Anaheim, California is absolutely beautiful! You know what? If Brad gets drafted by Anaheim, I may just have to transfer out to USC. We're out here a few days before the Draft, so that everyone can get a little vacation time in. Mr. and Mrs. Ross took Harry and Hannah to Disneyland. Jack and Tim have headed down to the beach to check out the girls. Brad and I are still trying to get out of our hotel room here at the Doubletree Anaheim Resort. After getting up late, uncharacteristic of both him and me, we ordered room service and settled in for breakfast in our room.
"I can't believe you actually slept late!" I apologize if this is something weird to sound enthusiastic about but he's a workaholic who needs to learn how to relax.
"Yeah…" He says with some reluctance.
"What did you do?" I'm getting pretty good at seeing through him.
"I got up early this morning, went down to the fitness room and ran about three miles on the treadmill before doing another three on the bike. I came back up here, took a quick shower, towelled off and crawled back in bed with you." He smiles at me and takes a large spoonful of his cereal.
"You're telling me that I'm such a deep sleeper that you were able to get out of bed, get dressed, go work out for a pretty long time, come back up here, have a shower and climb back into bed all without my waking up?" I question with evident disbelief.
"Well, to be fair it was about quarter to six this morning when I got back from the gym and you do have the tendency to snore a little bit, hun." He takes a drink of his orange juice.
"I do not snore." I tell him emphatically.
"Not loudly, no. But it's a little squeak, it's cute really." He chortles a little and I playfully smack him across the shoulder. We didn't get to spend much time together yesterday. Brad got rushed into a filming session for commercials and the video montages for the Draft. So I went for a walk around Disney's California Adventure with his siblings. Last night, when Brad got back to the hotel he took me down the street to the Anaheim GardenWalk for a nice casual dinner.
Today, we're just going to spend the day together. We finish breakfast and Brad sits on the edge of the bed. "So, what do you want to do today?" He asks me.
"Well, I don't know, all this talk about you sneaking off in the early morning hours to go exercise has me feeling a little guilty, so how about we start with a quick trip up to the rooftop pool?" I suggest.
"Alrighty, guess we should get throw on our suits then." Brad grins at me as a I saunter passed him. Little does he know that I picked up string bikini while I was shopping yesterday. I can't wait to get his reaction to this bikini. I open the door of the bathroom and step into the doorway.
"Oh, Brad." I say in a light, teasing tone. He turns to look at me and I watch him get this slow carnivorous look in his eye. "Brad?" I question sounding a little worried. He starts to move toward me and within scant few seconds. He's got his hands roped around my waist and he's standing behind me kissing my neck. "Brad!" I try to sound displeased with his decision-making but he's slowly driving me wild. "Brad." I try to sound serious so that we might actually get up to the pool but then he starts tickling me just under my ribs and I can't help but giggle. The two of us tumble down on to the bed; me on top of him.
My head rolls back as he starts kissing his way down my body, starting with my neck. "What about the pool?" I moan as he unties my bikini top.
"We can have more fun and better exercise here." He mutters from just below my breasts. For once, his idea's much better than mine.
Slightly over an hour and another rendezvous in the shower later, we're dressed again and ready to head out. "Okay, now what do you want to do?" He asks as he finishes tying his shoes
"No, no, you asked me that a little while ago and we ended up doing what you wanted to do anyway." I tease him with wide grin.
"Yeah, but this time you aren't wearing a tiny red bikini which ought to be illegal…when worn by you anyway." He yammers through an explanation.
"Oh, so it's my fault?" I question as I move over and stare questioningly up into his eyes.
"No, no, no, it's both our faults." He tries to recover some ground here. "See, an addiction is as much due to the person who's addicted as the substance to which they are addicted."
"And you're addicted to me?" I question as I lean in to him.
"Oh baby, you have no idea." He says as he leans in and quickly kisses me on the lips. Considering the teeth-rattling orgasm I just had, I wouldn't bet on his last statement. "Before we go out, I just wanted to have a quick little talk with you."
"What's on your mind?" I sit on the edge of the bed with him.
"We're near L.A., it's the media capital of the world, and while I don't mean to sound like someone with an over-inflated ego, if you're out in public with me, you're going to get your picture taken and things are going to be written about you." He starts to explain but I press my finger to his lips to hush him.
"We were friends all through high school and things were written about me, you don't think I know this by now?" I look right into those big dark teddy bear eyes of his.
"Yeah, but it's different when it's People Magazine." He says. "And in high school it was before you and I were dating, they didn't have any pictures of us kissing in public. It becomes a different thing when they get stuff like that."
"And we'll deal with it together." I tell him as I take his hands. "A few photographers sure as hell aren't going to keep me from kissing you in public." I get up off the bed. "Now come on, we've only got one more day before we've got to spend tomorrow in a stuffy auditorium with a bunch of hockey people listening to names be called."
"Alright, let's go." He wraps an arm around my waist and we head for the door. The door shuts behind us and we walk down the hallway. He sticks his hand in my back pocket. I smile to myself and shake my head.
"You only have one thing on your mind, huh?" I look up at him.
"Honey, if you've ever looked at yourself naked in the mirror, you'll know why." He can't honestly think that line was smooth can he? Oh well, he's eighteen, he'll learn. I just keep shaking my head. The two of us get in the elevator and ride down to the bottom floor. We get off and walk through the lobby. "So, you were at Disneyland yesterday, what do you want to do today?"
"How about a nice stroll down the GardenWalk for some shopping, they've got some great restaurants down there if we get hungry." The two of us head up the street toward the GardenWalk.
"Alright, well the day's on me okay?" He tells me.
"Listen, I don't want you feeling like you have to be my sugar daddy, okay?" I stop and look at him.
"You're my girlfriend, I enjoy paying for you. Hell, I was raised in a house where my father told the boys that that was what was expected of us when it came to dating." Brad explains in a bit of a hurry, worried that he's done something wrong.
"I know but…" I shake my head a bit. "You know upstairs when you said that people would write things about me, since we're together?" He nods and I keep explaining. "Well, I can put up with pregnancy speculation and wedding rumours, I can put up with break-up gossip and infidelity water-cooler talk. But the one thing that irritates me is anyone thinking that I'm only with you because……well, because you've got money."
"Listen to me." He brings a big hand up lightly cups my cheek. "I'm with you because I love you and I'll happily remind you of that whenever you want." He's getting better with this whole smooth thing. I lean in and kiss him softly on his lips. His arms come around my back and pull me in closer. Oh God, I do love his tongue. I look up at him with what I'm sure are a pair of goo-goo eyes.
"Come on, let's go shopping." I pull his arm and we walk up the sidewalk.
After a few hours of trying a bunch of things on and not buying anything, I think we're finally ready to head to dinner. "How about a little trip to Bubba Gump's?" Brad asks as we continue our walk down the Boardwalk.
"You sure you want to go there? Isn't it a little casual?" I ask as we head over to the restaurant.
"Never let it be said I don't enjoy some good old average American food." Brad smiles and we head into the restaurant. Now, I'm a little sceptical by nature of any restaurant themed on a movie. Also, I'm from D.C. which is home to some of the best restaurants in the country, so I get kind of peculiar about the restaurant when I eat out. We walk in and the hostess escorts us to a table. She hands us some menus when we take our seats and she tells us that our waiter will be with us momentarily.
"This place is nice." Brad looks around taking in the scenery.
"It's okay." I tell him as I scan the menu. "What are you looking at getting?"
"I don't know, I haven't looked at the menu yet." Brad smiles and me and opens his menu. Our waiter heads over to the table.
"Hi, my name's Joe, I'll be your waiter tonight." He says as he claps his hands together. "Just before we get started, a few of the girls on the serving staff were wondering, are you Brad Ross?"
"Yeah." Brad tells him leaning over the table.
"Well, the girls and more than a few of the waiters and the manager were wondering if we could get a staff picture with you?" Joe the waiter asks Brad.
"Hey, no problem." Brad gets up from the table. "Just tell me where to stand." Joe points to a place just under a Bubba Gump's logo and Brad stands there. Joe shouts for the rest of the serving staff and the manager They all gather around Brad and Joe takes a picture with everyone smiling.
"Thanks a lot." The manager shakes Brad's hand. "And hey, your dinner's on the house."
"Thanks." Brad smiles and shakes his hand. He heads back over to the table. "Awful nice of the manager."
"I think it was awfully nice of you." I tell him. "I mean, you're just trying to eat dinner, right? You didn't have to give them a picture."
"Come on, now. They asked nicely, I figured I was just being a nice guy. Besides, our dinner's on the house." He tells me with a smile.
"Well, here's a small world!" I hear a vaguely familiar voice say from across the restaurant. Brad looks over my shoulder and smiles a magnificent tooth-filled smile.
"Nolan!" He cheers and rises from his seat. He wraps his hockey pal in a big hug. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"You haven't seen ESPN today, huh?" Nolan has a jolly smile on his face. "I'm a Boston Bruin now. I got traded early this morning in a trade that involved a swap of both draft picks and prospects. Marty Schaefer, our Team USA team-mate, is now a Philadelphia Flyer and I'm a Boston Bruin."
"An interesting turn of events." Brad comments. "Why don't you join us? Brad invites his friend and I shake my head.
"I don't know boy, it looks as though you're with the Missus." Nolan jokes.
"Nolan." I warn in a stern voice.
"Alright, alright." Nolan sits down. "So, you pumped for the draft tomorrow, kid?"
"I've had the butterfly symphony going in my stomach all day." Brad shakes his head slowly. "I don't know why. I wasn't even this nervous before our Memorial Cup games."
"It passes, trust me." Nolan says as our waiter comes over and hands him a menu. "I just saw you having your picture taken with the staff and figured I should pop in and say 'hi'."
"Glad you did, man." Brad slaps him on the shoulder. "What were the Calder Cup Playoffs like?"
"A challenge man, it was like jumping from one frying pan into another." Nolan laughs. "Spencer's team eliminated us in seven games, it was tough as hell. Speaking of our old Rangers colleagues, Carey and Doc are here, you know?
"You know, I hadn't thought about it but I guess they would be." Brad grins and looks at the menu as our waiter comes back over.
"Can I get you all anything for an appetizer or to drink?" The waiter inquires.
"Yeah, can I get a Cherry Coke?" I tell the waiter.
"I'll have an orange juice and some Cajun shrimp." Brad tells the waiter.
"I'll have a root beer and some Cajun shrimp." Nolan adds. The waiter nods and heads back toward the kitchen.
"So, Nolan, why exactly are you in Anaheim?" I turn toward Brad's friend. "I would have figured, what with being traded and all, you'd be at home in Massena with your family."
"I would have been but the Boston General Manager called me at home and told me to catch a flight to Anaheim to be here for the Draft, so here I am." Nolan informs us.
"Well, good to see you." Brad gives him a clap on the shoulder. "So, I heard there's a lot of jockeying for that number one position tomorrow."
"A lot is an understatement." Nolan laughs. "Last I spoke with the guys in the Boston war room, they said that Vancouver, New York, Dallas and a few others were all trying to trade in order to ensure they're the first on the podium tomorrow."
"Sounds like an interesting day." I mutter. "What've you been doing since you guys dropped out of the AHL Playoffs?" I try to sound pleased and I keep reminding myself that I had a private dinner with Brad last night. I also try to tell myself that it was inevitable that we'd run into a few fellow hockey players Brad knows.
"Cap!" Another voice cheers. "And Superman!" We all look over and see Carey and Doc standing at the hostess stand. They jog over and greet Nolan and Brad. "One hell of a coincidence seeing you two here."
"Yeah." Brad waves them over to the table and the two newest guests bring chairs with them. "So, you enjoying the Southern California weather?"
"Slightly less humid than back home in Canada." Doc informs us. "But not by much. All in all, I'm glad I got here yesterday so I could get some golf in."
"Good thinking." Brad raises his glass to him. We all sit around talking for a few minutes before our waiter comes to take our orders. You know, once I stopped being so particular, I actually found myself having a really good time. I know I was a tomboy when I was younger but now I do find it a little awkward to hang out with a bunch of hockey players. Even if one of them is my boyfriend.
About halfway through dinner, a young boy comes over and tugs on Brad's sleeve. Brad looks down at the young kid and smiles. "Donny! Donny!" A deep male voice calls and the man who must be the boy's father comes running over and picks up the boy.
"I'm sorry, sir, he kind of got away from me." The man nods at Brad.
"Not a problem." Brad grins. The child buries his head in his father's shoulder and hands him a piece of paper. The man looks at the piece of paper and then looks at Brad and then back down at the piece of paper.
"I hate to sound intrusive, but are you by chance, Brad Ross?" The man inquires.
"Yeah." Brad nods humbly.
"Well, I'm sorry to bother you, but we just got back from the Honda Centre, where they're holding the draft tomorrow, and little Donny here bought the Upper Deck card collection from this year's gold medal winning American Junior team." The man explains, trying very hard not to gush at Brad. "You're his favourite player."
"Well, that's nice to hear." Brad tells him.
"I was just wondering if you would mind autographing this hockey card." The man hands Brad that thing I had thought was a piece of paper.
"I'll go you one better." Brad tells him. "Does he have the rest of the set?" The man whispers something to his son and his son pulls a plastic carrying case full of hockey cards out of a shirt pocket. "You see two of these fellas were on the team with me." Brad points to Nolan and Carey. "The big guy's Nolan White who was a tournament all-star defenseman and the skinny guy's Carey Moore."
The child hands off Nolan and Carey's cards as well. It takes scant few seconds for the boys to sign the cards and hand them back to the child. "Thank you very much." The child's father tells the boys.
"Not a problem." Brad tells him and the child heads back toward his table along with his father.
"You guys don't mind having your meal interrupted to sign autographs?" I inquire, looking around the table.
"Not at all." Nolan shakes his head.
"See, we all know that hockey's still playing catch-up with the other major sports here in the U.S.A, so we don't feel we have the right to be stuck up pricks like baseball players or movie stars." Carey explains to me and I look to Brad who just nods. "So, when a fan asks for an autograph or a picture, what's five seconds out of one day?"
Dinner ends, we say goodbye to the guys who head off to their hotel and head back to our own hotel. "Are you okay; you seemed annoyed early on at dinner?" Brad asks me tentatively.
"It's nothing." I tell him with a small genuine smile. "I was just being superficially finicky."
"You didn't like it when the guys sat down at the table, huh?" Brad cuts right to the meat of the argument.
"Was I that obvious?" I ask as we take our time strolling back to the hotel.
"You get this kind of cute pouty lower lip when annoyed." Brad cracks his knuckles nervously. "But your mood did seem to change part of the way through dinner."
"Yeah, well I just realized that you haven't seen your friends in like a month and you're probably not going to get too much time with them tomorrow at the draft, so I decided to kind of just go with the flow." I tell him, staring down at the sidewalk. He snakes his arm around my waist and the two of us walk in silence for a few blocks before he starts talking again.
"You know, I've found I manage to love even the small things about you." Brad ponders as we walk into the lobby of the hotel.
"Oh yeah, like what?" I ask as we stand waiting for the elevator.
"Just the small things. Like that pouty lip when you get annoyed, or your bed-head when you wake up in the morning or that cute little squeaking snore you have." Brad smiles and the elevator doors open
"Hey guys!" Jack and Tim run through the lobby to join us in the elevator.
"Hey." Brad holds the door open for his brothers. "Good day at the beach?"
"Jack got slapped four times." Tim laughs boisterously.
"I got two phone numbers though." Jack points out.
"You approached ten women, that puts your success rate around at twenty percent." Tim shakes his head. "Pretty bad, Jacky."
"How did you do, Tim?" I look at the youngest triplet.
"Three for three." Tim claps his hands together. "Oh by the way, Jack and I figured that we ought to tell you guys to keep it down tonight, okay?"
"What do you mean?" Brad turns to his brother.
"Listen, not to be indiscreet but we could hear you guys through the heating register last night. We had a hell of a time trying to think of a lie we could tell Harry when he picked up on the noise. We had to tell him that Sasha had stubbed her toe on something. We explained you shouting 'harder' by saying that you wanted Brad to press harder with the ice pack. We had a hell of a time explaining 'faster' though." Jack laughs and gives Brad a pat on the back.
I must be blushing profusely and I bury my head in Brad's chest. "Mom and Dad didn't hear us, did they?" He asks tepidly.
"Nah, the sound bleed-through barely made it into our room, you weren't loud enough for it to make it through our room." Tim assures us. "Though Mom and Dad have spent the whole day with Harry, so you two might not be out of the woods just yet."
"Oh God." I say into Brad's chest and I hear him lightly laugh and he strokes my back. The doors to the elevator open at our floor and we all step out of the elevator. Jack gives Brad a pat on the back and waits for a high-five. Brad slowly obliges and his palm smacks against Jack's.
"I've never been more proud of you." Jack gushes mockingly before heading off with Tim into their room.
We step on to the floor of the Honda Centre in Anaheim the next day and it's an awe-inspiring sight. On one side of the floor, in front of the stage, are tables for the 30 NHL teams. On the other side of the floor, separated by a barricade, are desks for the print media. Up in the private boxes, the television broadcasters have set up for the next two days. Today, they're slated to do the first three rounds of drafting with the first round obviously taking the longest. I woke up at seven this morning and I found Brad already sitting on the edge of the bed in the hotel room watching the NHL Network Draft Preview show.
You could just watch his eyes furiously observing the screen as video montages of his rivals. He watched the analysts talk about guys like Trevor Wood and Teemu Nommainenen and Antonin Kurapov and just nodded the whole time. He called for me when they did their feature on our friend Peter Ashby and we sat there watching it for about thirty seconds. He took it to heart when the analysts on TV picked apart his game, pointing out both his strengths and weaknesses.
But now we're standing on the floor of the Draft and Brad just seems be lost in all the lights and logos. "Brad! Brad!" We look up and see his agent standing up in the seats. We head up toward Kate. "And how's my favourite client?"
"Good to see you, Kate." Mr. Ross greets the agent on the behalf of the family. "Is there any word on who currently has the first overall pick and where Brad's likely to go?"
"Well, last I heard, the Dallas Stars had the first overall pick and Brad is slated to go anywhere between first and fourth overall." Kate explains. "Last I heard though, there was some movement involving the first overall pick. So, you never know what will happen before noon."
"How's Peter?" Brad asks.
"Sounding almost as nervous as you." Kate tells him with a smile. "With less reason, I know that one team that's drafting in the top ten is really stuck on Peter. So, he'll be chosen just a few picks after you."
"Good for him." Brad cheers and looks down at his watch. "I've got five to noon."
"Me too." I tell him as a I place my hand on his back. "You wanna take a seat?" He nods as we all file into the row of seats that correspond to the numbers on our tickets. Brad takes the seat along the aisle and looks at the stage only about a hundred feet away. You can tell that he's completely lost in the moment. He's been playing hockey since he was four years old; it's a sensation I imagine I'll only be able to emphasize with when I get my internship after med school.
You can hear the chatter of the draft floor permeating the entire arena. It's kind of like being on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange on a huge trading day just before a major business merger is about to be announced. I don't think I've ever seen my boyfriend this rattled. He's played in multiple gold medal games, major championship games, he's been through the OHL draft and a few selection processes for Team USA, but he's never looked as on edge as he does right now. I take his hand between mine and give it a little squeeze. "Remember, it's an honour to be drafted at all." I tell him calmly.
"I know." He nods furiously. "I just want to know where I'm going to be reporting to training camp at the start of September."
"Okay." I lightly kiss his cheek. The lower bowl of the arena is completely full with prospective draftees and their families. There are fans here dressed in the colours of their favourite team. The atmosphere slowly reaches a fever pitch along with the buzz coming from the floor of the arena as we slowly march on to noon Pacific Daylight Time. With exactly one minute to noon there's a chorus of shouting and ringing phones coming from the team tables. "What's going on?" I ask Brad.
"No idea. If I had a guess, I'd say there was some kind of big trade." Brad whispers in my ear. At that moment his cell phone rings and he picks up. "Hello. Hey, Carey……Where are you?" Brad looks over to his left and sees Carey standing in his seat and wildly gesticulating with one arm. "Got any news on what's creating the hubbub on the floor?...A trade? I figured. Any word who's involved?" At that moment the Commissioner of the NHL strides up on to the stage and the volume of the building goes down multiple decibel points.
"It is my pleasure to officially open the 2020 NHL Entry Draft and extend my thanks to the Anaheim Ducks franchise and the city of Anaheim for playing host to the National Hockey League this week." The Commissioner says into the microphone. "It's my understanding that we had some serious jockeying for the first overall pick this year and that we have a late-breaking deal that has just been confirmed by the league office." There's a buzz the zips through the rink as the commissioner takes a breath. "So without further ado, I would like to call Phil Neely and the Boston Bruins to the stage to start the draft with the first overall selection.
I watch a slow smile develop on Brad's face. He taps my shoulder and point to a tall blonde member of the Boston delegation walking on to the stage. It's Nolan White and he's holding a black, gold and white Bruins jersey. Neely steps up to the microphone and clears his throat. "With their first overall pick in the 2020 NHL Entry Draft, the Boston Bruins are proud to select from Kitchener of the Ontario Hockey League, Brad Ross!"
There's an eruption of chatter and the flashes of cameras on our section of the stands as Brad rises to his feet. He quickly kisses my lips, hugs his parents and then jogs down the stairs and across the arena floor to the stage. He bounds up the steps on to the stage and shakes hands with the Boston General Manager, the President of Hockey Operations for the Bruins and his old team-mate Nolan White. The Boston GM takes Brad's suit jacket and Nolan hands him the Bruins jersey. Brad takes it and pulls the jersey over his head. The number 20 is on the arm to denote the draft year and the name 'ROSS' is on the back. Brad fits the Boston Bruins cap on his head and stands between Nolan and Neely with his arms over the shoulders of the two men as they stand their for a photo op.
I'm having a hard time containing my own joy at this turn of events. Brad's gonna be in Boston next year!! My voice shrieks in my head. As tradition indicates, the first round pick goes back to the team's table on the draft floor with the rest of the team's hockey management people. I look down at the Boston desk and see Brad with the Boston jersey still on and a pair of big grey headphones on with a microphone in front of his mouth. He's obviously on television with some sports network somewhere in the world giving an interview. It's kind of amusing to think that my boyfriend is currently the top prospect for a professional hockey team. It's even more amusing to think that a bunch of us are going to be living in Boston next year and my boyfriend is going to be one of the most loved men in the city.
The rest of the Draft moves along pretty well. Vancouver takes Trevor Wood at second overall; Dallas take Teemu Nommainenen at third overall and the New York Rangers take Antonin Kurapov at fourth overall. It takes about twenty minutes for Colorado to make it's pick at fifth overall but eventually they do when they take a big defenseman from Western Canada. At sixth overall, the Carolina Hurricanes take to the stage and call out the name of Peter Ashby. I applaud enthusiastically, we've all known Peter since Grade Nine and he helped Brad build the hockey program at Bishop O'Connell High back home in Arlington. When the Toronto Maple Leafs draft at eighth overall they take Brad's buddy and fellow Kitchener Ranger, Nick "Doc" Bay. I look down and I see Brad and Nolan applauding while they sit at the Bruins table.
After the first round is done, Brad and Nolan come up to where we're sitting and join us. They're both wearing Bruins jerseys with their names on the back and carrying their suit jackets. You can tell that these two are just about as happy as they could possibly be today. They cheer loudly when the New York Rangers take their Kitchener team-mate Carey Moore with the 35th Overall pick early in the second round.
It's about three hours later and a bunch of us are headed out to dinner. It's Nolan, Brad, Jack, Tim and me. We all take a seat at our table in the restaurant and finally relax. "So, we're all going to be living in Boston next year, huh?" Nolan ventures forth in conversation.
"Not me, I'm off to Yale for school." Tim reminds us.
"Yeah, but the rest of us are headed to beantown." Jack comments as he plays with a fork.
"Gonna be interesting to be miles away from home." I say.
"You'll have us." Brad wraps one arm around my shoulders and he drapes the other over Nolan's. "Not to mention Jacky-boy."
"Damn right." Jack affirms.
After dinner, Brad and I take another long leisurely walk back to the hotel. "I can't understand how you did it." I tell him. "You left home at sixteen to go play hockey in Canada. I'm going to be almost eighteen and I'm worried about going as far as Boston. You didn't know anybody where you were going and I'm headed off with my boyfriend, a close friend of mine in your brother and another pretty good guy in Nolan White."
"The trick is to think of wherever you're going as home." He tells me as I rest my head on his shoulder. "It makes being there a lot easier."
"But doesn't it make it a little tougher to go home?" I ask.
"Maybe." He says. "And maybe that's just part of growing up."