The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“You’re going to have to answer that sooner or later,” Staalsy says in a slightly irritated and scolding tone, as my cell phone erupts for what seems like the millionth time in the past half an hour alone.

It’s been ringing off the hook for the past three hours; Autumn’s been desperate to get a hold of me -her voice mail messages range from cheerful and bubbly to nervous and worried to downright bitchy and threatening- and I’ve been even more desperate to avoid talking to her. It’s not that I don’t want to; I’ve been a miserable, lonely bastard since I’d dropped her off at LAX two days ago and up until this evening I’ve been chatting practically non stop with her via either long distance phone calls or instant messaging on my lap top. But right now I’m in damage control mode; I’m avoiding confrontation since word had gotten back to me through Pat that the shit had hit the proverbial fan back in Pittsburgh. Instead of taking Max’s advice to tell Autumn the whole truth and nothing but regarding what had gone down between me, him and Em -including the painful details surrounding the death of what would have been my first born child- I’d instead decided to play by my rules. My plan had been to wait until we got back to the Burgh to confess my deepest and darkest secrets to my new girlfriend -is that even what she is? Are there even really titles that we can put on each other? Is there even an accurate way to describe whatever the hell we are? - instead of telling her over the phone. Too impersonal, I’d convinced myself. If I was going to let down the walls I’d built up around myself after Em’s betrayal and I was going to trust Autumn enough to let her by the one and only person I’ve discussed the loss of the baby with, then I was going to do it face to face.

Only I never got the chance. Instead of returning home and handling things in a mature and personal fashion, I’m now restoring myself to hiding from the one person that has made me feel alive again since Em and Max had nearly destroyed me. Carlisle had been nothing more than a distraction; a pretty face and half decent personality -if you could get past her incessant preaching about the evils of premarital sex and how with my recent history regarding Em and a baby out of wedlock I needed immediately salvation if I ever wanted to get into heaven- that took my mind of what I’d lost and what I was still desperate to get back. It had been nothing more than a joke really; I’d agreed to go out with her only because TK’s girlfriend had been nagging at me non fucking stop and I’d been anxious to shut her up. One date had turned into two and two had morphed into three and the next thing I knew she was calling herself my girlfriend every chance she got; announcing it (and posting a picture taken of us together on New Years Eve) on her Facebook and My Space pages and then proudly proclaiming -to every reporter that came calling- herself as not only the love of my life, but as a virgin until marriage.

Like what the fuck?

Getting mixed up with her had been the biggest mistake I’d ever made. It’s not that she was either repulsive or an insufferable bitch; she’s rather attractive in a boring ‘girl next door, take home to mom’ way and when she wasn’t forcing her views and principals down my throat or calling my morals into question, there were times she could carry on a fairly decent conversation. I just wasn’t that ‘into’ her; I never found myself considering allowing our relationship to progress to anything serious -even if she’d practically had her wedding dress and the bridesmaids’ gowns and our china pattern picked practically from day one- and the lack of sex hadn’t even bothered me. That’s saying something right there; a sure sign that a guy is merely tolerating being with someone because it’s easier than accepting the fact that they’re alone. I’m not above self gratification; if Carlisle hadn’t wanted to put out, I certainly wasn’t going to bust my ass to change her mind. Although now she’s constantly calling me and asking if I’m gay; if the reason I hadn’t tried anything on her -apparently she’d been more than willing to cough up her cherry if I’d shown some legit interest- because I wasn’t attracted to women.

Autumn is a different story all together; she’s mature and experienced -in every way possible- and she isn’t a clingy, possessive little girl that wants to practically shove a GPS trip up my ass in order to monitor every move I make. She has a career and a son that keep her busy; she’s focused and driven and extremely tenacious and independent and she simply doesn’t have the time to keep tabs on me. She’s the woman of my dreams really; she possesses a natural, breathtaking beauty and has her own life and because she has her own life and her own things going on, I don’t have to keep in constant contact with her or update her every time I so as much pick my nose or scratch my ass. She also doesn’t expect me to put more into our relationship than what I actually have to give -which admittedly isn’t a whole hell of a lot during hockey season- and willingly accepts that the constant scrutiny and incessant curiosity surrounding her as part of ‘the package’. I’d never thought that I’d find someone like Autumn; someone that accepts me and everything that comes with me and who doesn’t expect to have a starring role in my life. She fully understands that hockey is and most likely always will be my number one priority in the same way that I understand that taking care of her son and looking out for his best interests come before I do.

And unlike my complete disinterest in anything remotely sexual in regards to Carlisle, Autumn has turned me into a horny high school kid all over again. I hadn’t been able to control myself from wanting to get into her pants from the get go; an innocent dinner date at her place (something we’d decided on to ensure our privacy as opposed to jumping head first straight into the rumour mill the second we were seen in public together) had gone rapidly down hill thanks in part to a bottle of wine we’d consumed rather quickly and the fact that neither of us had had sex in what seemed like an eternity. Our sexual relationship had been born that night; we’d delved into something that had been purely physical and we hadn’t put any pressure on each other to make the next step into something more serious and committed. Until I’d invited her to Los Angeles; a move that was out totally of character for me but one that had signified that I was ready to move things along with her.

The verdict is still out on whether she’s ready for the same thing; we’ve done a hell of a lot of talking since she’d arrived back in Pittsburgh and she’d gotten emotional during our farewell at LAX yet we still haven’t come to a conclusion on what we are. And I need that closure; I need some kind to title to plaster across us.

Although there’s not going to be an us if I don’t gather up enough balls to talk to her.

Sighing heavily, I stare down at the iPhone clutched tightly in my left and allow my thumb to linger briefly over the talk button before deciding to send the call to voice mail.

“I thought things were going good with you guys,” Staalsy comments, as we halt in front of the elevator and he reaches out to palm the down button. “I thought that you and the little cougar were getting pretty serious. Trouble in paradise already?”

“No trouble,” I shrug off the mere suggestion and tuck my cell phone into side, right thigh pocket of my olive green cargo pants. “Things are good. Real good. And she’s not a cougar. She’s not that much older than me.”

“But she’s still older than you,” he points out. “She’s what, twenty-six?”

I nod in confirmation and keep my eyes fixated on the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as it makes its slow ascent to our floor. The rest of the guys are already waiting downstairs in the lobby. I normally don’t join in when my teammates decide to head out and paint the town red; nightclubs and strip joints just aren’t my scene. I both value and crave privacy to a near obsessive, unhealthy extent and I prefer to stay out of the limelight and typically avoid any and all situations that have even the remotest possibility of embarrassing my team, family or myself.

Besides, the last time I’d allowed myself to get sucked into going out with the guys for a few beers I’d gotten completely shit faced and had wound up cheating on Em -at quite possibly the worst time in both of our lives- with some random puck slut. It hadn’t been my finest moment, but it had been had been the beginning of the end between us. Despite her saying the contrary, Em had never forgiven me for it. And I’m pretty sure -in some weird and twisted way- her initial attraction to Max and her inability to stay away from him had been his way of seeking revenge for what I’d done to her.

“She’s twenty-six, you’re twenty one…” Staalsy muses aloud. “So that means she was already in kindergarten when your mom was getting ready to pop you out and she was already graduating from high school just as you were hitting puberty. And you were still at Shattuck’s while she was in university, getting married and having kid.”

“And?” I irritably inquire. “What about it? Is there a point to all of that or are you just intentionally being an asshole?”

“And it makes her a cougar,” he concludes. “She was married before, she’s got herself a kid, she’s banging you and you’re only three years past legal. So…”

“So? So what? So she’s five years older than me. Almost six ‘cause of how our birthdays fall. Who honestly gives a rat’s ass? It’s not like there’s ten or fifteen yeas between us. Or that she’s some middle aged housewife that spends all her free time looking for guys my age to hook up with. If she was all of that, then she’d be a cougar. But she’s under thirty and she’s beautiful and sexy and you’re just plain fucking jealous. So how about you back off my girl and just shut the fuck up.”

The beginnings of a grin causes the corners of his mouth to twitch. I think if he was to flat out laugh at me, I’d snap and completely rearrange that pretty little face of his. And I was to knock all of his teeth out, it would give him an excuse to get his ass to a dentist and have them fixed. Something his parents clearly never bothered with.

“I notice you didn’t deny banging her,” he chides, and bounces up and down on his heels. There’s now way anyone should be this excited about someone else’s sex life. “Guess the whole LA thing wasn’t strictly platonic after all. Guess you didn’t tae the floor while she slept in the bed, huh?”

“Anyone who thinks that things can remain platonic when a guy and a girl are in a hotel room together with the Do Not Disturb sign on the door is a fucking moron,” I retort. That’s about as chatty as I’m going to get about what I’m getting up to behind closed doors. I’ve never been the kind of guy to kiss and tell -not that there’s ever been much to tell- and I’m not about to start now. Autumn deserves better than that.

She also deserves better than me completely blowing her off.

“What the fuck is taking the elevator so long?” I grumble, and reach out to jam the tip of my index finger against the down button. “Max still in town? Didn’t go back to Pitt after all? Maybe he finally caved and found some maid to hook up with her he’s stopped the elevator so he can bang her in there instead or risking getting caught taking her to his room.”

“Now that was harsh,” Staalsy declares, and frowns and shakes his head in dismay. “Why’d you even have to go and say something like that? I know he did a really shitty thing to you and I’m totally on your side and that it’s not easy to totally let go of Em, but you don’t have to act like a massive prick.”

“I was just trying to be funny,” I grumble. “What? We have to avoid all off colour Max comments ‘cause he’s run off and gotten himself married? He’s suddenly all pure and innocent and his past is completely forgotten about?”

“There’s just no reason to be so goddamn bitter all the time. As big of a douche as he is for stabbing you in the back like he did, he’s making a legit effort to change. I mean, he’s thousands of miles away and you still have to find something nasty to say about him? He’s with Em and you’re with Autumn. You’re all moving on with your lives. Grow the fuck up already.”

“Why don’t you just keep your mouth shut from here on out?” I suggest, and he rolls his eyes and pinches the tips of his index finger and thumb together and mimics zipping his lips closed. Giving a derisive snort, I return to my assault on the elevator’s down button while he commences rocking back and forth on his heels. It’s a welcome relief; a blissful, peaceful silence. For all of sixty seconds. If that.

*******

“So…cough up some details…” Staalsy encourages. “Is the sex crazy hot or what?”

My eyes narrow. “Did you honestly just ask me that?” I inquire, as I turn to glare at him. “Are you really trying to get me to talk about this?”

“You’re obviously knocking boots with your feisty little cougar. If she really as sweet and demure as she looks? Or is she a total freak when you get her into bed?”

“What makes you think I’d even…?”

“Who’s better?” he ignores me completely. “Who’s better at rocking your world? Autumn or Em? ‘Cause honestly dude, they’re both fucking insanely hot and they both look like they would be into some seriously crazy shit. Although something tells me Em might have a leg up on the competition; I’ve heard some stories about her that puts any and every chick I’ve ever fucked to shame. I mean, the whole liking it back door thing…”

A bottomless pit immediately opens up in my stomach and my jaw clenches painfully tight. “Who the fuck told you about that?”

“So it’s true?” his eyes glitter with a mixture of excitement and surprise. “She’s legit into that kinda thing? Max is one lucky ass motherfucker. Literally.”

“Who told you?” I repeat, and then issue a sigh of relief when the elevator finally arrives and we slip inside before the doors even fully open. “’Cause there’s only one person I’ve ever told about that and unless Max is making his wife locker room talk…”

“She let you do it too?!” She actually let you fuck her up the…?”

“Max told you? He actually told you something like that about his own wife?”

“He was drunk,” Staalsy reasons with a shrug, and then presses the button for the lobby. “He was drunk and we were all talking about sex and…”

“What a fucking idiot,” I mutter. “Total fucking idiot.”

“You’re both lucky fuckers if you ask me. Is your cougar into that sort of thing, too? Is she into you doing shit like that to her? Or is she more conservative? Is she more the dull and boring type that sticks to missionary or…?”

“You’re hopeless,” I declare. “Utterly fucking hopeless. And if you think I’m going to honestly tell you anything about Em or Autumn…” my voice trails off as my cell phone once again springs to life.

Suddenly going out with the less is even less appealing than it had been when I’d initially allowed myself to be talked into it. The last place I want to be is stuck in some grimy club that plays shit music surrounded by less than average looking women shoved into dresses that are three sizes too tight or college girls that have more air between their ears than actual brains. And I certainly don’t want to bearing witness to any of my teammates -especially the married guys or the ones in serious, committed relationships- retreating to the bathroom or heading out of the bar altogether with random females.

Casting a glance up the numbers above the elevator door as it makes its descent, I hit the button for the closest floor.

“What the fuck are you….?” Staalsy begins, as the lift slows down and shudders to a complete stop.

“I’m going back to my room,” I announce, and slip out the door before it has a chance to fully open. “I’ve got more important things to do. Things that I need to take care of.”

“This cougar must be pretty special to you,” he remarks, as the elevator doors begins to slide closed and I head for the stairwell. “A lot more serious than you’re letting on.”

I don’t waste my time or my breath with a response. I may not know how serious things are between Autumn and I are at the moment, but I know how serious I want them to become.

I’ve already lost one woman in my life. There’s no way I’m letting that happen again.