Chapter 185: Cheli VII—A Turn for the Better
It couldn’t be just the money, could it? Chelios grinned to himself as he thought about that. Of course the money always helps. Who could have known that that damned trinket would have been worth so much? How the hell had Patrick been able to afford it to begin with? How much did it cost originally? Michele was an idiot then, if she would blatantly refuse to reclaim it. So what if it had rather disturbing memories attached to it, why not profit off it, and receive compensation for damages rendered. A million dollars worth of compensation.
Maybe I should give it to her? Chelios thought to himself. He quickly dropped the thought. If she was dealing with it by blunt denial, then let her steer her course. He was done with it and what’s more she had given him permission.
Tracee wasn’t there when Chris returned home. It wasn’t an odd thing; she was rarely home during the day when the kids were at school. She found solace and friendship with the other wives, as it should be, and she rarely bothered herself anymore with waiting around for him. It was an equilibrium Chelios enjoyed nowadays and he always blessed Trace for understanding it. Why should either of them bother with pining and stewing over something as trite as scheduling?
The box was long and velvet black and the inside of it was lined with cream colored satin. Chris opened it, felt the tautness of the hinges as it did, and he saw the icy diamonds twinkling from inside. The necklace was elegant, and much more imposing than a silly charm bracelet designed by a dead Quebecois. He knew it was an object women lusted for with orgasmic sighs and he wondered exactly how Tracee would react when its cold stones would finally be rested on the warm flesh of her neck. He knew how he wanted to give it to her, perhaps when she was done with her shower, or changing for bed, it would be delicious on her if it were the only thing she were wearing….
None of the other wives had something like that, did they?
Not that Chelios cared much for the workings or plannings of the wives, but it was interesting on this occasion. He wanted to see them redden when Tracee showed her new gift to them. It was rolling in his mind so much that it was beginning to erase the poison of that damned bracelet that damned twin.
The white diamonds were clean, like ice, like sparkling snow, like the rainbow after a storm. There was none of the dirtied jewels of that bracelet. The diamonds were cleansing him of the heat of her body underneath his hips, the thighs around his waist, the moans, the short scream, the water dripping off his face, and the nails digging into his flesh…
Chelios closed his eyes tightly hearing a ringing in his ears….
Fingers pressing into his shoulders, burning and sharp, her cheek against his chest, her warm breath warming through his shirt and the feel of her small breasts against him. My God Chris! Please! You like him don’t you? Even if you hate me so much, please be a human, don’t let them finish this! Please don’t let them…. She slid down his body now, her cheek against his thigh… Please! Please!
Say it in English kitty-kitty!
What did he say, Chris? Please I don’t understand them!
I told you to leave him! I told you, why didn’t you listen?
Murderer…
“Shit!” Chris yelled and he shook his head, squeezing the box in his hand. His own scream cut through the hurricane in his head and he blinked, looking around him. There was no one there, it was a silent house. “Not gonna fucking take over my LIFE!” Chris snapped and he dug through his pockets, pulling out the papers, looking at the handwritten receipt: The Patriot, it said… The Patriot…. “Fucker,” Chris muttered and he crushed the paper in his hand, clenching it as he carried it to the bathroom, dropped the paper into the toilet and flushed.
That was the last remnant of the past, down the drain. It didn’t mean anything more to him, it was gone.
After lunch, Chelios really didn’t have much to do. Even though it was game day, there wasn’t a practice for him. Chelios didn’t know if he should feel insulted, the practice optional for him to rest his old bones, but he knew he must be as old as they said he was if he was more than happy to take that day off.
Might as well, was the phrase that tangled in Chris’ mind as he knocked heavily on the door. Might as well.
It took a minute or so but the door opened and Malts smiled with his bright blue eyes. “Hey!” he grinned. “Cheli! Come on in, come in.”
Chris smiled back, a little amused with himself for feeling all of his irritation die away once he really heard Malts’ friendly voice. What had precipitated that change? “Just checking in on ya, bud,” Chris said. “How ya feeling?” He entered Maltby’s apartment, hands in his pockets. He pulled one hand out to pat him on the shoulder, the good shoulder.
Maltby shrugged. “Just fine, just fine.
Hey, I’m gonna be back on the ice in a week, I know it. Doc says so. And you
know what’s pretty cool? The Roy boy, you know the kid who knocked my lights
out, heh heh, he sent me a
card apologizing about the whole thing, and a nice gift basket with some real
goodies inside. Hehe, and he also called me last week. He was in tears and
everything, poor kid. I told him, you know you were just protecting your sweet
little sister, just keep channeling all that rage into your game and you’ll be
fine. Damn, a little girl like that should be lucky to have a brother like him.”
Chelios smiled but inside he
felt the rage again. He saw the blood pooling out slow and thick, the boys
fists in his face, the pretty little girl’s pretty little teeth cutting into
his flesh both angering and exciting him… Look what your brat did! He killed Maltby!
Piss off!
Damn bitch that’s all she could say?
“That’s great,” Chelios said. “It hasn’t been the same without you. I’m counting on you to be there.” He rubbed at that healing wound on his wrist, it itched violently, and it felt nice when it was scratched at…
Maltby nodded. “Yeah, hey want a beer? Please say you want a beer man cause I’m friggin lonely.”
Chelios frowned. “Having problems with Astrid again?” He thought of Astrid, skinny, pale, long blond hair, too many rings on the fingers, skirts too Bohemian…
Maltby nodded. “It was weird. I mean… remember I kept telling you about these dreams I was having where there was this weird voice muttering spells and cursing my shooting arm?”
Chelios narrowed his eyes as Maltby went into the kitchen to get the beers. He glanced at the door, then again…. “Um, no..”
“Right,” Maltby said coming out with the beers, “anyway I was having these dreams and then last night I was really having it, and it felt like I was suffocating and that there was this snake squeezing in my chest..”
Aw Christ do I have to listen to this shit? Chelios thought feeling the beginning of a panic attack within him.
“…and the voice kept repeating this weird chant and this time I woke up in the middle of it and Cheli,” Malt almost leaped forward and Chelios scowled as he squeezed his upper arm, looking at him earnestly, “You’re not gonna friggin believe this but,” Malts paused and gulped, actually gulped, “Astrid was sitting on top of my chest, naked..”
“What’s wrong with that?” Chelios said.
Malts shook his head. “She was CHANTING! She was the one chanting in some weird pagan shit and she had a KNIFE above my face!”
Chelios felt his eyes widen. “No shit?” he exclaimed. “You’re shitting me right?”
Malts shook his head. “No,” he said in a whisper, even looking around as if he were afraid she was listening to them. “I almost shit myself Cheli,” he squeaked. “And I pushed her off my body and just… just threw her out!”
“She was gonna kill you? Call the cops?” Chelios asked suddenly feeling nervous himself, looking around the apartment. Was there a psycho pagan naked ex-girlfriend afoot?
“She said it was a spell Cheli, a spell! She’s like a Wicca or something, I thought it was like all naked dancing with girlfriends and nature loving, you know but shit she was using some sort of white handled dagger to heal me, at least that’s how she tried to explain it.” Maltby said. “I’m too sensitive for bullshit like that Cheli, so I told her to scram!”
Chelios glanced nervously at the open front door. “Soooo,” he said slowly, “You didn’t call the cops?”
“Nah,” Malts said, “I didn’t see any reason too, I mean I wasn’t hurt at all and she wasn’t hysterical. But you know what?”
Chelios lifted one eyebrow. “What?”
Malts grinned. “I took a nap this morning and I didn’t have one single bad dream. Man I think it was Astrid who was fucking with my sleep all along. You know how I was having a bad time sleeping, and was feeling all paranoid and shit. I don’t feel that anymore. Best load of excess baggage I’ve ever tossed, I highly recommend it to you, throwing away things like that. In fact,” Maltby let go of Chelios’ arm and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling broadly. “I think I’m in a turn for the better! I’ll be back on the ice and skating in no time, isn’t it great?”
Chelios took a long, cold swallow of his beer, keeping one eye on Malts. He sighed. “That’s great, Malts, that’s really great.”
“Something wrong Cheli?”
Chelios looked up at his teammate Brett Hull as the stocky, pale man was lacing up his skates. He frowned. “What do you mean Brett? Do I look like I’m in a bad mood?”
“Naw,” Brett said in his scratchy, liquor hardened voice, “Just that you’re in a good mood. I’ve never seen you smile like that to yourself so it’s kinda worrying me, is there anything wrong?”
Chelios laughed along with the few teammates who were listening, “Yeah I was at Malts’ this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah?” Brett said in a voice that wasn’t particularly interested. “How’s he doing?”
Chelios
shrugged. “He’s fine, goofy as ever. He’s already made peace with the
“He looked so happy with Astrid,” Boyd Devereaux piped in. “What happened?”
Chelios
looked at Boyd. He wasn’t very close with the kid but he knew Brett was at one
time. Now there was a kid who had gone through more than his share of shit and
never once had he dealt it to anyone. He had to wonder why
“Oh,” Chelios said looking at Boyd, “Nothing much except he woke up in the middle of the night last night with her naked, sitting on his chest and trying to slit his throat with a Wiccan knife..”
“WHAT!” The whole locker room exploded.
Chelios smiled at them, enjoying their sudden horror. Yup he could feel that things definitely seemed better….
On the ice, during the preskate, Chelios could feel it. It was always a feeling, a creeping sensation on his skin like millions of insect legs. He had that feeling the first time that night, when there had been water, and eyes and helpless screams and helpless flesh. It was always reignited on the ice when he saw Patrick, when he heard his voice, when he saw his creepy blue eyes.
This is MY LOCKER ROOM! This is MY TEAM Goddammit you will never ever do a thing like this again to me or her or anyone! I am going to bring you the fucking holy grail and…
Chelios wrinkled his nose. So it wasn’t completely gone was it? It wasn’t completely dead inside him. He felt the crawling sensation, he saw Patrick hunch over and glare at his goalposts, he would be talking to them now, telling them to wake up.
Reveille-toi was the word for it. Reveille-toi…
It wasn’t completely dead.
The game had the energy, the crowd was roaring. Chelios was determined to forget about Patrick and instead concentrate on the players he could handle. He kept his stick on the Swede, he did his best to swing his body against Mike Modano. When Modano flipped him over like he were a sack of flour, Chelios did have to concede to himself that perhaps he was a bit old.
It got
prettier as the first period wore on and it seemed like everything and everyone
had amassed at Patrick’s crease, sawing at a puck that just wasn’t there for
the taking. Chelios saw Patrick hold his catching glove up, heard the whistle
and as soon as it blew
He could barely contain his smile as he swung onto the bench, following Brett who was skating like a man with a true bug up his ass.
“Awwww Gad-dammit!” Brett Hull snarled as he flopped onto the bench. Chelios felt another smirk. Brett’s ice blue eyes were flashing in anger and when he grabbed a Powerade bottle, he crushed it in his meaty hand.
“What happened?” Brett’s usual linemate, Boyd Devereaux asked. Chelios could hear the real concern laced there.
“What happened?” Brett asked in a voice like a squeal, “That goose necked bastard just jammed his KOHO where the sun don’t shine! Ooooh God I’m gonna shit blood tonight I know it!”
Chelios turned his laugh into a cough and he leaned forward snickering. Yup, there certainly was a change for the better here. Malts was right, once you unload that excess baggage everything becomes clean and fun!
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