A/N: The real Governor of Colorado makes no appearance in this story. The one I have now is fictional absolutely fictional and bears no resemblance to the present, past or future governors of Colorado. Oh and I make no disclaimer for Mark Mozier, Hartley still owns him in bubble hockey.
And to Chris Drury we all love you here I’m still in shock I may damage property or do something else in protest and we’re pissed at Pierre Lacroix like we usually are and next time we see him I will most certainly not congratulate him on the....aaaaaaaaaargh! Dammit why does he insist on screwing with our story!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Chapter 111: Bob III—Minor Inconveniences
Click, click, click, click. "I have you now, my win."
Bob shook his head as Pierre scooped up the checker spots he had just won in his thick, pillowy hand. They had just eaten a heavy lunch at P.F. Changs and Pierre had suggested they play some checkers on the board provided in the restaurant and work on digestion rather than immediately go home or elsewhere. It wasn’t a bad idea as ideas go and it wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon when one has nothing else to do. So Bob had readily agreed.
His head wasn’t really in the games they were playing, however. He just couldn’t concentrate on them. All he kept thinking about was Coco’s sad eyes and her pale cheeks. Micheline had told him just that morning that she had noticed how sad Coco seemed to be lately and that she had a feeling she knew why. This was just becoming too much! But could he really confront Pierre about it? Did Pierre notice?
So Bob just wasn’t in the games today. That meant that Pierre was on a win streak and that left Pierre in a pleasant mood. "You think you’re so good eh?" Pierre gloated as he finished off the checkers board. "I’ve been practicing see?"
Hartley smiled weakly. "I can tell." Normally, Bob never let anyone beat him in checkers, not even Pierre Lacroix and he took a small pride in that. Of course not as much as the pride he took in his undefeated streak he was tending against the noisy sports radio personality Mark Mozier in Super Checks Bubble Hockey. Now that was something he really cherished, regularly annihilating The Mose in The Tin Lizzie hockey bar while drunken young people cheered him on. It was a way to spend life after games sometimes, and it was great for the fans.
"Well then," Pierre said quickly. "We play again, until you win, and I won’t make it easy."
"Alright," Hartley said, suddenly bristling under the barb, his competitive nature beginning to flash. He rubbed his palms quickly together as Pierre methodically set up the checkerboard for a new game. "And I won’t go easy either!"
Click... Hartley began to think of Katrina. Click... If only he could find a way to make her leave or back off. Click... But those cold eyes of hers, she had no pity in her heart that woman. Click... There was certainly no way he could tell Pierre to end this thing. Click, click, Hartley scooped up his first piece. So it would have to be through Katrina, he had to find some way of getting her attentions off Pierre. Click... But how would he do that? Click, click, Hartley scooped up another piece and he heard an annoyed grunt from Pierre. What would be important enough to distract that woman? Click... Maybe a silver haired father figure to take me away from the bad old hockey baron... the memory of Katrina saying that to him as she had trailed her finger on his face sent a shock through him. Click... There had to be some way other than that! He thought desperately. That was almost as dangerous as just plain telling Pierre to abandon his liaison with Katrina.. perhaps even worse! Click, click, click, click.
"Ha!" Pierre said quietly. "I am winning again you’ll see!"
Hartley sighed and shook his head feeling his cheeks flush at the very suggestion that he should in essence whore himself to the hussy to distract her. These entanglements that people got themselves into just never made sense to him and he had always prided himself on never letting himself fall into some of the vices that the people around him seemed to indulge in. Still, she had hinted that she was attracted to him and he was just trying to help out Coco. But there was his wife, Micheline. How comforted would she be in the fact that he only had the best of intentions for one of her friends? No. It was implausible and impossible.
"I win again! You are not having a good day at all, eh?" Pierre laughed as he counted the spots in his hand as if they were money or poker chips.
Hartley smiled. "It seems not my friend."
As Hartley began to set up the new game he glanced up at a murmur in the diners. He then saw Governor George Wells enter the dining room, flanked by his usual contingent of bodyguards. "Look," Hartley said to Pierre. "The Governor is here."
"Eh?" Pierre said and then he craned his large body around to get a look.
There was no party or companion with the Governor however, and he was talking with the hostess, a florid look to his face. "He doesn’t look very happy," Hartley noted.
"I wonder why," Pierre answered.
Then the hostess pointed, seemingly in their direction and the Governor shot a glare, seemingly at them. Hartley suddenly got a bad feeling. "I think he’s looking at us," Hartley murmured.
"Dammit," Pierre muttered. "I knew I should have sent him a basket and tickets for his wife’s birthday."
Sure enough, Governor Wells walked briskly into the room, his guards trotting to keep up with his long legged strides. Hartley made a poor attempt at a polite smile and he marveled at how easily Pierre smiled and stood to greet him. "Good afternoon, Sir," Lacroix said holding out his hand. "You seem to be looking for us?"
"My daughters are crying!" Wells hissed, glancing over his shoulders and then leaning over their table.
"I am sorry," Lacroix said with all the warmth in the world. "They are too precious to be crying."
Hartley glanced quickly at the guard standing next to him, there was a shiny gun strapped to his hip and it gave him the chills.
"They are crying because of this worthless lumberjack toothless barbarian gladiator show you run!" Wells snapped.
Hartley raised his eyebrows this was a first!
Pierre made barely a reaction other than to slide out a chair. "Would you like to sit down?"
Wells did, grumbling and then he glared at Pierre. "Well what are you going to say?"
Pierre leaned back and called for the waitress, promptly ordering from her a shot of whisky to be given to the governor and bourbon for himself. When she swished away Pierre looked back at Wells, dead straight in the eyes. Hartley knew that at this point he no longer existed to either of them. He was a fly on the wall and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be.
"I am going to say this," Pierre said, leaning forward on the table. "I barely know your daughters but by all accounts they seem like lovely women. And to hear that they are crying because of my team, I gather, makes me sad for them. I do not like to be the cause of a woman’s sadness so I will hear what you have to say and I will see how the problem can be alleviated."
By that time the waitress had returned with the drinks and she placed them in front of the men. Wells picked up his whisky and drained it in one gulp, sighing and looking calmer. "Over the past months," he began with a scratchy voice, and then he cleared his throat. "My daughter, my oldest, Christine developed a friendly relationship with Pascal Trepanier, a man off your team. Know him?"
Pierre nodded. "Of course, very well. I’ve known him since he was a boy, a wonderful lad, very upstanding lad."
"Well," The Governor growled, "this wonderful lad, this upstanding lad, soon cultivated friendships with my other two daughters Natalie... and little Chastity. And it seems that he has... he has..."
"Has?" Pierre prodded a bit.
Wells closed his eyes, turning red, and when he opened them tears were wobbling inside them. "I was at work this morning when the three of them come into my office, balling their eyes out, almost in hysterics. They’re calling me "Daddy" which they haven’t since they were tiny and they go on to tell me that this man manipulated them into performing the most obscene, disgusting acts for his personal gratification!"
Hartley’s skin prickled cold and he suddenly brought to mind Pascal’s round, laughing eyes. He couldn’t have?
Pierre looked subtly horrified. "Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed. "When was this?"
"Sometime last week," Wells whispered. "And they didn’t tell me right away because they were too ashamed and embarrassed, the poor sweethearts. And it’s eating them alive inside just knowing that he’s in the same state as them! I would have called the police for rape but the three of them begged me not to, they don’t want a scandal. They’re sacrificing their justice for a quiet end, and that’s where you come in!"
Pierre slowly shook his head. "I cannot believe this!" he breathed. "This is a scandal and an outrage! Sir you must be assured that I would not have brought the boy onto my team and into this organization if I had known he had a propensity for this sort of thing."
"So you’ll fix it?" Wells said, pressing his palm onto Pierre’s wrist.
Hartley just felt dizzy.
"Of course, I will work on it right away, by the week’s end your daughters will have nothing more to fear, he will be gone!" Pierre said decisively patting Wells’ hand with his own. "And if your daughters or your family need any sort of favor or support from me or this organization, know that you shall have it, it’s the least I can do to show you the depths of our sorrow for your angels."
Wells nodded slowly, the color in his face lightening. "You’re a good man," he said, "I can see that. Just see that it’s done."
"By the end of the week," Pierre replied with a nod.
After Wells had left Hartley looked at Pierre who was already looking up phone numbers and turning on his cell phone. "You’re going to get rid of Pascal?" he asked.
"Of course," Pierre said calmly.
"Do you think that he did it?" Hartley asked. "You said it yourself that he was a fine, upstanding young man."
Pierre looked up at Hartley. "What?" he laughed. "Even at thirteen Pascal was always trying to get up Mimi Roy’s skirts, it doesn’t surprise me in the least that he’s still at the same games. Impudent little slut he always was. I never supposed that he would go after the Governor’s daughters, though. That one I admit took me by surprise."
Hartley shook his head, feeling suddenly protective of womankind everywhere and the evil things that men always put them through. "So what do you have in mind?" he asked.
Pierre sighed. "I’ll just shop him around, there’s always a locker room in disarray somewhere in this league always someone willing to unload a troublesome contract or player. It will be fine."
"Pascal isn’t exactly a major star," Hartley pointed out.
"Minor inconveniences," Pierre tutted. "Minor inconveniences. I have Pascal and I have a defenseman who is much desired and is not in my good graces with his contract demands. Other teams will value him more than I ever did, Pascal will just be... a throw-in. Two birds with one stone no? See it always works."
Hartley blew out a breath of air and slumped in his seat watching Pierre go at work. He knew that Pierre had to be more bothered than he was letting on about this news, because he had just breathed out a bulk of his plans to him. Pierre never spoke about his imminent movements always grinning over them like a fat cat. What would happen now?
Pierre’s phone rang and he answered it.
"Hello, Lacroix here," he said. "Yes... Well I was just about to... Really?.... And what exactly is the differences they have with him?.... Are you sure you want to do this..."
Hartley almost wanted to belch his stomach was so nervous. At this moment he knew he was witnessing something big occurring at this table. He wondered what it was and marveled at the fact that it was all because Pascal couldn’t keep his fly zipped up.
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