And I Thought I Loved You Then

His brain shrouded in a fog of beer and Jack Daniels shooters, Kris shuffled his way onto the elevator. Turning to press the button for the tenth floor, the abrupt and sending movement sent the narrow confines of the light spinning around him. Losing his balance, he stumbled forward, slamming both hands against the control panel in an effort to keep himself on his feet. The hilarity of it all -at least to him it was amusing- caused him to laugh hysterically before sinking slowly down onto his knees, then onto his ass. Leaning his head back against the cold metal of the side of the elevator, Kris closed his eyes and both revelled in the numbness of his limbs and extremities, and wallowed in his rebelling stomach and the burning of bile in his throat.

He'd had way too much to drink when he'd gone out with Staalsy and TK after practice. Normally he didn't touch the strong stuff during the season, and rarely went near it during his off months either. Never much of a drinker - a few beers were often enough to put him in a rather delightful tipsy state- he was notorious for being the designated driver whenever the guys indulged themselves with a night on the town. While the others were pounding back the shots and ordering seemingly endless pitchers of beer, he was the one sitting at the end of the table, shaking his head at their raucous behaviour and sipping on mineral water or the occasional pop. He was the one that had to practically drag his buddies out to his car afterwards, shove others into cabs, and give the driver detailed instructions on where to drop them off.

So when nachos and chicken wings at sports bar near TK's had turned into shooting some pool and Staalsy had ordered that first round of shooters to be chased by some Samuel Adams, Kris had been reluctant to join in. He knew that if he got too involved, time would get away from him and he'd end up having to risk Michelle's wrath when he dragged his half-soused ass into the door hours after he'd promised he'd be home. He'd never been able to resist peer pressure, and he'd accepted a shooter and a cup of beer with nothing more than a smile. And before he knew it, one round had turned into twelve, a single pitcher had turned into half a dozen, and a half a dozen had turned into it...

What had it turned into? Kris didn't even know for sure. Memories of the afternoon and evening came to him in disjointed, blurry fragments. Downing shot after shot and gulping back beer until it no longer had a scent or a taste. Collapsing against while laughing hysterically when TK, all confidence and swagger while calling the winning shot at a game of pool, put the end of the cue right through the green felt. Standing at the back of the bar, near the entrance to the kitchen while flirting with Erin, the tall, willowy blond waitress that had been responsible for serving them since they'd walked in. She had the most incredible emerald green eyes and the warmest, welcoming smile he'd ever seen- and he'd been unable to resist giving her the come on. Fuelled by the alcohol and the fact that things at home were often unbearable at best, he'd eagerly accepted her phone number and her offer of a 'quiet yet erotically insane night in'.

He remembered that he'd pocketed the number and had rejoined his friends for another round before they'd all stumbled out of the bar, their heads spinning and their voices several notches too loud and the profanity spilling from between their likes like water. Kris also had a vague recollection of sitting in the alleyway, resting back against a brick wall while Staalsy, singing Pitbull's I Know You Want Me horrifically off key and at the top of his lungs, took a leak several feet away. After that, they'd gone their separate ways. Flagging cabs and heading home, ready to sleep the booze off in order to be in shape to even play the next day.

If it hadn't have been for the cab driver helping him out of the back seat and to the front door of the building, and the evening door man physically escorting him to the elevator, Kris was pretty certain that he would have spent his entire night passed out on the park bench out front of the building. Instead, he found himself bobbing his head up and down to the music that existed solely in his own little world. Run This Town, Jay Z featuring Rihanna had been the last song he'd heard as he walked out the front door of the bar, and now the lyrics and the beat were stuck firmly in his head.

The chime, announcing the elevator's arrival at the respective floor, sounded and Kris forced himself up onto his knees and then slowly rose to a stand. Or at least attempted to. His head swam at even the most simple of movements and he toppled backwards, cracking the back of his skull off of the metal wall and letting out a wail of agony and the mother of all profanities.

Before bursting into a fit of laughter once again.

"This is all your fault Staalsy..." he declared, clutching the back of his head and finally managed to stumble to his feet "All your fault...when I'm see you tomorrow, I'm going to kick you’re..."

The last word never made it out of Kris' mouth. Instead, the toe of his left Converse sneaker hit the slight rise in the tiles in the front of the elevator and in his drunken state, went down hard. Flat onto his stomach, knocking the wind clear out of his lungs as pain from cracking his chin off the floor shot through him.

"Son-of-a-fucking-bitch!" he roared, as he beat his feet and his fists against the floor like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Raising his face from the tiles, he was vaguely aware that there was a small puddle of blood forming below him and even more slowly dripping from his injured chin.

Several feet away, there was the distinct sound of a chain lock being drawn across a door, followed by the dull snap of a dead bolt. And as he rolled over onto his back and blinked in the blinding glare from the fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling, he found himself staring up into the concerned, terrified face of his next-door neighbour. Mrs Jenkins was well into her eighties, partially deaf and more than slightly senile. When he could fit it into his busy schedule, Kris did small chores for her. Taking her recycling down into the basement, running to the grocery store with the list she would prepare and slip under his door the night before, doing a couple of loads of wash for her.

Missus J, as Kris affectionately called her, was a sweet, lovely old woman that in reward for his helpfulness, showered him with home baked goods and advice on his love life, "You need someone that wants you for you! Not for your pocketbook!" or "Find yourself a good, old fashioned girl that won't shack up with ya before marriage! That's the kind you need! A girl with morals! Why buy the cow when you get the milk for free?"

Now, the woman he adored as if she were his own grandmother stood squinting down at him. Her much needed glasses dangling from the chain around her neck, she was clad in a burgundy velour bathrobe and matching slippers and curlers, covered by a neon pink handkerchief, invaded every inch of her head.

"Is that you Kristopher?" Mrs. Jenkins asked, as she jabbed him in the ribs with the toe of her left slipper.

"Yeah...it's me...." he grumbled.

"What?!" she leaned over as far as her body would allow her and took his chin in her hands. "What did you say?!"

"I said yeah, it's me!" Kris yelled. "It's me...Kristopher...your next door neighbour..."

"Well what the hell are you doing down there, sweets?" the elderly woman inquired. "You sick or something?"

"Or something," Kris replied, groaning loudly and grasping his aching head in both hands as he slowly sat up.

"What'sa matter with you, boy?" Mrs. Jenkins asked.

"Nothing...I..."

"Pee-ewww!" she waved a hand in front of her face. "You smell like you took a damn bath in the sauce! Where you been? Down at that Irish pub on the corner? Hittin' on the barmaids? Or were you down at that nuddie bar getting up close and personal with the ta-tas and the petunias?"

"What?" Kris couldn't help but laugh, and using the bottom of his t-shirt, cleaned the blood off of his chin. "No....I wasn't at the pub and I wasn't stuffing bills down girls' g-strings. I was just hanging out with a couple of my buddies."

"A couple of them Penguins?" she asked, offering a heavily wrinkled hand as he struggled to get to his feet. "Them flightless birds? Why in the hell this city ever named a hockey team after some goddamn type of fowl, I'll never know."

"Your inner Flyers fan is starting to poke through again, Missus J," Kris teased, as he accepted her out stretched hand yet did all the work of getting to his feet on his own.

"Hockey!" she gave a snort and shook her head. "Bunch of barbarians knocking the hell out of each other and loosing their teeth. And all for what? All to carry some stick and chase after some goddamn piece of rubber."

"One day, I will get you to a game," Kris said, and offered his arm to his neighbour.

"The only way you are going to get me there is if you hook me up on a date with that cutie patutie you got on your team," Mrs. Jenkins said, as she looped her arm through his. "You know...the one with the beautiful teeth and all the curls and the ass loved around the world."

Kris grinned. "Hate to break it to you baby girl," he said, as he escorted his neighbour to her apartment. "But Sid the Kid is officially off limits. He went behind your back and got himself a girlfriend."

"Please tell me she's not a friend of you know who," Mrs. Jenkins jerked her head in the direction of Kris' apartment.

"No...she's not a friend of Michelle's. She's this really nice girl that he met at the kids’ hospital. She's a social worker there. With the palliative care team. He met her a couple of weeks ago and things are going really good with them. They seem crazy about each other."

"Well as long as she's not some flighty, stuck up little hoochie just after his money...."

"Far from it," Kris assured his neighbour. "She's a really nice girl. An older woman, in fact."

"Really?" Mrs. Jenkins' face lit up. "What a smart boy. Landing himself a cougar that can show him the ropes. Teach him everything he needs to know. It's perfect to get them that way. Young and inexperienced."

"Smart and lucky," Kris chuckled, lingering on the doorstep as the elderly woman opened her apartment door. "You alright seeing yourself in there, doll?"

"I don't know, it depends," she paused in the doorway and cast a glance over her shoulder at the young man in the hall. "You up for a night cap?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"I wouldn't be much use to you with all the booze in me," Kris said with a grin, then pressed a kiss to his neighbour's cheek. "Rain check?"

"You bet, sweet cheeks!" Mrs. Jenkins laughed, then disappeared into the confines of her apartment.

Smirking, Kris shook his head and waited until he heard the snapping of the deadbolt and the scraping of the chain before turning and heading for his own dwelling.

xxxxx

The irritation, and amusement, of being unable to keep his hands steady enough to slip his key into the lock were soon replaced by flat out annoyance. A scowl came over Kris' face when he noticed the familiar American Eagle sneakers -white with blue, pink and yellow stars splattered all over them- parked at the side of his door with a metallic purple purse resting on top of them. He knew who the owner was, and the thought of that conniving and manipulative bitch taking up valuable breathing space in his home made him sick to his stomach. Sid had called him in the late afternoon and had told him about the note that Meghan had left for him.

And then had proceeded to chew Kris out about betraying him and telling the media about Autumn meeting him after practice. Kris had been the only one that Sid had told about the plans, and the press had been there waiting for the players when they arrived at the practice complex and had already known about Autumn -David's doing- and that she was scheduled to be at the arena in a few short hours. That Autumn had told Meghan in their show down over the phone that she was on her way to meet him was irrelevant. The vultures had known long before that there was only one person who could have leaked the information. And if he had have been able to, Kris had been sure that Sid would have reached through the phone and throttled him.

Kris, in reality, hadn't said a damn word to anyone about Autumn. He would never, and could never, betray a friend like that. Especially someone he loved like a brother. His mistake had been confiding in in the one person, outside of Sid and his folks, that he trusted the most. And the mere thought that she had turned on him like she had and had spilled information regarding his buddy's personal life had been the driving force to him spending an afternoon out with the boys. Had he gone home sober, it only would have led to a big ass confrontation between him and his girlfriend. This way, he could use his intoxication as an excuse to simply go into the bedroom and ignore her. Leave the anger and the hurt to fester all night long until he either didn't remember what had gone down when he sobered up, or he was in the right mood for a fight.

Now Meghan and her drama. Kris sighed heavily, and placing a hand on the wall in order to stay on his feet, he toed off his runners and dropped them sloppily on top of those that belonged to his unwanted guest. The buzz in his head was quickly replaced with a thunderous pounding when he heard Meghan alternating between sobbing over missing Sid, and cursing him out for 'cheating on her with some trash bag whore'. Kris' hands tightened into fists; there'd never been anything between Meghan and Sid and there was never going to ever be anything. And it irritated the shit out of them that not only couldn't the dense bitch get it through her head that Sid was just not interested in her, but that she had the nerve to lie about having a 'thing' with the guy.

And when he heard Michelle actually comfort the cracked out bitch and agree that Sid had no taste in women, and that this girl he was with was nothing more than an easy conquest. And it took all of Kris’ will power to not go into the living, grab both women by the scruffs of their neck and toss them out the door.

"Bottled water, Tylenol, sleep..." Kris rattled off his plans for the evening and turned to head for the kitchen. Grimacing when he instead found his way blocked by his seemingly irate girlfriend.

"Where the hell have you been?" Michelle spat, stressing each word.

"Out," he replied, and pushing his way past her, entered the kitchen.

"You smell like you slept in a goddamn dumpster!" Michelle stomped into the room, then slammed the fridge door closed just as he managed to yank it open. "You couldn't have called to tell me you wouldn't be home until this late?"

Kris squinted as he glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on the stove. "It's not even nine yet. That's far from late," he said, and knocking his girlfriend's hand off of the fridge door handle, pulled the appliance open.

"You're not a single guy anymore Kristopher," she reminded him, arms crossed over her chest, grimacing as she watched him lean back against the counter, twist the cap off the water and take a long sip. "You can't just do whatever the hell you please, whenever the hell you please. You do have obligations now."

"Don't remind me," he muttered.

"What the hell is that suppose to me?" Michelle huffed.

"It means that I'm not in the mood to hear your fucking shit," he snapped. "We may be together, but you're not my goddamn keeper. You can't tell me who to be friends with, where to go, when to come home. I'm a big boy and I do what I want, when I went. You don't call me when you're out racking up my credit cards and spending all my money."

"Like there's a lot to spend?" she shot back.

"Well if it's not enough for you, then how's about you get your ass on out the door first thing in the morning and find yourself a job," Kris suggested. The smirked when he didn't get a response. "Yeah...I didn't fucking think so."

"And what's that on your shirt?" Michelle asked, ignoring his surly behaviour. "Blood? What happened to you?"

"Me and Jack got into a fight. Jack won."

"Jack?"

"Daniels," Kris clarified with a roll of his eyes. "Why is it the dense ones always find me?" he wondered aloud.

"What the hell is your problem?" Michelle asked. "Other then the fact you're a pathetic drunk!"

"My problem?!" he gave a dry laugh. "Oh let me see...it's a long list so bear with me. First off, my problem is that you stabbed me the back and you told the press all about Autumn meeting Sid after practice today. You were the only one that I talked to about it and when we got to the arena, everyone there knew about her and that she was going to be there later. I trusted you! I thought that what was said between us, stayed between us."

"I don't see what the big deal is. They were going to find out about her sooner or later."

"That isn't the point!" Kris hissed. "The point is that Sid told me, and only me, about Autumn! He confided in me and I turned around and betrayed him by telling you!"

"Boyfriends tell their girlfriends things, Kris. It's not like..."

"He's my best friend and he confided in me. He trusted me. And you turned around and blabbed to any prick that would listen! How the hell could you do that? Sid thinks that I went and yapped to the press! You just single handily fucked things up between us!"

"Oh how sad," she snorted. "I put a dent in the boy crush you two have on each other."

Kris' eyes narrowed. "You know what all this is about? Why you're acting like a nasty ass little bitch? You know why?"

"Enlighten me. Seeing as you're just in the right frame of mind to be all knowing and wise."

"It's because of that crazy ass slut out there!" Kris bellowed, and gestured towards the living room with his bottle of water. "Because she sucks you into her little trap and you fall for her bullshit! She's a lying bitch and I don't want her in my house! And if she..."

He snapped his mouth shut and held a hand up in a plea for silence when he heard Meghan's voice coming from the living room. In the midst of her inane babbling and her out of control sobbing, Kris realized that the conversation she was now having in the other room wasn't with herself, it was with someone on the phone. His head snapping to the left, he caught sight of the base for the cordless sitting on the fridge. The illuminated green light letting him know that the phone was in use.

"You'll be sorry!" Meghan screeched. "You'll be sorry that you ever fucked with me! And your slutty bitch of a girlfriend will be do! And that bastard kid of hers! You can't fuck me around like this! You won't get away with it! And when I get my hands on all three of you..."

"Kris..." Michelle caught his arm as he tried to leave the phone. "Just let her..."

He yanked his arm out of his girlfriend's grasp and stormed into the living room. "Get off the goddamn phone!" he roared, and snatching the cordless out of a startled Meghan's hand, disconnected the call. "What in the hell is wrong with you?! Are you seriously hinged?" he yelled, towering over the frightened girl as she cowered in the corner of the couch.

"He deserves it!" Meghan sobbed. "He deserves it for cheating on me! For lying to me! For using me!"

"He never cheated on you! He never lied to you! You're just some delusional, cracker bitch!"

"Kris..." Michelle laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't..."

"Don't what?" he challenged. "Don't tell her the truth! Don't snap her sorry ass back into reality!"

"I can't believe Sid did this to me!" Meghan whined, as she drew her knees up to her chest. "I can't believe he'd chose some ugly ass bitch like her!"

"First of all...." Kris planted his hands on the back of the couch and leaned down, so that he was eye to eye with the hysterical young woman. "She's a beautiful, intelligent and MATURE woman. She's got more brains and more class in her baby finger then you do in your entire body. And second...and listen to me very, very, very carefully. Are you paying attention?"

Meghan nodded, dumfounded by his behaviour.

"Sid never cheated on you. He was never in a relationship with you and he was never going to be in one. The only reason that he even asked you out was because he felt sorry for you and he wanted Michelle off his ass 'cause she wouldn't stop begging and pleading him to go out with you."

Meghan's eyes flickered over to her friend.

Kris took two steps sideways, blocking Meghan's view of her best friend. "Sid can't stand you," he spat. "He thinks you're a pathetic, nasty little girl who's a valuable waste of breathing space. He wants nothing to do with you. He'll never want anything to do with you. And if you don't stop calling him and threatening him and Autumn and her son? I won't think twice about going to the cops. There's these things called restraining orders. And charges for stalking. So unless you want to find your ass sitting in a jail cell..."

Meghan sniffled and shook her head.

"Leave Sid alone," Kris told her, and finally backed away. "And leave Autumn and Ryan alone. If I find out you're causing them any grief..."

"He should have told her to her face," Michelle piped up. "He should have told me that...."

"He shouldn't have told either of you bitches anything!" Kris argued. "It's his life! He doesn't have to explain anything to anyone! You're nothing to him! Neither of you are! Now both of ya just shut the fuck up about it already! He's got a girlfriend. Big freaking deal. Only problem here is that he doesn't want either of you and you can't handle the fact."

"I don't want Sid," Michelle snorted. "Why would I want him. He's a..."

"Finish that sentence," Kris interjected. "You just go right ahead and finish that sentence."

She clamped her mouth shut.

"And why wouldn't you want him anyway?" Kris asked. "'Cause you're with me?" he laughed dryly. "Please...Sid ever showed interested you'd be on him like a fly on shit. Or you'd be on his bank account at least."

Feeling victorious, Kris turned on his heel and headed for the bedroom. His head was pounding and his stomach churning and his bed was calling his name. He'd had enough drama for the night. But he couldn't resist getting one last, little word in. Or a few. For posterity sake.

"Oh, and one last thing..." he paused at the door to the bedroom and stared down the hall at the shocked and slightly terrified women.

Michelle waited, arms crossed over her chest.

"Get the hell out of my apartment!" he bellowed. "Both of you!"

And then he disappeared into the room and slammed the door shut behind him.