The sitter

I laughed as soon as I opened the box. The first thing I saw was a piece of tissue paper, laying uselessly over the top of the package. I threw that aside, and was met by red and the face of the indian that donned the hawks jersey. I took it out and looked at the back, and smiled. Of course it was a Kane 88, but it was also signed on the right shoulder.

Hidden in my jersey (I liked the sound of that) there was another thing. A little white hawks onesie, for ages 6-9 months, with a note attached. In sloppy, boyish handwriting, it read, "I hope this fits him."

Even though I had gotten a sitter, I knew Jaxon would be wearing it quite a bit.

*****

I looked at the section anxiously. I didn't know if I wanted to be so early that I saw the whole warmups, half, none, or walked in as the puck dropped. But here I was, the clock reading 19:23 and both teams were warming up.

The stands weren't packed (the bars were, I'm sure), but there were people every few rows. And only one girl sitting the the seat next to row E, seat 19. I assumed it was Chaunette. She was wearing a hawks tee, jeans, and boots, which was similar to my skinny jeans, tall brown riding boots, and my new jersey. I didn't have any other hawks apparel, so I wore a plain black v neck tee.

I tried to think of ways to introduce myself as I walked down to my seat. I could just say hi, or I could wait for her to make a move. But I didn't have to make a choice when, upon seeing me enter the row, stood up and gave me a hug.

"You're Mel?" Chaunette asked, in a high pitched, excited voice.

"Yeah, well if I wasn't, it'd be weird because you just hugged me." I said, smiling. Thankfully, she laughed back and sat down, pulling me with her.

"I bought you a beer, but I usually don't drink them until the game starts. Oh, look! There's Patrick!" She said, pointing to the far corner. The boys were skating around and shooting, or standing in the corners, talking amongst themselves. But never looking in the stands. Chaunette practically read my mind when she said, "Don't worry, the players usually never look at their girls until they are leaving. They do their stupid head nod and go back in the locker room and then come back out again, and then they really won't look at you, which sucks but, like, it's their job so who can really blame them?"

I noticed throughout the warmup that Chaunette was quite a talker. She wasn't a run on speaker, she let me get in a few sentences here and there, but she did at least 80 percent of the talking.

Which I was fine with because she was only giving me facts and dirt. Things like Jon only looks crabby, and is a sarcastic asshole sometimes, but he's also very sweet on occasion. She told me who she liked and didn't like (Most of the wives were ok, sometimes a bit snobby. Never talk to
Lindsay. Abby Sharp is literally the best, don't talk to anybody about Corey Crawford's love life, ext.), and most importantly, post game.

When they left the ice to have it resurfaced, Patrick did come over and did his stupid head nod (the words of Chaunette were actually accurate) and his smile that hit me both in the heart and in the zipper area, the girls who were down by the glass who were wearing actual heels and miniskirts to a sporting event squealed and jumped, while Chaunette just muttered "Whores," And went on to speak more.

"Everybody usually waits downstairs, unless you are a bitch, and waits for whoever their with to come out of the locker room. Then, if and usually when we win, we go out, to either a club or bar, depending on the game. Since it's pittsburgh and it's actually going to be sort of hard, I'll bet we go somewhere new. Then, since i'm guessing you didn't bring stuff to dance in, me and you will go and get you all dolled up to grind on Patrick. The rare occasions when we lose, we still wait, but you either go straight home, or the guys go to a bar and drink away their pain. Got it? Oh, and Patrick is usually the fourteenth one out, at his fastest. Oh, wow. They're coming back on already."

And then it was puck drop. Patrick didn't start, which I was sad about, but Chaunette squealing and squeezing my arm when she saw that Andrew and Patrick were on the same line.

"They have, like, tons of chemistry," She explained. "And of course, Brandon, such a cutie. Apparently they call him man child. Like what the hell? The WAGS, stands for wives and girlfriends by the way, started trying to nickname each other just to rattle they boys up."

I laughed at Chaunette being called something like mutt or tazer. "I'll need a few examples."

"Abby Sharp is of course the Mother Ship, which isn't really a nickname because it's loads longer than her actual name, but whatever. We originally wanted to call Lindsay, Barbie, but that did her too much justice so we call her worm."

"Why does everybody hate her?" I asked, moving my eyes away from the play to look at Chaunette.

"You could give me a year and I would have only started the introduction."

I went on the beer run in between the first and second, and Chaunette bought waters for the second and third. The game was back and forth goal wise, but Corey was on top of the game and with goals from Sharp, Keith, Jonny, and Patrick (With a beauty pass from Andrew), we won.

And Chaunette wasted no time hauling ass out to the lot where the cars were.

Once we were cozy in my range rover, Chaunette blurted out, "How's the sex? I mean, Patrick has crazy stamina, and no doubt good hands, but he has a bad knee and-"

I blushed so hard a tomato would be jealous. I had to cut her off, but I didn't want to explain that Patrick and I hadn't really done much more than wandering hand and the occasional head, going both ways. So i decided to stick with what was true. "The best."

She laughed, and once we arrived at my actual house (I had no party wear in my two suitcases at the Williams residence), I lead her to my room. Thank god it was clean.

"So," Chaunette began, opening my closet and pulling at random articles of clothing. "I want you to look absolutely banging, more than you already do. But you can't look slutty. Like no all over cheetah, or disco ball like. Your hair looks great already, but I'd do more makeup. It is a club, so you can do a little more than mascara. What size foot are you? I love your shoes. I think we are the same size. Tiny feet team, me and you. Are you a five and a half?"

"Yeah." I said, laughing. "Pain in the ass to find, am I right?"

"Yes!" Chaunette yelled. I laughed, and dragged out some of my more night out make up and began a smokey eye, while Chaunette still of course, talked. "We can share shoes! This is perfect. I liked you before, but I love you now! Leave Patrick, I'll ditch Andrew, and we can buy a condo in Florida on the beach. That way we won't even need to buy shoes. Just go barefoot all the time. What do you think of this?" I looked over at her, wearing her own blue dress, but wearing one of my silver belts that went perfectly with her silver shoes. It wasn't slutty, but guys would definitely be looking at her, and I knew for a fact that Shawzie would tear her up.

"You look good!" I said honestly.

"Oh, shush. I get to pick out what you are wearing!" I just laughed. I had a feeling that she liked digging through my closet. She finally decided on a black dress that was short and extremely tight, but covered my chest and actually had long sleeves. She handed me a pair of tall, black pumps that were not mine, and handed me a golden belt that hung low on my hips.

"Ho lee shit. I'd bang you." Chaunette said, looking me up and down. I looked at myself in my mirror, trying to see what Patrick would see. My hair was down in big, loose waves, and I had a dark, intense smokey eye with nude sparkly lips. My dress hugged my curves in all of the right places without being overly slutty, but still showed off my ass. And no doubt the shoes did good for my legs.

"Let's go." I said.

*****

We took a cab to the club, and were let in by Chaunette saying something to the bouncer up front.
We then stopped by the bar and ordered drinks before making our way up to the vip section.

"Ugh." Chaunette said when we finally reached the bottom of the stairs. "Did you get groped as much as I did?"

"It's the belt." I said with a shrug. But she was right. I definitely got more than the accidental brush of a hand.

"You go first. I wanna look at your ass in this dress."

I laughed, but argued. "No, you. I don't want to walk up into a room full of strangers."
She shrugged and led the way. When we were at the top, she grabbed my hand and led me through a doorway. Almost everybody was standing up with a drink in their hands, and nobody was really facing the door except Duncan Keith, Patrick Sharp, and Brent Seabrook. No wives in sight, but beers in their hands. Chaunette of course made a beeline for them and hugged them one at a time.

I didn't know if I should also hug them, so I just smiled, and opened my mouth to say my name, but I didn't know how to introduce myself. Was I Patrick's girlfriend? I hadn't seen anybody else in a month, and I hope Patrick had done the same. But I had no need for words when Duncan pulled me in a one armed hug and kissed me full on the cheek. Patrick (Sharp), Brent, and Chaunette though it was hilarious.

Andrew saw us and made his way over, giving me a hug (No kiss) and said, rather loudly and enthusiastically, "Hey Mel!" This caused Sharp to choke on his beer.

"No way this is little peekaboo's Mel," He said looking at Andrew, who just nodded. Then he turned to me. "You are with Patrick?"

"Yeah? I guess so." The way they said my name me me confirm the fact that Patrick had told them about me, most likely locker room gossip. Which was usually bad.

"Patrick never shuts up about you." Brent said. "He's always like, I gotta text somebody, or like, I can't tonight because I'm busy, now I see why!"

I laughed, and replied, "I hope they are all good things!"

"Where is he anyway?" Chaunette asked.

Duncan, being the sensible and unnoticeable man he way, thought the only way to get Patrick over here was to yell across the lounge until Patrick came over, followed by Jon, Brandon, and a blonde I didn't recognize, who was wearing a tight, low dress, that was cheetah. I assumed it was Lindsay.

Another moment that could be awkward. Do Patrick and I kiss? It's not like we haven't done it before, hell, half of the time we spent together was us kissing. But that was alone, behind walls, not in a club with twenty of Patrick's closest friends. We were obviously going to hug, the way we were both walking towards each other, but what if-

Boom. He went for it. He fucking went for the kiss, and not a little one either. A hot, searing, fuck me right now please kiss. One that asked, no, begged to leave now, forget everybody else, and kiss me again. Patrick pulled my hips closer, deepening the kiss, until Jon coughed rather loudly, and Patrick pulled back, looking flushed.

"Is that how everybody says hi to you?" Brandon asked, getting a laugh from everybody.

"Well, since Jon clearly lost his voice and can't speak, I'll introduce myself. I'm Lindsay."

Jon rolled his eyes and stopped smiling. I moved my hand to shake hers, but she was already turned away, so my hand was left sticking out in the middle of our circle. Everybody but Jon and Lindsay laughed, because they were glaring at each other. Lindsay finally huffed and mumbled something about a drink.

"I hope she sucks your dick they way she sucks the fun out of everything." I mumbled quietly, or at least I thought, but clearly not, because everybody, including Jon, laughed.

"She's pissed because I stopped for pictures." Jon explained.

"Oh how dare you." I said sarcastically.

"I know, right!" Jon said, laughing.

A bartender came by with shots, and I took two and tipped them. It wasn't often that I got out, and I wasn't really a lightweight, so I needed a constant stream of alcohol to keep me going. Eventually the circle lost Patrick Sharp at about 12:30 and Duncan followed soon after. Brent made the comment "Fucking dads." But left at about 1:45. Lindsay left sometime between Sharp and Keith, but we also gained Corey Crawford along the way, and ended up in a circle of chairs and sofas that we were sprawled across. We were all drunk, Patrick and I on each other more than anything. When Patrick mumbled in my ear, "Let's go dance." I hauled myself up and he led the way down the stars. When we were both steady at the bottom, Patrick pulled me into another kiss, and my pulled in, I literally mean he grabbed my hips with his hands and pulled us so close that I could feel him breathe.

"Let's just go." Patrick said when we both pulled back for air.

"What about dancing?" I asked, confused.

"We can dance at my place."

I smiled, at we stepped outside.

Notes

Omg you guys I had like nine chapters written and I thought I deleted them and I like died but then I found the undo button and I was saved I literally had a heart attack for a straight twelve minutes.

And also I'm not trying to make Lindsay a bitch, but I want Jon to go through a breakup (Don't worry) so That's how I wrote her. I have never met her so I can't say anything about her personality.

And Bollig's trade:(

AND JAMES NEAL TRADE HOLY FUCK!