When Hearts Are on the Line

“That doesn’t look good” Greg says as we watch Sean Bergenheim deliver hit to the head to my next door neighbor. Instantly the crowd around us is up in arms. I mean sure, LA doesn’t have a large hockey fan base considering their population but those who like the game, are pretty intense.

“Yeah that looked pretty brutal.” I say as I watch Mike slash Bergenheim.

“Oh my god they’re going to fight, like right in front of us” Greg squeals as he bounces up and down his seat.

It wasn’t really a fight it was more like some light wrestling between Mike and Weiss but this game hasn’t exactly been the most eventful. We’ll take what we will get.

“Aren’t you his girlfriend you should say something.” says the older lady behind me in a Matt Greene jersey.

“He and I aren’t together.” I say simply.

The lady raises a penciled in eyebrow “Really?”

“Yeah really.” I respond before watching some guy named Trent Hunter skating to the penalty box to serve Mike’s four minutes for roughing and slashing.

“Wait, why does he have to serve Mike’s penalties?” Greg asks as I watch Mike walk down the tunnel and into the dressing room.

That wasn’t a good sign “That’s why.” I say wondering how bad it is. He’s my friend of course I worry about him; I worry about all my friends when they get injured. Although most of my friends aren’t professional athletes so injuries don’t happen that often.

Third period starts and I can’t see a black jersey with a giant 10 on the back anywhere and I feel uneasy as my mind drifts to the worst case scenario. It couldn’t be right?

“Hi, are you Ambrosia Li?” asks a twenty-something year old asks me midway through the third period. She’s wearing one of thosee black t-shirt that all the Kings staff are required to wear.

I don’t know how many times I’ve been asked that in the last 6 months but I know its probably the same amount of times I’ve wanted to answer the question with a no “Yes,” I reply a little reluctantly.

“I’m Becca, I’m an usher for the Kings and Mike Richards has told me to tell you that he needs you in the dressing room” the girl replies looking down at her clipboard.

Almost instantly everyone within a six seat radius begins their speculative whispering “I SWEAR NOTHING IS GOING ON BETWEEN ME AND MICHAEL RICHARDS!!!” I yell probably loud enough for the entire lower bowl to hear me and I’m pretty sure I caught a couple glances from the bench of hockey players.

“Okay…just follow me” Becca says and I’m pretty sure I hear Greg talking to the lady from before as soon as my back is turned. Surely they’re not talking about me.

Becca has to lead me through all the secret hallways in the Staples Center, we probably could’ve jumped over the railing and walk though the tunnel and be there ten minutes sooner but I don’t think that would be very ladylike.

When I finally see him sitting in his stall, out of his gear, he isn’t looking so good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable “Hey” I say softly.

“Hey.” He replies moving some stuff over so I could sit down. “Ambrosia, I’m going to give you some classified information, okay?”

“Okay,” I tell him looking into his hazel eyes “I promise, Mike, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well, after the second period, they took me into the quiet room and…it doesn’t look good.” He says more than a little frustrated.

“Hello there,” says a man entering the room and clutching a folder.

“Hi, I’m Amber Li.” I wonder if Madonna ever introduces herself as “Madonna.

Come to think of it, when I was decorating Madonna’s penthouse she never introduced herself she just sat down and told me what she wanted. “So you’re the one Mr. Richards had as his emergency contact“ Wait, what? I’m his emergency contact? “Hello Ms. Li, I am Dr. Fitzgerald, the physician of the LA Kings. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Mr. Richards will be out with a concussion, or as the team will call it ‘an upper body injury’. So I’m afraid that he will be out for at least a week and be missing a couple of games.”

I nod and look over at Mike who’s staring at his feet “Now as with all concussion cases, he will require someone to look after him for the first 48 hour and wake him up every two hours. You should also be on the look out for erratic behaviour and call 911 if he cannot be woken up. After those 48 hours I advice you to continue checking up on him but perhaps less frequently. Can you manage that?”

“Of course.”

“Okay then, after the week is over just bring him back here and we’ll see how he’s doing. You two may leave now.” Dr. Fitzgerald says.

I text Greg telling him not to wait up for me as Mike and I walk to the player’s parking lot “Do you mind driving?” asks Mike holding the keys to his BMW out to me.

“Of course not,” I tell him as I get into the driver’s seat. “Do you mind if I...?” I ask gesturing to the distance I am away from the steering wheel.

“Yeah change whatever you want.” Mike says as I fiddle around with levers that control the seat.

“Listen Amber, I’m sorry.” Mike sounds exasperated.

“Sorry for what?” I ask as I pull out of the Staples Center.

“Making you my emergency contact. I know this is probably going to be a burden to you but we needed someone who lived in LA who wasn’t on our team and the first person I though of was you. I can call my mom and she can be here in the morning and you wont have to take care of me tomorrow…”

Is rambling one of the points of the list of concussion symptoms? “Mike, stop, I honestly don’t mind watch over you for the next couple of days, Saks is ordering another season of my furniture so I have tons of stuff I can do at home. Plus I don’t want your mom to have to buy tickets for a flight at two in the morning. It’ll be fine, you’re staying over at my place, right?” I ask as I pull into my driveway.

“Looks that way.” Mike says “So I’ll just go over and pack a duffle bag and bring Arnold over.”

“Great, I’ll get the guest room ready.” I say as I watch Mike cut through the hedges.

Honestly I don’t go into my guest room too often, I can’t remember the last time I was in here. I take a fluffy duvet from my hall closet, and walk back into the rarely used room. “Oh.” I say to myself as I see Richards’ silhouette filling a bag with clothes, just like he said he would. I forgot that the guest room was the one that faced his house. Oh fuck, I remember, the last time I was in here was to basically spy on Mike Richards having sex with Ashley. I finally see Mike shut off his light and I realize that I should probably continue my preparations instead of spacing out.

“Hey,” Mike says with Arnold following closely behind him.

“Hi,” I say as I check the drawers in the antique dresser to make sure they were empty. I mean we wouldn’t want him to find my panties in there or anything.

“You can see my house from here.” Mike mentions.

“I hadn’t noticed” I say as I check the last drawer,

“Really?” Mike asks giving me a smirk “what are you looking for anyway?”

“My panties” I mumble a little too loud.

“I have to go.” I say trying to leave the room as quickly as possible.

“Wake me up in two hours!”

I look at the clock on the wall, okay so at 12:20 in the morning.

“And I’ll let you know if I find your panties” Mike says making me smile just a little as I close the door on him and Arnold.