“Listen, if you can stand up on skates, I’m going to think you’re awesome.”
“Just wait. I always have bruises somewhere. You’ll see me bust it like crazy.”
“Drew, just don’t get your teeth knocked out.”
Later that day, as we’re on the way to the hockey rink, I’m a bit nervous. He told me to bring a jacket because it gets chilly inside. When we walk in, his arm is thrown casually around my shoulders. We run into another couple. It’s a teammate and his wife.
“Sam. Caroline. Hey, this is Cate. She’s up for the weekend,” he says as he introduces me.
We all greet each other and the guys head off to the locker room.
Caroline looks at me. “Want to find a seat?”
“Sure.” So we wander up to the stands and get a seat right behind the thick Plexiglas partition right next to the box where the players sit.
“It’s nice to see Drew with someone. The hockey ho that’s been hanging around here now will maybe get the message.”
“Oh? Hockey ho?” I laugh.
“Just wait. She’ll be here wearing his number. You’ll see.”
“That’s just icky.”
“It is. She wraps herself around him, too. He does everything to get her off him, but she will not leave him alone. Now she’s going to have to. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she finds out he’s here with you.”
“Oh, maybe that’s bad, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Caroline. She sounds batshit nutty. What if she tries to stab me or something?”
“I don’t think she’s that psycho.”
“I hope not.” I’ll just stay close to Drew after the game and hope for the best.
A few minutes pass and Caroline elbows me. “There she is.” I look toward the door and a bleached blonde walks in. Her boobs are the size of summer cantaloupes and her lips look like they got stuck in my mom’s Dyson vacuum cleaner. What the hell? Does she have a frequent buyer’s card at the local plastic surgeon’s office?
Caroline starts laughing. “Exactly!”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.”
“Oops. I need to be better at filtering my thoughts.”
“No, you’re right. She’s a freak show. What’s wrong with people?”
“I’ve got nothing for you on that.”
She shuffles up the stands, and I mean shuffles. When I see what’s on her feet, I get why. She’s wearing five-inch spiky heels. Holy shit. This is a hockey game, for Pete’s sake. Her jeans are so tight, I’m afraid they’re going to split down the middle. And when she wobbles up the steps, she drops something, bends down to pick it up and the crack of her ass shows. Oh, for the love of everything. Cover up the crack! Then I start to think of that … that thing chasing after Drew and I get tickled. And it hits me so hard I start laughing. I laugh until I cry. Then Caroline starts laughing and we know we’re both making spectacles out of ourselves, but we can’t seem to stop. It’s like when you’re in church and you know you’re not supposed to laugh, but the harder you try not to, the more you do. The next thing I know, I’m snorting and the FreakShowHockeyHo is watching us. OhMyGod MakeUsStop!
Finally—finally!—the guys skate on the ice and that breaks it up for us. We both wheeze for a while but we do catch our breath. “That was way too good to pass up, right?” I ask.
“Oh, I can see it now. You’re gonna have a heyday with this one. He’s gonna have to tough it out, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
HockeyHo is only a few rows away from us so we need to cut off our chat. Then she gets up and waddles down to the glass, which is right next to us, presses her melons against it and yells out Drew’s name. I cup my hand over my mouth and snort again. The back of her midriff tank top has number seventeen on it—Drew’s number. She turns toward us for a second and I see the number is on the front, too.
Caroline leans into me and says, “Told ya.” I can only shake my head.
Then HockeyHo yells, “I’m pulling for ya, Drew. Show ’em what ya got!” And she gives her melons the old one two.
I pull my phone out and snap a photo. I can’t resist.
When the team finishes warming up, they skate into their box and Drew and Sam look up at us. Drew has this sheepish look on his face as he shrugs. I laugh. Then something comes over me and I yell, “I’m pulling for ya, Drew!” And I whistle. That’s my claim to fame. I can whistle really loud with my fingers. He looks at me and blows me a kiss.
HockeyHo’s eyes bulge to match her melons. She looks at me, then at Drew, and back at me. Then she yells, “I said it first, Drew.”