Chapter 33

To get a flight out of Boston in the middle of the night on short notice Elia had to charter a private plane with NetJets. It was fabulous. She was the only one in the plane cabin, and got to spread out on a sofa with Byfuglien and a blanket. There was a fully stocked wine and liquor selection, which Elia managed to turn down for ginger ale. She had been doing planes wrong her whole life. Alone in the cabin with the lights dimmed her thoughts were swirling. So much had happened that day, it seemed never ending. There was so much to figure out and her mind couldn't focus on any one thing. She pushed all her worries out and tried to concentrate on helping Pat, slowly falling asleep until they arrived at O'Hare.

On the drive from the airport into the city Elia read an email sent by Jon:
Hey El,
Sorry to call you in the middle of the night. Here is what I know right now. Three days ago Kane called Q saying he went to the doctor and had the flu. We are rec by the med staff to get flu shots but not everyone does. He missed the game, and then the next day practice. Somebody posted pictures of him at a bar, but he told us they must have been old because he has been sick and at home. That was the last anyone heard from him. He didn't let anyone know he wouldn't be at the game yesterday, and he wasn't answering his phone. Up until this point we are all worried about the flu.
Last night I get a call from this girl he's been hanging out with—i don't really know what the relation is—and she tells me he doesn't have the flu and never did. She's worried about him, asks what she should do. She has keys to his apt (you do too?) I told her you'd call her when you get in (708-244-5657). I'm going back to sleep to see if I can still get six hours in. Call me if you need me though.

Jonathan Toews

She could picture Jon typing out the email on his phone past his bedtime and then worrying about his sleep cycle. What a dork. She knew Jonathan wanted to be there for Kane, but he had responsibilities to the rest of the team too. She would call him later.
The sun was starting to come up as they drove down the Kennedy into the city. How could Kane have missed two games? Guys like Sidney Crosby were sitting out with injuries wanting nothing more than to be back out on the ice and he was willingly taking himself out? It made her sick to her stomach to think about him taking it for granted. And for what? She called the number in the email and the girl said she would meet her at the Tower in twenty minutes.
A slender brunette was standing outside his condo door. She had been crying, that much was apparent. Elia thanked her for calling Jonny, and introduced herself. The girl's name was Amanda. She opened the door for Elia, and they walked into the condo. It was a mess, littered with pizza boxes and empty beer cases. Elia pushed a pair of heels out of her path with her shoe, and looked over at Amanda. “I mean, this is what I do when I have the flu...” She said sarcastically. This was a lot of mess for only a few days. They walked to Pat's bedroom door and knocked. There was no answer. Elia opened the door.
Pat was in his room laying on top of his bed in his underwear. A blonde woman beside him screamed and grabbed a blanket to cover herself when she saw strangers in the room. She started yelling at Elia, asking how she got in and waving her phone around threatening to call the police. Elia walked up, took the girls phone from her hand and tossed it in a glass of Coke on the bedside table. “You bitch!” the girl was screaming. Elia took $500 out of her pocket and told the girl it was to replace the phone.

"Get the fuck out of here." Elia said, not even looking at her. She staring at Patrick. He was starting to move, barely. Amanda shrunk out of the way as the blonde carried her clothes out of the bedroom.
"Wake up!" She yelled at Kane. She leaned over the bed and shook him. He murmured for her to leave him alone. The bedside table had a glass on it, Elia smelled it. Vodka. She got up and walked out of the room. She came back with a glass of water and a picture of the team.

"Patrick get up now!"

She threw the water in his face, and he sat up yelling, "What the hell did you do that for?"
He tried to go back to sleep but she knelt beside him and slapped him in the face.
"Fuuuuck!"
"Did you miss two games because you were too drunk to get out of bed?" Elia shouted.
"I have the flu,” Pat moaned.
"That chick have the flu too?" Elia asked. Patrick didn't respond.
“You need to make a decision.”
"I don't have to do anything."
"Do you see these guys?" She showed him the picture of the team, "you know these guys? You're letting them down. They depend on you. They need you to be better than this."
"I am better, I'm better than all the guys in the picture!"
"Not like this you aren't. I'd put Hossa above you. Toews. Duncan Keith maybe. I could keep going for a while because everyone else at least shows up."
He rolled his red bloodshot eyes.
"You on a bad day are still better than half the guys in the league, that might be true. But is that all that you want? Shit, I look at how hard your parents worked to get you here. How much your sisters believe in you. How much I believe in you. You need to decide if just being good enough is what you want."

He just shook his head and yelled at them to get out. Amanda was crying and left the room. Elia followed her out, taking her phone out of her pocket to call a doctor she knew that could help with a hangover. The girls waited on the couch together with Elia's dog. Amanda had a soft, elegant beauty. She wore barely any makeup, and her long brown hair fell straight on her shoulders. Even having been crying she carried herself with a quiet grace. Her outfit was simple but chic, skinny black pants and loose grey sweater.
“You look sort of familiar,” Elia said to her.
“You've come into my work a few times,” she replied quietly. “I work at the Boundary, on division?”
Elia had a vague recollection of seeing her there a month or so ago.
“Sooo...Are you two...dating...?” Elia asked awkwardly. Amanda shook her head. For a while neither of them said anything. Then Amanda spoke, “He kept coming into Boundary, and obviously I knew who he was. Most of the time he was by himself and he was always trying to talk to me. He asked if he could call me sometime and I asked why, and he said so we could go out sometime. Like I hadn't seen him make out with a girls at the bar.” She pursed her lips together. “And I told him that.” Patrick had tried again though, a week later. He told her it wouldn't be a date, they would just get lunch. Of course that would go well, Elia thought, she didn't know how a girl could resist Pat once they got to know his sweet side. Amanda had certainly developed feelings for him along the way, although she asserted they hadn't explored a physical side to the relationship yet. “Obviously,” she said, gesturing towards the bedroom and starting to tear up again. Elia wondered why Patrick had never mentioned any of this to her.
When Dr. Anderson finally arrived Elia brought him into Pat's room. He had drifted back to sleep. Elia woke him up and told him they were going to give him fluids and he wouldn't be hungover anymore. At first he resisted, but seemed to accept that he didn't want to feel like shit all day. They got to work setting up an I.V drip. Elia told the doctor she wanted a full tox screen submitted on the down low and gave him some extra cash. She walked back out to the living room. It would take about an hour for him to be back to normal. He might even make it to practice. In a way Elia felt it was cheating to let him get out of a hangover but he had a job to do.

“I can't believe you can hire a doctor to give an iv for a hangover,” Amanda said when she came back.
“I know, it's crazy. First world problems, you know? I used to do it all the time but my arm started looking like I had a heroin problem...When I say it like that it sounds like I have a drinking problem.” Elia wondered out loud.

Amanda went in to talk to Pat alone. She came back pretty fast. “I told him I called Jon and got in touch with you. I think he hates me now.” Elia gave her a hug. “I hated the person that first confronted me with my problems. Until I accepted he was right, and then I loved him more than anything. You did good.” Amanda wanted to stay but she had to go to class. Elia thanked her again and told she'd keep her updated. It was almost eight now so Elia called Jon. They agreed that one of them should be with Kane at all times over the next few days. He was going to head over with some food and then take him to practice. She checked her phone as she sat in the living room by herself. Brad had texted her. She called him. Outside the city had come alive. People crowded the sidewalks, cars jammed the streets. She watched the commotion below as she listened to the phone ring. He picked up.
“Elly,”
“Hey B,”
There was a long pause before Brad asked how Pat was. She told him he was going to be okay, trying to be as vague as possible.
“I'm sorry I raised my voice to you, and I'm sorry I swore at you. I thought a lot about some of the things you said. But El, I feel like you're always asking me for more and want me to commit but you are always the one holding back. You want me to go all in while you wait, and for what?”
“That's not true,” Elia objected.
“You want to go to all my games and hang out with the team and you won't even wear my jersey.”
That might have been true. But that was hockey, that wasn't a commitment problem. Was it?
“You say I don't want to know about your life, but you never want to talk about it. You don't want me to meet your family. I don't know what I expected from a girl that didn't even tell me her real name when we met.”
Down below a boat tour was heading up the river. Elia watched the waves part behind the boat.
“You can't even say you love me back.” He said finally, steadily enough it might have been practiced.
Elia held her breathe. There was a knock on the door.
“Hey Brad I have to go...Please don't give up on me? I'll call you as soon as I can.” She hung up the phone with the feeling of a huge weight on her chest. She answered the door. Jonathan was there. He brought breakfast from Wildberry Cafe.
“Do you know the fruity pebble pancakes are on the kid's menu?” He said as he took out her pancakes and set them on the kitchen counter bar. She ignored him as she walked over and grabbed the food. He passed her a coffee and started eating a bowl of cottage cheese with fruit in it and an egg white omelet. “Yours is on the senior citizen menu,” Elia said with a mouth full of pancakes. Patrick walked out of his room with the doctor, shaking his hand and telling him goodbye. Dr. Anderson waved goodbye and told Elia he would call her, and then left. Pat walked over to the counter and took a bite of Elia's pancakes, saying nothing. Jon passed him a breakfast burrito, and looked at Elia as if asking her to say something. There was an awkward silence in the room. “You smell like a stripper,” Elia told Pat. He laughed. Jon shot her a look, apparently that wasn't what he had wanted her to say.
After eating half of the breakfast burrito Pat went to take a shower and get ready to go.
“I already yelled at him earlier,” She told Jon.
“That's it?” He asked.
“Take him to practice, make it really hard on him. Don't tell anyone else about this. When he gets back tonight and has had a chance to think about himself I'll talk to him again.”

When Pat had finished getting ready he emerged from his room with an extra button down shirt and a pair of boxer brief shorts. He threw them at Elia. She had still been wearing her dress from the night before. She took the clothes from him and changed in his room. The trio headed downstairs and out to the circle drive in front of Trump Tower. While Jon walked over to the valet Elia took a cigarette from her handbag and lit it.
She leaned up against Pat with one arm around his shoulders and the other arm out to the side, holding her cigarette away from her face and the leash with the dog at the same time. Her hair was a mess, her makeup even more so, with eyeliner smudged under her eyes. Pat's button down shirt was tucked into his grey trousers, his face dotted with three days of stubble. He looked out to the sunlight for the first time in as long, one hand around Elia the other in his pocket. A man in a suit walked up to them. He took a picture of Elia and Patrick, them started speaking to them excitedly. His name was Robert Fenton, he worked for Tom Ford and was in town giving a seminar at Columbia. He had met Elia several times. She vaguely remembered him from a photo shoot she did at Vogue a few years back.

"I am enthralled." He kept saying over and over. He gestured at Patrick, "He is reminiscent of James Dean, where has he been hiding?!"
"Pat's not a model, he's a hockey player," Elia tried to say.
"The chemistry between you two is lush!"
Pat looked over at Elia and they both laughed. Robert was not joking though, and thought they would be perfect for the new Tom Ford print campaign. He paused as he received a phone call. Mr. Ford had seen the picture he texted over and agreed. No matter how many times Elia tried to say it wasn't a good time he still insisted.
Jon walked back over to them and listened to what was going on. Elia and Pat gave the man their agents' numbers before catching Jon up on what just happened. He couldn't believe anyone would want Kane as a model for suits when he never had his properly tailored. Pat was clueless about that allegation. Next Jon admonished Elia for smoking again.
"I'm running low on fortitude right now Jon.” She said, exhausted.

The valet brought Jon's Mercedes around. He pointed at Elia, saying they would talk about that later and then got in the car with Kane. Back in Kane's apartment she took a quick shower then set about cleaning the place up a bit. She threw all the bed linens into the wash and threw away all the trash lying around. Once it stopped looking like a frat house she washed her face and then crashed on the couch.

The boys returned as the sun was starting to set. Elia was sleeping on her stomach on the sofa when Pat came in and laid down on top of her. "You're crushing my organs," she croaked. The dog jumped up on top of Pat. Elia groaned, "Why aren't you helping me?" She whined to Jon. He just laughed. Pat finally got off and sat down at the end of her feet. She pushed herself up and scooted over to where he was sitting. Jon sat down on the other side of her.
Patrick put his arm around her neck, resting his hand on her head.

"I might be too strung out on compliments, overdosed on confidence. Started not to give a fuck and stop fearing the consequences. Drinking every night because we drink to my accomplishments." Pat said.
"What's a life without fun I've had mine you've had yours we both know. But you've been drinking like there's a message in the bottle. You fell off, I want to see you pick back up. "
"Light's get low and that's when I have my brightest ideas," Elia replied.
"You know life is what we make it and a chance is like a picture. It'd be nice if you just take it."
"What the fuck are you guys talking about?" Jon interrupted.
Elia and Pat stared at him. "Obviously we are having a conversation in Drake lyrics." They said at the same time. Jonathan thought he had seen the depth of their ridiculousness before, but this time it was too much for him to bear. "Oooookay I'm going to run back to my condo, then we should get some dinner?" He said.
"Sounds good." Elia agreed.

Once Jon left the pair had a real conversation. Pat was adamant that he wasn't an alcoholic. He was very troubled by the pressure of his new role. Ever since Pat had been selected as a first round draft pick he had felt it was a role he had to live up to but hasn't been able to. Jon had taken a lot of that pressure off initially. Everyone was talking about the youngest captain. But then that was bad too, suddenly Jon was designated the good one and Pat was the bad one. Everyone was waiting for him to fuck up, every move he made people speculated about him. Was he overrated? Was he good enough?
When he made the winning goal in the Stanley Cup he felt that he had finally done something to prove his worth. Nobody could score those high pressure goals like Kane could.
The entire city had come to love hockey and in an instant Kane had become one of the most recognizable faces in Chicago. It had gone to his head a little, maybe. He thought he could finally let loose but the city hadn't forgotten his past and they still wanted him to be their troublesome party boy.
"It doesn't matter what I do El, everyone thinks I'm that person so I might as well be like that."
He leaned forward now, resting his head in his hands and leaning with his elbows on his legs. He put his hands out momentarily, "I can't change it... I don't want to let the team down," and then his face was covered again. Elia thought he might be crying.
She put her arms around him and leaned her head on his back. "Nobody who knows you thinks that way Love," she said softly. Pat was a sensitive guy. He soaked everything in, every praise every criticism. He couldn't just brush it off like she could. It wouldn't help to suggest it.
"I agree with you. It's not fair the way you've been labeled. I know it must be hard to feel like everyone is waiting for you to fail. But I believe in you, I know you can overcome this. It might take a long time, but if you keep being yourself and working hard you can beat this. You made it this far. You can do it. Don't hide away in the booze." Don't do what I did for so long, she thought to herself. They sat that way for a long time, silently. "It's not going to be easy. You have to find it in yourself to want it. If you don't want it, that's up to you too."
"I want it. I have wanted it since I was five."
"Then start acting like it. Don't forget you're not alone. Little by little things can change. Don't be overwhelmed."

He leaned back now, wiping his face. He looked at Elia and then back down at his hands. He seemed to be sorting it out with himself now. It might not have seemed like a lot, but sometimes just getting fears out can make them seem more manageable. Now they were out there in the open, and someone else had seen them and said they could be conquered. It wasn't something that would be solved all at once, but he knew what he needed to do. Now he had to do it.

When Jon came back Pat had decide he wasn't up for going out. Instead Jon and Elia went to the grocery store to get something to make. Elia told Jon that Pat needed encouragement more than anything, as strange as that sounded. He couldn't handle it on his own and would need their support.
The three friends had a great dinner together. Elia taught Pat how to make homemade pasta from flour egg and water so that he could try to impress Amanda. Jon baked some salmon and Elia sautéed some cherry tomatoes to go with the pasta. They watched the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind afterward, but Pat went to his room part way through after Elia and Jon started repeating the line “Patriiicccckk, baaaaby boy,” at him.

Alone on the couch Elia and Jon talked quietly. He asked her what else had been stressing her out. She told him about her fight with Brad, the things he had said to her. Jon was surprisingly interested in the topic.
“Why do you think you are holding back?” He asked. Elia tried to argue that she wasn't, but in the end admitted it was probably true. The only person she could tell anything to was Jonathan.
“I don't understand why we can't just focus on the present and the future...” She trailed off and paused. “What if Brad gets to know the other parts of me and decides he doesn't want to be with me anymore?”
“I don't see how that is possible,” Jon said.
“It is, it really is. He doesn't know me like you do, he still thinks I'm cool and sophisticated. Don't you see? Brad grew up in this huge house on a lake with this wonderful perfect family,” She started talking very quickly, her thoughts unable to keep up with her mouth, “and I earn a living pretending to be someone else, and used to be addicted to drugs, and I drink too much, and my house growing up was full of garage sale furniture and my family is crazy, I have a dad in jail. I have a dad getting out of jail?” She pulled her knees up on the couch and covered her face with her hands.
Jonathan put his arm around her and pulled her into his chest. She cried softly for a while. When she started to slow down Jon said, “You know you're right, you do have a lot of baggage.” She laughed slightly and elbowed him in the rib cage. “You're supposed to be nice to me, I'm crying!” Elia said, rubbing her eyes. “That's the other annoying thing, you cry a lot,” Jon said, bracing himself to get hit. “Only when I'm around you! What do you think that means?” Elia sat up again, her face red but drying.
Once the explosion of emotions had settled, they continued to talk, about life and relationships, and letting go. The past can never be erased, it makes a person who they are. Maybe it can be pushed down for a while, but it takes too much energy to hold it in. She told him about the phone call from her dad. Jon said Elia couldn't control the things her father had done or would do. Ignoring it wouldn't help, but that didn't mean she had to forgive him either. Jon repeated the advice she had given to Patrick. Take it day by day, it doesn't have to be all solved right now. She had Jon and Pat to talk to, and probably Brad if she'd let him in.
After a pause in the conversation Jon told her he had been thinking he was ready to be in a relationship. He had been holding on to something too, but was starting to think he should let it go. Move on. He got up suddenly, saying he needed to go home and sleep. Elia walked him downstairs so she could take the dog out one more time. She stayed at Patrick's that night. She didn't think he was going to try to go out or anything, but in case he needed someone there.
The following day the Blackhawks had a game. Elia spent most of the day with Patrick. She talked with Brad on the phone for a while, telling him she would be home the next day and they should talk in person. For the game she got seats in the third row and invited her brothers.
Her agent called her during the game. His phone had been blowing up with calls from one of the PR reps at Tom Ford. They wanted to do a photo shoot with her and Pat and they wanted it now. He had already talked with Kane's people and they could squeeze it in the next morning. They were offering them each $2 million for the year, with an offer on the table for three year deals worth $12 million. Tom wanted someone fresh to represent the brand, masculine, but with finesse. Apparently that was Patrick Kane. Elia wasn't exactly fresh, but he had wanted her for his new women's line for a long time. She told her agent to send the contract over to her lawyer. She wanted to make sure it wasn't going to restrict what she could be seen wearing in public. Hopefully it would be an easy couple mil.

Hair and makeup for a fashion photo shoot was an awkward experience. Rarely was the goal to look normal. Elia's hair was being loaded with product, pulled back tight behind her head. Her eyes were being painted with layer upon layer of eye liner. Meanwhile, Patrick sat next to her having his hair trimmed and his eyebrows shaped. He kept telling Elia she was sworn never to speak of it. Especially not to Patrick Sharp. Elia was certain that Sharpie had his eyebrows waxed on a regular basis, and would confirm it with Abby as soon as she could.
The photo shoot was at the Randolph Tower City building. There would be two shots, the first in a lounge on the twentieth floor. They dressed Pat in a white button down with a bow tie and classic black blazer. They unbuttoned the shirt down to his sternum, and pulled his tie loose. His hair had been parted to the side and slicked down like Don Draper.
When it came time for Elia to get dressed she was presented with a sheer black blouse and black high waisted pants. For a moment she just stared at it. “This is going to be in magazines...?” She asked uncertainly. “Your nipples will be concealed in editing,” the stylist replied nonchalantly. “Oh, that's cool, so just the fifty people here will see me wearing this?” Nobody answered her question, they just started dressing her. One of the stylists, Renee, started applying a clear adhesive tape to her breasts. It was to keep everything up and together, even when she laid down, Renee explained. The shirt was open almost down to her navel. They accessorized her with a large gold necklace.
Patrick had been set up on a white art deco sofa. He was to put his arms out along the top and look to the right. Elia was to lie on her back across his lap and arch herself up against him. It was a pose that would never happen in real life, but did end up looking very sexy. The stylist changed his mind about Elia's hair halfway through the shoot and made her stand up while he messed it himself. She lay back down. They took what seemed like thousands of pictures of the same thing, over and over. It lasted for almost an hour. The second shoot was in another room, on a chess board with life sized pieces. Pat was put in a dark blue velvet blazer with white pants and glasses. Elia was put in a white blazer and white pants. This shoot went much faster, thankfully.

The pair ate some sandwiches from craft services and played chess after the shoot was over. Patrick looked like an entirely new man cleaned up and dressed professionally. Elia told him he looked suave. If he kept looking like that he was going to take Sharpie's title of most handsome man in Chicago. Pat laughed bashfully at the thought. Elia didn't think it would stop there. If he did a three year deal with Ford he might even take down Henrik Lundqvist. At the least, it was putting out an image of sophistication that was a far cry from stumbling around drunk in bro bars. It had turned out to be a really good visit. Elia was confident when she left that Pat was going to be heading in a better direction. He promised to call her more often instead of going out alone drinking. He had a renewed focus now.

Elia had a renewed focus too. She was going to start being open and real with Brad. He was right, she had been holding back, and it wasn't fair. Her optimism continued to grow as she arrived in Boston. November had turned the leaves a mixture of yellow, orange and red. Some of the streets were starting to be lined with holiday lights, and the colder air made them brighter. The Bruins weren't playing that night, but would be at home the next day. Elia found Brad in the apartment, having a beer and reading a James Patterson novel on the living room sofa. She sat down next to him and he set his book down on the coffee table and looked at her.
“I missed you,” She said faintly. He opened his arms and she moved into her favorite place against his chest. With that small gesture Elia let out a gust of words and feelings. She apologized for being so reserved, and kept talking, telling him about her fears and her past. He took her hands and told her to stop. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “I”m sorry too,” he said, and kept kissing her. His hands ran down her sides, stopping at her hips and pulling her into him. It wasn't long before they were laying down along the couch and taking off clothes.
Waking up the next day felt like a fresh start. Elia jumped out of bed early to make breakfast. When Brad went to skate she went to yoga with Kalah. After an early dinner with Brad she did some writing in bed while he took a quick pregame nap. Instead of going to her usual bar to watch the game she invited some of the bar's regulars to go to the game with her. And, for the first time, Elia wore a Bruins' sweater to the game. She decided it was okay to have a second favorite team. After all, she was technically a Cubs fan and liked other baseball teams. Although, technically, the Penguins were already her second favorite hockey team. She didn't think that was something she should tell Brad.
For a couple weeks, everything was perfect. She went to most of the Bruins home games, bringing a friend or at the least, Kalah. Elia had accepted she wasn't going to be friends with Brad's friends and let them have their own time together. They didn't have to share everything together.

Slowly she was starting to deal with her father situation. She still hadn't brought herself to speak to him, but had spoken to his lawyer. Imprisonment had apparently worked wonders on him and he had gone all Shawshank Redemption in jail, teaching other criminals Algebra, and finding Jesus. Elia could still remember him trying to help her with homework when his breath was thick with malt and hops, and his words would slur. Dad, you're mixing up the numbers. Fine, I won't help you, you spoiled bitch. She could hear the flutter of papers and the sound of the textbook falling to the ground as he would push it off the table and walk away. He may have manipulated the parole board with the act but she wasn't going to believe he had changed that easily. Though the ruling had occurred two months prior, he still had to finish out that year of his sentence without any trouble to be released. That would be in March, and then there would be a five year probation.
Elia emailed Jon the run down of the situation, ending with several lines of emoticons of various frowny faces and then random animals. Always had to put the random animals. Brad was in Montreal for a game when she got the information but they talked on the phone. He told her nothing she wanted to hear.
“Maybe he really has changed Elly. You always focus on the negative. Wouldn't you regret it if he has changed and you don't give him a chance?” Brad asked.
“No, not at all. I had to learn to grow up without a real dad, and that's his fault. Now that I am fine without having one he thinks he can try to be one again?” She knew her words sounded bitter and full of resentment but it was deserved. There was silence on the other line for a while.
“Elly, I'm worried about how jaded you are and I'm not sure I'm the best person to talk to about it. I think you need to see a therapist.” He said finally. She held back her natural reaction of rage.
“That is a very interesting suggestion. I'm going to research this further and will talk to you later.”
They hung up and Elia scrolled through her contacts for another number. She dialed but got a voicemail, “Hey Dr. Drew, it's Elia. Downs. No, I'm not using again...I was just hoping to get your opinion on something. I'm trying to figure out if my boyfriend is an asshole or not. Call me! Or email! Bye.” Elia didn't have anything against therapy, she thought it worked well for some people. She had seen therapists and psychiatrists in the past, and had learned some helpful things, but it could only do so much. In the end she had to figure things out for herself.
The Bruins next game was in Buffalo, and they would return home the day after that, but Elia was heading back to Chicago to have Thanksgiving at her mom's house with the Kanes. She had invited Brad, but because the Bruins had a day game the Friday after Thanksgiving he wasn't able to travel. By the time they were both in Boston again they hadn't seen each other in a week.

If there was one constant in their relationship it was the red hot passion that always engulfed them when they were together. But this time, it was different. Brad seemed distant and uninterested, going through it almost like a chore. They got into bed, he got on her, he barely looked at her, and a few minutes later it was over. Brad said he was tired and sore from taking a lot of hits in the past couple games. He turned over in the bed, away from Elia. She moved up along side of him and put her arm around him as they fell asleep.

The next day was an off day, but the Bruins had planned a holiday food drive event across the city. The team and some of the Wags were standing outside several different grocery stores in the city collecting non perishable items to distribute to local families in need. Of course, the players had turned it into a competition to see which group could collect the most donations, and for this reason Seguin and Lucic had wanted Elia in their group. It was a cold, damp November day. There were scattered rain showers throughout the morning which turned into a light snow once the sun had set in the afternoon.
Despite the weather Elia wasn't feeling cold at all. She and Seguin had made their own bets about who could get more items. Every time a shopper started walking in to the doors they raced each other to talk to them and plead their case. Most often the shoppers wanted to just give each of them an item, much to their dismay. They agreed that ties had to be decided some how, by rock paper scissors, or a dance off, or some other bizarre idea. Shoppers with teen girls in their group always picked Tyler, but Elia was winning in the male 16-34 demographic. Lucic and Bergeron were winning the female over 26 category. Bradley was surprisingly quiet throughout the event, taking pictures and signing for fans but not getting crazy with the rest of the group. In the end, Elia's celebrity status didn't give her the edge amongst the Bostonians, and Seguin won. Apparently Boston hadn't forgiven her for stealing Theo Epstein for the Cubs and liking the Yankees.
Their group succeeded in collecting more items than the other groups, and Bergeron pointed out that Elia and Tyler had managed to do something good by working as a team.
“Yeah, Tyler, maybe you're just a misunderstood asshole,” Elia goaded.
“Yeah, and you're like a hooker with a heart of gold,” he served right back.
“Seggy, don't call her a hooker,” Brad interjected, only half paying attention to them.
“Nah, I mean it the nicest way. Elia is like my nemesis, she's the Magneto to my Professor Xavier,” Tyler replied.
“Sorry Seguin, I already have an official hockey nemesis. Logan Couture,” Elia said.
“What? Why? How could he possibly offend you more than I do?” Tyler seemed genuinely bothered.
“There is just something about saying 'Fuck you Logan Couture', that feels really good. It's just a perfect combination of syllables. Try it.”
He tried it. There was something enchanting about it. It would be the first and last time Elia Downs and Tyler Seguin ever agreed on something.

As the days passed, Brad's odd behavior continued. They had a series of awkwardly quiet dates, going out to dinner and shopping the Sowa Holiday Market. Elia found she was frequently talking aloud to herself. At home Brad was not interested in extra curricular activities. Elia was perplexed. She tried going down on him in the shower one morning, but he wasn't interested. She tried sexting him dirty things, but he didn't reciprocate. One day she waited for him to get home from practice in very explicit lingerie, sitting seductively on the kitchen counter. Unfortunately, Milan Lucic came home from practice with him and the pain of her fresh brazilian wax was wasted on the wrong person. Both guys were very apologetic, and had only stopped up to get something before heading back for a team meeting.

Elia was out of ideas so she called up Patrick. He had barely finished saying hello when she blurted out "Kaner, Brad and I haven't had sex in like four days, do you think he's cheating on me?"
"Fuck Elia, I don't want to hear that, aahhh, damn it. Four days? You are worried because of four days? Fuck I just pictured you and Brad having sex, I can never unsee that."
"Are you freaking out because you're so turned on?... Hello?"

Elia was going to assume his phone had dropped the call, because Kaner would never hang up on her. She tried calling Abby, but it turned into Abby ranting about trying to have sex while being pregnant, and how Elia didn't know what real problems were. Now Elia was the one that was grossed out. She sat on the couch flipping her phone in circles in her hands, staring blankly at the television. The dog hopped up on the couch and tried to bite the phone. Elia frowned and told Byfuglien to stop. That dog never listened. The phone started ringing, startling the dog. It was Kristen Stewart.
"Yo, yo." Elia answered.
"Hey what's up." Kristen said.
“Uh, you called me.” Elia replied.
The two carried on a monosyllabic conversation for several minutes. "Hey let me ask you something," Elia started to say. She told Kristen about her problems with Brad.
"Damn, I've got a similar problem, I've been avoiding having sex with Rob for like a week."
"What, why?" Elia shouted into the phone.
"He's just like. Everywhere. Always wanting to like do stuff together. I have to get out of this house."
"Dude come hang out in Boston with me!" Elia started screaming.
"Okay, okay, I'm buying plane tickets right now."

As Brad flew to Toronto with the Bruins to play the Maple Leafs, Kristen flew from Los Angeles to Boston. The temperatures had sunk to welcome in December, and the air was dry and stinging. Kristen had grown up on the west coast, and was neither used to cold or the time zone. She didn't want to go outside and walk around or see any sites because it was cold. Instead they spent the afternoon at Voltage Coffee & Art, overdosing on sugary coffees and hot cider. They chose a table in a back room along a wall of bookshelves and sat down on the same side so they could look at each other's laptop screens. Sitting on the same side of the table looking out at everyone they looked like some kind of judges table. Kristen was working on some poetry while Elia had decided she wanted to write a comedy. The problem was, every time she came up with an idea she could also come up with a hundred reasons why it was stupid. She whined frustratingly.
“Stop making weird noises,” Kristen said.
“I can't control it,” Elia complained. Kristen looked at her with a really? Glare. Elia stopped whining, and started checking her email instead. Dr. Drew had sent her an email with a list of questions to read through and ponder on. Boring, Elia thought. She sighed loudly and looked at Kristen.
“Hey does Rob ever get annoyed at you for being like dark and gloomy, some might say, jaded...” She trailed off.
“No, he thinks it's sexy. And mysterious, and stuff. Why? Did your boyfriend say that to you?”
“Yeah, he thinks I need to see a therapist about my negativity.”
“Fuck him.” Kristen shrugged.
Elia looked around the room. A young girl was standing awkwardly looking at them, holding a magazine. Elia called out to her, “Hey, did you have a question or something?” The girl looked down, and turned to walk away, then turned back. “Yeah, I was just...You're Elia Downs, right?” Elia nodded and motioned for her to come over. “What is your name?” She asked. “Lauren. I am a huge fan! I didn't want to bother you, but could you sign this for me?” she said as she put the magazine open on the table with a pen. Elia looked down at the page. It was a Belstaff ad from Elle magazine. She hesitated, then signed it.
“Maybe you'd want to take a picture or something?” She suggested.
“Oh, I would, but my phone died,” Lauren said, disappointed.
“That's fine, we can use mine and I'll email it to you.” Elia made Kristen participate, and the three of them took a picture with Elia's phone. Lauren wrote down her email on a napkin and handed to Elia before thanking them and going back to her table. Kristen went back to typing on her computer, then said, “I thought you were doing Tom Ford, not Belstaff.” Elia sighed, “Yeah, that wasn't me, that was Andreea Diaconu.” Kristen laughed, “Why did you sign it?” Elia shrugged, “I didn't want to embarrass the girl. I don't know. From certain angles we do really look alike. It's an honest mistake.” Elia wondered if the model was always getting asked if she was Elia. Hopefully people could tell the difference when they were looking at an almost six foot model.
Once the sun went down they prepared to be up all night. For the Bruins Maple Leafs game they headed to Elia's regular bar, Biddy Early's, and drank $1.50 PBR's. It was a Wednesday, so there was less than a dozen people there. Kristen had little interest in hockey, and they got involved in a mini darts tournament with some other bar patrons. Elia was terrible at darts, and drinking cheap cans of beer made her worse. After losing a lot of money in darts she watched the third period at the bar next to an old Irish regular named Kerry. He was always complaining to her about his kids not visiting him and how horrible his grandchildren were. He liked to yell at the television during games and Elia liked to yell with him. When the Bruins were winning he would yell about how great Claude Julien was, and when they lost he would say a horse's ass could coach better. She had tried to give him tickets to the game once before but he said it was bad luck. He had watched all the games from the bar last year, and they had won the Stanley Cup. It was an impressive commitment to the team.
When the game ended the bar died down and the girls took a cab to City Bar. It looked like a hotel lounge inside, but the drinks were good and it wasn't very crowded. They stayed until the bar closed at 2 a.m and headed back to the apartment. Kristen was on west coast time and wanted to stay up later so they played video games for another two hours before going to sleep. Elia woke up to Byfuglien's butt in her face and wrinkled her face as she spit out dog hair. It was almost noon. She woke Kristen up and they took the dog outside together. A light blanket of snow had fallen in the morning, and the light reflecting off it was blinding to the two hungover women. They shuffled along in boots and pajamas. Kristen complained she had a hangover as she stopped to light a cigarette. She offered one to Elia.
“I quit.” She said.
“So?” Kristin asked.
“You make a compelling argument.” Elia took a cigarette.
“You have any of that medicinal marijuana you sometimes have?”
“Probably, but it would be really old. Does that change it?” Elia didn't smoke pot really, but she did have some prescribed by a doctor from California. It was supposed to be for headaches, but she never used it. Kristen thought it was a good time to start. They stopped at the corner convenient store to get some brews and papers before heading back to the apartment.
Some time in the afternoon Brad came back to the apartment with Seguin to find Kristen and Elia sitting on the building steps, wrapped up in a blanket and drinking 40's out of paper bags. The guys almost didn't notice them in all their layers. Elia stood up and hugged Brad, telling him she missed him. He kissed her and then said, “It smells like pot out here.”
“We've been smoking blunts for like an hour,” Kristen said.
“Outside? Next to the street?” Brad asked.
“Obviously we weren't going to smoke it inside the apartment,” Elia countered. He looked at her quizzically, then kind of laughed. “Okay then. Seggy and me are going to play Fifa for a while.” They continued up into the apartment, and Elia sat back down next to Kristen.
“I like the way he says 'out', like owwt, I like that.” Kristen said. She started to repeat 'out' over and over, trying to say it with a Canadian accent. “He looks like Mr. Rush though.” They both started laughing. As much fun as they had sitting outside being degenerates it got awkward when school children started walking home past them. They went inside to try and rally the guys to go out. It didn't take long to convince them, and the four went out to dinner and then for drinks. Some of the other Bruins met them out, and it turned into a really fun night. Kristen was like a buffer between Elia and Brad's friends. That night when they went home, Brad and Elia made love they used to.
Kristen stayed for a couple more days before flying back to Los Angeles. She made Elia promise to visit in Cali soon. Before Elia could determine if things were back to normal with her relationship, Brad had to fly to Pittsburgh to play the Penguins. She wanted to go with and see Sidney, but had booked a job in New York. It was an animated movie, so she only had to stand in a sound studio for a day or two recording lines. Good paycheck for another easy job. Kalah was watching the dog, and Elia flew to New York Monday evening so she could head to the studio early in the morning.
Orlando Bloom and Miranda Kerr had invited her over for dinner. They put the Bruins game on the tv there, and Elia watched as she played with baby Flynn on the floor in the living room. He was just starting to take steps, and would hold on to Elia's fingers tightly as he wiggled his body and thrust a foot forward. Whenever she smiled at him he would smile back at her and giggle. Babies can't stay up for entire hockey games though, and he had to go to bed after the first period. It had been a long time since Elia had a night with normal, actual adults, and wondered if she would ever be one of them. She was getting more and more excited for baby Sharpie to arrive.

On her walk back to her hotel, Sidney called Elia. He wanted her to know that Brad had been trying to trash talk him a lot during the game. And he had been using Elia as a way to do it. She didn't understand what that meant. “Oh, just yelling things about how he got the girl I had wanted, and it's pathetic that I keep trying to go out with you. They won the Cup and he's with you, etc. I couldn't care less about what he says on the ice about me personally, but I thought it was really disrespectful to you.”
“That doesn't even make sense, your lines weren't even on the ice at the same time,” Elia said, confused.
“Yeah, I know,” Sid replied. He told her he would shout things from the bench. She thanked him for telling her and hung up the phone. Back in her hotel room she set up her computer to Skype Brad. It really didn't sound like something he would do, but Sidney wouldn't lie to her either. He didn't try to deny it on video chat, instead disparaged Sidney for telling Elia. He was going to do whatever it took to help his team win, and part of that was getting under guys' skin. She told Brad that was bullshit, and their relationship should be completely off limits. His facial expressions were hard to read, and the poor internet connection wasn't helping. He kept freezing. Finally he said he was sorry, and he wouldn't do it again. He said he missed and loved her, but had to go.
Elia had trouble sleeping that night. It might have been the hotel room, or missing Brad and the dog, but she thought it was more than that. Something just didn't feel right. Tuesday morning she was tired and groggy, but pulled herself out of bed and went to work. It was strange at first to be reading the lines alone in a room. Dialogue was often re-recorded in studios for live action films, but that was different. Those lines had already been acted out and imagined. This was creating a character alone without the help of face and body expression.
On lunch the director gave her feedback, and the afternoon session went a lot better. By the end of the night they had finished. Elia couldn't believe that she was done and getting to go home again. There wasn't a NetJets available at the time so she took a regular flight out of JFK back to Boston. New York wasn't usually as bad as Los Angeles but for some reason the paparrazzi were exceptionally bad. Elia was tired, and turned up her music as she walked through the airport with her coat hood up.
The flight was only an hour long, but Elia was really thirsty after getting off the plane. She stopped at one of the snack stands to grab a water bottle on her way out. Standing in line at the register she turned her phone on. It exploded in a series of sounds. She looked at her home screen. She had turned it off at the studio and forgotten to turn it back on, but that still seemed like a lot of texts and calls. The line moved up. Glancing up as she stepped forward something caught her eye. She dropped her phone, but didn't notice. Her eyes were fixed on an Us Weekly magazine cover. She lifted her sunglasses onto her head and took the magazine in her hands. On the cover was a picture of Elia and Brad at TIFF. The words across their faces read:
Exclusive Photos
Bruins' Marchand Caught Cheating on Elia Downs
Another picture overlay the right corner of the cover. Brad with his arms around another girl. The person in line ahead of her tried to hand her the dropped cell phone. She mumbled a thank you. Putting the phone back in her bag she pulled out a $20 and handed it to the register woman. “For this water, and the magazine. I don't want change. Thanks.” When did this happen, she wondered. She ran to the nearest bathroom and shut herself in a stall. Elia hated public restrooms, airport ones worst of all, but she knew it would be the only privacy she would find.

She flipped the pages of the magazine to the story. There were a dozen pictures. It wasn't multiple women, it was one woman. A beautiful, tan blonde. From the scenery and the clothes in the pictures it looked like it had been going on for a while. The change of seasons was evident. She went to the E! website on her phone to see when the story broke. It looked like the issue had just hit the news circuit today. There would be a hundred photographers waiting for her on the other side of the security line. She couldn't bear to go through that right now. Chicago. She should just go back home. To her real home. She called Kalah to tell her to book a flight and bring the dog. Until then she would wait. Her body felt so heavy. “It can't be over,” she said to no one. She felt herself sliding, down, along the bathroom stall door, until she was sitting on the dirty floor.

Notes

Sorry for the long time between updates, I was on holiday in Canada! Thanks for reading everyone!