Having only been in town since late November, I had never ventured to this part of town and had no idea where the United Center even was.
Glancing around the city, I realized how beautiful it could be. My visions of the city had been tarnished a little, given what happened to me, but I was determined to overcome that and realized it could have happened anywhere.
Downtown Chicago consisted of mostly high rise buildings. It offered a lively uptown scene you didn't see in Oregon. When I first moved here, I was so into dancing and trying to get over the death of my family, I never took a look around the city, other than the few restaurants near Blake's place at Regents Park in the Indian Village.
The thought of Blake made me sick to my stomach. I knew from Evan that Detective Paulsen had questioned him and nothing came from the lead, but the thoughts were still there that he could have been the guy. Watching all those detective shows at Evan's parents' house did not help my paranoid side.
Those thoughts were pushed away when Evan pulled into the parking lot, and a girl was waiting for him. It was Callie, I assumed.
"That's Callie Pratt," Evan said, reaching behind the seat in his Audi for his suit jacket and a black bag. "She's going to sit with you tonight." He looked over at me, eyebrows raised, a slight smirk to his gorgeous lips. "Is that all right?"
I gave him a nod, my hand reaching for the door when his right one touched mine. "You sure you want to be around these rowdy fans?" he asked, softly.
"Yes…I want to see a live game."
Since seeing Evan on television in the hospital and then again at his parents' house, I couldn't get the idea of him playing out of my head, and I needed live visuals for that.
Evan gave a shake to his head, his grin growing. "All right then. Let's go."
When we stepped from Evan's car, Callie smiled my direction and then scrunched her nose at Evan. "When was the last time you slept?"
"Shut up," he said moving past her and bumping into her shoulder. "Callie, this is Ami. Be nice and keep out of trouble." He turned to me, smiling again, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Seriously, Evan, I'm fine." Evan laughed, and then he was walking into the back doors as Callie and I made our way to the ticket entrance. We said nothing to each other at first until she took my ticket out of my hand and handed it to the lady standing in the booth.
"So you're the girl Evan's all strung out on, eh?" Callie said as we walked into the United Center. Briefly, I was overwhelmed by the sheer size of all of this and the strums of fans that wildly supported their home team.
"I wouldn't say strung out. He's my knight in shining armor, though."
That got a grin out of Callie and made me smile, too.
I heard laughter as a group of girls dressed in tight jeans and low-cut shirts congregated around a large poster of Leo Orting, Evan's best friend, and snapped pictures. Callie, loud enough for them to hear, said, "Those are what the boys refer to as puck bunnies. Some get the term ice princess, or hockey hookers, others get glass lickers, and some, well...they don't even get names." She eyed the one wearing what appeared to be a hot pink tube sock.
"You're one to talk," one of them said to Callie. "Have you fucked the entire team yet?"
Callie didn't appear to be scathed by their comment and spouted off with, "No, haven't played the pipes with the goalie." She clicked her tongue and did a twirl. "But maybe tonight."
Was she joking?
Probably not.
I wouldn't have doubted that Callie had "played the pipes" with most of the players. She was beautiful and had a body girls dreamed about having. Her dark hair looked like she spent hours on it, but strangely enough it was that way naturally. She had wide chocolate eyes with thick black lashes and creamy olive skin. She looked like some kind of Brazilian goddess, the complete opposite of my light hair and blue eyes.
"Ready?" she asked, taking my hand and twirling it so it was hooked into her arm.
We were two rows back from the glass and right on center ice behind the Blackhawks bench. It felt like we would be in the action all night.
We settled in our seats next to two older gentleman, who appeared to be rooted in their seats, discussing the playoff potential of the teams.
"So this is your first game?" Callie asked, casually taking her flask from her bra and pouring what smelled like whiskey into her 7-Up bottle.
"Yeah." I watched her every move, and then she offered me the flask. I shook my head.
"Well, you're in for good night." She beamed at me. "These boys put on a good show at the United Center."
"It seems like it." A group of diehard fans a few rows over were all decked out in Blackhawk jerseys, painted faces, and beads.
I had never been to a hockey game before, nor did I know a damn thing about the game or the players. If you had said to me, "Hey, there's a hockey player." I would have looked for the guy with missing teeth. Evan Masen was never what I expected.
"Evan said you just moved here in November. Where are you from?"