I am so, so sorry I haven't updated in forever. Thanks again to my reviewers and if you all absolutely hate me and this chapter, I apologize. It might not make much sense 'cause I was trying to finish this off quickly. Here ya go...
wave-rider
Chapter 2: New Job
That night, I told Kim and Gabi that I was going to take the job. They both questioned it…a lot. Their first reactions were priceless, though.
"WHAT!" Kim shouted and jumped up, "Why do you want to work for a bunch of mindless hockey jocks? I thought you hated hockey!" It was only after she completed her thought that she realized she knocked the scalding hot chocolate she had been holding into her lap. She started swearing and dancing around madly trying to get the pants off. Gabi and I sat there, not knowing whether to laugh or attempt to approach our friend. Kim disappeared down the hall and into her room, returning a moment later with grey sweatpants on.
"Are you okay, Kimby?" Gabs asked cautiously. Kim let out a deep sigh and flopped down on the couch, hand flying to her head.
"Emmy, what the HELL are you thinking? I thought you wanted to spend all the time possible trying to make the team again." Gabi agreed with her.
"Yeah, Em. Why the sudden change? Just this morning you said you were going to get back in time for the Olympics."
"Guys, that's what I'm doing. See, part of the deal is that I'll warm the team up and show them some stuff, then I get all the free ice time I want after practice. And maybe, if the Olympic Hockey Committee sees me practicing they might talk to the Skating Team. Plus, it's some money that we can use for random things around the house." They sat there and stared at me, processing all I had told them. Finally, Kim broke the silence.
"You little manipulator! You have one devious mind that head, Emmy. I'm so proud!" I laughed at Kim and told her it was all because of her. She smiled wide and stood to take a bow. Gabi just sat and laughed at us. We were so goofy sometimes, it surprised me.
"Oh, and by the way Kim. I'm gonna ask if they need a photographer for the team." I added in casually. Kim's eyes widened and she slowly sat back down.
"What the Hell are you thinking Calhoun?" she asked in a deadly serious tone.
"Well, Kimby, you never take pictures or movies anymore, and don't even try to convince me that you're happy with your job at Martha's Bakery. I mean, it's not what you love. Besides, are there any real benefits to baking cookies all day? You're not even allowed to eat the mistakes, for crying out loud!"
"Well, I do get a basket of muffins and cookies on holidays," she stated defensively. I rolled my eyes and looked at her.
"Kim, please! That Martha lady is a psycho. Granted, the coach might not be completely sane either, but at least it's doing something you love." She still looked reluctant. "How about we make a deal: If I ask Mr. Brooks if he needs a photographer and he says yes, then you'll accept. If he doesn't, I will do your chores around the house for a week and watch Michaela whenever you want. Deal?"
She thought it over before smiling gently and saying, "Deal!" I gave her a hug and whispered, "You won't be sorry. Trust me."
About an hour after chatting we went to our rooms and got a goodnight's sleep in.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of Michaela yelling because she wanted pancakes instead of cereal for breakfast. I reminisced back to when she was a little baby, barely a month old.
I walked up to the Capucco's door. Kim answered, holding a tiny, screaming Michaela in her arms, and looking like death itself. She had barely gotten any sleep in the past few weeks, because of the baby's irregular sleep pattern. She ushered me in, trying to console the screeching newborn all the while. Kim's mom, Janine Capucco, came into the living room, putting on big pearl earrings.
"Kitty Micheline, would you please make that thing SHUT UP! I mean, really, I can't even hear myself think." I winced at her tone. Kim looked at her mother and said dryly, "If I knew how to calm her down, I probably would have already." Normally, Kim would yell at her mother for calling her 'Kitty Micheline' and then make more of an argument about Michaela's screaming, but she was just too exhausted. She was only seventeen, just out of high-school, and she had to deal with a difficult baby and uncaring parents. Both Mr. and Mrs. Capucco were country-clubbers, too pre-occupied with themselves. When they found out Kim was pregnant, all they could think about was what their friends would say.
All her life, Kim resented her parents and was independent from them. But when Michaela's father, Lucas Kingston, refused to help Kim with the baby, Kim had no where to go but her parents.
By the time Michaela was five months old, Kim had had enough and just left. She showed up at my door with Michaela in her carrier and a diaper bag slung across her shoulder.
"I'm sick of it. I just had to leave," was all she said. She, Gabi and I had all talked about getting an apartment and living as roommates long before graduation. It was Gabi who found our three bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house in St. Paul. We moved in a month later and we'd been there ever since.
Michaela had quieted down and actually slept through the night after she moved in here. Kim says it's because her mother and father scared the poor thing to death, but personally, I think it was because she could sense that her mother was more relaxed. I can remember all the cute things she did growing up, or the horrible temper tantrums she could throw. Just like the one she was throwing as a wake-up call for me. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It read 7:30 AM. I had plenty of time to get dressed and eat before we had to head down to the rink.
As I hopped in the shower, I heard a loud clatter come from the kitchen. How Kim deals with these things I may never know, but she better write a book about it. Five minutes later I was out of the warm moisture and into the frigid, tiled room known as our bathroom. Another five minutes passed and I was dressed in my warm up suit and carefully clasping the chain that held my mother's wedding rings. I brushed my hair back into a neat bun and headed to the kitchen.
I stopped dead in my tracks. There, in front of me, was Kim covered in oatmeal. My eyes widened, half in humor, half in sympathy. Guess this is a bad day for Michaela… I slowly walked up to where the little devil was sitting and pouting. I saw Kim walk to her room to change out of the corner of my eye.
"Mischa, what did you do to Mommy?" I asked in my authoritative voice. She looked up at me and stated quite frankly, "She gave me oatmeal. I don't wike oatmeal, so I threw it to her. I want pantakes for bweakfast." I sighed and looked down at the little blonde.
"Mischa, you know better than to throw food, especially at Mommy, after she made it especially for you. That's not very nice. You need to apologize." She looked down, still scowling, and mumbled, "Fine." She got off her stool and made her way to the bedroom she and her mother shared.
Both Capucco girls came back looking in cheerier moods than when the left. Kim grabbed her purse and opened the door, "Shall we go to the ice rink?" We all walked outside and piled into my car and headed off to the rink.
Our old station wagon pulled into the arena's parking lot. I looked up and there in big bold letters were "CLOSED FOR OLYMPIC HOCKEY TEAM". I smiled and shook my head slightly. This guy's gonna be so much fun to work for. I put the parking brake on and turned off the ignition. Kim got out and helped Michaela out of the backseat.
"I'm going to go see if I can find Mr. Brooks, I'll be back in a minute or two," I walked into the arena and straight to the rink. As I drew closer, I could hear the shouts and sounds of the puck bouncing off the boards that were normally associated with the primitive sport of hockey. I rolled my eyes at the very thought of actually working for a hockey team and almost turned around right there. Keep your mind on the prize; this is your only chance at being on the team again.
I finally got in the rink area and found Coach Brooks. He was yelling at some player who wasn't passing the puck. I stood in the bleachers, watching the team start up a play. Uninterested, I continued down the rows of chairs towards the boards when a loud "thwack" was heard. I looked up immediately to see a player in gray standing over a member of the opposing team. A chorus of different calls, many discouraging the hit, was thrown at the attacker. I rolled my eyes and continued down to the boards as the coach began a monologue about what the team was for.
He asked three of the players to tell him about themselves. Figures, the guy doesn't even know anything about his team. Yet, here I am, going to work for the great hockey buffoons. The practice continued on, until the assistant coach noticed me pacing around the rink. He called me over.
"Are you the figure skater from yesterday?" he asked me. I stuck my hand out and introduced myself, "I'm Emma Lynne Calhoun. I'm here to see Mr. Brooks about the job he offered me yesterday." The coach nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Yeah, he told me about that. By the way, I'm Craig Patrick, assistant coach. Here, follow me." He opened the gate and let me onto the ice. Mr. Brooks saw us and blew a whistle to stop the practice. As we walked towards the head coach, I could feel the curious eyes of the team follow my path.
I walked directly, yet carefully, up to Mr. Brooks and began my offer. "Hello again Mr. Brooks," he murmured back, "Ms. Calhoun" but I continued on. "I've thought about your proposition and I've decided to take you up on the job. However…" I paused to gauge his reaction. He seemed unfazed that I had my own conditions, so continued on, "I was wondering if your team needed a photographer. My friend, Kim Capucco, is highly qualified and is looking for a job. But, if you don't want her on your staff, I'm afraid I'll have to turn down your offer."
"How much does your friend want as salary?" his tone was firm yet not completely defiant. There was still a glimmer of hope for Kim's new job! I decided to answer him vaguely, let's see this guy squirm, "Oh, I don't know, maybe $10 for every film reel she shoots. Does that sound okay?" He thought about it before replying, "Meet me in my office with your friend in five minutes. We'll discuss this there. Craig?" Mr. Brooks turned to Coach Patrick, "Can you show Ms. Calhoun and her friend to my office please? Thanks. Now, back to practice; let's go gentlemen!"
Five minutes later, I found myself, along with Kim and Michaela, inside Herb Brooks's office. Kim was biting her lip in nervousness and Michaela was playing with her imaginary puppy named Jerry. I smiled at my goddaughter and patted Kim's back, trying to calm her nerves. She was always so tense when meeting new people because they judged her for being a single young mother. I started up a conversation with her about how late Gabi was working, when the door flew open.
In came Mr. Brooks looking as stony and cold as ever. He sat down in his desk chair as Coach Patrick walked in and sat in a nearby chair. The four of us looked at each other until the head coach broke the silence, "So, Ms. Calhoun, is this your friend?" He motioned to Kim. She stood up and went to the desk to shake hands. "Yes, sir, my name's Kim Capucco, I'm a photography major and I'm looking for a job." Brooks looked at her and began practically interviewing her. Kim answered all his questions tensely yet perfectly. He seemed impressed by the time the interrogation was done. He looked the Craig and nodded his head.
"Well, it looks like you two have jobs if you choose to accept, same salary as I said before. I'll have Walter Bush make up some papers for you and…" he was cut off by a loud bark. He stood up, confused, and looked over the desk where he found little Mischa grinning madly. Kim looked embarrassed and gathered Michaela in her lap. He looked at Kim for and explanation when I butt in, "Mr. Brooks, this is Kim's daughter Michaela, she might have to tag along to practice a few days a week, but she'll be no trouble. Right, Mischa?" The little girl looked at me and nodded. I turned back to Mr. Brooks and hoped he would let Michaela come to practices with Kim. He nodded and resumed informing us about our new jobs. We discussed the finer points until, at last, we were done.
"Okay, why don't we go meet the team then?" he asked. He got up and opened the door; Coach Patrick followed, holding the door open for Kim, Michaela, and I. "Thanks, Coach Patrick." Kim said. "No, no. Call me Craig. We're all on the same team now." Kim smiled and picked up Michaela. We walked down a few hallways and came back to the bleachers were about twenty freshly showered hockey players were sitting.
"Gentlemen, you're attention please," the team quickly shut up. "I'd like to introduce you to two of our new staff members. This is Emma Lynne Calhoun and Kim Capucco. Ms. Calhoun will be you're new warm up trainer and Ms. Capucco will be taking pictures and film of practices. That's all boys." Mr. Brooks just turned and headed back to his office, leaving us with a team of barbaric hockey players. They all came up to meet us and introduce themselves. Michaela, who was hiding behind Kim, popped out in front of us, surprising them all.
"And who might this be?" one asked. He bent down and offered his hand to Mischa, "I'm Buzz Schneider. What's your name?" The hardly shy Mischa looked at him and said, "I'm Michaela Christine Capucco. I'm five years old." Buzz looked up at Kim and said, "She's cute. This your little sister?"
The second the words flew out of his mouth, the look on Kim's face was enough to make him want to take them back. He looked confused until she answered, "Actually, she's my daughter." The room went dead silent. Buzz fumbled with an apology but, Kim just waved it off. We all stood in awkward silence for a minute or two before a group of the players left to go home. Michaela was getting tired and Kim wanted to head home also. We had pretty much been at the rink all day and it was starting to get late.
"Well, we better be heading home. We'll see you all tomorrow. Be afraid, be very afraid," I attempted a joke. Some of the guys laughed and we continued out to the front lobby. Michaela fell asleep on the ride home and Kim had to carry her into the house. I opened the door to find Gabi standing in the kitchen cooking a pot of spaghetti. She was still dressed in her office clothes with her hair in a messy bun. She heard the door close and jumped. She seemed spooked until she saw it was just us, "Hey, how did it go?"
"Oh, fine. We got the jobs, the hard part now is figuring out how I'll deal with twenty-something hockey players for eight months," she laughed aloud as I trailed of, shaking my head. Mentally, I was questioning myself what the hell I did, but Gabi was there to reassure me.
"Don't worry about it, Em. They can't be that bad; so you teach a bunch of guys the finer points of skating, worse case scenario, you deck a few." She said it as nonchalantly as possible, but soon she began laughing along with me. She was referencing when some hockey player came onto me way too strong and I whacked him across the face. I laughed at the memory as Kim came in. She looked at us in question before we filled her in. She started laughing too before running over to the spaghetti pot and turning off the heat. Gabi and I looked at each other, then to Kim as if to say sorry.
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting at our kitchen table, laughing and eating, and laughing again. Gabi had told us that her co-worker Luanne had spent the day running back and forth between the two office buildings that her company owned. It probably wasn't that funny, but we had decided to celebrate a little with some rum and coke. Unfortunately for us, not drinking in quite a long time (due to living with a five year old) caused us to loose our ability to hold liquor well. Let's just say my first day of work was very interesting…
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