I-55

No one disagreed with forward Patrick Kane when he suggested going to the Sports Corner Bar and Grille for a couple drinks after their 3-1 win over the Detroit Red Wings. It was one of several bars they frequented in the windy city and most of the workers went as far to consider them ‘regulars’. It was unusual for them to come across a waitress in any of the bars who they didn’t recognize, but even more unusual for one to not recognize them.

Maybe that’s what drew the players to Roxanne—but call her Roxy, because Roxanne was entirely too durn formal.

“So, Roxie,” began Teuvo Teravainen, leaning back into his chair as his eyes roamed across her deeply sun-kissed skin. “You new here?”

She nodded eagerly as she set the tray of empty beer classes near their cluster of tables pushed together.
“Sure thang, sugar. Started last week!”

Jonathan watched her curiously, the tiniest of smirks turning up one corner of his mouth upon hearing her rich southern twang.
“Where are you from?” he asked slowly and his smirk only grew at the light that jumped into her eyes.

“Where d’ya think?”

“Georgia?” asked Patrick Sharp, and she shook her head.

“Nowhere close, honey.”

“Louisiana?”

Again, she shook her head before glancing expectantly back at Jonathan who had yet to say anything more.

“I have no idea, Roxie,” he chuckled, shaking his head. Roxie quirked a perfectly groomed eyebrow but looked back across the group of hockey players.

“C’mon, boys. Surely y’all can do better than that! I know y’all are athletes ‘n all, but this ain’t like we’re ropin’ cattle or nothin’!”

All the boys glanced between each other, silently asking the same question. What did she just say?
Instead of asking, they continued to guess where the belle hailed from.

“Mississippi?”
Wrong.

“Oklahoma?”
Wrong.

“Kansas?”
Wrong.

“Alabama?”
Wrong.

“Tennessee?”
Roxie bit her lip, glancing away from their smiling faces as her mind reflected back to before. “Close, but no cigar darlin’. I lived there for about a year.”

“So where did you grow up?” sighed Patrick Kane as he leaned across the table on both elbows, a goofy smile plastered onto his charming face.

Her head tilted a little higher, “I told y’all. Ya gotta guess.”

Jonathan laughed again, admiring the debate he had spurred with such an innocent question.
“Hell, I dunno,” he began, unable to ignore the feeling that rushed through his body when her hazel eyes landed on him. “Texas?”

“Yee-haw! We got a winner, y’all,” cheered Roxie, taking the liberty upon herself to plop down onto his lap and wrap one arm around his shoulders. “What’d ya like for your reward to be, sweetie?”

Not a single hockey player at the table missed the surprise that registered onto their captains face, or the light pink that flushed across his features when he began to fumble for a moment with his words. “Uh, well. I—um, you could, uh…”

He looked away and nervously nibbled on his nail for a moment while he contemplated his answer.

“Anything you ask, babe. Ya’ the first one up here to get it right; people been askin’ since I got here. Go on,” she urged, then giggled a little when an idea sparked in her mind. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed his chin between two fingers and turned his head back to her. “What d’ya want?”

The words were bubbling from his mouth before his mind had time to register he was sitting in front of his entire team, who were sure to chirp him about it later on… if not now. “To see you again.”

Roxie’s sweet laughter that filled his ears and brought a smile back to his face, hearing that alone was worth all the chirping in the world. Jonathan was sure of it. “Darlin’ you know where I work, and it seems like you boys are here quite a lot. I’m positive ya will see me ‘round here again. Pick sumthin’ else.”

“Your number,” chimed in Kane, ever the trustworthy wing-man. He sent Jon an overly exaggerated obvious wink while a couple of the guys whistled in agreement, leaving him sputtering apologies.

Roxie simply smiled, pulled out a pen from behind her ear, and tore a corner from one of the spare napkins that littered the table. She quickly scribbled a stream of numbers and wrote her name beneath, folded the paper, and delicately placed it in the chest pocket of Jonathans shirt.
“I could use a couple friends ‘round here, y’all don’t seem so bad,” she giggled, hopping from Jonathans lap. “But I gotta get back to work, babes. I’ll catch ya later.”

She flashed a pearly white smile, and bent down beside Jonathan to give him a quick kiss on his scarlet cheek. With a wink and a wave, Roxie disappeared to the stairs, headed to one of the lower floors while every man at the table watched her leave.

Several let out a low whistle, taking a long swig of beer.
“Damn.”

“Tazer, you owe me. You owe me big time,” Kane said, shaking his head. “And if you don’t jump on that, you better be sharing.”

“She’s not just some piece of ass,” hissed Jon, leaning over and staring deep into his beer- unable to keep the silly grin or faint blush from resigning it’s claim on his face just yet. The image of her was forever seared into his mind, and the piece of paper felt like it was burning his skin.

Jon knew it would continue to do so until he mustered the courage to shoot her a text, so it was only a matter of time.