Links to other sites on the Web
Disclaimer: This in no way....that I know of....depicts any person within this story
realistically and is absolute hogwash! I am in no way affiliated with the Colorado Avalanche organization or any other hockey player that is mentioned within.
A/N: There is no time period set on this story either. Peter Forsberg is with the team and not hiding in his Swedish man-cave that’s all ya need to know.
Les Liaisons Dangereuses
"Hey Patty!" I said to my friend Patrick Roy as he began unbuckling his goalie pads. "Jonathen left his Gameboy in my car."
Patrick flicked his royal blue eyes up to my gaze and looked at me for a moment. It was one of those lingering looks that breezed right through someone before turning back to its original occupation. He continued to unbuckle his pads. He definitely was in one of those moods.
I shrugged. A year ago, a look like that would have had me slighted and angry, or else crushed and forlorn. I would have moaned to anyone who would hear, begging to know what I’d done wrong. But not anymore. I understood now when Patty was just being Patty, as our captain Joe Sakic put it. I knew that he was focused on something else, more than likely the game coming up, and that I should bug him later.
I yawned and looked a little at Patrick. He was tying and untying a bit of lacing on his skate, repeating something to himself as he did. One of many new spells of the week for him no doubt.
I remembered being thirteen, howling at the TV as Patrick led his third in their division Montreal Canadiens to a crushing series victory over my Quebec Nordiques. I used to hate him so much. Now, he was my friend.
It’s funny how the devil can be so transfigured in so short a time. I was on my last rope, actually wanting to die when Patrick and his wife Michele brought me to their home and threw me right into the midst of their children’s garage hockey game. As a trembling, underweight rookie in training camp, Patrick Roy was the last one I thought would come and take me in. But he did. And for the next year, I lived with the Roy’s. On top of that, I was playing hockey on the same line as Joe Sakic!
"Hey, Dru!" I said to my teammate Chris Drury. "Life is so cool!"
Drury looked up at me and pursed his lips, his thick eyebrows becoming straight black lines. "Ooooo-kay," he said. "Why you so perky?"
"Shut-up, both of you! I lost my thought!" Patrick snapped. Rising and shuffling like a lamed grizzly bear, Patty hobbled out of the room.
Drury rolled his eyes and looked at me, mouthing out the initials, "P.M.S."
I didn’t see Patty after practice, but deVries told me that he had gone off with some of the guys to the Chop House. So I decided to take Jonathen’s Game-boy back to the Roy house myself.
"Oh, hello, Precious," Coco Lacroix, chirped as she opened the door. She turned around and called behind her, "Mimi, your baby boy is here!"
"What?" Michele asked, gliding out from the kitchen, her eyes were slitted inquisitively. "Oh!" she said when she saw me, her angular face glowing suddenly with friendliness. "What are you up to Alex?" she asked.
I didn’t know who to say hello to first. When together, Coco and Michele, were as bubbly and flirtatious as high-school girls. They always had me blushing. I just shuffled into the house, mumbling something and looked at my feet. Coco gave me a big hug, wrapping her arm around my waist. She smelled nice.
"Well, Mimi," Coco said, "I’ll see you later. Take care, Alex."
With that, Coco gave me a huge smooch on my forehead, just like a mother would. Michele laughed as I reddened and Coco left, her high heels clicking on the front porch as she did. I looked up helplessly at Michele, and she only laughed harder.
"Oh Alex," she giggled, "What is it?"
I looked at my hands and saw the clear plastic toy, which was why I was here in the first place. "Jonathen’s Game-boy, I’m returning it."
"Oh," Michele mouthed out with her perfectly red lips. She took the Game-boy and looked at it. Rather absent-mindedly she placed it on a shelf. I was beginning to think from her and Patrick’s reactions, that Jonathen probably wasn’t aware of the Game-boy’s absence. I began to feel awkward. I didn’t live here anymore, so I couldn’t just go downstairs and nap for the next three hours. I looked up and I noticed that Michele was looking at me.
"Mmmm, something smells good!" I abruptly said.
Michele smiled, "Spaghetti sauce, you know I make that for Patrick’s lunch."
"Oh," I said, "Umm I think Patty went with some of the guys to the Chop House."
Michele squinted and frowned. "Oh," she said. She turned around and strode back to the kitchen. "Well, then come on, Alex," she said, "You better be hungry."
I was definitely hungry. Michele was an awesome cook and the fact that I was eating Patrick’s sacred game-day spaghetti and meatballs was completely blowing me away. Michele sat at the other end of the kitchen table, her chin on her palm, as she watched me. I barely noticed her at first as I slurped down noodle after perfectly seasoned noodle.
"You’re so grown up now," Michele said with a smile.
I gulped down a hunk of meatball and looked sheepishly at her. I knew my face had to be splotched with tomato sauce.
Michele stood up, and walked over to me, her stylish leather shoes clomping over the wood. She lifted my chin in the palm of one of her hands, looking directly into my eyes. I swallowed, but there was nothing in my mouth.
Michele grinned. "I remember," she said, "When you were so skinny, and helpless. Like a little boy."
Her other hand rested briefly on my knee, and when it did, I held my breath. I was fast feeling uncomfortably warm all over. Michele didn’t seem to notice, she just pulled the napkin off my knee and then becoming a proper mother, she licked the napkin and began to wipe the sauce off my mouth.
"Aww!" I complained as I wrinkled my nose and squirmed away from her.
"What’s going on?"
Michele blanched, and I’m sure I did too at the familiar sound of that voice.
Michele closed her eyes tightly and she said in an undertone to me, "I thought you said he was at The Chop House." Her eyes fluttering as she prepared herself, Michele turned around. "Patrick! You’re late." she said with a honey voice.
Patrick lifted his ginger eyebrows, he was looking at me....or more precisely he was looking at my forehead where Coco had no doubt left lipstick. On top of that, I was sitting there at his table, with his food, mostly eaten.
"Really?" he said, "It doesn’t look like I’ve been missed."
I think I was close to wetting myself at that point. There were ugly sparks Patrick got in his eyes when he was angry or completely passionate about something, and I could see them forming right now. I didn’t feel any older than one of his children.
"It’s not..." I stuttered, "What you think."
Patrick wasn’t looking at me anymore.
"Patrick," Michele said calmly, "I ruined the sauce, I was just about to make a new pot. I let Alex have the rest, he was just about to leave."
"Oh," Patrick said, his expression hadn’t changed, I couldn’t tell if he had believed her or not. He just kept his gaze on Michele, as he strode towards me and dipping a finger on my plate he sampled the sauce. "You’re right," he said, "It’s bad. Too much salt."
I resisted the urge to exhale in relief and I just looked up at Patrick and smiled.
"You shouldn’t be coming home so late anyway," Michele said, almost pouting, "You’ll have less time to nap now."
Patrick, who had seemingly forgotten me, looked at his wife, gazing at her up and down. I blushed. "Who says I want to nap," he said bluntly.
This was way too much. I stood up from my seat, not even disrupting the couple as I did. I backed away from the table and thought about saying, "Goodbye". But when Patrick, looking at Michele as if she were a prey item, grabbed her around the waist with his arm and buried his face on her neck. I decided I should just scram. I could hear Michele giggling as I closed the front door behind me.
I was shivering a bit when I got into my car, even though it was a warm fall day. I gripped the steering wheel for a moment, my knuckles whitening. Patrick and Michele were the most dramatic couple I knew at running hot and cold in their relationship. That part didn’t bother me. I knew how passionate they could be.
What was bothering me was how insanely jealous I suddenly was. I was angry! When Patrick had entered the kitchen I had felt like he was the intruder, not me. I suddenly resented him. He couldn’t even taste how delicious that sauce was! Michele worked and slaved all day to keep him a wonderful house and he never, ever noticed. I deserved that meal more than he did.
And he didn’t trust me! That stuck in my craw too. That look he gave me, like he had caught me up to something, then flaunting himself on Michele, no doubt to show me that she was his wife and not mine.
I growled as I turned the keys in the ignition. What the hell was wrong with me? This was the couple who had practically adopted me when I was at my lowest point, and this was how I was feeling? I shook my head as I pulled out of the driveway, and I gnawed the rest of the sauce off my bottom lip.
I was sleepy, I couldn’t wait to get home to my loft and just crash out. There was a game to worry about tonight. And if Patrick wasn’t intent on getting any sleep, then I was.
Links to other sites on the Web