For Charity's Sake: Two

Over the next several days, Amber headed out to a few stores in order to cross off a few names from her Christmas list. Every time she went shopping, she made sure to have that envelope of money in with her, but it took a special trip to the Pens Gear store to find some items that she felt would be appropriate for a gift basket representative of James Neal. Amber found golf balls and a towel that had the Penguins logo on them that seemed perfect, and she added a black Penguins ball cap, a licensed picture of James, and a T-shirt with his name and number on the back. There was still some money left over, so she added a golf magazine that she picked up from Giant Eagle. Once she bought a basket—which was really just a black plastic container she found at Target—her task was complete, and she had only gone over by twenty bucks. Everything fit in the basket nicely, and while it didn’t look professional or expensive, she thought that she done her job fairly well, considering.

James was a little nervous about the whole thing. He had no idea what Amber was going to do or what she’d put together; it required a lot of faith in someone he didn’t know. Michelle had vouched for her last winter, when she suggested—or told him, rather—that they should meet so James would feel more comfortable in the strange city. Even back then, Michelle had said that Amber was really nice and would more than likely go above and beyond to help him out with whatever he needed.

The girls teased him about the basket and how it would be obvious that he had done it instead of a girl, and he didn't bother to correct them. They had always talked about setting him up with some of their friends, but he wasn’t really into that. James didn’t have any trouble finding ladies—he just had trouble finding one that he wanted to keep around. And it wasn’t like he needed one anyway; the only problem that had arisen was this whole problem with the basket.

James and Amber had arranged that she would drop the basket off at the arena on Wednesday the fourteenth, because it seemed to be the best time for the both of them: James would be finishing up practice on an off-day, and Amber could run it by on her lunch break. She entered in the Trib Total Media Gate carrying the basket and wandered around until she saw an usher standing by the elevators.

“Hi. Maybe you can help me. I’m looking to drop this charity basket off for James Neal.”

The man gave her a strange look. It couldn’t have been that odd of a request, because she doubted any other girls came in—especially with a basket in hand—to try to gain entrance to the inner sanctum of the arena where all the players would be. And even though she had a basket that obviously had to do with James Neal, evidenced by the photograph and shirt in the basket bearing his likeness and name, it didn’t seem to be enough for the guard. He asked, “Is, he, uh, is he expecting you?”

Amber replied, “Yes, he's waiting for me.” He looked unsure, so Amber got frustrated and bluffed, “I can call him, if you want, if that’ll move this along. I’m on my lunch break, so I don’t have all day.” She raised an eyebrow and began to dig for her cell in her pocket, but the usher caved and let her into the elevator. They rode down together to a lower level, and Amber then began to look for someone else to help point her in the right direction. She felt like a hero on an epic quest, being constantly tested along the way. She headed down a hallway and eventually found someone in the hallway: it was James, who was waiting for her per their agreement. He was dressed in jeans and a Penguins locker room shirt, and is hair was wet, making it look darker and browner than it really was.

“Amber, you made it,” he said in greeting.

She wasn’t sure if he meant making it down to him or making the basket. “Yup. I hope this is okay.”

“Uh, yeah, looks good to me. Can I take it?”

“Go for it.” She gladly relinquished her hold on the basket, which was starting to make her arms feel like jelly from carrying it so long.

“Thanks again for doing this. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Amber shrugged but didn’t get a chance to respond because they were interrupted. A girl came around the corner and jerked to a stop. She asked, “Nealer, is that your basket?”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

The girl smirked, talking to James and teasing him. “This doesn’t look like your mom.” Then she turned to fully face Amber and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Staal's girlfriend, Heather Dysievick.”

“Amber Kowalski,” she said, sticking out a hand. “I'm, uh, James's friend.” She hoped it didn't sound like a lie, because they definitely weren't friends. Not in the least.

James further explained, “Amber volunteered to help me with the basket.”

“It looks great, you did a really nice job with it,” Heather said, looking through the basket in James’s hands. “Very cute with the golf theme.” Then she looked up, glancing back and forth between the two people in front of her. She didn’t believe that they were only friends. She knew that James was a relatively private person, but she still didn't understand how his friend could fly under the radar without detection—but it would explain why he had always turned down her match-making offers.

“Thanks,” Amber mumbled.

“Véro put hockey tickets in hers, totally showed up everyone else’s,” Heather sighed.

She immediately began to worry that she had done something to screw up. She didn’t want James to have to suffer because of a mistake on her part—even though it wasn’t really her fault anyway. Amber had done the best she could have with her limited abilities. “I thought there was a price limit.”

“Oh, yeah, there was, it was a minimum retail value of a hundred, and everyone tried to keep it close to that. I did, too. She probably got free tickets or something. But don’t worry, this is great.” Then she switched subjects. Heather pushed for information, hungry for a real explanation. “So how long have you two been, uh, friends? I haven’t seen you around before.”

Amber frowned. “I never said we were good friends.” Then she decided that she had had enough. “Well, I’ve got to get back to the office before my lunch break is over. I’ll... see you later,” she said, deciding that it was the best thing to say under the circumstances. Maybe she would, if Mrs. Roberts decided to interfere; hopefully, she thought, she wouldn’t, but then at least Heather wouldn’t see through their stupid arrangement. At the last moment, she added a smile.

Heather knew she was pushing her luck when she said, just loudly enough for Amber to hear as she started to walk back toward the elevator, “Nealer, look, you hurt her feelings. You should be nice and invite her to the Christmas party this weekend.”

James would have rather had Deryk Engelland body-check him into the boards twelve times in a row than put himself in that awkward situation. Wasn’t this bad enough, having to ask someone to put together the stupid gift basket that he should have just shut up about and done himself like any other responsible adult would have—and now suffer through explaining that they were only friends, just friends, and barely even that? Wasn’t it bad enough that Heather was mistaken in thinking that this was something else, something serious? And why in the world would he want to introduce this girl to the team, this girl who acted like this favor—which she agreed to do—was the biggest favor that anyone had ever done in the history of favors, when the team would undoubtedly take this as much more than it was like Heather was doing?

But then again, he felt bad. Amber did kind of get wrangled into this mess, and she had been under no obligation to help him out. If anyone were to blame, it would be Michelle and her meddling ways. If Michelle had wanted to do something to help, she could have taken the initiate to give him some pointers about Pittsburgh or help to assemble the basket instead of trying to include someone else. Maybe bringing Amber to the party would serve as a good “thank you” for them to end this on a positive note.

James handed Heather the basket and trotted down the hallway after Amber. Even as he did it, he wondered if it really was a good idea, but there was no backing down at that point. “Hey, Am, I know this is last minute, but maybe you could come to the Christmas party this Sunday.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, not looking up at his face as she came to a stop. “I know you’re only asking because what’s-her-name said so.”

He sighed. First Michelle, and now Heather: conspiring to meddle in his life because they thought it was helping, when it really was hurting the situation. “I’m not asking because of her. I’m asking because you did something nice for me, something you didn’t have to do, and now I want to invite you as a way of repaying the favor. It’s just a fun, low-key time for the team, and since you participated in the fundraiser, then I think you deserve to go.” He paused for a moment. “And I’d like for you to come.”

She first turned to see if Heather was still standing there; when Heather saw her looking, she turned around and carried the basket into a room, where she disappeared. Then Amber looked up at James. He appeared to be earnest, so she thought that it would be the right thing to do to accept if he wanted it. “If you’re sure....”

No, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to renege on his offer. It was the right thing to do. “Yeah. Uh, how about you meet me at my place? I’ll text you my address.”

“How can you do that if you don’t have my number?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He dug for his phone in his pocket and then passed it to her. “Here, if you could just, you know, give it to me.”

Sighing, she took it and quickly typed in her cell number. “There. Now you have it.”

“Okay. I’ll call you or text you about Sunday. And thanks again, for the basket.”

The elevator doors opened. “You’re welcome.” She stepped inside with the usher, who must have been waiting for her return.

“Oh, Amber? What size shoe do you wear?”

“What?” she asked, too confused by his seemingly random question to understand it at first. Once his words sunk in, she gave him an answer. “Seven and a half.”



James got slack from practically the entire team the next day, once Heather opened her mouth and the rumors started to abound. None of the guys would have known anything if she hadn’t’ve said something about the “nice girl who made up his basket for the Wives Association.” He swore that some of the girlfriends could give shit just as good as his teammates.

And while the guys didn’t care about the work for the charity, they did care about what charity she was giving to James.

“Finally scoring off the ice, eh, Nealer?”

“I’m not even talking about this,” he said, unsure which of the guys in the dressing room it was who said that. “She’s just this girl I know.”

Jordan asked, “Then why did Heather say that you invited her to the team Christmas party?”

“Because Heather pressured me into doing it. It’s not a big deal, okay?”

TK grinned. “Can’t wait to meet her. She must be a real dog if we’ve never heard of her before.”

“She’s not a dog. She’s....” James couldn’t think of the right words to describe Amber. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought of her like that. He hadn’t tried to assess her looks or attractiveness because he had been too busy trying to avoid her and then trying to smooth everything over. Come to think of it, he knew very little of her. “She’s nice.”

Some of the guys groaned, and some laughed. No one ever called a girl “nice” unless she was physically disfigured and had absolutely no appeal. When a girl was called “nice,” it was like hearing church bells knell: that signaled the end. A girl was supposed to be hot or sexy. She could even be something more vague, like great or fun. But there were two things that she could never be: cute or nice. Their reactions let James know that they knew the code; whatever going on between Neal and his mystery girl wasn’t anything serious and definitely wouldn’t last long.

The Pens played on Friday and Saturday, first away in Ottawa and then at home against Buffalo, so the team had things to focus on other than James’s pseudo-date to the Christmas party. James, too, was grateful to have something else to concentrate on. He wasn’t looking forward to the party, but then again he hadn’t cared much for the idea of it anyway. It was supposed to be a low-key kinda thing, with just family—that meant they weren’t supposed to bring frivolous dates. But so many of the guys had serious girlfriends or even fiancées, so it was tough to be a single guy in a situation like that. Even though he didn’t really know Amber at all, he was still glad to have someone there in that capacity, someone who would be there when the guys were all distracted by their own ladies and families. It was maybe a little selfish of him.

Amber didn’t know how to prepare herself for the party because she had no idea what to expect. James did nothing to let her know what was going on, and besides texting her his address on Mount Washington like he had agreed, he didn’t otherwise speak to her. He didn’t even answer her message about where it was or what she should wear, or if she needed to bring anything. She was walking in blind.

Because she didn’t know what was going on, she dressed in layers. Amber wore a dark blue, lace-trimmed cami underneath a plain white, button-down blouse. Over top of that, she pulled on a robin’s egg blue knit sweater. Paired with dark jeans and a long, sparkly, silver necklace, she felt like she could walk into anything and not look out of place.

She pulled up to his house at quarter ’til two, just like he asked. James was standing outside, waving her into his tiny driveway. A spot like this—off-street parking—was prime realty, especially when the view from the window over his kitchen sink was of the city.

“You can park in my driveway for now, so you don’t have to leave your car on the street while we’re gone.” He closed the front door and trotted down the stairs. “I’m right out front here.” James walked straight to the driver’s side door of his black car, and Amber followed his lead. She opened the passenger door and found a big box on the seat. She picked it up so she could sit, placing the box on her lap. “That’s for you, by the way.”

His statement caught her off guard. “For me?” She took off the lid as James started the car and pulled out onto the street, heading toward P.J. McArdle Roadway. Inside was a brand new, pristinely white pair of figure skates. She checked the size. Seven and a half. “Wow.”

“Can you ice skate?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I can rollerblade, so ice skating is the same thing, right?”

“Um, a little different,” he replied. Amber looked over at him. He was looking straight ahead at the road, but the visible corner of his mouth was curled up. “But you’ll probably get the hang of it. The skates aren’t broken in, but they’ll work for this afternoon.”

“So, I take it this is what we’re doing for the party? Skating?”

James nodded. “Yeah, just a skate around at the rink. Maybe some food and stuff, a Santa for the kids. Like I said, nothing fancy. It’s my first one, but it should be fun,” he said, giving her a little shrug. When he was stopped at the light before turning onto the Fort Pitt Bridge, he stole a glance at his passenger. Her strawberry blonde hair was straight and shiny, and there was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose onto her cheeks. There was a hint of blue hidden by her winter jacket and scarf, but the color made her blue eyes stand out.

The light turned green, and he turned the car toward the Fort Pitt Bridge. When he and Mattie Niskanen had landed in Pittsburgh after the trade, the driver had told them to look out the window when they got through the Fort Pitt Tunnel, and the view was breathtaking. It left them maybe a little in awe, and it was a picturesque distraction from the anxiety of the moment—and that was why Neal was renting a place on Grandview Avenue, where the view reminded him every day of that moment.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. It took only ten minutes to get to Consol. Amber felt like a VIP when James pulled into the parking garage. When she got out, James told her to leave the box in the car. She held a skate in each hand, but James tied the laces in a knot and then set them over her shoulder. “There,” he said, giving her a nod of approval. “Like a pro.”

Amber smiled at him, but wondered if he did it to make her look like she was going to fit in. Did he lie to everyone else here too, letting them think that they were friends when they really weren’t? It would be hard to keep up appearances for a whole afternoon, but Amber figured that it wasn’t really her problem; it was James’s. She was there for a good time, as a reward for doing the right thing and helping him out when he needed it. He was the one who had to live with people thinking there was something between them when there definitely wasn’t.

But that didn’t help to stop the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach or the hollow feeling in her chest that warned her that she should probably turn around and walk in the opposite direction.