Chapter Three
"Hi, I'm Pamela. Henry couldn't make it so he asked me to come and fill in for him, I hope that's alright," A young reporter stepped through the front door. It was Sid's day of reckoning over what I am calling 'the grey suit fiasco of 2010'. I was really expecting the middle aged sports reporter that harassed me at the Winter Classic Press Conference. The one that smelt like BO and tuna sandwiches, had huge pit stains, and spit every time he started a new sentence. This blonde with too much makeup and perfectly perky boobs was certainly not going to help teach a lesson.
"I'm sure it's fine… Sid's just in the other room. I'll show you in…" I smile my best receptionist smile and turn towards the living room
"I'm sorry… I didn't catch your name…" Pamela asks, as she follows me down the hall.
"Sorry, I'm Bree…" I say over my shoulder.
"You're Sidney's … girlfriend?" Pamela asked cautiously.
"No… Sid doesn't have a girlfriend… I'm his personal assistant," I quickly correct her. The last thing I need is that being spread by some half-wit journalist wannabe. And I hate when people who don't know him call him Sidney… I dunno why… specifically tall blondes with too much makeup and perfectly perky boobs. Did I mention those?
"Oh, so will you be sitting in on the interview with Sidney and I?"
"No probably not…" I explain, thinking that she will be much relieved at her chance to spend fifteen minutes alone with him. I stop in front of the doors to Sid's office.
"Oh, that's too bad, you probably know him better then anyone… might add an interesting angle to the story," Pamela shifts awkwardly and I notice that she is acting visibly nervous.
"Do you do a lot of interviews with athletes?" I ask, curious about how Pamela got picked to come here.
"Nope… He's my first," She spits out before she realizes how bad it sounds. He cheeks instantly get red. "That's not what I meant… I… I… oh fuck, I am going to screw this up, aren't I?"
"Relax," I offer, placing my hand on her arm, suddenly feeling bad for the girl. I don't know why. I doubt that Sid will be thinking about anything she says with these perky tits in his face. Nevertheless I feel the need to reassure her. "He's just a regular guy who happens to be good at hockey."
"And happens to be attractive and make millions of dollars?"
"Some guys are lucky… I am sure you will be fine," I can't help but laugh.
"You make him sound so normal…"
"He is normal," I assure her. "Would you like me to come in to the interview for a bit? I can help be an icebreaker if you'd like?" Why did I just offer that? I have a million things to do…
"That would be amazing! I would really appreciate it," Pamela sounds very excited. I certainly don't normally do this but I feel bad for her. I remember what it felt like being overwhelmed by hockey players, thinking that they were so different. Now I know better. And besides, this should put a damper in any shameless flirting on Sid's part.
I turn and knock on his office door, then give him a minute before entering. My biggest fear since the day I moved in here has always been catching him in an awkward personal moment, if you know what I mean.
"Hey," I greet him as I head into the room. He looks up from a pile of papers that I put on his desk this morning. Another payback. I could have read them and dealt with them myself, like I usually do, but I thought this would be more fun. Maybe his hands will be too tired from flipping through papers to text me on my date tonight.
To be fair he did apologize for being an ass to me this morning on our drive home from the rink. Then he gave me a list of a thousand things that needed to get done. I am surprised he even had time to make the list - it was so long! And some of the things on it were flat out ridiculous. Some of the things we had agreed could wait for awhile but for some reason, Sid decided to bump up the timeline. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is some lame ass attempt to keep me busy so I don't have time to have dinner with Paul but I'm not going to give in to that crap, that's for damn sure. If he has a problem with it, he has to tell me to my face and he better have a good reason behind it.
"This is Pamela. She is your 2:30 interview," I introduce the young interviewer.
Sid stands and walks out from behind the desk, extending his hand for hers. "Hi there, I'm Sid."
"No kidding really?" I laugh. "Who was she going to think you were?"
Sid just rolls his eyes at me and makes a motion towards some chairs and a couch off to the side. "Would you like to have a seat?"
"Thanks," Pamela moves over towards the chairs, taking a seat. "I hope you don't mind but I asked Bree to stay for the interview as well. I think she might add an interesting angle to the story… the person who makes your schedule and is around you all the time must really know the real Sidney Crosby."
"Yeah, she probably does…" Sid looks at me and I smile a devilish smile. He knows he could be in trouble now, not that I would ever do anything like that. "She'll probably get a great book deal some day!"
"New York Times best seller list here I come," I joke, knowing full well that there is a clause in my contract strictly prohibiting that.
"So Bree, how long have you worked for Sid?" Pamela asked, setting a recorder down on the coffee table. I sit down on the couch and Sid sits beside me.
"I just started working for Sid this September but before that I worked for his parents in Cole Harbour for a couple years," I explain.
"What did you do for them?" She asked.
"I was kind of a nanny for Sid's sister, Taylor. When his parents came up here, I stayed with her or was her tutor when she came down here for extended periods of time, like playoffs of whatever," I explain.
"She was more then a nanny. She was like my moms saviour," Sid smiled at me. I just roll my eyes. The last thing I want this interview to turn into is a question period about me. "She has become a part of the family. Even my grandma calls and asks to talk to her."
"That's so cute," Pamela smiles at as. I'm not sure what she means by 'cute'. "So, what's it like working for the face of the NHL? Hard work?"
"Umm yeah… it can be exhausting," I nod at the understatement of the year. Sid laughs again, full well knowing that my schedule is often more hectic then his, and unlike him, I don't get afternoon naps.
"So you are just on call all the time? Do you live here then? Do you get nights off? Vacation?" Pamela continues with her third degree. I know I have to be polite but I really want to tell her to lay of the questions.
"It's kind of a 24/7 job… I get nights off here and there and I'll get a vacation in the off season…" I explain, keeping my answers short.
"Unless of course we win the Cup…" Sid reminds me.
"Oh my God, I don't even know if I can handle that again. I have never been so busy in my life…" I laugh, reminding myself of the craziness that was the summer of 2009. Sid just smiles and laughs warmly, probably remembering a number of times when his mom and I were running around like chickens with our heads cut off, while he remained calm and collected. He can remember what he wants. He will never make fun of me for my erratic behaviour that day because I was there when he, the big tough hockey player, cried like a baby and I'm not afraid to bring that up.
"It seems like you two are really close," Pamela raises her eyebrow. I don't like the raised eyebrow but Sid doesn't seem to notice, still clearly in happy reminiscing land in his head.
"We spend almost every waking minute that I'm not on the ice together…" Sid adds, seemingly oblivious to what Pamela is getting at. I just watch Pamela's reaction as Sid explains several examples of my 'dedication' and 'perfect fit to his life'. Sid's phone rings on his desk and he gets up to check it, leaving me alone, face to face with Pamela. My palms are sweating, as I can only imagine the questions brewing in her head.
"So, when do you get to stop living his life and start living your own?" I doubt very much this is the angle the story was supposed to be going.
"We are actually currently debating that…" I offer honestly in a moment of weakness, as I watch him reach over his desk. I regret that sentence instantly and quickly change my demeanour to a bit more icy. "I should let you know that you only have a couple more minutes, so if you have hockey related questions, you should probably get to those. Sid is very busy you know."
Pamela does her best to stare me down, sensing my behaviour swing but I certainly know how to handle pushy media types. To think that I felt bad for this girl who was clearly playing me. She wasn't nervous at all. She just wanted to make a name for herself by getting a different perspective for her story. She probably thinks that she would be hailed as a hero when she returned to the news room but I have more clout with the media then that. No newsroom would risk their beat reporter being denied access to Sidney Crosby by publishing something that Sid doesn't want published. As soon as this little twit leaves, I will be placing a call to make sure her little story never sees ink.
Sid returns to the couch and I decide that now is a really good time to excuse myself, letting the focus return back to sports. As I leave the room, I slowly pull the door shut, pausing to hear the next question. "Are you excited to play in another Winter Classic?"
'Good girl,' I quietly congratulate Pamela to myself, for having the sense to return the interview to the appropriate topic. I return to what I was doing before the blonde with perfectly perky boobs arrived and raised questions that I don't want to think about right now.
-.-
I hear the door to Sid's office crack open, right on schedule. I'll give him props for that. He is very good at keeping a schedule. I usually let an interview run over four minutes before cutting them off, as I allow five minutes between scheduled activities on busy days. I pop my head into the hallway from the kitchen and watch as he shows Pamela to the door, shaking her hand like the professional he is.
"So how long do we have before we leave for the studios?" Sid asks, coming into the kitchen and opening the fridge door. It's clear that he doesn't really want anything. He is just trying to act casual as he tests me to see if I actually cancelled my plans with Paul. Of course I did, but I want to make him sweat a little.
"The interview is at four, so…" I offer, not giving up anything.
Sid closes the door and looks at me. "So… we should leave at…what time?"
I fold my arms across my chest and hold my ground firmly. "How long does it take you to drive to Studio 6?"
"About twenty five minutes. Can you be ready to go at 3:30?" He asks firmly. He is playing this perfectly, the cheeky bastard.
I just stare at him. He stares right back. We are both unbelievably stubborn, so I don't see this ending well. He will never give in, so I know I have to be the bigger person and all, but I hate it. 'Just a couple more minutes…' I tell myself.
"Of course I can," I offer, turning back to my schedule book. That was fun.
"Good," Sid breaths, as if he was holding his breath the whole time. "I'll meet you at the car then?"
I just nod.
"Perhaps on the way home, we can get something to eat? I kinda have a hankering for some sushi…" Sid offers back to his relaxed tone.
"Sorry Sid, I have dinner plans. You knew that," I shrug, closing up my book. "You wanted me to come to the interview and I am but I am still going for dinner with Paul after. He said we can go to a movie later and he will just have a coffee with dinner."
I walk past Sid and head down the hallway. I know he won't be happy with that but I can't always spend all my time worrying more about him then myself. I need a night off.
