Chapter 379: Katrina—Reasons

Seeing Michele Roy hang onto Alex Tanguay’s ear, the sheer absurdity of it made Katrina laugh and the rest of the massage therapists and health trainers in the room did as well. She had one hand on her hip, she rested her other palm against the cold tile of the wall and she leaned against that as she watched the television set propped on a shelf near the ceiling that broadcast a video/audio feed of the game. The game seemed nothing more than a carnival of idiocy and Parker carrying Debbie Sakic across the ice kicking and screaming like a Sabine woman, convinced Katrina of that.

“They aren’t broadcasting this regionally are they?” Katrina asked with a smirk.

The head masseur, a fussy, slim Spanish man, Gregorio Pradera grimaced and smiled in the way only a European can an odd mixture of bemusement and amusement. “I do not think so, Katrina, it’s too silly to broadcast, it will make nice Christmas favors this, with video tapes of it.”

“We’re taping this right?” one of the trainers asked, wiping a tear from his eye. Everyone had been laughing so hard through this entire farce. Katrina’s throat felt dry and raspy from laughing so hard and her stomach had gone beyond aching, it was just dead.

“Think they’re gonna agree to the prisoner exchange?” Another guy asked.

Katrina shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Mr. Pradera laughed, “Silly Debbie eh? She thinks she can push around Scott?”

“Well I don’t think she counted on Parker treating her with that much disrespect,” One of the other therapists laughed. “Ten bucks Joe will have him doing naked laps around the rink again for that later.”

“Shit,” Katrina said shaking her head, “The fact that those women are even out there to begin with is beyond me, their reasoning must be cocked up, I don’t know what fucking got into their gold digging little brains. I mean come on they already have their free meal tickets, they don’t have to put up with this shit!”

The rest of the men in the room laughed and Katrina winked as she accepted a high five from one of the trainers. “You said it Kat,” he grinned and Katrina let him pat her on her lower back only because she knew for a fact the guy was gay.

“Oh come now, Kat,” Pradera said, “You don’t really mean that eh? The ladies want to have a little fun; you know this makes big bucks for the charity.”

“Oh yeah?” Katrina asked, “Which one?”

“The Children’s Hospital, and the sport programs for schools, this makes money for them.” He said and his eyes even sparked a little. One thing Katrina found adorable about Pradera was his fanatical adoration for not only the players but their wives. All of them were his treasures, deserving of nothing but the best special attentions that could be had.

Katrina rolled her eyes. “How much?”

Pradera shrugged, “Fifty thousand dollars I think.”

She raised her eyebrows. “For two charities?”

Pradera nodded.

“Well I guess it’s better than nothing,” she muttered. She meant for it to be under her breath but Pradera picked up on it instantly.

“What is better than nothing, you say this is bad?” He snapped.

Katrina shrugged. “God those guys shit that every few games right? You’d think they could find it in their hearts to throw in some change of their own into the pot not just leave it to ticket sales, what five dollar ticket sales?”

Pradera’s eyes widened. “And do you give everything you have for charity?”

Katrina grinned and she shrugged with one shoulder. “I don’t claim to be charitable.” Pradera narrowed his eyes and shook his head, but he still had a smile on his face. Katrina knew the goat would always let her get away with murder.

“Hey look they’re making the trade,” one of the younger guys said laughing and high fiving another guy, “Rock!”

“Hahaha!” Another guy laughed. “Look at Tanguay man, he looks like his momma spanked him or something that kid’s such a fluff!”

“Dude Katrina, come on,” one of the therapists said, “You know you belong out there. You’d fucking kick the teeth out of everyone out there, and you wouldn’t even need Joey holding your hand to do it.”

Katrina smiled, “Like I said, their reasoning is beyond me, I don’t need to have anything to do with that ice other than the aftermath under my fingers.” She lifted her eyebrow and watched the television. The camera focused on Michele Roy and Katrina shook her head. She would have thought at least she would have more sense than to get on that ice.

“Just under your fingers?” someone said, “Aw some on Katrina share some love baby, just a little.”

Katrina rolled her eyes, laughed with them and then flipped them off as she walked out of the room. “I need some water, anyone want anything?” She didn’t really listen to their requests as she left the room and went to the mini fridge. As she pulled out a drink, she gasped and jumped when she saw a man standing behind her. The silver hair and dark eyes calmed her almost to death however and she lifted an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be watching the game, Bob, with your family or something?”

“Oh I was,” Hartley replied in French, “My wife and her friends are taking a quick tour of the locker room; I wanted to get them some drinks.”

“Well don’t let me stand in your way,” Katrina replied and she stepped away from the fridge door but she leaned on the appliance itself, and she smiled at him. He stood still however, his hands at his side as if they were nailed to his hips. She knew that pose well enough; a man’s sad attempt at old granny prudery, politicians and men of repute often took that pose, when they wanted to avoid creatures in her ilk. A pose like that had only hurt her once before, but she would never allow it to again. “What’s wrong Robert, are you scared of me?”

Hartley’s lips tightened. “No.”

“Then come get your drinks.”

Hartley’s eyes, what did they say? Katrina could often read the little expressions on a man’s face, well enough sometimes to tell what they wanted before they even knew. His eyes, however, were just a little bit of a mystery, she couldn’t tell what he felt exactly and that intrigued her. He didn’t make eye contact with her as he opened the fridge and leaned into it. Katrina couldn’t help her curiosity; she reached over and touched his cheek. To her amusement, Hartley acted as if he’d been shocked and he jumped back from the fridge, glaring.

Katrina laughed and closed the door. “You’re such an old maid! Don’t tell me you’re that much of a granny, Robert!”

“I don’t find you charming or attractive,” Hartley snapped. “And your continuing, possibly destructive presence here grates on my nerves.” Oh his eyes flashed, Katrina felt delighted to see it, and the man was capable of passion after all. Passionate hate in this case, he just boiled with it for her.

“But I find you charming when you’re angry, Bob,” Katrina giggled.

“Oh shut up!” Hartley said icily, he didn’t yell or snap he just sprinkled malicious distaste, worse than angry words because this tone carried the loathing of someone who found something so beneath their station that they’d rather have shit on her shoes. Katrina felt her knees weaken, and her pulse quickened.

“She’s not even your wife, Robert,” she said and she felt a little confused, “how can you care so much?”

“It’s something you wouldn’t understand?” Hartley said with a question mark at the end as if he were just as confused. “It’s about decency, can’t you respect that?”

Katrina scowled. “No one is decent, Robert, there are ulterior motives in everything, everyone’s backstabbing, greedy, light seeking, life sucking bottom feeders, Bob, it’s just up to you to stay pretty and float on top, you’re pretty naïve if you can’t…”

“Is that how you justify your selfish ego?” Hartley said with eyes now that seemed sad, worried, and full of dewy pity. Pity! Pity for her! As if she was some little peasant to be granted amnesty. “You’ve lived your whole life coddled and spoiled and you can’t bear to live as an adult without destroying someone else’s happiness to serve your own lazy attitude and you justify it by saying everyone else is just as bad?”

Katrina’s throat tightened and she lifted her lip a little, as if to snarl or yell but if he was keeping his voice down than she would too. “You have no idea what kind of life I’ve lived, don’t even assume you self righteous son of a bitch.”

“Oh I’m sure it was terrible,” Hartley nodded with a patronizing air. “You’ve seen some real deprivation when the doll didn’t come to you with the right color dress when you were six.”

Anger would be her normal reaction, rage, violence, the need to slap, to kick to scream, to pound down the bastard man who dared to attempt putting her in her place as it were. To her horror, however, she felt her cheeks burn, and her throat, and her eyes, and the tickle was not that of rage but of tears. “You have no idea,” she whispered but she knew if she said anymore she would break down completely. She balled her hand into a fist and she shoved at his shoulder, sinking into surprisingly solid flesh. “No idea you bastard what my life was like, NONE, you don’t know what I’ve seen, and had to do, just to fucking survive…”

Tears burned her cheeks and he took ahold of her wrist, held it gently and lowered it to her side, holding it there. “I can imagine,” he replied, this time without a sarcastic bite. “Girls see terrible things, and in reply do them,” and he leaned forward so that his lips blew hot breath over her ear and neck, “But that is still not a reason for hurting other people and bragging about it.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, a real linen handkerchief with his initials on it to wipe her tears and Katrina really felt scorched. She hit it away and wriggled out of his grasp.

“I have fought my way here, to this fucking state, to this job, to this position to my home to the gifts I get,” She hissed. “And there is no way you’re gonna make me feel guilty for it. No one ever fucking apologized to me! And you acting like a gentleman with your stupid handkerchief and soft hands doesn’t fool me one bit because you all fuck the same and hit the same and you do it when it suits you.”

Katrina spent the rest of the period by herself in the equipment room, watching the men there repairing and sharpening and carving and taping things, like drones, laughing with each other and not noticing her presence or not caring. She kept her hands clasped over her tummy, sitting on a chair and just plain refusing to think. For one thing, Bob didn’t know shit, that self righteous asshole and he had no right meddling in her affairs or anyone else’s and it made her hate Columbe Lacroix even more, that weak ass little bitch not even lifting her own fingers to help herself, depending on men to fix her problems, counting on them for her happiness.

By the period’s end Katrina picked herself up and trudged into one of the locker rooms to survey the incoming damage. Oh yeah, the women looked like pale, worn, vacant eyed as if shell shocked from unspeakable horrors, except for Michele, Josefina and Debbie, those three looked a little mentally unhinged. They were all clustered around someone who moaned in pain and Pat Karns leaned into the group tending to someone who was hurt.

Katrina heard the moans of the afflicted woman, silly woman to even be…

“Let’s get this jersey off,” Karns said solemnly and Katrina saw finally that Brandi Blake was the injured one, oh not Brandi! Katrina liked her, she knew how to lead a man by the nose and still look good doing it!

Karns led the moaning Brandi past Katrina and she shook her head. “You men are animals!” she exclaimed looking at Peter Forsberg who had a pale worried expression. “Now you’re hurting your own wives you pigs!”

Forsberg grimaced but didn’t say anything.

Katrina sighed. “So who’s the next torture victim in goal?”

Michele sighed, “The boys.”

“The boys?”

Michele nodded. “My Jonathan and Steve, the coach’s son. The boys.”

Katrina rolled her eyes. “Great, beat on the women feast on the children.”

“At least it’s for charity or something,” Josefina said with a laugh.

Katrina crossed her arms. “Which charity.”

“Hell if I know,” Josefina scoffed, “I’m just here to fit in.”