“Shut your mouth!” I yelled across the room at him, “Ewwh! Why did I even come here!”
“I don’t know, Miss Bitch, but you’re more than welcome to leave.” he shot back. I grabbed my bag just as Jordan cause my one arm and Sidney caught he other.
“Don’t leave, Bernie. He’s just a dick sometimes.” Jordan mumbled. Eric Godard was not just a dick, he was vermin; Vermin that needed to be taken care of.
“I’ve got to go meet my dad. I’ll see you later.” I told them, shaking them free and leaving. Maxy was walking in just as I left.
“Why in God’s name is Mark Messier in the lobby?” he asked, walking past me. I smiled. Dad was finally on time for once.
Turning the corner I saw him, standing without a care in the lobby. I walked towards him and he smiled. He’d just come into town from LA and he looked like he was sort of cold. It was only 70 today in Pittsburgh but back home in Anaheim it was 98 and breezy. Half the team was popping out of the locker room to see what Max was talking about now.
“Hi, Dad.” I said, slinging my hockey bag over my shoulder. He smiled and kissed my forehead. Supreme awestruck boys behind us. I’d just been hired as the ‘baby’ Wilkes-Barre Scranton Penguins head coach yesterday. I guess word hadn’t spread yet that I was a Messier. Even Sidney hadn’t know, and I’d been in contact with him for a long while.
“Hey, Bernie. Ready to go meet Wayne or do you need to go home and chance?” Dad asked me. Obviously I felt no surprised at going to see ‘Uncle Wayne’….. Gretzky that is. Jordan and Sidney were over to us in a flash. Jordan, in awe of my father, said nothing while Sidney found a voice easily.
“Hello, Mr. Messier. I don’t believe we’ve met before…”
And thus began my career with the Penguins.
For almost seven months I coached the WBS Pens to victory after victory until I gained a promotion to the NHL as Assistant Head Coach to Dany Bylsma; the man who’s job I’d taken after he’d been promoted himself. That promotion, joining the highest rank of the NHL I could, was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.
“Eric! Stop it! You’re so stupid! Get out of here!” I yelled, shooing him away from me.
“ ‘Stop it!’ Ha! Why don’t you stop being such a bitch and go get laid or something.” Eric spat back venomously. I’d never hated anyone more in my life. H e made my best day turn into the worst day of my life- by simply showing up.
“Why do you hate him so much?” Kris asked me, sitting down on the bench nearest where I was doing the rest of my paperwork. I’d taken up residence on the complete other side of the room from Eric.
“He’s such an obnoxious egotistical hypocritical bastard who can’t have a shread of a decent conversation without insulting someone. He’s a lowlife, vile, insignificant little cockroach.” I mumbled to him under my breath. He laughed and shook his head, leaving my side.
When I stood ten minutes later and tried to walk away I ran right into the reason my usually tranquil and pensive personality had flared into a walking ball of hate. And I was but a mere two inches from his face. We stood, stunned for a moment and dazed, before returning to our normality.
“Get out of my way.” he half demanded.
“Ewwh. I hate you.” I retorted quickly with a rage. He laughed and turned back to face me.
“Hate? You hate me? Really? That’s not what that look was.” he replied. Now I was positively outraged.
“Look? It’s my face. Get over yourself, Eric. Not everyone loves you.” I growled, “And unlike most people in this locker room, I’ll tell you to your face.” By this time nearly everyone still left in the room was watching our epic battle.
“I think you do. You like me. You’re just too scared to admit it. You love me.” he taunted, “You’re afraid of your feelings so you hide them with anger.” he continued, looking sly. I laughed dryly.
“Yeah right.” I said, drawing nearer to him and shoving him away, “I don’t hate people I love. I can promise you that I hate your ever loving guts.”
He laughed again at a joke only he got, and walked out. I was still angry by the time Max found me in my office.
“So… you going to throw yourself at him or not?” he asked. The pen I was holding almost broke in my hand.
“What did you just say to me?” I questioned, thinking maybe I hadn’t heard right. Max smiled, twisting his lips up pleasantly as he leaned on my office door.
“The sexual desire and tension between you too is so thick when you’re in the same room that I could about suffocate.” he elaborated, “So are you going to make a move or should I be asking him?”
“Maxime Talbot, get your ass out of my office.” I shouted, standing up. Max nodded, smiling as he walked out.
Hours later I sat, dwelling on what Max had just said. Come to think of it, all the times Eric and I were close to each other there was a………. what was I saying? Eric Godard and I? That was absurd. I hated him… didn’t I?
The next few days passed with, surprisingly little conflict. We passed each other without comment and said little when we had to speak at practice. We fell into monotony with occasional spats. One, finally, pushed me over the edge.
“God you’re such a bitch. Why do you have to even work here. You’re terrible. You suck at your job and you’ll never get anywhere.” He said sassily. I turned with daggers in my eyes.
“Oh, I hate you.” I growled under my breath. He chuckled.
“Suureee you do.” he commented, “You hate me like Max hates sex.”
“Shut your mouth, Eric.” I growled. He proceeded to taunt me until I could no longer deal with him. I grabbed my things and walked out, teary eyed and frustrated. He’d insulted me… and my father.
I, from then on, had to admit that through my hatred, that he must’ve felt something for making that happened. I hadn’t heard a word out of him since. Three days later I received new that my father, the great Mark Messier, had been stricken with a terrible fever and proceeded to have a heart attack.
I was in shambles. I skipped every practice I could but eventually, the paper work caught up to me. I scribbled away for hours, trying to focus on anything but my father’s poor conditions. Then, the news that he’d had another heart attack. I was broken and crying over my papers. A quiet knock at my door.
I pushed my tears away and went to answer it. Probably someone here for Vladimir Sobotka. I’d taken him in as a house mate since he’d just been traded to us.
Opening my door I found a lonely Eric Godard before me. Through my sorrow I found that anger wouldn’t come so I just stepped back and let him in. Closing the door behind him I sighed, leaning my head on the door frame.
“Botka’s not here, Eric.” I told him quietly, trying hard to maintain my composure. I heard a sigh and he put his hand on my back. I turned instinctively quickly and felt surprised as I met his eyes.
“I didn’t come for Botka,” he began.
“Then what did you come for?” I regained some of the fire that burned within me. His face tightened in challenge, then softened along with his eyes.
“I came to see you..” he trailed off, pulling me loosely into his arms. I didn’t fight, nor did I reciprocate. I was in shock. I was…. Enjoying this. His arms felt perfect engulfing me; his chest was the greatest comfort I’d ever had. The smell of his Axe and Old Spice intoxicated me to the point of drunkenness. We could’ve stayed there for hours and I would’ve felt the same need to stay there. “You are my-” he began as a key in the door turned. Botka. Of all the times to come home he picked now.
Eric and I jumped apart and began screaming. Good enough to cover our previous attachment. Botka, Geno, Sid and Max believe us at least.
“You are such a bitch!” Eric screamed. It cut deep after being so near to him. I felt rage. I took a step up and shoved him away by his chest.
“You’re one to talk you insignificant lowlife mother-” I began before Sidney broke us up and sent him packing. As the door shut on him I felt my sorrow return, greater than it had been before.
And for days I cried because my father had been placed in a coma for stability. I called Wayne but he couldn’t come in for another week. Never had I wanted to be in Eric’s company more. At least then I’d feel angry….. And safe.
A few weeks passed me by and my father woke up finally, in a haze and in pain, but fully alive.
“Daddy…!” I exclaimed, running into his hospital room. I’d always been a daddy’s girl.
“Bernadette!” he half whisper yelled at me, opening his arms so he could hug me. I stayed there and cried for a minute, enjoying his consciousness as he kissed my forehead.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive… awake.” I told him, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”
“I won’t, sweetheart.” he promised me. We talked for hours until something I said jogged a memory he’d forgotten. “What day is it?”
“Saturday, why?” I replied, feeling confused. He smiled and pushed some hair out of my face. It had fallen down out of the messy bun it was in due to my laziness.
“You have a party to go to tonight, don’t you?” he asked, smiling. I shook my head.
“I’m not going. I’m staying with you.” I insisted, watching him shaking his head and sitting up straighter.
“No no. I want you to go. You need a time to have fun now. I just woke up and I’m not going to die any time soon. Go. Have fun. Be with your team. You don’t know how much it will comfort you.” he told me, giving me a kiss on the forehead again. I sighed but nodded, standing up and hugging him again before turning and walking out hesitantly.
I got dressed for the party that night, a masquerade, and got into my car. I drove slowly to the venue, the Ritz Banquet Hall, and arrived right on cue. Jordan and Sidney, clearly, were standing out front where they told me they’d be. A wide smile crossed their faces when I stepped out of my car after replacing my intricate golden mask. I was wearing a long black masquerade ball dress, grey lace on the bottom and end of my sleeves as well as around my collar…. My lowish collar. My hair was pulled up and curled, a few feathers in it. Sidney offered me his hand and when I took it, he kissed it quickly.
“And you look beautiful tonight, Miss Messier.” he complimented as Jordan opened the door for me. I strolled in to find everyone waltzing to an old world beat. It was like walking into three hundred years ago. We were encouraged to not know who everyone was until the end of the night, promote meeting new people, though most everyone was with a husband or wife, I knew. A few people sat on the wall, waiting for a chance to dance with someone. I was like fresh meat to them, I suppose.
I sat down in a chair across the room and was approached by Jordan, Max and Billy just for fun but ultimately spent a decent while there. Finally, someone approached me and, for once, I was unsure of who it was. Their swagger was strange to me; foreign. A feat for anyone on this team considering I knew almost everyone better than they knew themselves. He offered me a hand, smiling under his mask. Nothing specific needed to be said; I knew what he wanted and stood so we could dance. Pulling me to the floor we turned circles intricately, precisely.
We were still dancing as the song changed but we still hadn’t spoken a word. Staring into his eyes, whoever he was, was enough to hold my attention. They were beautiful, deep icy green blue. And mine seemed to captivate him to stare into them because, though we danced fluid circles around with everyone else, we never looked away. Finally, a slower number and a lot of the people left the floor, save for a few married couples. He pulled me a bit closer and we stayed to dance. As we turned I saw Sidney, Jordan and Max looking a tad surprised from the sidelines. I don’t believe they had much idea who it was either. I thought maybe Sobotka; knowing full well he’d been eyeing me at home.
Another few slower songs that we turned in step to, perfectly in sync. I was surprised by this, considering we still weren’t looking around. Just staring. Every step we took started to feel like a magnetic pull. We were so close by the end of the last dance that played there practically wasn’t room to breath. I could smell the vanilla perfume mixing with his cologne; it was pleasant and sweet. I saw Mario, host of tonight’s events, step up to the mic and speak.
“Now, the time has come to see just who it is you’ve met tonight. Remove your masks at the count of three.” he instructed. My hand went to my mask and his to his own. “One,” Mario started. We stared into each others eyes. There was an electric shock. We were so close but so far away. We hadn’t even spoken. “Two,” His hand found mine; well the one that wasn’t on his mask waiting for three. I’d never once felt so strange about someone I didn’t even know the name of. My heart was fluttering in my chest waiting for Mario to call out the magic number. He looked about as nervous and happy as I was, a small smirk crossing his face. He was sly, smooth, quick. His eyes were scheming, calm but so icy and deep; beautiful. “Three.” I blinked for a second, pulling my mask away as I felt him do the same. When I opened them, the breath was taken from my lungs.
“…Eric?” I asked, looking up at him. He was so much calmer than any time I’d ever seen him before. A small smile crossed his lips and he pulled me closer to him, just enough to whisper into my ear.
“You know…. I was afraid. Afraid of talking to you. Afraid of being a decent guy. Afraid of being rejected.” he told me, hand tightening around mine, “But I’m not afraid anymore,” the music resumed as people began to dance again, maskless, with people they’d met. Eric and I were motionless in the middle of the floor. I felt a few hundred eyes on us as they turned circles. “I’m going to kiss you. Quickly and roughly.” he told me simply. I laughed and shook my head, causing him some confusion.
“Oh no you’re not.” I told him firmly. He looked surprised and smiled at me warmly for the first time. I felt my legs get weak.
“And why’s that?” he interrogated, taking my other hand. I cracked a smile and stared up into his eyes for a minute. Why did this feel so right? Why was I so attracted to this man who had caused me so much grief? Questions with no answers but definite passion.
“Because, you can’t do that if I do it first.” I answered him. He chuckled and drew nearer to me, stopping just before his lips would’ve met mine. I’d never longed to tip forwards into him more but I let him speak. Max had been right. So much tension was mounting between us right now that I was suffocating.
“I like them feisty,” he began, looking into my eyes again, “I like you being feisty.” and another crooked smile. He pressed his lips to mine lightly and I’d never felt more right ever. When he broke away I pulled him back quickly and roughly, as promised, and he smiled into my lips. That broke and he smirked. “I think I’m in love.”
“Oh, I’m sure I am.” I affirmed him, “I love your ever loving guts.” he smiled and kissed me again, turning slowly to a beat this time.
We danced right into the next four years; to our wedding; the birth of our first son; and a never ending love.
