The day was bustling. A field trip for high school students came for a tour of the company Vivienne worked for. The teens toured the company and learned the jobs of many of the departments. Vivienne had a good time explaining to the adolescents what an art director does: manage subordinate employees’ work in visual communications media, design layouts, and create presentation concepts for inter-company relations. The students had fun looking at her portfolio, watching Vivienne’s employees illustrate diagrams and graphs for an upcoming business deal between the company she works for and another major company from outside of Pittsburgh, and seeing the designs for a new layout in the business magazine owned by her company. On top of showing the teens around on this leg of their tour, she also had to meet with some higher-ups over a benefit that the company would be sponsoring within the next few months. As art director, she was on the committee to make the night a success. She had to run by ideas for layouts and decoration of the space the benefit would be held in, as well as give input in on a theme, the dinner, and entertainment for the philanthropists who would be donating to various charities, as it was the CEO’s intent to make the company look like it did good in the community. It was an important and tiring job, but Vivienne was good at it, and that’s why she made such a large salary. After a day’s worth of work, Vivienne made her way home. The shops of the Strip had closed, and the night clubs were preparing to open their doors. The commotion of the Strip had passed and she was able to get to her apartment building without pushing through crowds of people. Vivienne threw her keys onto the end table by the door and proceeded into her loft. After slipping off her shoes, she noticed her answering machine was blinking. Groaning, she said out loud to herself, “What do these people want? Thank God. Its only two.” The first was from the blood bank, requesting her to donate again. “Message two: Hey girl hey! Calling you at home cuz you don’t check your voicemail,” a singsong-y voice said into the machine, “We changed the venue for tonight. SOUTHSIDE! Meet at the Diesel at the same time. We’ll all be there!” Vivienne was furious and dialed the number that had left the message. As soon as it picked up, Vivienne yelled, “There’s a reason we picked the bar in the Strip! I can’t get to yinz in time! I just walked into my house. I still need to shower and change and get all the way over-”. She was cut off by her best friend’s voice. “Chill out, Viv. I’ll come get you. We can be late together. Alvin thought a change of scenery would be nice and everyone else agreed. We see the same freaks every Saturday. Our group needs new freaks, Viv. New freaks!” “I guess you’re right. We need new freaks.” “I’m always right,” chuckled Monica. “So I’ll see you in half an hour?” “I might be in the shower or getting ready…” “Leave your door unlocked. I’ll wait on the couch or give you assistance redding up or whatever.” “Alright. See ya soon.” Vivienne hung up before Monica could even say goodbye. She ran to the bathroom, disrobing on her way. After a quick shower, Vivienne towel dried her hair and threw it into a messy bun. She started getting dressed and yelled, “Monica, are you here already?” “Yea, you need help?” “Uhmmhmmm.” Monica joined Vivienne up the loft. “Can you tie me?” Monica pulled the corset strings tight; no one wants a public nip slip. Vivienne did not want to be like the women they always make fun of. She then did her make up and the pair hopped in the car. “Southside here we come!!!” Monica yelled over the blasting music of the radio. After about forty five minutes of driving and searching for a parking spot, the girls were finally able to meet up with their friends. Inside the bar, they were able to find their friends relatively fast. With Joey and Mike using weird accents, Alvin dancing oddly, and all of the girls, even the ones in their group, standing far away from the three men, it was easy to spot them immediately. The group started with the girls; Kammi, Sara, and Vivienne met in middle school. Monica was accepted by them in high school. Joey also joined the group in high school. The poor kid suffered bullying because he was gay. The girls stood up for him one day, and since then the five were inseparable. Vivienne even went with Joey to his prom [he and Kammi were a year older]. Sara met her “long lost twin”, Sarah, in college. Kammi brought Mike to the group while she was in beauty school. They were friends with benefits at first, but he started hanging around with everyone, and so because of the strings attached, the benefits were lost. Monica also met Alvin during this time. The group adopted him. That is how it became eight strong. Their number was perfect because one thing that held them together so strongly was the Rocky Horror Picture Show, which they frequented. Every other Saturday, they attended. At one point, Vivienne, Monica, and the Sara’s were part of the shadow cast, until they got real jobs and had no time. Since then though, each person had their “part”, with Alvin being the completing piece, pulling off a very successful Frank-en-furter for the Halloween special and any other time the group dressed up as characters. This weekend was not a Rocky Horror weekend, so instead, they went to a club. This was their routine. Upon arriving, Monica went straight to Alvin and gave him a kiss. They’d been dating for about two years, yet she still had troubles training him how to behave in public, i.e. his terrible dancing. He wasn’t the only one who needed coached on public actions, but it was even harder for Monica to make the other males listen. “Hey guys,” Vivienne greeted Joey and Mike. “Good evening, lady and gentlewoman,” they said simultaneously. Oddly enough, she knew it wasn’t planned. Her only response was a raised eyebrow. At that, she walked away to the girls. “Hey Viv!” Kammi greated her. “Hey chicas. Yinz having fun?” All three responded positively. “I’m gonna get a drink. Yinz want anything?” They shook their heads, so Vivienne headed off the dance floor to the bar. The bartender asked, “What can I get for you?” “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri, please.” The bartender nodded and went back to work. Vivienne took her drink and made a b-line for the booth her friends claimed when CRASH! Someone bumped into her and the daiquiri spilled all over the person to the left of the guy who knocked into her. Vivienne was frozen in place for a moment, startled and then worrying about her clothes. “What the fuck? Who spilled this on me? Dude! Look what you fucking did!” yelled the guy covered in strawberry to his friend in an accent that seemed both normal and strange to Vivienne. “I am so sorry!” a French accented guy apologized to Vivienne. “Would you like me to buy you a new one? You couldn’t have had it long. You’re only three steps from the bar…” “What about me?! These are my new pants. Those nice ones. Really? First day wearing them and someone else ruins them! I needed them for our next road trip.” The Frenchman turned to Vivienne, “If you could wait just a moment while I calm down my friend…” While he faced away from her, Vivienne regained her senses and was able to take in the people around her. They looked very familiar from profile. “Dude, I don’t know why you thought it was a good idea to wear them to a bar…” Vivienne overheard the not so quiet conversation and made the connection between weird accents, road trips, and expensive pants. The man in strawberry’s body was turned more towards her, so she took a better look. It was Jordan Staal. Vivienne was both super excited and nervous. She had “met” a Penguin. But who was the other guy? The one who bumped into her had to be a Penguin, too. She could feel it. Who in Pittsburgh would have a French-Canadian accent if they weren’t a Penguin? The star struck girl looked hard at the guy who knocked into her drink. It took a bit, but she was able to make the face out in the dim lighting. Usually she saw it under a goalie mask. The man was no other than Marc-Andre Fleury, her favorite hockey player. Staal walked away towards the men’s room, probably to try to save his pants. “Sorry about that. Anyway, here, let me buy you a new one. What was it?” “You really don’t have to bother yourself with it. Its no big deal. I can go-” “No, no, no. I will get it. Don’t worry about it.” “Alright,” she said and paused. “It was a strawberry daiquiri.” He walked off and returned drink in hand a few minutes later. “See? That wasn’t so bad.” The goalie handed her the drink. At the same time Vivienne was about to say thank you, Monica’s voice popped up beside her. “Vivienne Jorgan! There you are! Sara, Joey, Alvin, and I have been searching the entire club for you! What have you been…” she trailed off when she noticed who Vivienne was standing next to. “Oh my god. You’re Marc-Andre Fleury!” The smile on her face only widened. He looked somewhat on edge when Monica exclaimed that out loud, but after seeing that people either hadn’t heard her or had noticed earlier, he said “Oui.” “So that’s what you’ve been doing,” with a sly face she added, “bothering your favorite player.” “That’s not quite how it went down…” Vivienne tried to explain. Marc-Andre cut her off though, changing the subject. “I’m your favorite player?” “Yea. I mean I adore the entire team. I’m a huge Pens fan. But I respect your skills more than anyone else’s.” Her attention turned to Monica. “And no, Monica. I didn’t even lead on that I recognized Mr. Fleury. He spilled my drink and replaced it when you came over.” Monica made the “oh” face. “Well, it was really nice meeting you Mr. Fleury.” Vivienne grabbed Monica’s arm to lead her away and said, “Thank you for the drink!” As Vivienne stepped off, Marc-Andre called out, “Wait! Vivienne, right?” She nodded. “Please. Call me Marc-Andre. But, uhm, see you around?” Monica was almost hyperventilating. Vivienne, on the other hand, calmly nodded and waved goodbye. Marc-Andre looked kind of confused, but turned around and rejoined his friends. Vivienne smiled and contentedly walked away. Once out of earshot, Monica exclaimed, “He was going to ask for your number. I can feel it! And you just walked away! What is wrong with you, woman?!?” “I like to be mysterious. Next time if he asks, he can have it.” “Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” “I don’t. But I’m sure he is down here often enough, and if we make the Southside our new haunt, then there is a good chance we will meet again. And we have tickets for an upcoming game. Maybe he will spot me and remember tonight.” “How will that help you? If he miraculously sees you, its not like he can be all ‘Hey! I recognize you!’ and can meet you afterwards.” “That’s ok with me. As long as I touched him. Well, I guess he touched me. He is the one who did the bumping. And he got me a drink. I’m satisfied for the moment.” “I’m sure once you have a few more of those, it will hit you and you’ll start freaking out.” “Wouldn’t surprise me if you’re right,” Vivienne chuckled. The girls got back to their table. “Finally! Where have you guys been?” Mike asked. “You’ll never believe who bumped into Vivienne!” The group simultaneously asked who. “Marc-Andre Fleury!!” They all gave blank stares. “You know, the goalie?” Vivienne tried to trigger. “Of the Penguins.” There were a few “oh‘s” but mostly the group was still uncaring. “Yinz are terrible.” “We are nerds!” Kammi laughed. “Of course we don’t know or really care who that is.” Vivienne and Monica shrugged and nodded in agreement. The night continued. Everyone got tired of being at Diesel so they decided to bar hop. Vivienne got slammed, and Monica’s prediction was right; she started freaking out that she met Marc-Andre Fleury (and Jordan Staal), touched him, and the thing she focused on most, didn’t get him to sign something. “What the hell is my problem? I was talking to him. Oh my god. What if I made a fool of myself? He could have signed something. I carry sharpies everywhere! Takusan arimasu kedo!!!” “Calm down, Viv.” Sara directed to Alvin and Monica, “Maybe its time you took her home. This is getting annoying and ridiculous.” Exasperatedly, Vivienne screamed, “He could have signed my boobs! My boobs, Mike!” Alvin nodded. “She definitely needs to go home.” The lovebirds were able to get Vivienne in the car and back to her loft. “Do you think its ok to leave her alone?” Monica looked at her friend and concluded that she would be fine alone. They tucked Vivienne in on her side, then left a note, some pain pills, and a glass of water on her nightstand.

Notes

Happy Halloween!