Horns Sound

Madeline was the last person allowed into the room, and she stood behind a middle aged woman who was trying to pass for thirty. They were both waiting to meet two members of the Chicago Blackhawks. And the monstrosity ahead of her in line was the only thing keeping her sane, the only thing capable of distracting Madeline of her impending fate. The woman, Bonnie, tried flirting with the players, but they brushed off every attempt. A few even had the audacity to eye other, younger, women nearby. Madeline clenched her jaw tightly, it was all she could to not blatantly laugh at the insanity unfolding. The line crept forward slowly.

When Bonnie got her chance, she placed her orange tanned hands on the table and seductively eyed the Hawks captain. Before, Bonnie only had the opportunity to give him longing glances from afar and now she was wooing him face to face, straddling the intimate space the plastic conference table allotted. Madeline shifted uncomfortably, which most mistook as pity for the strange woman ahead of her. She eyed the beige clothed wrapped tightly around her ankle and foot before popping her hip, and putting most of her body weight over her right foot. While still cautiously eyeing the fading bruises Madeline was interrupted by indignant screams. “You can’t kick me out. I didn’t really try to smell his hair. It’s an ongoing joke between he and I, I swear.” Bonnie’s legs flailed as she was dragged out of the white cinderblock lined room.

“Sorry about that.” A different voice dragged her back to sane reality. Her head whipped around and froze. Jonathan Toews was talking directly to her. She cleared her throat and spoke to him confidently.

“She was fucking insane,” Madeline realized what she had said, quickly covered her mouth and muttered “sorry.” He chuckled deeply and replied smoothly.

“I’m a hockey player, swearing’s part of the job description. And she was crazy, so at least you weren’t wrong.” Mentally she was still trying to recover from the swearing incident, all Madeline could manage was a shy smile and a nasally sigh. She opened her mouth to talk, but Jonathan interrupted her.

“Did you want me to sign that?” He gestured toward the picture in her right hand. She nodded her head in response and placed the picture on the table before taking a step back. Jonathan took notice. “They won’t take you away, unless you plan on trying to invade my personal space to smell me.” He glanced up at her through his light brown eyelashes to reveal kind milky brown eyes. Her fears melted away instantaneously and Madeline smiled in response to his joke.

“I mean if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t be opposed...” She shrugged leaving the conversation for Jonathan to continue. He finished signing the picture and handed it back to her.

“I might have to take you up on that offer. I have a smelling fetish.” He winked and Madeline raised an eyebrow suggestively before another voice chimed in from down the table.

“Tazer, you get all the crazies and all the beautiful women. It’s just not fair.” Madeline responded to the comment before looking to see whose mouth it came from.

“And which category would I fall under Mr.--,” finally her head turned to the right and she saw the man who had joined the game, “Saad.” She was no longer smiling. He was the player she had come here to meet, and he was now part of an absurd roleplay egged on by the Captain of the Chicago Blackhawks. Madeline shook her head to physically force the nervous train of thought away. The corners of his mouth twitched and he spoke without hesitation.

“Unless you’ve just escaped from a mental institution, I’d say you’d fall under the beautiful women category.” Madeline’s teeth scraped across her bottom lip as Brandon drew out the word beautiful.

“I’d say today is not your day,” she paused and both players looked at her intrigued by what would follow, “because there’s a team of very large men in white suits waiting to take me back to the asylum.” Her arms went behind her back and she rocked on her heels innocently.

“Man, Saad you’ve got the worst luck.” Jonathan moved behind the table to pat his friend on the back and to remove himself from the room. Brandon eyed the picture in Madeline’s hand. She followed his gaze and placed the item on the table. He started to scribble his name onto the laminated paper, stopped and looked up at her.

“How about we go and get a cup of coffee, maybe talk a little and then I’ll finish the rest of my signature?” He capped the black Sharpie knowing what her response would be. Madeline’s eyebrows furrowed and she sighed nervously.

“I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.” Brandon got up from the black folding chair and slid the picture into his grasp.

“And here I was, thinking I was giving you a few more moments of freedom before you had to go back to your padded cell, and you’re painting me as a villain.” He walked out from behind the table to truly stand next to her. “You do have a choice, I just want to keep talking to you,” he grabbed the Sharpie from the table and finished his signature with the picture pressed against his mid-thigh, “here.” Madeline grabbed the picture with relief, and Brandon turned to walk out of the room.

“My name’s Madeline.” She half-shouted before she winced at the loudness of her voice. He turned around a brilliant smile on his face.

“Brandon.” He took a step toward her and extended his hand. She shook it loosely and walked forward through the doorframe. Security guards were still hovering in the fluorescently lit room. Brandon followed suite.

“So,” Madeline said once they were out of earshot, “how about that coffee?” Brandon placed a hand on her elbow and guided them down the street to Lemonjellos. It was a local coffee shop, and they regretted going in as soon as they spotted the large mob of hipsters enthusiastically listening to really shitty poetry. But, they stayed to drink burnt coffee, get to know each other and above all else, mock those who think they’re too cool to do anything “mainstream.”