Page 13 of Necessary Roughness

“Wait, Bobby! We’re not together!” she shouts, but I’m not buying it. This girl’s shady; she wouldn’t tell me why she was upset and now she’s telling me the guy she cheated on isn’t even her boyfriend? Yeah, fuck this. I can’t believe I got suckered like that.

Natalie keeps shouting at me as I walk away. I glance back once and see Rick standing in front of her trying to talk to her. I feel a flare of anger at him for getting that close to her, and part of me wants to go back and knock him on his ass, but I’m not putting in anymore effort for her. In fact, I’m not putting in any effort again.

I’m a fucking NHL star. Girls all over the world want to fuck me. Guys all over the world want to be me. Why would I throw that away for monogamy that’s only gonna end up in some girl cheating on me? No, fuck that. I’m just gonna do me.

Bobby

One week later…

“So, are we on for tonight? Or are you gonna stand me up again?”

I look up from my phone at Emily, the Victoria’s Secret model who slid into my DMs on Monday. I told her we’d get together on Wednesday, but when it came down to actually getting in the car to go meet her, I couldn’t do it. Despite my best attempts to get Natalie out of my head, I haven’t been able to. But tonight I’m gonna fix all that. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I’m gonna go balls deep in this girl and forget about the biggest mistake of my life.

“We’re on,” I tell her. Her face lights up; she’s about 6 feet tall and stick thin. She kills it in the magazines and on the runway, but her curves are nothing compared to Natalie’s. Maybe that’s why I chose her; to get as far away from Natalie as I can.

“Good.” She smiles.

“But why don’t we skip going downtown?” I suggest. “Just come back to my place. I’ve got a whole bar setup.”

“Your place?” she asks suggestively. “You hockey boys do move fast.”

“What do you know about hockey boys?” I ask.

“Don’t worry, stud,” she giggles. “You’ll be my first.”

Emily leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I can feel her lipstick stick to my skin. She glances over her shoulder as she walks away, strutting her stuff like she’s on the runway in Milan. As I get in the car and head home, I realize that I’m actually nervous about tonight. It seems insane; I’ve gone through this routine a thousand times. What the hell is my problem?

I head home and go up to the apartment to get things ready. I still have a couple of hours before Emily shows up, so I hit the couch and turn on Netflix. As I’m scrolling around for something to watch, my phone dings; it’s a text from Wayne.

Dude, have you read the article?

I’m about to text, “What article?” when I realize what he’s talking about.

No. Link? I respond.

Two seconds later, Wayne texts me a link to Natalie’s article in the BU Daily Press. I’m not even sure I want to click on it. I wasn’t even sure she was going to write it and tried to forget about the whole thing. But I guess she went through with it.

“This is gonna be rough,” I say out loud as I click the link. I’m shocked when I see the title.

Bobby Brodeur—World’s biggest playboy? Or misunderstood sweetheart?

I’m sure you all know Bobby Brodeur. You’ve seen him dancing on the ice, scoring goals for the Boston Bruins, or maybe you know him from college where he was the big man on campus throwing parties that have gone down in campus legend.

Or maybe you’ve just heard of him and are proud to be from the same school as a world class athlete? Or maybe, like many people including myself, you got the wrong impression from the start.

Bobby Brodeur is a jock—no question about it. He’s a ladies’ man, a romancer, a guy that most guys would kill to be. When my editor gave me this assignment—to get an interview with a man who never gives interviews—I didn’t want to do it. In fact, I was adamant. But Charles is a tough boss, and he wasn’t letting me off the hook.

I tried to interview him after his 4-0 victory against the Flyers (Bobby having scored three of those points himself), but he wasn’t having it. He said he’d talk to me, but only on one condition; I had to go to the Revere for one of his parties.

No way, I thought! This good-looking hockey stud just wants to seduce me! That’s what I was thinking. We’ve all seen reports online and in the news of Bobby’s conquests, and I was sure he just wanted me to be another one. I won’t even go into what happened that night, but let’s just say that my opinion of Bobby Brodeur was changed forever.

As a journalist, it’s my job to remain professional and objective. But I let my own feelings get in the way of the real story. I never got my interview with Bobby. I let my editor down and I failed in my assignment. But at the same time, I think I learned something about the Bruins star that most people don’t know: Bobby Brodeur has a heart. A big one.

And, Bobby, if you are reading this—I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I conducted myself, I’m sorry for what happened and I hope that you will forgive me.

-Natalie Hitchens

I hurl my phone across the room. It hits the wall and I hear the screen shatter. Outbursts like this never happen to me. I’m a controlled guy; I handle my emotions well. But when it comes to Natalie, everything is different.

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