Hat Trick

By Sandra Zappitelli

Sadie knew it was frowned upon to approach celebrities staying at the hotel where she worked, but when she heard the Tigers were in town, she knew she had to meet them—or at the very least Glen Marshall. He’d been her favourite hockey player for years. She’d been dreaming of meeting him from the moment she first saw him hit the ice. 

Located just steps from the city’s biggest arena, the hotel was a popular choice among professional hockey teams. The Tigers would no doubt be staying there. So after lots of pleading, Sadie’s boss agreed to let her clock out early on November 17—as long as she finished cleaning all her assigned rooms first.

That day, Sadie could barely contain her excitement. Changing the sheets and scrubbing the furniture and toilets on the 8^th floor, she began practicing out loud what she would tell Glen when she saw him.

“Sorry to bother you,” she would say. She had to start with an apology—it’s the Canadian thing to do! “I just wanted to tell you that you’re my favourite. The first time I saw you play, you scored a hat trick—and the winning goal! You’re so cool. I have so much respect for you.”

She repeated the words over and over, like a mantra.

As soon as she had finished her rounds, Sadie rushed to the employee changing room, traded in her navy-blue uniform and matching bandana for jeans and a t-shirt, applied a touch of makeup, and let her hair down.

She headed to the lobby with just minutes to spare and took a seat. Her stomach flip-flopped every time the elevators pinged. She watched eagerly as the players and coaches of her beloved team trickled out in their best suits, carrying their equipment. She gave them a smile or a thumbs-up if they happened to look her way. She would have loved to speak with them, but was too afraid she’d miss Glen if she did.

At last, the doors opened, and there he was. Glen Marshall. He was on a call. Holding her breath, Sadie watched him, taking in every detail.

Oof. He’s even hotter in person. He was tall and built. Even his receding hairline was cute. She’d only ever seen him in his uniform and helmet. I do love a man in uniform, she thought. But I guess I also love a man in a suit. She waited until he put his phone away to strut over and tap him on the shoulder.

He turned and gave her a kind smile.

“Err… You’re Glen Marshall,” she said, blushing.

“I am.”

And then, to her horror, Sadie could say nothing else. She had waited her whole life for this, only to tell him who he was?! 

Glen spotted the phone in her hand.

“Wanna take a picture?” he offered. Sadie could only manage a nod. They snapped a few selfies and then, just like that, he was gone. She didn’t even wish him a good game, or thank him, or anything.

There wasn’t much she could do about it now, so Sadie headed to the pub to watch the game, telling her friends about her encounter between periods. Glen scored a hat trick that night, and Sadie—now properly tipsy—told her friends it was thanks to her.

 🩷🩷🩷

As months went by, the Tigers continued their hot streak, landing a spot in the playoffs. They were back in town for the first two games, but Sadie decided it was best not to force another encounter, what with losing the ability to speak last time. 

Walking home from work, Sadie was looking through the shop and restaurant windows, as she always did. Passing her favourite chicken-and-ribs joint, she stopped dead in her tracks. There at the bar, sipping whiskey and watching replays of last night’s game on the big screen, was Glen Marshall. Sadie ran into the restaurant and made a beeline for the restroom to check her makeup. When she walked back out, Glen was seated at a long table with the rest of the team.

“Hey!” Sadie said, completely forgetting her manners. “Remember me from the hotel?”

"Oooh... what happened at the hotel?" said one of the guys.

"Glen, you dirty dog!" added another.

Completely oblivious, Sadie handed them her cap and a Sharpie, which she'd been carrying around—just in case.

“November 17,” she added when he said nothing. “You scored three times that night!"

“Woah… three times, Glen!” someone else cackled. 

“A hat trick!”

“I have the pictures," she babbled. “Wanna see?”

"I wanna see!" said the team’s captain.

She had lost complete control of her mouth. She. Couldn’t. Stop. Talking. And she didn’t care. She babbled on and on. After getting her signed cap back, she finally said goodbye, waving happily to the team as she left the restaurant smiling.

It wasn’t until she replayed the conversation in her head later that night that she realized what she’d said. And she was mortified.

🩷🩷🩷

One July morning, hockey season now well over, Sadie was sent up to a room to deliver extra towels.

“Housekeeping,” she said, knocking on the door. She heard shuffling and the turning of the bolt. And lo-and-behold, standing there before her was one Glen Marshall.

“You,” they said in unison.

Gulp.

“Err… You needed towels?” Sadie asked.

Glen moved over to let her in and closed the door behind him.

“So we meet again,” he said.

“You remember me?”

“Yes… from the hotel,” he chuckled. “And the restaurant, of course.”

Sadie blushed. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She set the towels down on a desk and self-consciously started playing with the stupid bandana on her head.

“I do like a girl in uniform,” Glen winked. “I never did get your name, though.”

“Sadie. Sadie Carlson.”

“Well Sadie, I’m glad to finally, officially meet you. I was hoping to run into you again.”

“Third time’s the charm, as they say!”

“Another hat trick,” Glen laughed. 

And pulled her in for a kiss.

🩷🩷🩷

Sandra Zappitelli is a translator from Montreal, Quebec by day, and writer by night. She has been published on various digital platforms, as well as in print in both editions The Morgue Magazine. Sandra especially loves writing romance stories—living vicariously through the characters who live inside her head. When she isn’t writing, Sandra enjoys reading, baking, and spending time with her three kids. You can find some of her creations on her website: www.sandrazeewrites.com.