Tangled Heartstrings

James vigorously extends his arm in order to reach a clothing item on the far left side of his closet. The tips of his fingers barely make it to the hanger he desperately unhooks and lays out on his bed. Dangling from the plastic household item is his team Canada jersey. His signature number is printed on the back of the red pull over from the 2011 IIHF world hockey championships in Slovakia.

Earlier he threw it into the wash along with his entire wardrobe. It took three loads and exhausted him but Nealsy didn't stop there. He also washed all of the dishes by hand, vacuumed the whole house, and soaked his dining room table with a washcloth. At this point his house is spotless given all of his hard work.

Smiling to himself, James folds it over his neck and sticks his arms through the holes. Normally he'd add a layer of cologne overtop but the smell of laundry detergent is so domineering and strong he doesn't need to. Taking a whiff he makes sure that he's got something on other than just boxers. He's pleased when he looks down and sees a pair of smoke blue jeans clutched to his waist line.

A sensation of fear hovers over him. Suddenly a blaring sound travels from downstairs on the main floor to exactly where his feet are planted on the laminate wood flooring. He bolts down the stairs taking caution. Lo and behold it's Brandon slamming his fists against the solid front door. James races to the entrance with a jump in his step.

"Hey Jamesy, are you ready for an awesome night with the guys?" Suttsy enthusiastically asks.
"You know it brother, let me lock up and I'll be right there." He tells him, nods his head, and then politely shuts the opening so that it clicks in place.

Moments later he appears leaping down his laneway to where Brandon parked his jeep. It's on the right side of the road lined up with the front lawn coated in white fluff. Thankfully they all dressed for the weather. That's what took James so long to get ready to exit and leave for the night. He's wearing a grey trench coat which acts as an insulator trapping his body heat, a plaid scarf looping around his cylindrical neck, and a pair of thin, knit gloves he slipped on leading up to his wrist.

"Move over guys." Marc Andre instructs to the two members lounging in the backseat. Duper and Kris slide over making room for the twenty six year old. He lifts himself off of the ground inches below and hops up into the empty spot calling out his name.

"Does everyone have their seat belt on?" The driver checks snickering. Although he's attempting to be responsible anyone can tell that he doesn't care all that much since he won't be receiving the fine if someone forgets.

"Oui, je porte ma ceinture de securite." Kris replies in French causing everyone but their goaltender to translate. Brandon can only make out the first word oui which he inferred from looking back to find that he in fact has his seatbelt on. From that he can see his other two passengers are wearing there's as well.

"Let's get this show on the road." He says inserting his key into the ignition causing the mode of transportation to let out a thrum. Brandon pushes the gas petal and proceeds up to the stop sign at the end of the street. Gaining time he turns a machine sitting right above the stereo on by clicking the power button on the bottom corner enabling the device to light up.

"Please don't tell me that you've lived in Pittsburgh for a couple of years and still need a GPS to get around." Duper pokes fun at the jeep operator.

"Oh no, my girlfriend bought it for me as a Christmas present and I find joy in showing it off. It's an expensive one too. You can see how far objects are behind you, it has the largest screen size available at twelve point seven centimetres measured diagonally, and even lets you add a pictures. Mine is of me and her."

"Aww, you guys are so cute." James comments staring at the picture. They're dressed up in dress clothes and their arms are swung around each other. It seems like a perfect relationship. He envies the pair. What he also envies is the player in the passenger seat; he's squished at the back. "Wait a second, Marc how did you end up with shot gun."

"Well. I originally called it but he pushed me into a snowbank, got ahead of me, and the rest is history." Kris explains pointing to the wet spots all over his jacket making him look like a Dalmatian. A droplet drips off of the fabric and onto his pant leg.

"You can thank me later Tanger." He declares as they pull up to the joint. Brandon drives around the parking lot searching for an empty spot. One opens up in the first row due to a middle aged man in a pickup truck exiting the establishment. Sure enough the guys take it!

"We're here." Pascal declares stepping out and onto the concrete, he rushes to ensure that he can hold the door open for the rest of the group. They follow behind him, say their thanks, and gather inside. Instead of waiting to be seated the penguins find their own table and escort themselves.

Three flat screens are hung up on the wall by their table each playing the hockey game they're anticipating. Right now it's the national anthem. The starting lineup for each team stands on their respective blue lines. Players are stroking the chains of their necklaces and are looking up with their heads.

"I wonder if Crosby or Kuni are starting." Marc curiously questions sitting down at the flat table with his friends. All of the guys join him on both sides and look to find out the same answer, they study each number.

"Both are on the same line and starting it would seem, they're paired up with Jeff Carter" Kris scouts the game and discovers. He lays his eyes upon them after the camera moves away from the people on the bench and focuses on the duo at center ice.

"Good for them." Nealer congratulates his teammates even though they can't hear him. A stream of sweat rolls down his face as a wave of aggressive heat gushes toward him. "We should probably take off our jackets if we're going to be here all night. It's getting a little bit toasty."

The rest of the group agrees and follows his lead. A series of jackets get tossed on the back of the chairs revealing everyone's attire from the waist up. Brandon ended up wearing Team Canada colours after all. He dawns a long sleeve baseball style t shirt with the torso being red and the arms coated in black.

Pascal, despite his tremendous skill, has never played for Team Canada in an international tournament. Thankfully he came up with a flawless solution. He's all for keeping stuff so it's no surprise that he had his old Rouyn Noranda Huskies jersey from the Quebec major junior league. The main colours are red, black, grey, and red practically matching his country.

Kris and James have on their sweaters from when they played. The only difference between them is the Defenseman wears one with a C on it engraved right above his heart. James feels embarrassed but he never knew Kris was the leader of the country's team. For a second he stares at the letter. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees a young woman standing behind him making her way over.

"Hi, I'm Ayla I'll be your waitress for this evening. Can I get you anything to drink?" She greets the guys with her notepad in her hand. The guys read out their orders and of course here comes the alcohol. Kris is the only one who opts out of drinking. He recently suffered a stroke and was advised by the doctors it would be a bad idea. James is the only one yet to order.

He really craves a coffee for the caffeine. It would keep him awake which would really benefit him since it's only seven at night and his eyes are already starting to droop. After listening to his friends order he changes his mind. "When was the last time that I've had a drink?" He questions to himself unable to think of an answer. Come to think of it, he can't even remember what a cold one tastes like. The guys notice his hesitance and indecisiveness.

"I'll take a Coors Light please." The Ontario native orders making the guys glad enough to expose their front teeth and sit on the edge of their chairs. Brandon slaps his hand hanging down at his side. They all stare at her as she walks away.

"I have a girlfriend but man does she have a nice ass." Suttsy admires with his mouth hanging open. “OH and an even nicer rack upstairs if you know what I mean."

Duper and James slap his arms even though they both agree. "Ouch what was that?"
"A woman's figure is not the only thing that makes her attractive. You have to look at the whole picture." The Veteran explains. His fellow slapee understands the message that he's delivering completely. Ayla has nice green, blue eyes, a beautiful white smile, and although he's never met her before she doesn't seem like someone who's mean to others. Proving his point their waitress brings their drinks on a round, brown, glazed tray.

"Here you go boys." She passes them around remembering exactly who requested every drink. Impressive! She takes note of them individually while standing at the edge of the table. “Sorry, I couldn't help but notice, are you guys from Canada?"

"Eighty percent of us are." Nealsy immediately answers dying to hear her voice again, he's been looking at her soft lips coated in pink just waiting for them to move. "I'm from Ontario, Kris, Pascal, and Marc Andre are all from Quebec, and Brandon was born and raised in the Empire state."

"Well nice to meet you guys, I'm Canadian too actually. My hometown's Vancouver, its a little further west but none the less the same country. I like your jerseys, I love seeing people wear team Canada merchandise. It reminds me of home."
The guys all look at each other debating whether to tell her that they're all professional hockey players. Would she believe them?

"Thanks, I've had mine stored in my closet but I haven't really had a reason to bring it out until now." Marc confesses not bringing up the topic.

"Which player’s jerseys are you wearing?" She wonders since the back of their jerseys aren't visible. How would they dodge this bullet? It's kind of nice not having people know who you are for a change.

"Our own. We all play for the Pittsburgh Penguins." Tanger explains hoping that she's not skeptical of their occupation.

"No way that's awesome! I'm sorry for not knowing who you guys are, it's just that I moved here last month so I'm still getting to know the place. Heck, I can barely find my apartment building sometimes." She apologizes feeling guilty and embarrassed for not knowing the group's identity. James finds it adorable how she pardons herself for everything.

"Don't worry about it, its fine." He assures her keeping his voice calm.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. Anyway, I shouldn't keep five NHL players waiting for their food. Were you guys thinking of ordering anything?"

"Yeah, could we get three appetizers, the first mozzarella sticks, the second garlic bread, and third chicken wings?"

"Of course. I'll bring them to you as soon as they're ready." Ayla says abandoning them once again. Her natural black hair freshly cut and with no split ends falls right above her elbows. A new discussion starts within the gang but James is a little too distracted picking up the scent of her vanilla perfume to pay attention.

“Ouch, that’s going to leave a mark. He appears to be okay though.” Duper observes noticing his hotel room partner crouched down on the ice, his knees digging into the ground, and his bent arms holding him up. An expensive Reebok stick is grasped by his gloves. Slowly yet steadily eighty seven makes his way to his feet.

The first period is exhilarating. Team Canada isn’t dominating like expected which makes it interesting to watch. In Vancouver during the two thousand and ten Olympics they smoked by the same team winning eight to nothing in the preliminary round. It’s a closer game. No one in the first however can seem to sneak the puck passed the goalie. As they keep their eyes glued to the screen their waitress attends to them dispatching their snacks. Another plate of beers is desired by the hockey players.

The night really picks up with the more they intake and the more shots the defending Olympic champions register on net. In the second period Shea Weber and Jamie Benn score in superstar fashion. Again the guys keep the beers coming. This time they all need new bottles except for Nealer who’s not finished the last one savoring every ounce enjoying the beer trickling the back of his throat.

Norway manages to squeak one by at the finishing mark of the second. That doesn't stop Canada from keeping the gas on the petal in the third. Drew Doughty gets his first of the tournament on his backhand from the hash marks. The score stays that way when the buzzer sounds.

Kris Letang calls for his girlfriend to come and pick them up. Everyone accompanies them except for Nealer and Flat Stanley who decide to stay and have a few more drinks. Normally their company would object to them staying and downing more unnecessary alcohol however they all know it’s been a while since their last outing.

All the guys do is urge them to be careful. Would it be a mistake on their part not encouraging the duo to go with them?