Page 2 of Necessary Roughness

My shoulders slump forward and I groan as he leaves me standing in the dark office all by myself. Everyone else has gone home for the evening, and I’m here arguing with my editor over covering a story most girls would kill for.

Bobby Brodeur is a BU alumnus, NHL star for the Boston Bruins, ladies’ man and legendary big man on campus. People still talk about the parties he threw, the girls he slept with, the goals he scored and the games he saved. He brought BU two championships and the Bruins one his first year. Oh, and did I mention he also looks like a male model?

But that doesn’t matter to me. Jocks are jerks and Bobby is a big one. The things I’ve heard about him make my skin crawl. I guess if I was a sorority girl or someone who liked to party and drink, I might feel differently. But I’m not. I’m a hard worker, a focused woman, a career woman. I don’t have time for guys who think life’s a game simply because God granted them with the gift of athleticism and Herculean genetics.

Besides, I have my own boyfriend. His name is Rick, he’s a senior and he’s going to be a lawyer. He comes from a great family in Connecticut, and most importantly, doesn’t pressure me to have sex with him. Yes, that’s right: I’m still a virgin. Twenty-two years old and still haven’t given it up. It’s no secret that BU is a party school, and I like to keep my sexual status on the down-low to avoid being looked at like a lunatic.

I’m on my way to Rick’s dorm when I realize something: he has a formal tonight that I’m supposed to be at.

“Oh, no,” I groan as I slide through the propped door and make my way to his suite. It looks like the boys have already started pre-gaming. Wayne and Tim are lounging in suits and ties on the couch while sipping Pabsts. I give them a curt wave and go find Rick, who’s getting ready in his bedroom.

“Baby!” he says with a smile. “You made it. What do you think? Purple or pink tie?”

He holds one up and then the other. Honestly, I don’t like either. But I don’t want to get into it.

“Purple,” I tell him.

“Really?” he asks, eyeing me strangely. “I think I like the pink.”

Of course he does.

“Hey, listen,” I tell him. “I can’t make it tonight. Charles gave me a story.”

“Nat! It’s the big formal tonight! I told you weeks ago!”

He did, and I’ve been dreading it ever since. As a girl with “a few extra pounds,” the last thing I want to do is squeeze into a dress and parade around with all the other girlfriends who look like they belong on a runway.

“There’s nothing I can do, babe,” I tell him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry!”

“Nat!” Rick calls after me, but I’m already out the door and back outside. I have a job to do tonight, and the last thing I need right now is an argument. I need to be focused if I’m going to survive doing a story on Bobby Brodeur.

As I get into my car, I realize that for the first time in a long time while getting ready for an assignment, my heart is racing. I’m nervous

…

I was nervous for my first few assignments, but I got over it quickly. To use a sports analogy, I just dove right in headfirst, deciding it was the best way to learn how to swim. But for some reason, as I pull out of the parking lot and head for the arena, I’m nervous. I’m actually nervous, and I know what the reason is.

Bobby Brodeur.

2

Bobby

“Bobby-motherfucking-Brodeur! How many goals you gonna score this season?”

I glance up at Ray as I pull off my helmet. He’s grinning like a skull as he gives me a fist-bump and takes a seat beside me. I had a hat trick tonight—that’s three goals for those not in the know—and two of them came from assists from Ray.

“Let’s say….three times more than you?” I suggest. Ray was the biggest scorer on the Bruins until I showed up; now he has to play backseat to me, but together we’re an unstoppable duo. Out on the ice, when we’re in sync, nothing can stop us.

“Yeah, well, I get three times as many girls,” he scoffs, smacking me on the shoulder as he pulls off his glove. I grin and knock the helmet off his head.

“Problem is they all look like my grandma!”

The rest of the boys roar with laughter. Spirits are high; we just stomped the Flyers 4-0. We’re undefeated this season, and if I keep playing like I have been, I’ll be leading the boys to another Stanley Cup this year.

It’s safe to say that hockey is my thing. I may not have been the best student; I may not be able to paint you a picture or play the piano, but if you get me on the ice, I’ll give you a show you’ll never forget.

I’ve been in skates since just around when I learned to walk. Pops got me started early. He played himself but blew a knee right out of college. He managed to play a couple more years, but he was never the same. Every time I go out there, I’m thinking of him. He passed away the summer after I graduated from college—never even got to see me play in the NHL.

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