Chapter 36: Mimi V--She Won't Win

Chapter 36: Mimi V—She Won’t Win

"Oh, hello Joe, how are you feeling you poor thing?" Michele asked Joe as she sat down in the obscenely cushioned seat of the luxury box that Joe and Peter Forsberg split the bill on.

Joe was sitting down gazing at the ice with Mitchell napping in his lap. Honestly, Michele thought, that boy was always just sitting or napping. Sometimes she was certain that Mitchell wasn’t so much a child as he was a lap puppy. It couldn’t be healthy for a boy to be so calm.

"I’ll live," mumbled Joe and then he looked at Michele. It hurt Michele’s stomach to see all the scrapes on Joe’s face alone, and the stitches near his hairline. A silly smile crossed Joe’s face. "I get a rest now!" he said. "And how are you Michele? Been staying out of trouble? Hmmm?"

Michele could feel herself blush a bit at the lift of Joe’s eyebrows and the way he had asked that. There was actually something close to a dirty little glint in his eye. The concussion must be a bad one! Michele thought, Joe didn’t have a dirty bone in his body.

Michele smiled tightly, her lip was still a bit stiff. "What do you mean Joe?" she asked.

Joe shrugged and leaned his chin on the top of Mitchell’s little head. "Just making small talk. That’s all, that’s all."

"Brought the nachos for Mitchell!" Debbie’s voice sang out as she plopped down on the seat next to Joe clutching a platter of nachos with all the works. The smell almost turned Michele’s stomach over, she didn’t like those elaborate sports snacks.

"Sshh," Joe hissed. "The boy’s asleep."

Debbie mouthed out the word "Oh" and looked at Michele with a beaming smile. "Hello, Mimi!" she said quietly. "How is everything? Where are the kids?"

"Just fine," Michele said. "You didn’t see Jana? She’s here, she ran to the food table. The boys want to watch the game in the locker room, they’re making Eric’s job in the video room a little hard right about now."

"Oh," Debbie smiled. "I think Jana was running around at the buffet come to think of it."

Michele nodded. "As if I didn’t feed her before we came. Sweets, sweets, sweets, I know she’ll fill up on them."

Michele looked down at Joe’s feet and she saw the twins curled up and sleeping on stacks of pillows. What was with these children? They were always sleeping!

"Cecile and Danny are coming, is that bad of me? I invited them." Michele said to Debbie.

"Really?" Debbie exclaimed. "Cecile? How on Earth did Danny get her to come? She doesn’t even like hockey!"

"Oh she just needed a little persuasion," Michele said. "It wasn’t that hard."

"Hear that?" Debbie asked, lightly hitting Joe on the upper arm. "Danny and Cecile will be here, isn’t that nice?"

Joe blinked and looked at them. Michele smiled almost instinctively. "Nice," Joe said. "Hey, Michele, how’s Cecile working out for you?"

Michele held her smile; she didn’t care for the pointed look in Joe’s eyes at all. "Just fine, she’s a relief! The children can be so tiring on the weekends. You know how it is. I just need a little time to breathe and voila! She is there, like an angel."

Joe nodded. "Didn’t need her on Saturday though, aye?"

Michele shook her head. "I don’t understand?" she said.

"Joe?" Debbie said, placing her hand on his arm.

"I was wondering, because she spent a lot of time at the practice facility on Saturday. I don’t know if you knew that." Joe said.

"Joe!" Debbie exclaimed.

Michele raised her eyebrows. "Alex kidnapped the children on Saturday, so Cecile was left with a little free time. Merci, Joe. So sweet of you to worry."

Joe nodded and looked back at the blank sheet of practice ice, a blank look on his face. Poor Debbie, was all Michele could think, to be saddled with someone so uninteresting. What the hell did Patrick find so inspiring about him? She would never know.

"Hello ladies and gents," Danny Hinote chortled as he came prancing into the suite. Michele turned to look at him. He was freshly showered and dressed, combed and styled and absolutely breathtaking. He was walking briskly with Cecile a step behind him, her hand clasped in his.

Could she be anymore dull? Michele thought. Barely any make-up on the girl and she was dressed in soft pastels up to the chin. She met Cecile’s gaze briefly, and a shot of haughty disdain darted from those green eyes of hers. Righteous little bitch! Michele thought.

The girl thought she was so clever! Michele had heard every word that Cecile had said in the basement. She didn’t expect everything to come easy, but this was not something that she couldn’t handle. It was just a little more difficult. The prey had scented her, but she wouldn’t pounce just yet.

In fact, Michele thought, she would pay absolutely no attention to Danny tonight just to show Cecile how wrong she was. And also to show Danny too, just in case Danny might believe any word of what Cecile had told him. Why not let them just enjoy the game.

Michele sat back in the comfy chair and sighed. Suddenly, she realized how sleepy she was, and how sore she was. She had missed a massage today, and she was feeling sluggish and tight. It would be a good game, she thought, Patrick wasn’t playing so she could just relax.

The horn blew and there were smatterings of cheers and applause as the players poured onto the ice for the pre-game skate. Michele yawned. She listened a bit to Danny excitedly yakking Cecile’s ear off about hockey rules, the excitement of being at an actual game and anecdotes about when he was a young fan. Michele frowned. He didn’t sound like a young lover at all, he sounded more like a brother or a friend. She couldn’t remember a single conversation she and Patrick had as youngsters that consisted solely of wide-eyed anecdotes and platonic banter. Was Cecile even interested?

Michele inhaled deeply and closed her eyes a bit. If that’s how they did it, no wonder Danny seemed to glue on her so fast like a puppy, he was no doubt dying for some excitement.

The music seemed to be getting louder. Michele opened her eyes and looked at Debbie who was busy hand feeding gooey nachos to Mitchell. Where was Jana?

The crowd began to laugh at the jumbo-tron antics. There was a time, Michele remembered when there was no jumbo-tron, there was no advertisements plastered on the sides of the white boards. The arenas were smaller, so much more intimate and there was a discernable breath of antiquity about them. Like the cold breath one could feel passing through them if one stood in an empty enough place in the old Montreal Forum. One wouldn’t get a feeling like that here, not with the likes of Bon Jovi and Britney Spears blaring to chase everything away.

"Danny," Michele heard Cecile say as the couple sat behind her, "What’s the name of that place you keep saying I need to try?"

"Oh," Danny said, "Alessandro’s, great pasta!"

And great lighting, Michele thought. Ultimate romantic dining experience, Danny did have some ulterior motives. Maybe she should have finished him off sooner.

"You look so nice, Danny," Cecile said. "I love that color on you."

"Awww," Danny said in that familiar tone of his that Michele was becoming a little attached to.

She could hear the light smack of a kiss and then the couple talking in low tones to each other. Sweet nothings and endearments, and more little kisses. Michele could feel herself flushing. Cecile wasn’t a dumb girl, she could tell that now. Those bible virgins were rarely dumb in fact, she couldn’t believe that she had underestimated the girl. Obviously, Cecile was laying a public claim on Danny for Michele’s sake, just daring Michele to do something, to slip up.

"What to do," Michele muttered in a low tone to herself.

"Momma!" Jana peeped at her side. "I brought you some popcorn!"

"Oh that’s nice," Michele smiled taking the bag from Jana. "Thank you. And what have you got?"

Jana grinned with devilish glee. "I got chocolates! They had a whole bowl and the man got me a little bowl and filled it up for me."

"Oh," Michele said with a worried wrinkle to her forehead. "Oh...darling that’s too much chocolate for you."

Jana sniffed. "I know, I was gonna share some with you."

That’s it! Michele thought. "My love," she said to Jana, "I don’t want any chocolate but I bet Danny will! Why don’t you share your chocolates with him."

Jana looked at Danny and her eyes fluttered a bit. "He’s making kissies with Cecile," Jana said. "You have a chocolate, Mom, just one!"

"Alright," Michele said using her finger to root through the bowl of wrapped chocolates until she plucked out a cherry cordial. "There, and that’s all I’ll have. Offer some to Daniel."

Jana nodded and turned around. "Wanna chocolate, Mitchell?"

"Oh how sweet of you," Debbie said as Mitchell grabbed a chocolate from the bowl.

Michele sat back against her seat watching as Foote and Patrick exchanged playful stick swats between each other on the ice. The intensity of the relationships men made with each other was amazing, Michele thought. Sometimes they never realized it, how close they were with each other. Joe had never realized the depth of his relationship with little Theo Fleury and why Lacroix wouldn’t have him back. And the attachments Patrick made too, they were deep. She could think back to any number of occasions, Patrick and Keaner, and Foote, and the quiet, scruffy Robinson.

"Danny want some chocolates?" Jana asked happily.

Michele smiled to hear Cecile sigh heavily. It was that annoyed sigh. Good.

"Aww," Danny said. "Sure! Come here."

And Danny was helping too, she heard him lifting Jana onto his lap. Michele began to untwist the wrapper of the cordial.

"Here you go, Cecile," Danny said. "Have a cherry cordial."

"No thanks," Cecile said. "Too messy."

"Nah uh!" Jana said. "They’re not!"

"You can’t eat one without dripping!" Cecile said. "It’s impossible."

Michele lifted the cordial out of the wrapper and looked at it.

"I know how!" Jana said in her know-it-all voice.

"How?" Cecile asked.

"Just put it all in your mouth at once, and you won’t drip it," Jana said.

Michele could hear Danny break into a loud laugh. "Kids are so smart they kill me!" he giggled. "That’s so simple!"

"Well," Cecile said with a definite edge in her voice. "That’s not very ladylike."

Michele narrowed her eyes. That stuck up bitch!

"Fine," Jana snapped, "Mom can do it ladylike! She doesn’t drip and she doesn’t put the whole thing in her mouth."

"Really?" Danny asked. "Cool, hey Mimi, show us how ya eat a cordial."

Michele turned around with a smile. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Cecile was raising one eyebrow. "Can you eat a cordial without dripping it?"

"Oui," Michele said. "It’s not hard, just nibble and use a little bit of your tongue. I can show you."

Jana looked at Cecile and smiled triumphantly.

"No," Cecile snapped. "We don’t need to see it, I believe you."

"As you like," Michele said, shrugging and glancing at Danny. He was looking at Cecile with his eyebrows raised.

It was after twelve when Michele was slipping out of her clothes and into her bathrobe. After missing her massage appointment she decided that a bath was imperative to send her to sleep. She stopped in annoyance when she re-entered the bathroom and saw Patrick lounging in the bath bubbles she had ran for herself.

"Patrick!" she exclaimed. "That’s my bath! You should be in bed."

"Sorry," Patrick said through closed eyes. "You left it undefended."

"Ooooh!" Michele growled as she leaned against the sink. She stood there looking at Patrick as his head leaned against the marble edge of the bathtub, the edge designed for her to rest her head there. "Patrick," she said, "You need a hair cut."

"No I don’t," Patrick replied.

"You look shaggy!" Michele said. "It’s messy. It pokes out of the back of your mask and it flops!"

"You’re in a mood," Patrick said.

"Well," Michele snapped, "I don’t appreciate my bath being invaded."

"I’ll get a hair cut tomorrow." Patrick muttered.

Michele sighed and picked up a porcelain pitcher, filling it with warm water.

"You’re going to smell like a woman," Michele said, "Soaking in my bath oils, and your skin will be soft too."

"Mmmm," Patrick said, "Is that your secret?"

"Tilt your head forward," Michele said.

Patrick obeyed, leaning forward as Michele placed one hand on the back of his neck and poured warm water over his hair, soaking it. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squirting some onto her hand. There was an appreciative grunt from Patrick as she ran the shampoo through his hair, massaging his scalp with her fingers.

"Cecile thinks she can win," Michele said. "I overheard her talking with Danny, she told him that he can’t trust me!"

"She’s right," Patrick said.

"She told Danny that I was lustful," she added.

Patrick laughed quietly. "The nerve of her," he said.

"Well," Michele said. "She won’t win. Daniel didn’t buy it. And, she hasn’t said any of this to my face. When she left tonight, she told me what a lovely host I was and that she couldn’t wait to come back on Friday night. She’s in this game, Patrick. She’s accepting the rules. And she knows that she’ll get hurt."

"You’re mean," Patrick said. "You know that?"

"Oui," Michele said.

She went back to the sink and refilled the pitcher with warm water. Patrick leaned his head forward, letting her rinse the shampoo from it.

"There," Michele said, looking down into his shining, dampened face. "Now your hair will smell like a woman’s too."

"Merci," Patrick said with mock solemnity.

His chin was warm and only a little stubbly as Michele pressed her lips to it. Not exactly kissing him, just touching him with her mouth. Warm breath blew over her neck, his breath. Now she kissed him, opening her mouth a little, tasting his skin a little. She trailed kisses across his chin and cheeks, skipping his mouth.

Little sighs escaped Patrick as she slid her hands over his throat and the bottom of his jaw. His eyes were closed and she lightly kissed his eyelids. His warm, wet hands closed over her hands and squeezed them just a little bit. Closing her eyes, Michele planted one last, long kiss on his impatient mouth. Patrick accepted it eagerly, tangling his fingers in her hair, holding her still for a moment.

Michele slid her silk robe off as she pulled away from him. She scooped it up and dropped it over Patrick’s face. "Hey!" Patrick barked a slight laugh in his voice.

Michele went to the other end of the tub, and moving Patrick’s heavy legs out of the way, she slid in the water. "Bon," she said with a sigh, "the water is still warm."

Already, she could feel her tight muscles yielding to the hot water. She sank deeper into the water, half closing her eyes.

"Come here," Patrick murmured.

"Mmmm, no," Michele said.

"I won’t bite," Patrick said.

"I’m in here to relax," Michele answered.

"You women," Patrick muttered, wrapping his hand around her ankle and bringing her foot up until it rested on his shoulder. "Baths are for exhilaration, no?"

Michele inhaled the floral vapors of the bath bubbles. It was stirring her blood, the way his fingers were gliding up her calf, and then rubbing the hollow in the back of her knee.

"Relaxation," Michele sighed. "Nothing else."

"Fine," Patrick murmured, giving the arch of her foot a little squeeze. "We’ll relax then."

I have you now you haughty little bitch.

Trampy dirty.

Whore!

Fingers were clamped on her ankle, fingers that would leave angry, purple bruises there. She couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t scream. She could only feel the stubble on his neck scrape her tongue as she sunk her teeth into his flesh.

Ow! You French bitch I’m trying to make it easier on you!

Don’t be so goddamn stubborn! Just take my advice and everything will be fine!

With a loud, sobbing gasp, Michele’s eyes snapped her eyes open. For a moment she struggled against the hands clamping onto her wrists, and the body pressing down on her. A salty, metallic taste was sticking in between her teeth.

"Calm down! Michele, calm down! I’m not trying to hurt you!"

"No!" Michele cried as she tried wriggling her hands free.

"You’ll wake the children! Now stop it!" Patrick hissed.

Finally, Michele realized where she was, her body went limp in Patrick’s arms and she sank into the soft mattress of their bed. Her face was cold and slicked with tears.

"My God," she murmured as he breathing slowed down.

"Your crying woke me up," Patrick whispered and he kissed her on the forehead, smoothing her hair out of her face. "What were you dreaming about, you didn’t even want me touching you."

Michele closed her eyes, the lashings of her nightmare clanging in her brain. She trembled violently and Patrick sat up pulling her up against his chest. "You don’t have to tell me," he said quietly.

"I was dreaming of...many things," she said, "twisted around."

"Any vampires?" he asked.

"Vampires?" Michele asked.

"Yes," Patrick said. "You bit my neck as I tried to wake you."

"Oh!" Michele gasped. That was blood in her mouth. "Forgive me! I didn’t know what I was doing!"

"No, don’t worry," Patrick whispered. "It’s not important, you’re safe, that’s all that matters."

The deep pulse of Patrick’s heartbeat was the last thing Michele heard as she fell back to sleep, without another whisper of a nightmare.

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