Tread This Fantasy

Sid was sitting in his Range Rover and playing with his phone in the driveway of the Lemieux home. Nathalie was inside and so were the kids. He loved living with them, but sometimes he just needed to be alone with his thoughts. Practice had been harder than usual today and his muscles ached from the strain. They were boarding a plan for Winnipeg in four hours to play a series of three road games. The thought was both exhilarating and tiring.

He scrolled through the contacts in his address book. Teammates, former teammates, trainers, medical staff, friends from Cole Harbour. Men. Sid pressed the button at the top of his cell to put it to sleep. His address book was filled with men. The few women within the list where associated with the Penguins organization. There were two girls he had dated--one when he was nineteen and he was sure her number was probably wrong. He didn’t know why he kept it; it was probably just laziness. The other was his last relationship. It wasn’t much of one, truth be told. Just a secretive fling that he made sure to keep under wraps. She was nice, but started demanding more than he could give. Hockey had been number one in his life for longer than any woman.

Slowly, he turned the phone over his his hand, wiping away the smudges. Most of the guys had girlfriends or women they saw on a regular basis. Flower got married over the summer. Hell, so did Staalsy. Married. He felt like an awkward loser. Not able to keep a girlfriend for more than a month because he couldn’t keep his skates off for long enough. Or maybe it was because of the pressure from the media to keep up his persona as Mr. Hockey.

He felt like his back pocket was on fire. He wanted to pull his wallet out, but he was trying to resist the urge. It had been six days since he’d visited Mike Belcher to complete the paperwork to transfer his accounts. There had been one home game and two away games. He’d traveled to New Jersey and Boston. They’d won both away games and lost the home game in overtime. Bus rides to shuttle the team between plans. Quiet drives home to collapse in his bed after long nights on the ice. A tight shoulder from the hit night before last.

And through it all she’d been on his mind. It was stupid. He felt like a loser. Truth be told, she’d been on his mind for almost two months. The first time he saw her and walked away was easy. He’d been intrigued and felt that draw toward her as she’d sat alone, a little island in a sea of moving bodies in the writhing club. But when he left with his teammates without talking to her, it wasn’t life-changing. That didn’t mean he didn’t wonder about who she was, though.

The second time he saw her in the club was different. It felt like fate was taunting him, and he very nearly went over to talk to her. His lack of game stopped him cold, though. She was vibrant with dark eyes that belied her intelligence in a mostly vapid crowd. If he’d known her friend had gone out with Sutter, then he would be asked for an introduction. Or not. He shook his head and smiled wanly. Who was he kidding? He only stepped up on the ice, not when it came to women.

And then he saw her in Mike Belcher’s office and he almost swallowed his tongue in surprise. The world had to be playing a joke on him, dangling something so appealing in front of him when he had no idea how to get it. If he didn’t feel so much angst associated with his desire to get closer to her, then he’d find this situation hilarious.

Fuck it. He lifted his hips up and dug his wallet out of his back pocket. Flipping it open, he saw her card tucked neatly right in front of his credit card. The paper was thick and creamy, with a slight texture to it. The firm’s symbol was embossed in the upper right-hand corner with her name typed neatly across the middle. Melanie E. Kay. Registered Financial Assistant. Her phone number was below. He held the card in his left hand and his phone in his right.

The door to the house opened and Austin, Mario’s son, ran down the stoop to scoop up a basketball sitting next to the flowerbed. When he glanced up he saw Sid sitting in the driveway. The boy gave a friendly wave before hurrying back inside. The weather was better than it had been, but the afternoon was still chilly.

Sid looked down at her card again. He wouldn’t add her to his address book, but maybe he could call. Just to check on the status of the transfers. He had a right to know, after all. Never mind that she told him she would call as soon as the accounts were there.

Quickly, before he changed his mind, he dialed her number. The phone rang once, twice, three times. He almost pulled it away from his ear and ended the call right before she answered with, “This is Melanie. Can I help you?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He hadn’t thought about what he would say when she answered. Stupid. “Uh, hi, this is Sidney Crosby.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised. He cringed as she said, “Hello, Mr. Crosby.”

“Um, it’s Sid. You can call me Sid.”

“Sure. Sorry about that.”

He knocked his forehead onto the steering wheel. Why did he always have to be so awkward? “No, it’s okay. Uh, I was just wondering about the transfers and stuff.”

She was silent for a moment and then he heard the sound of a keyboard. “Let me just double check here,” she said softly. “No, we haven’t received anything yet. That’s not unusual, though. It typically takes seven to ten business days to receive a transfer.”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he admitted.

“Oh, you’re not a bother. That’s what I’m here for. Rest assured I’ll give you a call as soon as we see the assets arrive. Did you receive the paperwork copies I mailed you?”

Sid glanced down at the passenger floor mat. A large white envelope was resting there, filled with paperwork he’d only glanced at. Hockey he understood. Account forms, not so much. “Yeah, I did. Thanks.”

“Not a problem.” She paused and when he couldn’t think of anything to say, she continued with, “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

He wanted to keep her on the phone, but he wasn’t sure why. Grasping at straws, he said, “I’m pretty thick about all this stuff in my, uh, portfolio. These money guys intimidate me. Can you, like, tell me about the stuff I own?”

“Oh, well, sure.” He could tell his request had caught her off guard. Sid could hear paper being shuffled around and then she cleared her throat. “I pulled out your statement, let’s just go through it.”

“Okay.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the leather headrest.

“The vast majority of your assets are equities in the form of stocks and mutual funds.”

“What are mutual funds?”

“Well, they are collections of securities. Look at it like a company whose sole purpose is to purchase stocks and bonds and treasuries of other companies or governments. You give them your money and they spend it how they see fit. In turn, you get a proportional share of everything they bought.”

“Sounds complicated.” Her answer impressed him, and that was slightly surprising. He’d expected more of convoluted explanation.

There was a smile in her voice when she replied with, “Maybe a little bit. So, your portfolio is geared more toward growth than anything else, which is good. You have the income and the age to support that.”

“The age?”

“You’re young. You can afford to be aggressive with your investments. As you get older, you want to pull back in and become more conservative. Your assets won’t grow as quickly, but they also won’t drop as fast should the market drop.”

“Makes sense.” His eyes were still closed and he was enjoying her soft voice in his ear. She sounded so self-assured when discussing work. Just like he was more self-assured when he was talking hockey.

She cleared her throat again. “You’ve also got quite a bit of money tied up in municipal bonds. Those are debt securities. A local government needs cash, so they do a bond offering. Banks and individual investors loan them the money in exchange for interest. When the bond matures, the government gives you back your money.”

“That sounds like a good deal.”

“It can be. Municipals tend to be much safer than stocks. But they don’t have the growth potential that stocks do. You probably have a few too many municipals in your portfolio, and I think Mike is going to work with you to reduce your position in them.”

“What about that other thing? The annuity?”

“Mmm, yeah, that.” She paused. “We’re not too sure about that. Annuities tend to be complicated investments and are misused often by advisors since they have nice commissions associated with them.”

“What do you mean?” He just wanted her to keep talking. She had a soothing effect on him.

“I mean there’s a chance this annuity isn’t in your best interest. Some advisors like to sell them because they get a nice paycheck from it.”

“Why isn’t it good?”

“It locks up your money for a period of time--usually seven to thirteen years. There are also hefty charges associated with the annuity each year. They’re only a good deal for a small number of people.”

“You know a lot about this stuff.”

“I do this every day.”

Sid replied with, “You make me feel very calm about it--like you’ve got everything under control.”

She laughed. “Well, I do have everything under control.”

“Thank you for spending your time answering my dumb questions,” Sid said, finally opening his eyes to look at the sun glancing off the hood of his SUV.

“They weren’t dumb questions. My job is to help, so feel free to give me a call if you think of anything. Really.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye.”

Sid hung up and turned his phone over in his hand several times. Her card was still pressed between his thumb and index finger. Shit. Why fight it?

He typed her number in again and hit the menu button to bring up the save function. Sid entered her name and then shoved the phone in his pocket. The business card went back in his wallet behind the credit card.

Mario’s car pulled up beside his. His second father nodded his head as their gazes met. Sid pushed open his door and stepped out to greet the man. He needed to get his mind off Melanie Kay. That was just easier said than done.

***************************************

Two days ago he’d been in the middle of the morning skate when she called. His cell had been buried in his gym bag with the ringer turned off. Sid felt let down than he missed the opportunity to speak with Melanie, but he took consolation in her voicemail. It was brief and he had listened to it twice while sitting in the locker room after everyone left. She had awkwardly called him ‘Sid’ at the beginning of the message, and it made him smile. The rest of the voicemail had been all business--telling him that his transfers had arrived and they would be transitioning him into the portfolio that Mike had discussed with him. And to call her if he had any questions.

Sid almost did call her, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he waited two days and then called a florist. He asked them to send her an arrangement of something. He wasn’t an expert on many things beside hockey, especially not flowers. He trusted the woman at the shop to send something nice, especially considering the fact that she’d charged him over $150 for the flowers and delivery.

After he paid with his credit card, he hung up the phone and went back to putting on his gear for the game that was two hours away. A few of the guys were sitting in the Pens locker room, but most hadn’t arrived yet.

“How’s your shoulder?” Pascal Dupuis asked, sitting down next to Sid.

“Better than yesterday. That heating pad last night did the trick.”

“Good, good.”

“Hey, Duper.” Sid looked over at his teammate before glancing back down at this feet.

“Hey, Sid,” Dupuis teased, bumping his shoulder into Sid’s as he bent down to adjust his pads.

Sid shifted uncomfortably. “Is it weird if I send a girl flowers as a thank you?”

Dupuis stopped what he was doing and looked up at Sid. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You sending girls flowers now?” A smile grew across Dupuis’s face, and Sid hated it. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“No. I mean, maybe. Is it weird?”

“What are you thanking her for?” Dupuis elbow jammed into Sid’s ribs as he gave the younger man a knowing grin.

Sid scowled. “For helping me transfer my investments to a new financial advisor.”

“Wait, what?”

“Deaf, Duper?”

Dupuis laughed. “No, but you’re saying some crazy shit. For helping you transfer your what? Is this the code the kids use nowadays?”

Sid pulled his socks up over the pad to keep it in place before making a final adjustment. “Mario referred me to a new guy. His assistant has been patient with my dumb ass, answering questions and shit. I wanted to thank her.”

“You sent her flowers?” Dupuis looked incredulous and Sid immediately regretted sending the flowers and mentioning it to anyone.

“Is that weird?”

“Is she hot?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t matter.”

Dupuis laughed. “Bullshit it doesn’t. You ask her out yet?”

“No. I just wanted to thank her. That’s it.”

“How much did you spend on the thank you?”

“Over 150.”

Dupuis tilted his head back and laughed. “Yeah, that’s weird. I spent less than that on my wife’s Valentine’s Day flowers.”

“Fuck.” Sid pulled out his phone and redialed the florist. After four long rings, the answering machine picked up with a recorded message they their hours were 8am to 5pm. He hung up, feeling sick.

“What?”

“They’re closed. I need to stop the delivery. She’ll think I’m a loser.”

“Naw,” Dupuis replied. “Women love that kind of stuff. Maybe you’ll get a little something out of it.” He gave Sid a wink and another nudge.

“Shut the fuck up, Duper.”

Notes