Chapter 483: Lacroix III—Fried Chicken

The call Pierre had been waiting for all day came shortly before the fight. Always on the lookout for opportunity, he’d received a tip the day before and then left a rumor open about his interest. With one eye on the ice, one ear to the phone, Pierre realized that the deal being floated had the taste of too good to be true.

And then Sakic instigated that fight, Pierre’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Without looking over his shoulder he left his seat and went into an office, he’d rather not have his concentration muddied by Sakic’s sudden bought with insanity. Sooner or later that man’s repressed energy had to snap, might as well be now he supposed. Either way he could not be bothered with it just yet.

He sat at the end of a table, noticing a full bucket of fried chicken and his stomach growled. “Yes, that sounds wonderful, but do you mind if I ask why you would offer me a deal like this? It cannot just be over money can it?” He frowned and leaned back in the chair, and he listened to the reasons offered. Unless the man was an outright liar, this deal had the makings of the best ever made.

“Well I would need to think this over, and talk about it with…”

Pierre pursed his lips. They need to make it as soon as possible? Four other teams already had interest in this, but they’re conference and division rivals, he would much rather deal with a Western conference team. Considering deals he’d witnessed in the past wouldn’t Pierre feel the need to add the crown jewel the team always needed?

He closed his eyes. One of the things not to trust was a deal made in desperation. Pierre had already made one earlier this year, two in a row he just did not know would be the wisest thing to…

“Mr. Sakic, Mr. Lacroix is very busy right now…”

“Eh get outta my way!”

“Look I need to step away from the phone for three minutes, just hold please,” Pierre said and he sighed. He got up and met Joe Sakic who’d entered the office still glistening with sweat and in street clothes which also seemed to be soaking through with sweat. “Why are you not on the ice anymore?” He picked up his phone. “Look just a moment more, thank you.”

Sakic squinted, wrinkled his nose, and Pierre could smell beer and rank sweat. Well that would explain everything. Joe shoved his hands in his pockets and then went to the small room with the table.

“Joe what are you doing?” Pierre called and then he turned to the spurned personal assistant who had her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “You can go on, Janet it is alright, yes?”

“I’m in here!” Joe barked, “With fried chicken.”

Pierre’s eyes widened. He put the phone back to his ear. “I am going to have to call you back in six minutes, believe me I am strongly interested in this and I can be very generous yes?”

“Wait…wait!” But Pierre hung up the phone.

For one thing, knowing how Joe Sakic’s impeccable conditioning anchored his career, it wouldn’t be wise to leave him unsupervised with a bucket of fried chicken. Sure enough, when he entered the room, he saw Sakic with a fried chicken breast in his hands, chowing down on it like a wolf at a kill.

“Now Joe, things aren’t that bad,” Pierre held out his hand. One chicken breast, how many grams of fat did it have? How many calories? “Put the chicken down.”

Joe ripped off the last piece of meat, swallowed and then dropped the bare bone on the table. He sniffed. “What I am man I eat meat.” He reached in the bucket and then grabbed a drum stick, held it up as if admiring it and then stuffed it in his mouth; with a loud, sickening slurping noise he actually inhaled the meat straight off the bone. With his cheeks full, he looked at Pierre and tossed the bone on the table. “What’s wrong with a little chicken?”

“That’s more than a little…” Pierre said and Joe grabbed a wing, ripping at that with his teeth. “…chicken…”

He swallowed in two big gulps and then shrugged.

“Why are you up here?” Pierre asked. “I did not see what happened, eh?”

“Pbbbth…” Joe replied and he talked with his mouth full. “I got tossed out. It’s all Bertuzzi’s fault or Drury’s…. m’gonna blame Drury. Little hairy bastard.” With the wing finished he tossed that onto the table. “It’s his fault cause he wants to boink Patty’s wife… or something,” he belched. “Actually that was pretty random aye?”

“Just a little,” Pierre nodded and he patted Joe’s shoulder, “But why are you so intoxicated…”

Joe picked up another drumstick and slurped the meat off the bone.

Pierre recoiled, “UGH!”

“What?” Joe snapped, rolling the meat in one cheek, chewing loudly. “M’just eating chicken, c’mon, Papa, have a drumstick,” he dug in the bucket until he procured a suitable piece of meat, “Show me how you eat it.”

Just humor him. Pierre took the meat and gingerly held it in his fingers, he bit a piece off the thickest part of the drumstick, chewing it. Cold, chicken, cold grease, not very palatable at all, but he would just eat it to make Joe happy.

“Ah you wuss!” Joe exclaimed but he laughed loud, expelling alcohol fumes. “How do you get so fat nibbling chicken like that with your pinky finger in the air? Gimme thay!” He snatched the drumstick from Pierre’s hand and slurped down the meat. “There eat it like a man! You have to eat like a man, Papa; you can’t eat like a pansy. It’s embarrassing, I’m almost embarrassed to look at you, little brat.”

Poor Joe, momentarily Pierre did not know what to say but he knew how he felt. Sakic’s past was a dark and secretive one in many ways, and Pierre wondered how much of it Joe himself consciously hid and how much came out when he least expected it. “Joe,” he patted Joe’s shoulder kindly, feeling nothing but worry and concern. “You’re like one of my own children, all of you are you know this eh? So let’s talk, what is bothering you today?”

Joe shrugged off Pierre’s hand and looked vacantly away, staring at a wall. “Papa I’m depressed.”

Pierre sat down and gently moved the bucket of chicken away from Sakic. Joe leaned his elbows on the table surface and put his chin in his hands, actually squishing his cheeks upward in a comical distorting way. “I want to sleep with Michele Roy.”

Oh great. Pierre thought.

“I want to put her in a schoolgirl outfit and SPANK her!”

Pierre shrugged. “Don’t we all?”

He loved women. He adored women. He appreciated their immense contributions and sacrifices in raising children and marriage, he appreciated their beauty but the one thing that exasperated Pierre the most was a woman’s uncanny ability to destroy entire organizations over such a simple thing as lust.

Joe half grinned. “Actually I don’t, not really, never thought about her that way before.” He swallowed a burp, pressing his balled fist into his chest. “S’cuse me. But I kind of wanted to earlier, I bet Drury wants to. Chris has fantasies you know? I don’t have any aye? I don’t have any; I bet that’s Chris’s fantasy. Debbie wants me to have fantasies, I don’t make her happy. All this time and my own wife has been bored with me. I don’t know what I should do.” He sank back in the chair.

“You think Debbie doesn’t love you?”

“Oh she loves me,” Joe nodded. “But I’m boring. Maybe if I did something like with another wife or something, she’d get jealous and appreciate me. I love her but I’m freaking pissed!”

“You carry a lot of responsibility, Joe,” Pierre said. “If you need a small break, a rest take it. Go take a shower eh? Get clean, Debbie loves you and you already realize that if you feel you’re not up to her standard, you can correct that, can’t you?”

Joe sighed and breathed in. “Yup.”

“You deserve a break from manners, enjoy it eh? You scared everyone in the building today.”

Joe smiled. “Cool. Sleepy…” Joe collapsed forward, cheek on one of his arms and he fell asleep, snoring loudly.

Pierre sighed and looked at his cell phone, he punched in the number to dial but before he hit the send button Joe opened one eye and stopped snoring. “Hey who were you on the phone with?”

“I was about to make a trade.”

“Oh who’s the unlucky bastards?”

Pierre shrugged, “Alex Tanguay and Dan Hinote.”

Joe belched. “Tiger and Noter! You heartless man! What for?”

Pierre leaned forward and whispered the name into Joe’s ear.

“What?” Joe yelled. “Call him back call him back! How could you let me interrupt you? Call him back NOW! Make the trade!”

Not needing another prompt Pierre hit the send button and then after a brief conversation on it, he put it down and looked at Joe. “No, no it’s done now, he’s been sent to Pittsburgh, too late.”

Joe sniffed. “Ah well. It woulda been cool. Prol’ly for the best aye? I like Sport and Noter, they don’t cause trouble.” With that Joe collapsed again and fell asleep for good.

Pierre smiled and patted Joe on the head. Looking at the bucket of chicken he grabbed a drumstick and gathering all of his breath he put it into his mouth and tried to inhale it like Sakic had. It only resulted in him choking so soundly, help had to be called to smack him on the back. Obviously, that was not a very dignified thing to do.