The Sake of the Show

“Oh for crying out loud, what the hell was that?” Blair muttered, her fingers speedily racing across the keyboard as she raced to get the last couple of bills into the system. It was a moderately slow day so far at the dentist’s office, and she wanted to finish early so she could spend the rest of her day daydreaming. Productivity at it’s finest. She heard the crashing noise once more, and spotted a young man stumbling into view. He whacked his toe against the door frame, letting out a curse.

She scrambled to her feet, pushing open the little swinging door that allowed her to exit the office area. She ran to the stranger, grabbing him by the arm to steady him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, de nubbing stuff makes me funny,” He let out a laugh, a little drip of spit trailing down his chin. “I can’t think straight.”

“Oh god, you probably weren’t supposed to leave yet. Here, how about you sit down for a little while and call someone to pick you up.” Blair steered the blonde man toward the waiting room, letting out a groan as he lost his balance and treaded on her sneaker-clad foot. She let out a sigh as she watched him drool through a lazy smile, scuttling to her desk and grabbing some tissues to help him clean his chin up.

“I’m so sorry,” He struggled to speak through his numb mouth, dabbing clumsily at his chin. “I’m so sensitive to that anesthesia stuff.”

“No, no! It’s fine, it happens all the time. Is there anyone you can call to come pick you up, or should I fetch a cab for you? It’s definitely not safe for you to drive anytime soon.” She asked, watching as he shook his head and reached into his pocket for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts for a few moments, concentrating intensely on the content for a few moments.

“Could you call for me?” He asked. “I don’t want to be made fun of.”

“Uh, sure.” Blair muttered awkwardly, taking his expensive smart phone into her hands and shakily pressing the call button. After a few rings, a guy answered.

“What the fuck do you want, Patrick?” The guy snapped loudly. She cringed, swallowing a ball of nerves as she cleared her throat.


“I’m Blair Bailey, I’m a receptionist at Dr. Evans’s office. Uh... Patrick got some dental work done here, and he’s unable to drive. He was inquiring if you could give him a ride home.” She spoke stiffly and nervously, afraid of whoever was on the other line. He sounded... combative.

“Oh fu- I’m so embarrassed, I’m so sorry Miss Bailey. I didn’t mean-”


“No, it’s fine. You’re fine.” Blair waved him off lightly, giving Patrick a nervous smile. “Will you be able to come get your, uh, friend?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” The man mumbled, disconnecting the call. She handed the phone back to the drooling man.

“I’m so sorry about that. This sucks.” He grumbled moodily, letting out a groan as he bit his tongue. He continued to dab at his wet chin, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. Blair pretended she didn’t notice, returning to her desk to finish up her work. It was almost lunch time, and she wanted to be finished. If she had to file one more bill...

“I’m Patrick, by the way. I feel like I should properly introduce myself.” Patrick wobbled slightly as he held onto the counter top, his head clearly still fuzzy.

“Blair.” She smiled warmly, looking up from her work for a brief moment.

“So, are you like from London or something?” Patrick had followed me, propping his elbows on the ledge as he stared down at her. “It’s the accent. Sorry, I’m antsy.”


Blair couldn’t hold back her laugh at how silly he sounded. “No, you’re fine. But I’m not from London, I’m from Manchester actually.”

“That’s close?”

“Actually not very close at all,” She teased him, chuckling as his cheeks turned even redder. “It’s a common American misconception.”

“Don’t stereotype me,” He scoffed indignantly. “What brought you to Chicago of all places? Seems like a random move.”

She tried to hide her silent chuckles, but she was sure he could still see her shoulders bouncing with mirth. “I actually came here for uni, I went to Columbia to study fashion. I actually planned on moving to New York after I graduated, but I like it here. Chicago’s very lovely.”

Patrick grinned at her answer. “How’d you end up in a dentist’s office, then? That’s not fashion.”

“I see the anesthesia wore off a bit already,” Blair joked.

“I just don’t do well right after they bring me too.” Patrick rebutted.

“I’m sure,” She snickered, typing in the last biller’s address and saving the information. “But breaking into the fashion industry is hard. This pays the bills, I can’t be too gutted about it.”

“Can’t argue that.” He shrugged nonchalantly. The two continued to make small talk as the last patient before lunch left, Dr. Evans sending Blair a confused look as he passed her to go into his office and grab his car keys. She motioned that she’d lock the place up and he left, off to enjoy his two hour break from diving into people’s mouths. “I’m sorry he’s taking so long.”

“You’re fine. It’s not like I had any big plans anyway.” She shrugged. Pat attempted to smile, but his numb lip created a form of half-grin on his face. She bit down on her tongue painfully.

“So sorry I’m late.” A voice called out as the door chime rang, the loud steps crossing the threshold of the waiting area and approaching my desk. A taller, dark haired man appeared into view with a five o’ clock shadow that somehow complimented his adorable facial features well. When he met Blair’s eyes, he blanched. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I swore at you on the phone. I though it was Pat-”

“Relax, I understand.” She chuckled easily, grabbing her purse from underneath the desk.

“Where are you going?” Patrick asked as she stood.

“It’s lunch time, mate. This is a dentist office, not a restaurant.” She chided him lightly, casting his friend a sideways glance as she gathered up to leave. His friend was surveying her neutrally, watching her movements as she exited the office area.

“Let us take you out to lunch!” Patrick insisted. For some ungodly reason, Blair did not question this proposal and accepted. The entire duration of lunch, she and his friend (who introduced himself as Corey) laughed as food and beverage trickled down Patrick’s chin. They talked about various subjects, and cracked jokes that frequently went back to Patrick’s state of being.

It was certainly the strangest way Blair had ever made friends, but that day she made friends who certainly would spice up her life in America much more than she could ever anticipate.



It was a Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant no work which was the equivalence of a good day’s worth of sleep. Blair was making good on this practice until there was a knock on the door. She groaned loudly, rolling off of her bed and pulling her sore frame upright. She maneuvered through her apartment to the front door, throwing it open in frustration.

“Look at that Sleeping Beauty.” Patrick Kane drawled loudly, earning a cackle from his evil comrades as they all granted themselves access to her apartment. Viktor Stalberg, Andrew Shaw, and Nick Leddy stepped into view eyeballing her attire critically. She gave them each a glare that sent their eyes wandering.

“Shut up, Kaner. Why are you and your cronies here? I told you this was a personal day.” Blair grumbled, running a hand through her hair. “I haven’t gotten my tea yet, you’re treading on thin ice.”

The peanut gallery snickered at the pun. Patrick ignored the sass, getting straight down to business. “Leddy here is going out on a date, and we need your fashion advice.”

“Are you bloody serious? Viktor dresses better than I do, what do you need me for?” She groaned, running a hand through her hair once again as she strolled into the kitchen. She fumbled with putting a kettle on the stove, listening as they all bickered about Viktor’s alleged sense of style.

“You’re the one with a fashion degree,” Viktor pointed out, rummaging through the things on her counter top. He found gold when he lifted a tupperware container full of scones. “Did you make these?”

“Yes, they won’t kill you.” Blair bit, watching with confused eyes as Shaw seemingly pulled out a thick garment bag out of the thin air. “What the-”

“We gathered a few options to try first. If these don’t work, we’re going shopping.” Andrew declared, seeming unfazed as she gaped at the three of them. As they unzipped the garment and began extracting various shirts and pants, she had all but to watch in awe as they all began discussing which items came from who. Her phone rang, tearing her away from the bizarre scene.

“‘Ello, Blair speaking. How may I be of assistance, Corey?”

“Why did your friends just ransack my closet and then leave? I was trying to sleep.” Corey grumbled moodily.

“Excuse moi? My friends? They’re clearly your mates, and they’re about to give me a free runway show so Nick can apparently look like a model for his date tonight. You should come over. It’s about to get good.” Blair mumbled, watching as Kane assembled a shirt and jacket combination and tossed it at Leddy. “You all are too bored with this lockout business!”

“Is it a sin to want to look good, Blair? Because you’re making it seem like it.” Nick growled at her playfully, taking the clothing choices and heading down the hallway to her bathroom.

“Wow,” Corey muttered, his voice groggy from sleep. “If you promise to make me breakfast, I’ll be there in ten.”

“See you.” Blair hung up noncommittally, eyeballing Patrick who sat adjacent to her on a plush, leather recliner. “Can I help you?”

“No.” Patrick shrugged, grinning at her coyly. She engaged in a staring contest with him, ignoring the muffled complaints coming from the bathroom.

“Why are you giving me that look?”

“Cause. You know why.” Patrick sneered, glancing at his phone. He made a panicked face, setting it screen down on the arm rest. “Johnny’s mad. We rang his doorbell at 8 o’clock this morning.”

“I’m surprised you all escaped unscathed.” She remarked.

“I think he held back in case we play again.” Patrick muttered, his face falling slightly. Blair couldn’t help how bad she ached for him and the rest of the boys. It was obvious how much they all missed being away from the game. Everyone was starting to discuss going overseas to continue playing, something that made Blair sad. Over the few months that she’d gotten to know them, she’d become close with a good handful of them. Her life would be significantly more dull without them harassing her with their spontaneous antics.

“You guys will play soon, don’t worry.” Blair assured him. She had yet to watch the boys play really; when she first met Patrick and Corey their season was over and they’d had an early playoff exit. The lockout postponed her attendance to her very first hockey game.

“I hope so,” Patrick sighed heavily. There was a loud series of thumps, and the other boys returned into the living room. Nick looked stiff in a pair of skinny jeans and a button down shirt tucked into the waistband. Blair let out a scream of horror before bursting into a fit of giggles. Nick looked less than pleased, standing with his arms akimbo as Viktor and Andrew wore their best poker faces.

“Oh Nick, you look dreadful!” Blair squealed, hiding her eyes from the horrid sight.

“My friends are making me look like a frickin’ idiot, B.” Nick groaned. “I look like Bob Saget.”

Blair tilted her head to the side in confusion, sort of like a dog would do. He rolled his eyes, “Haven’t you lived? Bob Saget? The dude that played the father on Full House, that show with the Olsen twins?”

“Er, I’ve heard of it but never watched.” She shrugged, ignoring the looks the American players shot her. Viktor looked just as lost as her.

“Hey guy- Nick, you look stupid. Did Kaner dress you?” Corey entered the room, dangling Blair’s spare key from his keyring. Nick huffed dramatically, spinning out of the room cursing about Blair making no effort to help him.


Patrick gasped dramatically. “What are you trying to say about me?”

“Nothing,” Corey mumbled, moving Blair’s legs off of the couch and sitting down before laying them across his lap. He gave her a smile, the two rolling their eyes on account of Patrick. “Just saying. You’re no fashion star.”

“What he said,” Blair shrugged. Patrick growled indignantly, throwing his hands up in the air with a flourish.

“I was wondering when you would get here. I hope you don’t mind we helped ourselves.” Andrew beckoned for Nick, who strolled out in a powder blue shirt that was definitely from their goaltender’s closet. Corey let out a groan.

“No, no. Just help yourself.” He grumbled, watching as Nick modeled the shirt. Blair let out a huff, swinging her legs off of Corey’s lap and approaching the apprehensive boy.

“Nick, you need to change your pants. I don’t know what Viktor’s playing at-”

“Hey!”

“Those pants are not working for you. Please, change them. I’m experiencing secondhand embarrassment for you right now.” Blair instructed, pinching the bridge of her nose as Viktor continued to complain. Nick breathed a sigh of relief, leaving the room with a bit more confidence in his step.

There was a loud crash, followed by a hurried apology from Nick.

Being friends with these crazy guys had become a full-time that had responsibilities and benefits that Blair didn’t even know existed... yet.