”

“Why?”

“Know that when I say this I don’t mean to offend you or Loren, but to everyone on the outside, people who don’t know the two of you, it looks bad.” Sidney immediately moved to protest but Martin put up a hand to stop him. “I know, but just listen. When they go into these interviews, they’re not going to be thinking about how much of a fight she put up when it came to dating you. They’re going to see that she worked for you, and all those press conferences in which you denied having nothing to do with her, they’re going to come back and haunt you.”

“But we weren’t dating then.”

“Come on, Sidney. You should know better than anyone that the truth doesn’t stop a rumor. They don’t care about being factual, they care about selling copies.”

“Isn’t that libel? Couldn’t I sue them for that?”

Martin shrugged. “You could, but is that the route you really want to take? You’ve been on their side since you came up; now that Loren’s in the picture you’re going to take them head-on?”

“If they’re making up lies, they should be held responsible.”

“They should, you’re right, but trust me, you’re not the one to do it.”

Not in the mood for an argument—or at least a more intense one than he was currently having—Sidney merely grumbled. He tossed his untouched sandwich in the garbage and ran his plate under the faucet. Anything to distract him from the harsh reality that maybe this wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had. He knew he’d never regret being with Loren, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d moved too quickly.

“What else could they use against her?”

“The article that got her fired. Love triangles always sell, especially between teammates.”

Sidney sighed. “What else?”

“That endearing little comment you made during the playoffs. I can’t see that being anything other than a headline.”

“Fuck.”

“Look, you don’t have to deal with it right away. Have her change her number and use a different email account. Maybe by the end of the summer the hype will have died down.”

“You really believe that?”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? If things escalate you can always make the call then, but it’s a relationship, Sidney. She isn’t pregnant and you’re not getting married. If you were anyone else it wouldn’t matter. If you want people to see you as this normal guy you need to start acting like one. No press conferences or primetime specials whenever you get a girlfriend.” Martin began cleaning up after himself. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“No,” Sidney said. “Thanks, though. I, uh, appreciate it.”

Martin chuckled. “It’s my job, Sid. I know that fact drives you nuts but this is what I do.”

“Right,” Sidney acknowledged, hearing Mario’s voice in his head. Your job is to play hockey, kid. Let him take care of the rest. He wished it was that easy.

“I’ll be out of your hair now. If you have any questions, you have my number.”

Sidney nodded, showing Martin out. While it was nice of him to have dropped by, Sidney was even more confused than before he showed up. It seemed logical to follow his advice, to let the hype die down and go from there, but it didn’t feel right. He was a person of action; if this was the Stanley Cup he couldn’t sit by and wait for someone else to score the game-winning goal if he had the shot. Still, he knew it wasn’t only his decision. He’d gone through all of this for Loren. He had her to think of now, too.

He dialed her number, already sick to his stomach. If he remembered her schedule correctly, she should be on her lunch break, probably out somewhere with Sarah. God only knows what advice she was getting on her end.

“Hey.”

“Loren, hey.”

“Is something wrong?”

Sidney laughed nervously. “No, nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”

“You’re an awful liar, babe.”

“I just got done talking to Martin,” he said. Once again he was pacing around his kitchen, doing anything to keep him busy. “He, uh, gave me some advice.”

“Oh yeah? Anything good?”

“He said to wait it out, see if it dies down.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Change your number and email address.”

“Hmm. Probably not a bad idea.”

Sidney’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “So you agree with him then?”

“You think he’s full of shit?”

“I just want this to stop. I don’t see how ignoring the problem is gonna make it go away.”

Loren shrugged, though he couldn’t see her. “One of these days you’re gonna have to realize you’re a big deal. People want to know your every move, examine your life under a microscope. You being in a relationship is the big shebang; they’ve been waiting for this since you were a teenager.”

“Which is fine, Loren, but they need to leave you alone.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, sounding stress-free for the first time since Monday. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. Martin’s right; let’s just get through the summer and deal with things as they come.”

Anger was Sidney’s immediate reaction; frustration wasn’t far behind. Why weren’t they listening to him? What good was waiting going to do? He wanted to scream from the highest rooftop in Pittsburgh that he’d finally fallen in love and that he was proud to call Loren his, and they were trying to keep her hidden.

“No.”

“Sid—”

“Listen to me, Loren: I’m not keeping you a secret. I don’t care who you talk to, but do the interviews.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Do the fucking interview, Loren!”

“Don’t yell at me,” she replied calmly. “You’re frustrated—I get it. But look at what this is doing to you, Sidney. You’re this stressed and it’s not even playoffs. It’s not worth it.”

Sidney took a deep breath. “Do the interview,” he said, and then he hung up.

Loren didn’t bother calling him back, knowing it’d be another argument over nothing. Her limited time in her career taught her enough to know better than to oblige his request; Martin hadn’t been hired because he was bad at his job and gave awful advice. Doing an interview, at this point, would hurt more than it helped, mostly because if Loren went into it begrudgingly, it benefited no one. Still, she was stuck. Did she do what she knew was best or did she do what Sidney wanted? If she chose the former, she’d be getting it from all sides. Instead of just the media hounding her, so would her boyfriend.

More importantly, she knew she was only a hot topic because she was fresh. Those who didn’t know her wanted to; those who did were rolling their eyes and muttering what’s so great about her? under their breath. If she did this it was going to be on her terms, but that wasn’t a decision she was prepared to make right away. Sidney would get over his temper tantrum eventually, just like the media would get over their infatuation with her.

She finished her lunch and tossed the remnants in the garbage, eager to get back to her mundane life in which she was merely an office worker and not the girlfriend of a famous hockey player, all the while reminding herself that this was the life she’d chosen. Her relationship was about more than long-distance and compromise and emotions; sprinkle in some public appearances, charity events and suave dinner parties and that rounded out the majority of it.

Was it fair to think of it that way, of half parts “real” and have parts “for show”? She wouldn’t bother denying that she wanted no parts of the public eye—she’d had enough of that during her time in Pittsburgh—but that went along with the whole compromise thing.

“So what’s it like being a celebrity?”

Loren cracked a smile at Michaela’s joke. “Indescribably difficult.”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Michaela started, leaning over the side of Loren’s cubicle, “but Jeff Carter had this girlfriend once. You know about Jeff, right?” Loren semi-nodded, reluctant to admit she’d only heard horror stories. “Well, he gets this girlfriend and she shows up at the Stanley Cup Final back in 2010 like it’s a goddamn red carpet event. She’s trying to talk to all the media personnel, the bloggers—pretty much anyone she can force to pay attention to her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know, really,” Michaela laughed, “I guess I’m just glad that’s not you.”

“Are they still together?”

“God, no. He dumped her the next day.”

Loren snorted. “How many times has that happened?”

“A lot. Most of the girls don’t really know how to deal with it. I guess it’s different for you because of your job, but…”

“It’s still hard,” Loren finished for her. “I don’t really know what to do.”

“Maybe this is one of those things that doesn’t have a right answer.”

Loren went to reply before Brian snipped at them to get back to work. Michaela offered her a warm smile before retreating to her desk, leaving Loren to wonder if she was right. If there was no right answer, then what the hell was she supposed to do?