Wasted

“You were at lunch with Patrick Sharp and you didn’t get me his number?” another hostess, Maggie, gaped. “I read the post and I saw the picture. You were an arm’s length away!”

“First off, that would be so weird,” I held up my pointer before adding another. “And two, he’s married with a child!”

“I still hate you,” she grumbled before plastering on a happy smile for a young couple coming through the door.

I held in a laugh as she led them away. It had been a relatively slow night for a Sunday, the majority of our patrons having come in for an early dinner. Nearing nine o’clock, things were slowing down and soon, last call would be announced and we’d close down at ten.

With the lull in traffic through the waiting area, I slipped my phone out of my back pocket and checked the comments on my blog, smiling at a few and responding to a couple as well. I was only brought out of my blog world with the sudden gust of cold wind, signaling the opening of the door.

“Holy shit,” Maggie gasped under her breath and nudged me roughly.

“Huh?” I looked up with eyes wide. I saw our new customers and couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Jesus Christ, you guys. Stalking me much?”

“We just can’t stay away,” Brandon laughed. “But Sharpie and Abby had a babysitter and wanted to get out.”

Abby? Sure enough, a pretty blonde close to Sharp smiled at me encouragingly.

“Got get away every now and again,” Sharpie explained. “None of us have ever been here so we figured, why not?”

“Well we’re glad to have you at Peplum,” I smiled, giving a glance at Jon who watched me intently. I picked up enough menus for their large party and could feel Maggie staring daggers at me. “Oh, where are my manners?” I said sarcastically. “Maggie, you know who these hockey players are, but just in case, Brandon, Andrew, Patrick Kane, Patrick Sharp, his wife Abby, Corey Crawford, and Jonathan.” I paused a moment. “I’m sorry, but I’ll assume you’re Pat’s girlfriend and you’re Corey’s?” Two pretty girls around my own age nodded. “Nice to meet you all.”

I led them up a short flight of stairs and towards a private room. Hopefully, I’d spare them the prying eyes of our downstairs patrons. It was larger than they needed, but they could all spread out a little.

“You can all have a seat and your server will be right with you guys,” I placed their menus around the table. “But just a head’s up, we’ve got an hour before we shut down for the night.”

“And you won’t stay open late for us?” Jon teased.

“Yeah,” Brandon seconded. “How very rude.”

“Not when I have an eight a.m. class tomorrow,” I shook my head. “I’ll come back up before I clock out at the end of the night.”

I left them then, only to hear them ‘complaining’ about our closing time and that I was such a good student. I came down the steps to see Maggie still staring daggers at me.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“First,” she ticked off on her fingers. “You go to lunch with them days ago and you don’t get me anything! No pictures, autographs, or numbers! And then you forget to mention that his wife is gorgeous.”

I put my hands up. “I didn’t want to be an annoying fan! And their numbers? Come on, Mags. And I’d never even seen Patrick’s wife until about two seconds ago! Forgive me for being oh-so inconsiderate.”

She grumbled. “The least you could do is take me to a game. God knows you can afford it.”

“Hey,” I crossed my arms. “We talked about this. I like to be as self-sufficient as possible. I don’t exactly like calling on my parents for money.” I pointed to her designer purse under our small podium. “That was a gift from me to you, by the way. Remember?”

I’d come from well off parents. They’d made their fortunes selling real estate in New York City before moving back to their roots and having their only child; me. They’d never had a ton of time for me, instead having a driver or nanny chauffeur me around. My fondest memories were waving goodbye as I left for Northwestern- alone.

Maggie flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… maybe I’m just jealous?”

I understood that. Maggie and I had opposite stories. While I’d grown up in a too big house, she’d been cramped in a two bedroom with a baby brother, a struggling teacher mom, and drunken construction worker father. A lot of the clothes she wore to work were things she’d picked up half price from high end thrift shops or I’d ‘left’ at her apartment and worked her DIY-seamstress magic on them. Gifts from my parents were sent to me to fill a void they’d never attempted to step into themselves and I had more than I needed.

I checked the clock. We had another 45 minutes until we closed and Maggie and I were both beat.

“Why don’t you go?” I suggested. “Slip out the back door? I’ll cover for you and clock you out after.”

She gaped at me. It was rare that we bailed, but not unheard of. We all worked long shifts at Peplum since it was made up of a small, close knit staff. If someone really needed it, someone would step in.

“Go,” I encouraged her. “Look,” I gestured to the large crowds that were beginning to filter out. “This place’ll be dead in no time. Jerry’s not even here,” I referred to our boss. “Get out of here.”

Maggie picked up her purse and jacket and sighed. “Thank you, Steph. Really.”

I hugged her quickly. “Don’t mention it. And remember, tomorrow is blue!” Each night, the hostesses, waiters, waitresses, and bar tenders all picked a ‘theme’ for our clothes. With no formal uniform, we were free to be creative.

As the night wound down, I saw the last of our dining patrons out and made sure the bartenders would call cabs for any possible drunks; even though it was rare we had someone too inebriated to drive. I took my bag with me as I climbed the stairs again to deliver the sad news about closing time to our ‘special guests’.

“Hey it’s Stephanie!” Brandon’s voice was loud and I wondered how much they’d let him drink. “Guess what?”

He yanked me down into a seat. “What, Saad?”

“I made the team,” he drew out the last letter. “I get to stay in Chicago.” He sang the city’s name like Kane had in 2010 at the rally. “So does Shawzer.”

I beamed at him. “That’s great, Brandon! I’m so happy for you two!” He hugged me and I caught a whiff of his breath. “Ew, you reek of expensive alcohol.” I groaned. “You guys! He’s barely not even a minor.” I punched his captain in the shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to prevent these things?”

“I, uh, off duty?” he raised his own beer to his lips.

“Okay,” I stood up. “That’s not a good enough answer. But, closing time has arrived. Tabs are on the house. Just… get out so I can get this idiot home?” I blushed at my bluntness. “I mean, thanks for coming to Peplum and we hope to have you back soon.” I coated my voice in sweetness.

The group laughed and said their thanks before making their ways down and out of the building. I saw Kaner and his girlfriend helping Andrew, leaving only Jon and Brandon with me in the room.

“Come on,” the older hockey player motioned for me to join him on Brandon’s other side. “I’ll help you get him home.”

“But you’re car?”

“I live close,” Jon explained. “We walked.”

“We?” I wondered.

Jon carried most of Brandon’s weight on the steps as we slowly made our way down. “He’s staying at a hotel by me. We were hanging out at my apartment this afternoon. You can leave us both there.”

I made a quick stop in the back to clock both Maggie and myself out before we loaded Brandon into my backseat.

“Where to, Captain?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes and gave me directions to a huge high rise not far from Peplum. The doorman opened my door as Jon and I climbed out to retrieve Brandon.

“Can you get him upstairs yourself?” I asked. I was trying to be both helpful and sneaky. I would be lying if I didn’t want a peek at where Jonathan Toews hung his hat.

“I’ll be good,” he assured me. “Thanks for getting us here.”

We both backed out of the car at the same time with Brandon’s weight between us. As we helped him onto the curb, I heard Jon’s laugh close to me.

I jumped at our proximity, but tried to relax. It wasn’t like he was going to say goodnight that way. We were just helping a friend.

“He needs to learn how to handle his alcohol,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” we both looked up and I saw just how near each other we actually were.

We stood that way for a long moment. Our eyes were locked and Brandon was breathing almost on top of Jon. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting on, but he wasn’t doing anything. Brandon yawned a smelly yawn and brought us back to reality.

“Goodnight, Steph,” he backed away slowly. “See you… around.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “See you.”



’Lo, my dear readers. What is up with me and posting so many times in one day?

Not much new to report in the hockey world. Teams are hard at work as they prepare for the first bout of games in this condensed season.

I can taste the anticipation, can’t you?

I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself come Saturday. First, in the afternoon, the Blackhawks open their season in LA while the Kings hoist their banner. And directly after, my Penguins open theirs with the Philadelphia-freaking-Flyers. Oh, the insanity.

What about your teams? When do they get started and who are they facing? More importantly, do we think it’s too early to debate who’s taking home the Cup? Probably. But it’s fun to fantasize anyway.

Speaking of fun… can we talk about the Blackhawks and Penguins roster announcements? In Pittsburgh, Eric Tangradi, Beau Bennett, and Simon Despres have all been called up from WBS. Excuse me while I scream from Beau-ner.

And in Chicago… drum roll please… BRANDON SAAD AND ANDREW SHAW!! Others have also been called up, but I just can’t contain myself. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend my former charges first NHL game, as it’s away. But I will fight tooth and nail to get a ticket to the home opener. I don’t care how much those scalpers are asking; I will get one.

Okay, so I think that about sums up the thoughts whirring in my head. Can you tell I’ve been without hockey for so long that I just don’t know what to do with myself? Yeah, it’s scary, I know.

Stay classy and sassy, never trashy!
XO- Steph

Current music- It Happens by Sugarland