Sunshine

There were a lot of reasons Mike Richards liked LA better than Philly. For example, he liked that he needn’t wear a winter coat, and gloves, and a toque, ever. He like that the people were more worried about their own appearances than being honest with you. They would smile to your face and leave their opinions for gossiping with their friends. It made socializing a lot easier. But what he really liked was that no one knew who he was. In a city full of movie stars, he was D-list on a good day. He could go to restaurants and baseballs games without anyone so much as giving him a second glance let alone asking for an autograph or criticizing some turnover he’d caused. No matter how bitter and betrayed he’d felt when he gotten the call from his agent, he could honestly say that LA was a better fit than Philly had ever been.

However, on this particular day he wasn’t so thankful for the never ending warm weather. He sat in the waiting room of the specialist that all the Kings went to; they must have had the air set to ‘Arctic Circle’. Now he was in pain and freezing. Stupid knee. To say his knee had been bothering him would be like saying a fish was bothered by being ripped from the water. It had become so bad that after last night’s game, Coach had excused him from practice to “get his shit straightened out and stop getting beat to the boards.”

So here he sat, very cold, in this over air-conditioned waiting room. If he’d known the office was going to be this cold he would’ve brought a hoodie. It was completely unnecessary to be keeping their office this temperature.

At some point, Mike was complaining so much in his own head that he realized he’d stopped pretending to read the pages of the magazine he was holding. He was no longer even flipping through them. Mike was never a big whiner, but he was cranky this morning. Injuries sucked. Missing practice for them sucked. Sucking because of them sucked. And sitting in this waiting room definitely sucked too.

“Hey.” Jolted from his own pity party, Mike looked up and to his right. Two seats away sat a young woman, and she was looking at him. Most certainly, she’d been talking to him.

“Hey?” Mike answered the girl.

She tucked a stray piece of her dark red hair behind her ear. “You played like shit last night,” she commented.

“Um…” Mike opened his mouth, but struggled to find the appropriate words to respond to such a statement. He’d gotten used to the phony bullshit everyone around him seemed so fond of. He was out of practice.

“Your back checking was absolute garbage.” She was right. He was still trying to think of an appropriate response that neither justified nor denied her allegations. Before he managed this, she spoke again. “You are Mike Richards right?”

At least he knew how to answer this one. “Yeah, and clearly there was an explanation for anything I fucked up last night if I’m waiting to see the doctor.” He sounded like a little bitch, and he knew it, but who was this chick?

Her eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “Okay, okay. I just figured a guy who came from Philly’s market could take a little criticism.” She held her hands up in surrender and failed to hide her smirk.
Mike snorted. “Trust me, if you wanna come close to the shit I caught from Philly fans, you’re gonna have to try a little harder.”

“Oh I know. I was going easy on ya. Figured L.A. might’ve softened you up a bit.”

Mike shrugged his shoulders and relaxed a little, no longer feeling so defensive. “Yeah, well you’re right. My knee’s been killing me. That’s why I’ve been playing like shit, as you so delicately put it.”
She smirked again. “Make sure you get that fixed up then. You guys gotta bring the cup back this year. “ She stood up from her chair. “See ya around, Mike Richards.” With a small wave she turned around and disappeared down the hall of the office. Maybe he did miss straight talkers and being recognized. Just a little bit. But not the winter. Nope, he’d still take sunshine all year round.