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Disclaimer: Although the testy relationship between Patrick Roy and Mario Tremblay is well documented from player accounts and of course on National Television, I am not writing about any of the actual intricacies of their relationship. Remember this is fiction and all apologies to the Tremblay and Trepanier clan.
Chapter 13: Patty—You Little Slut
"You what?!" Patty cried into the phone as he lay sprawled on his Phoenix hotel bed. "You don’t even like nannies! Why?"
"Shhhh!" Foote hissed from his bed, "This is my favorite part!"
Patrick glanced quickly in Foote’s direction, but Adam wasn’t looking at him he was absorbed in whatever pay-per-view action flick he had ordered. He started talking in French. "What are you up to Michele?" he asked.
"I’m just trying to help out some young, chaste lovers," Michele said nonchalantly in reply. "You’d like her, she’s a quiet, sweet young woman."
Patty wrinkled his nose, "It sounds like I wouldn’t like her. And what is this about helping out lovers? You just said that you were hiring a weekend nanny."
"Patrick, it’s priceless," Michele said, "She and Danny Hinote are in love and haven’t consummated the relationship, her mother is trying to keep them apart and the dear came running to me of all people for help. So what was I to do? Turn her away? No, I think not. I told her that she could stay and help me out with the children on the weekends and Danny could see her there without her mother prying. Doesn’t that sound like fun?"
Patrick frowned, "I don’t know, Mimi, how old is she anyway?"
"Nineteen," Michele answered.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. "She’s just a girl!"
"Yes," Michele said, Patrick could hear the smile in her voice. "An innocent one at that, have you ever heard of such a thing? She’s been sheltered her whole life, and now here she’ll be, in our house."
Patrick sighed and leaned back on the bed with a huff. "And how am I to figure in on this one?"
"Oooooh, I don’t know yet," Michele said, "I barely know what to do myself. It is an extraordinary situation, no?"
Patrick laughed lightly. "Will you ever slow down?" he asked, "I’m gone for two days, I’m worried sick about you, and here you are..."
Michele laughed as well. "That’s why you married me."
"I thought it was because you wanted to make Jonathen legitimate," Patrick said.
Michele’s anger was quick. "Ooooooh! Go to hell!" she snapped.
Patrick laughed harder. "I need to get some sleep," he said through tears, and through a quick string of curses from Michele. "Try not to have too big a scheme for me to do when I return home, we have a division to think about, yes?"
Michele calmed down almost instantly. "Yes, yes, my love," she said. "Sleep well."
Patrick was in the middle of yawning when he hung up the phone. He was trying to picture the Sakic’s nanny, but he couldn’t. He had never noticed her before, they went through so many nannies that he never paid attention. Nineteen? Very young, but not too young. He’d seen younger.
"So what’s the missus have to say that’s so funny?" Footer asked, looking up briefly from the tv where some goon was in the midst of machine-gunning a hotel room full of people.
"Nothing much," Patrick said, "She’s just being silly."
"Hmmm," Foote said, looking into Patrick’s eyes this time, "Why do I not believe you?"
Patrick grinned. "Because you shouldn’t."
Foote looked back at the tv, "Riiight," he said, "OK."
The gunspatters and screams from the tv got louder and Patrick narrowed his eyes, looking at it. "Why don’t you order a porno, Foote, you’ve seen this one too many times. I can’t remember the last time you well, enjoyed yourself."
Foote shot a surprised look at Patrick. "You that curious, Patty?"
Patrick shrugged, "Not really, no. I’m gonna sleep either way, but you don’t seem to be having any fun lately, you’ve lived in the penalty box the last two games, all you do is beat people up, and watch bloody movies. You seem angry. I don’t mean to pry of course but if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here."
Foote sighed and turned down the tv, he leaned on one shoulder on the bed facing Patrick but not looking at him. "I’m real bothered, at home. Jennifer and I, we just can’t see eye to eye on anything. All we do is fight, and scream, and she’s always crying. I don’t know what to do anymore, she wants me to wear a visor, she wants me to play nicer. Dammit, my paycheck gets her those nice shoes of hers, she could at least enjoy my game!"
Patrick nodded. "How about just making love to her, do something nice, be gentle at home, she’ll forget about how you are on the ice soon enough."
Foote grimaced. "Yaaaaah," he said, "I don’t know....can you keep a secret?"
Patrick held out his hands. "Have I ever let you down? Have you ever let me down? Of course!"
Foote looked around, over his shoulder as if checking to see if anyone were listening or in the room. "Patty, I just...I just can’t do it anymore. I mean, Jennifer, she’s beautiful, and, and, and, I love her....but I can’t do it."
Patrick lifted his eyebrows.
"You know," Foote said, "Sex. Not even with a porno or a anything, I just....I just can’t feel anything. I don’t know what’s wrong....and I think Jen is taking it personal."
"How long has this been going on, Footie?" Patrick asked. He was feeling horrid for Foote. That was something he could never imagine feeling. No wonder Jennifer almost responded to his touch, she was no doubt dying!
"About three months," Foote said quietly, "Before the season started."
"I’m real sorry, Adam," Patrick said, "Maybe you should see a doctor...things like this pass in time, no?"
Foote sighed and turned back to the tv, turning it up. "I don’t know," he said.
Patrick turned off the lamp at his bedside, only the bluish light from the tv illuminating the room. He looked over at Foote as he gazed blankly at the movie. They had been roommates now ever since Patrick had come to the Avalanche, 8 years now. It was a comfortable relationship, they knew every detail about each others routines and they never interfered with them.
It was the quietest roommate relationship Patrick had ever had, as far as he could remember. They talked, they laughed, they played some jokes, they slept, they watched tv, sometimes they didn’t seem to notice each other. It was an odd feeling.
Patrick closed his eyes and remembered his first roommate in the NHL. Mario Tremblay, and he hated him immediately. On his first roadtrip with the Canadiens in 1984, he remembered Mario asking him if he spoke any English. "No," Patrick had answered. Tremblay had laughed and proceeded to speak in nothing but English to him. It was frustrating because a lot of the other players could speak English and they were laughing at whatever he was saying. Mario was the respected, hard-nosed, veteran on this team and he was making an example of him. "Kiss my ass!" Patrick had snarled at Tremblay. He had never allowed himself to be bullied by anyone in pee-wee and junior hockey, and he wasn’t about to be now. He didn’t give a shit who this Tremblay was.
His response to Tremblay immediately silenced the whole team, including Mario. In fact most of the team looked at Patrick with a sad look in their eyes, a look Patrick had never seen in a group of men before. For the first time in his life, Patrick had felt a twinge of fear there.
Tremblay stared at Patrick, his chin jutted in anger. "I’ll kiss it alright you skinny little whore, just you wait," he snarled.
Patrick didn’t see Tremblay all that night. He slept heavily and then they were on a plane back to Montreal in the morning. As they were leaving the plane, and Patrick was headed back to Granby, Mario had grabbed Patrick by the arm and hissed in his ear so closely that his lips had touched it. It was something in English. Patrick didn’t understand it and he was trembling all the way back to Granby. He remembered the sound of the phrase and repeated it over and over to himself until finally he said it to someone who spoke English, asking them what the phrase meant.The person had looked at Patrick with a confused face and said to him, "It means, ‘You can go back now, to the rest of the animals.’"
Patrick tried not to think much about it for the rest of his tenure with Granby. In fact, he did forget about it. He had his first NHL win with Montreal on that roadtrip and he preferred to think about that. It was a third period’s worth of work, true, but it was nice. Something the talentless pricks in Granby never had.
And then Francois Allaire had taken Patrick under his tutelage. Working out some kinks in his game. Patrick enjoyed it, antagonizing the coach’s with his butterfly style when they wanted a stand-up. Life was fun very quickly. Winning a championship with Sherbrooke and finally, finally he got his start with Montreal even after flaunting a screaming match with Jacques Plante.
Patrick had been on a high until he had heard who his permanent roommate would be. Mario Tremblay. "You’re mine, you little slut," Tremblay hissed at Patrick, "I requested you personally."
Patrick moaned a bit as he fell asleep. That was something he never wanted to dream about much less remember.
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