Big Girl Panties

It was one of those rare occasions where they had more twelve hours in one city. Having been in Phoenix the previous night, they jetsetted off to Nashville hours after the game to spend Friday through Sunday in the music city. It was no surprise the boys had kicked the asses of the Coyotes and all Trixie could think about was how they would kick the teeth of the Predators in come Sunday. She and Clint had worked quickly in getting the locker room set to perfection. Now all Trixie looked forward to on her Friday night was ordering in room service and settling down with Netflix. That, however, took most of the guys by surprise as they sat at dinner at a barbecue place in the heart of Nashville.

“Where the hell is O.C.?” Shaw asked as he ordered another beer.

Dan hadn’t noticed she was missing until Andrew had pointed it out. Clint was there. Patrick Sharp, who overheard Andrew’s question, stopped his conversation with Jonathan and took the liberty of answering on her behalf.

“Trixie—Trixie has a grudge against Nashville.”

Andrew looked confused and Dan’s curiosity had been sparked. They had been sleeping together for the past year; he figured he would have known if she held a grudge over a city. But then again, there wasn’t much talking going on between the two. He had no idea what her favorite color or Chinese restaurant was.

“How does one,” Dan coughed, trying to hold back his laughter, “have a…grudge against a city?”

Jonathan wasn’t sure if it was in his place to share such a private detail of Trixie’s personal life, but Dan had asked and the alcohol was clouding his better judgment.

“A few years back she was screwing this guy who she fell head over heels for and he wanted nothing to do with her unless they were in bed. Nashville is one of his favorite cities and he actually comes down here when we play. She knows he’s here, doesn’t know where, and that’s why she’ll be barricaded in the hotel unless she’s needed at the arena.”

That surprised both Dan and Andrew. Trixie didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would let a stupid man ruin some of the greatest partying she could be out doing. But, what they didn’t know was even hearing his name spoken was enough to send her almost in to immediate tears. She had taken Patrick Kane’s advice—the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Her someone had been lucky number 13.

“Is it true she’s inbred?”

Sharp couldn’t believe Saad had asked such a stupid question. “Yeah, royally inbred. Her father is Jack O’Callahan.”

“The Jack O’Callahan. As in, beat the Soviets and won the gold medal in ’80, Jack O’Callahan?”

Sharpie simply nodded before going back to his conversation with Jonathan, leaving not only Saad in amazement as to Trixie’s family tree but yet again, Dan. He was rather peeved by the fact that she had left that significant detail out. Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Dan grabbed a couple of twenties and tossed them into the middle of the table.

“Carbomb, where you going?” Kane bellowed.

Getting up from the table he thought of a quick lie that was pretty believable. “Feel a migraine coming on. Want to take an Excedrin and lie down before it gets worse.”

As he started walking away from the table he heard Kaner say something along the times of he promised to call if he ran in to good looking girls ready to have a good time.



Back in her room, Trixie was content sitting in her bed indian style with her laptop in her lap and a pint of red velvet cake Ben&Jerry’s in hand. She was catching up on the latest episodes of Grey’s Anatomy she had missed, thankful for the few hours of peace and quiet she had. While it didn’t happen often, she knew the boys would get Clint liquored up and by the time he got back to the hotel he’d either be almost to tears as to how much he misses his girls or complain about how much they make him crazy.

It made Trixie thankful that she didn’t have anyone to worry about or miss while on the road. After all, even though both she and her father were hundreds of feet apart at the United Center on games nights, she blamed work during the winter and vacations during the summer as to why they hardly saw each other. It was mostly because she was afraid the ‘have you thought about settling down’ conversation would come up, and if by ‘settling down’ he meant a one night stand, she wanted nothing to do with that conversation.

That’s why she had kept Dan around as long as she has. They first began hitting the sheets the summer he had signed with Chicago. He had always been a favorite player of hers and she couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to make conversation and it was bonding over classic rock bands which had led them to their first kiss. From there, the rest is history; nothing more than three day a week hook ups since their schedules matched up perfectly. They had never been on a date, briefly spoke of past relationships and always made sure to never be seen in a ‘romantic’ way around the rest of the other guys. They were grown adults, doing what adults do but there were stupid (one logical on Trixie’s part) reasons as to why they never revealed to anyone what was going on.

Trixie was slightly annoyed when she heard a knock at her door. She thought she had made it clear this was a night she wanted to herself and wondered who it had been who didn’t get the memo. She guessed it was Shaw, showing up drunk looking for her to show him her breasts. Something he had his horny mind set on for how long, she doesn’t know. Putting her pint of ice cream down on the nightstand, she got up and looked through the peep hole. Her heart started racing. It was Dan.

“Give me a second.” She called out.

Quickly, Trixie stripped off her oversized white hoodie and shimmied out of her salmon colored sleep shorts. She tossed clothes over her shoulder as she dug through her duffle looking for something slightly decent. A black tank top and jeans would have to do. She dressed in record time and opened the door trying to control her breathing and act as natural as possible.

Dan held up on her favorite things in the world, a bottle of Jameson whiskey. “I figured you’d want a little company.”

Grabbing his wrist, Trixie pulled him in. She wasn’t sure what excited her the most: the whiskey, the sex that was sure to follow or knowing sex would be a result of getting drunk. After the door closed and locked behind Dan, his smile said it all. Trixie wrapped her arms around his neck as their lips collided for an electrifying kiss. She started to wonder why she had changed in the first place, when it would have saved major time if she had just answered the door naked.



Game day was Trixie’s favorite day. It was her time to shine and do what she did best. Music blasted from a docking station and she wondered who had earned the right to plug their iPod in. She was fond of the music and found it easier to work under stress when she could break out into a thirty second dance party. Nor did she care who saw her do it, everyone has their own way of dealing with stress,

Most of the guys sat their cubby’s dressing and taping sticks, Hossa and Mayers waited for Clint to finish sharpening their skates and Trixie was stuck fixing the visor on Duncan’s helmet before moving on to the rest of them. Making sure the visors were screwed in tight, free of smudges and fingerprints. Next she would move on to preparing extra sticks for Kane, who had broken one during practice and stitch the torn fabric of Stalberg’s pants. She would have would gotten done with her tasks soon if she hadn’t been sent on a chase to track down Seabrook’s mouth guard.

“You playing tonight?” Trixie asked Dan as he rested his back against the wall. Trixie was cleaning the captain’s helmet. He was still dressed in his suit so she already figured his answer.

Tearing into a packet of fruit snacks, he shook his head. “Scratched. I think I may go for the press box hat trick.”

“Can you save a hot dog for me?” Trixie joked.

“I’ll even snag you a few packets of ketchup.”

Dan laughed at the look on Trixie’s face. It was that of disgust as he remembered the conversation he had with her about how no self-respecting Chicagoan ate a hot dog with ketchup. Her taste was mustard, onion and relish. Although, she wasn’t sure if she could stomach a hot dog. Her belly had been churning all day. When she woke up that morning, the smell of Clint’s bacon and eggs breakfast had sent her straight to the bathroom to empty her stomach contents.

“Are you feeling okay? You look like shit.” Kane was nice enough to point out.

“Hung over. I haven’t been this hung over since my three day drunk back in ’10.”

Patrick laughed. “Pffft. You don’t get hangovers. I believe it’s called pregnancy.”

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole.” Trixie shot back. “It’s called drinking a bottle of vodka.”

Trixie could see Dan out of the corner of her eye and she was sure he had turned as white as a sheet. She wanted to slap Pat for such a stupid comment. There was no way for her to chase Dan down after he had excused himself without seeming suspicious. Shoving Patrick’s helmet and stick into his arms, she cursed him as he walked away. Making sure the coast was clear, Trixie pressed her hands against her breasts in reassurance they weren’t tender. “Nope, not pregnant.” Trixie guaranteed herself before turning around and going back to work.