Good Night, Moon

“Hello, Ms. Petite-”
“It’s Petit.”
“My apologies, Ms. Petit. My name is Pamela Weston, your guide at the CONSOL Energy Center. Where would you like to watch practice from?”
“The stands, please. A much better view.”
“Very good.”
She followed the woman to the stands where she was allowed a seat anywhere she pleased. She chose at the top, the first row of seats from the technical ground level.
Jerica hated going by her last names at different arenas.
Simply because when she was in her orphanage, her names were Toad and Petite. Her last name was Petit. And as you’ve read, she liked Toad better.
“Would you like anything? To drink; to eat?”
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Pamela smiled, obviously not amused by this Washington Capital’s scout, and left.
Jerica dropped her notebook and pulled off her jacket.
This would be a long practice.

And Jerica was right. After three hours of practice, which felt like ten (it always did to her), she was to go to the office of Pittsburgh Penguins general manager and tell him what she was willing to take.
But her guide was no longer near her and she was lost, getting even more lost in the twist and turns of halls called the works of the CONSOL Energy Center.
This was not staying out of the way.

“Fuck…oh, no….”
“Um-can I help you?”
You could tell she had no idea there was another person in the hall way because she jumped, screamed, and fell against the wall.
“Whoa! I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s okay, calm-Jerica?”
Her gaze snapped up. She hadn’t been called Jerica since she had gotten her job with the Capitals. And that was close to a year ago.
This had to be someone who knew her.
“J-James?”
“W-what are you doing here?”

And, for your information, this was her small, one night stand she’d suffered when she was eighteen. James. Neal. Number 18 for the Pittsburgh Penguins.

“I-I’m the C-Capital’s scout.”
“Y-you’re the scout?”
“Yea. I need to talk to-”
“Ray. I…His office is over there.”
She stepped around him. She could see how much it had affected him; her being the Capital’s scout.

You’re probably getting tired of me talking, but I’m going to keep talking. If I don’t, you don’t have a story.
Jerica Petit is from Whitby, Ontario. She’s a nineteen year old. Her middle name is France. She grew up around hockey, but never was too interested in it, until the Capitals offered her a specific scouting job.

knockknock
“Come in.” She pushed open the door.
Ray Shero was an older man, graying hair, gentle look. He was busy scribbling at his papers like she does. She now wondered if this was a good idea.
“Ms. Petit, come in. Thank you, James.” Her head shot back; she had no idea he’d followed her.
“Welcome, Ray.”
“So, Ms. Petit, we know why you’re here, as much as I hate to give up my boys, which of our list is fitting for the Capitals.”
“Well-Mr. Shero, um, after the three hours…I can’t really break up this team.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m finding that this team is more than a team, but a family.”
“They are in the dressing room.”
“Mr. Shero, the Capitals would like a draft pick for Tomas Vokoun.”
“I see….very well, Ms. Petit. We have a…seventh round pick.”
“We’ll take it.”
“Well, thank you, Ms. Petit. We don’t have many scouts and GMs coming in here saying they can’t break up my team. Most teams relish in the idea of breaking this team up.”
“My job is to determine who is best for the Capitals team, if I see that a man works well with his current team, that means that he will struggle to work with my team. This is not only a win for you, but also for me.”
“I would consider this a lose.”
“I’ve lost many things in life, Mr. Shero. This is far from a lose.”
“Very well, Ms. Petit. Tomas Vokoun for a seventh round draft pick. May the odds be in your favour.”
“Thank you, Mr. Shero.” They shook hands, signed a contract, and Jerica was gone.
“Jerica! Jerica, wait!” She bit her lip and stopped.
She didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted him to leave her alone.
“Jerica, you forgot your jacket.” She turned to him and took the blazer from him. But she felt something else on the jacket.
She turned it and under her Capital’s pin, was a Penguins pin.
“James, I can’t-” He kissed her. She was stunned, for a millisecond.
She jerked back and, full force, slapped him.
He stood back, stunned now, at her. And from Jerica’s point of view, you could see half of the Pittsburgh Penguins team.
She quickly left.

“He did what, Toad!?”
“Nick, it’s not that important.”
“I’m sorry, but if the fucking jackass kissed you, it’s a bit important!”
“You’re going to wake up someone.”
“Good thing I’m rooming with Ovi then.”
“Don’t tell him! Please! Nick please don’t tell him, I don’t want James to get hurt!”
“Why do you care about James?”
“I’m from Whitby too, Nick…I met him when I was eighteen before I moved to DC.”
“And that makes him your best friend?”
“He’s not my best friend, Nick!”
“Then it won’t matter if Ovi or I do him in.”
"Or any Cap really."
“If you hurt him I will never speak to you again.”
“You couldn’t.”
“There’s other jobs as a scout in the NHL.”
Nick sighed.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Toad.”
“I understand. But I don’t want James to get hurt over a stupid mistake.”
“Kissing you is a stupid mistake, it’s a stupid idea.”
“This outta get you too, then.”
“If he’s in your hotel room right now I’ll fucking find my way to Pittsburgh and fucking finish him myself.”
“Nicklas Backstrom.”
“Either tell me now or I’m booking a fucking flight now.”
“Что ты делаешь, Ник?”
“Now you’ve done it.” Nick laughed at her.
“Is that Becca?”
“No, it’s Toad.”
“Toad!? Who-?”
“I can’t tell you, Alex.”
“Then why are you calling Nick this late?”
“Something happened in Pittsburgh.”
“What?” Jerica groaned and fell back on her bed.
“Nick, you are never going to learn a damn think about me ever again.”
“Yes-”
“What. Happened. Jerica?” Alex cut off Nick.
“James Neal kissed me.” Though she rushed it out, neiter Alex nor Nick said anything. “And he gave me a Penguins pin…under my Capitals one…”
Then the call cut.
“Oh, no!”
She’d have to get to James before Alex or Nick did.