Pittsburgh

The game had long since ended by the time I was on my fourth drink; I was one of about twenty people left in the bar, and was too upset and angry with myself to question why it hadn't closed. I downed the rest of my drink and contemplated whether or not to order another, finally deciding against it; even in my present state I had enough sense not to push myself over the limit. I managed to hop off the bar stool I had been occupying and steadied myself on the bar as the world began to spin slightly. I grabbed my handbag from the bar and walked out of the lounge, focusing on not falling ass-over on my way out.

As I headed down to the main entrance of the stadium, I realised that I needed to call another cab to take me home. Sighing, I stopped to retrieve my phone from my bag, deciding it was better to call one now than to wait in the freezing cold to catch one. In my haste, my handbag slipped out of my hand, scattering its contents on the floor.
“Fucking hell!” I muttered angrily at myself, struggling to bend down in the skirt and heels I was wearing to pick everything back up.
“You need help?” came a voice from somewhere behind me.
Knowing I wasn't in the most flattering position, I felt it was less embarrassing for me to politely decline the help than to accept it.
“Thanks so much for the offer, but I’ve got it,” I replied, as I snatched up the last of my things and put them back into my handbag. Straightening up, I turned to realise that it was one of the Penguins players that had offered me help. Noticing that it was Evgeni Malkin, I blamed my slightly intoxicated state for not realising that the thickly accented voice that offered me help would belong to him.
“I Evgeni,” he told me, before I could turn to leave.
“Audrey,” I replied with a slight smile.
“You had good time here?” he asked me
“Not really,” I answered truthfully.
“You Islanders fan then?” he asked, raising one of his thick eyebrows. I was going to answer him until I noticed the smile tugging at his lips; he was only joking. “Why else you no have good time?”
“I just blew 18 months of hard work because I couldn't close a deal,” I sighed. I didn't want to talk about this right now to someone who probably didn't give a damn anyway, but I didn't want to be rude.
“What you mean?” he asked, clearly not understanding what I was going on about.
“Never mind,” I said, smiling. “You played really well tonight. Congratulations on your second win of the season.”
“Thank you,” he said, returning my smile. “Maybe next time you come, you have better time?”
“I sure hope so,” I replied, wondering how many repeats of tonight it would take until this deal was finally closed. “Anyway, I better get going. Goodnight!” I turned to leave, but in a few strides he had already caught up to me.
“How you get home?” he asked. “You no look good to drive.”
“How can you tell?” I felt my face grow warm in embarrassment at how I must look.
“I Russian, I can tell.”
I laughed genuinely for the first time that night.
“You need ride home?” he asked.
“No, no, I'm fine to call a cab. Thank you so much for the offer though,” I replied, not wanting to inconvenience him. As a player earning as much as he was, there was no way we'd be living near each other anyway.
“No need, I drive you,” he insisted. “Is no problem.”
Realising that he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and appreciating how much of a gentleman he was, I conceded and allow him to steer me in the direction of the stadium parking lot.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Evgeni’s BMW, feeling smaller than usual in the leather bucket seat.
“You put address here,” he told me, motioning towards the car’s GPS system.
I keyed in my address as we exited the car park into the now raining Pittsburgh night.
“See, you get sick from weather waiting for cab,” he told me, motioning to the weather outside.
“Thanks again for this,” I replied, making a conscious effort to sober up. As much as I genuinely appreciated him doing this for me, I didn't want to come off as a drunken damsel in distress.
“No worry at all.”
We fell into a comfortable silence that was only broken by the GPS directions.
“You no from here,” he said after a while. I wasn't sure whether it was a question or a statement.
“No, actually I'm not,” I replied, letting my Australian accent play out. Although I hadn't completely lost my accent since living here, I made a conscious effort to hide it so as to not draw attention to the fact that I wasn't a Pittsburgh-native.
“I can tell in your voice,” he continued, glancing across to me. “It sound different.”
“You're the first person in a few years to pick up on it,” I told him, smiling. “I'm from Sydney in Australia.”
“Australia,” he repeated, elongating the word in his thick Russian accent. “Why you come here so far from your home?”
“I fell in love with the city,” I told him, looking out of my window. “How can you not love it here?”
“I know feeling too. I miss Russia but love Pittsburgh.”
I smiled at him, appreciating the fact that for the first time since moving here, I shared common ground with someone else so far away from home.

As we made the final turn onto my street, I pointed out my apartment building. “This is it just here,” I told him before the GPS had the chance to.
He pulled over on the side of the road and switched the engine off. “I think I have umbrella somewhere,” he said, turning to search the backseat.
“It’s fine,” I told him, not wanting to hassle him any more. “I can make a run for it.”
“But you slip in shoes,” he told me, turning back after his unsuccessful search for the umbrella.
“'’ll be okay. Thanks again for taking me home.” I went to open the passenger side door, but he put an arm across to stop me.
“I help you,” he said, opening his door and exiting the car before I had a chance to say no. Dashing around the front of the car, he opened my door and held out a hand, helping me get out of the seat, which was a difficult feat considering what I was wearing.
Shutting the door behind me and locking the car, he put an arm around me so that I didn't slip as we awkwardly shuffled through the rain to the shelter of my apartment building.
“It’s nice to know that you Penguins players are such gentlemen,” I told him as I fumbled through my handbag to retrieve my keys.
“Is nothing,” he replied with a grin. “We look after our fans.”
“Thanks again for everything,” I told him for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, unlocking the door and opening it slightly.
“You no worry. Just come to next game to cheer me,” he said, grinning.
“I definitely will,” I replied, knowing that tonight’s game was only the first of many that I would be attending this season. “Good night.”
He smiled and bid me goodnight, dashing back to his car.
I waved him off as he left, watching him turn down the street before walking into the warmth of my apartment building. Tonight may have been a disaster, but at least it ended nicely.