The Man Who Can't Be Moved

“Colder than a motherfucker out there,” Staalsy declares, his teeth chattering and his entire body shivering as he climbs into the front passenger seat of my Range Rover. His cheeks are scarlet red and there’s ice crystals forming on the ends of his impossibly long lashes and on the tips of his newly shorn blond hair and I can’t help but smirk when he cups his hands together and blows a steady stream of air onto them.

“You’re a goddamn pussy!” I exclaim, and lean forward to crank the heat the up. “You’ve been living in the states for too long. You’re from way up north for Christ sakes! This is practically spring coat weather! Don‘t be such a…” my voice trails off as I catch sight of a familiar figure -clad in only a black satin robe despite the frigid temperatures and her dark hair pilled onto the top of her head in a messy sweep- lingering in the open doorway of the Recchi home. “Well hello Mrs. Recchi…” I grin, wiggling my eyebrows suggestively as I nudge Staalsy in the ribs. “Muy caliente…no wonder you don‘t want to get your own place. I can’t say I blame you. In the slightest.”

“Get your mind out of the fucking gutter,” Staalsy orders. “It’s not like that. At all. We’re just friends; I’m just the guy that lives in the pool house and keeps her and the kids company. That’s it.”

“Bull-fucking-shit!” I argue, and lift my hand in greeting when the attractive brunette flashes me a bright smile and offers a wave. “There is no goddamn way you’ve never tapped that. In fact, I bet the whole reason you actually made me pick you up is ‘cause you didn’t want to give up tapping it long enough to wake four houses down to my place. Quit fucking with me, Staalsy. I know you’re keeping Mrs. Recchi satisfied while the old man’s in Boston. I mean, what house wife wanders around in that?” I nod in the direction of the house. “If you’re not doing her, why did she feel the need to see you off?”

“We had breakfast together,” he explains with a shrug. “That’s what she wore to bed last night, I guess. She’s just being nice and saying bye.”

“She’s not saying bye,” I roll my eyes. “She’s saying ‘thanks for the wild night’ and ‘you better be prepared to fuck me when you get back’.”

“If you got laid more often you wouldn’t read so much into this shit,” he grumbles. “It’s ‘cause you’ve been deprived for so long that you’re seeing things that aren’t there. I kinda liked the old Max better; the one that got fucked on a regular basis and had no time to worry about everyone else’s sex life because he was too busy yapping about his own.”

“That Max is dead,” I declare. “I killed him. The new Max is much better. Much happier. And for your information, I’m back in the saddle, mon ami. Don’t you be worrying about how much I’m getting laid. I have more than made up for at least one quarter of the past two months. My woman is more than satisfied. And judging by the looks of Mrs Recchi there…”

“She told me last night that she wanted a threesome,” he admits.

“While you were fucking her or…?”

“I am not fucking her!” he gives an exasperated sigh. “Rumours, Superstar! All rumours!”

“Sure they are…” I nod slowly as a smirk spreads from ear to ear. “If it’s all bullshit, explain to me why both babies she’s had since old man Mark has been in Beantown have blond hair. They’ve both got dark hair and so do all their other kids. Don’t even try and tell me that you’ve been a boy scout around that.” I jerk my head in the direction of the house once again.

“I have a girlfriend, remember? Audrey? Do you remember her? Goes to Pitt? Wants to be a lawyer?” sarcasm and irritation drip from his voice. “Smoking hot little thing with brown hair down to her ass and a body that can stop traffic?”

“You only started dating her three months ago,” I point out. “You’ve been living in the Recchi’s pool house for more than a year and a half. That’s more than enough time for you and Mrs. Robinson to…you know…get yourselves established.”

“There’s nothing going on between us!” he insists. “Absolutely nothing! I swear on my mother’s life that I have never and I will never fuck Mark Recchi’s wife! I don’t know why she’s got blond haired babies and I don’t know if she’s messing around behind her husband’s back. All I know is that she’s not fooling around with me, alright?”

“Alright…alright…” I hold my hands up in surrender. “Not that I believe you, but…”

“She wants to fuck me though,” he adds, and a grin spreads from ear to ear. “And she’s tried a few times; she’s got me all liquored up and she’s tried to seduce me. She puts on this totally hot and skanky looking lingerie from Fredrick’s of Hollywood and these knee high hooker boots and she makes me sit in a chair and does this little dance thing and…”

“You’re getting lap dances from Mark Recchi’s wife? Like no shit?”

“Like no shit,” he says. “I know she’s close to forty and all that, but her body is fucking off the hook. Guess ‘cause of all that lipo and botox and the boob job the old man’s cash has paid for. But I swear to you, Max, I have never, ever slept with her. Ever. I just can’t bring myself to it, you know? I just can’t seem to let it happen. I’m not above humouring her and making her feel sexy by letting her unleash her inner stripper and I’ll even tuck some money into her g-string and all. But I just can’t seem to get past the fact that she’s married with kids. Maybe if she was a single mom I’d tap it…”

“It’s a regular fucking bordello in there,” I say. “I wonder if she’s the MILF that all the young guys down in Wilkes-Barre are talking about. You know, that whole rumour about there being a lonely house wife in town that takes the pick of the litter from the farm team and turns them into men. Think it could be her? And why the hell does she keep smiling and waving at me?”

“I think you listen to way too much bullshit,” Staalsy declares. “And she’s probably buttering you up ‘cause you’re the person she wants to have a threesome with.”

“What? For real?”

“For real. She told me last night that it’s her ultimate fantasy.”

“It’s a lot of women’s ultimate fantasies,” I sigh. “And I’ve done my best to fulfill as many as humanly possible.”

He rolls his eyes.

“And whose the third person? Me, her and who else? Some hot MILF friend of hers?”

“You, her and me,” Staalsy reveals.

“Get the fuck outta here,” I grimace at the mere thought. “There’s no way in hell I would ever do something like that. Another guy in the mix? Hell no. Now if it was another girl…”

“Come on, don’t act like you’ve never had one, Superstar. Don’t even try and tell me that you’ve never gotten it in with two girls at once. With your track record? It’s fucking impossible that you’ve never had a threesome. Don’t be shy; be honest.”

“I’m not admitting to something that could quite possibly get me banned to the couch for the rest of my life. If something like that ever got back to Emma-Leigh, I’d be fucking riding the sofa until I‘m old and grey.”

“I’ll take that as a confirmation that you have had one,” Staalsy concludes. “What? You think I’d actually rat on you? Don’t you think that that’s something you guys should talk about? All the fucking dirty shit you’d gotten yourself up to before you met her? She probably already suspects it anyway. I’m sure nothing would surprise her coming from you. She’s not an idiot, you know. Now can we get the hell out of here? Before Alexa decides to come right out here and…”

“Alexa…Alexa…” I allow the name to roll around my tongue for a moment. “Sounds like a stripper name. Or a porn star at the very least. First name basis, huh? I guess calling her Mrs. Recchi while she’s sucking you off started to feel too impersonal?”

“You’re an asshole!” Staalsy bellows, and then crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child that’s just been told he’s not allowed to have a chocolate bar while going through the check out at the supermarket. “Can we just get the fuck out of here please? Before she decides to come out here and proposition both of us? Knowing you you’ll have a set back and decide it’s a good idea.”

“Never,” I declare, as I switch the SUV into drive and pull away from the monstrous Tudor style home. “Never going to happen. Those days are over. C’est finis. I’m a one woman man, Staalsy. For the rest of my life. Things are good. Really good. I’ve sowed my wild oats and the time was right for me to settle down. Now I’ve got a nice house, a beautiful wife…” I allow my voice to trickle off, eager to see if he picks up on my use of the word ‘wife’ and what his reaction will be if it sinks in.

“Don’t be one of those guys that calls his woman his wife just ‘cause you’re living together,” he rolls his eyes and buckles his seat belt. “Don’t do shit like that, okay? ‘Cause that’s just tempting fucking fate. She’s not your wife until the rings are on your fingers and you’ve both signed the license and she’s changed her last name. You’re boyfriend and girlfriend. You’re living in sin. You’re not married and she‘s not your wife.”

“Actually, she is,” I correct. “She is my wife.”

“I’m talking legally, Max. As in a priest or a justice of the peace or some other shit like that declared you guys married. As in you have a piece of paper to back it up. She’s not your wife just ‘cause you’re fucking her on a daily basis and living with her. She’s not…”

“We got married on Christmas Eve,” I interject, and grip the top of the steering wheel with my left hand in hopes he’ll catch a glimpse of the thick band I wear on my third finger. “I’ve been married for two months now.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” he chuckles. “Get yanking my fucking chain. Nice try, Superstar Maybe if it was April Fool’s Day I’d fall for it. Especially with that fake ring on your finger. Just knock it off and take that stupid thing of your finger and…”

“Staalsy, listen to me, okay? Listen very carefully because I’m about to explain things to you like I’m talking to a three year old. Emma-Leigh and I got married. On Christmas Eve. Back in my hometown. My parents were there, some of my relatives, TK, Flower and Vero, Peyton and Tanger…”

“How come I wasn’t invited?” he sounds legitimately disappointed.

“Because we didn’t want a lot of people knowing,” I explain. “Because we weren’t going to tell everyone until Em came back to live in Pittsburgh full time; give her some time to get herself better and not have to worry about people jumping all over her and talking shit about her. And…well…I love you like a brother, you know that, right?”

He nods.

“Well you have a big mouth,” I tell him. “I hate to say it, but it’s true. You have a big mouth and there’s no way you would have been able to keep it shut for an entire two months. It was just something small and quaint, you know? I proposed in November when we were in Montreal playing and we just decided to do something really quick over the Christmas break. Neither of us wanted a huge thing and we…”

“And you didn’t want certain people around here making a massive deal about it,” he finishes for me. “Not to mention you didn’t want to get Sid’s undies in a bunch and ‘cause a huge ass fucking shit storm.”

“Sid has nothing to do with this,” I irritably argue. “Why does everyone think the entire world fucking revolves around him? That the sun rises and sets every damn day just for him? We didn’t keep it quiet for Sid’s sake; we kept it quiet for Em’s sake because she was already being ripped apart in the press as it was. Not everything centers around El Capitan you know.”

“Wow…someone is not at all defensive,” Staalsy mutters. “Guilty conscience keeping you up at night or something?”

“I don’t have a guilty fucking conscience, alright? I don’t have anything to feel guilt about. It’s been five fucking months! Almost have a goddamn year! And I know you think that I’m a huge fucking bastard for messing around with Em before she had a chance to break it off with Sid…”

“Rat bastard, actually,” he corrects. “Those were my exact words. I think I may also have called you a backstabbing sonofabitch a few times too.”

Staalsy’s nothing if not brutally honest.

“…but I’m not going to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for his forgiveness.,” I continue. “I apologized a million fucking times; I said I was sorry for handling things the way I did and I told him that I wish I had have held off on hooking up with her until she cut him loose. What more am I supposed to do? What more do you people want from me? I can’t change what happened and I’m certainly not going to give up Em just to make that little stick bitch happy. He doesn’t want to a fucking man and suck it up and get on with his life? That’s his goddamn problem. Not mine.”

“You fucked his girlfriend, Max,” Staalsy says. “You fucking took advantage of her during a shitty time in their relationship and…”

“I didn’t take advantage of her! She came to me, alright? She came to me. And where was he? Where was he when she needed him the most? He sent her back to Pittsburgh ALONE. All because he didn’t want to be bothered taking the time and the energy to fix what was wrong with her. I was the one that was there! I was the one that took care of her! What fucking man does that to someone? Dumps them on other people ‘cause they don’t want to be bothered?”

“I doubt that Sid felt like he was ‘dumping her’ on anyone. They had a fight. Over you. And she was the one that made the decision to come back and…”

“And what? And he backed down like a little bitch and didn’t even stop her. And you know what’s worse? You know what just really burns my ass about this ‘poor little, angelic Sid’ bullshit?”

“Come on…” Staalsy rolls his eyes. “Cut the guy some slack. You fucking poached his girl!”

“The fact that he wasn’t even around when she lost their baby!” I ignore him completely. “He took off and left her alone to deal with it! I was the one that was there! I was the one that sat by her bed side and I was the one that talked to the doctors and nurses and made sure she got pain meds and made sure she wasn’t alone. It was me! And then I had to lie to her about where he was! I had to make up some bullshit excuse about him preparing a public statement just so she wouldn’t be even more fucked up if she found out he bailed! I saved his ass!”

“No…” Staalsy remains calm, cool and collected and shakes his head. “What you did, or what you were hoping to do, was get on her good side so that it would make poaching her a whole lot easier.”

“Do you want to get out and walk?” I ask, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles both crack and turn white. “Do you want me to pull over and kick your ass out? Because you’re digging yourself a massive grave here.”

“Look…” he sighs heavily and holds his hands up in plea for peace. “…I know you love Emma-Leigh and I know she’s changed your life and I know you’ve given up a lot for her. And I know you think that you’re the bigger and better man; that you’re the right guy for ‘the job’. But you can’t fault people for being pissed off, Max. You can’t expect everyone to accept the two of you. It was a shitty thing you guys did to Sid and you know it. And now you’ve gone and married her? Like are you fucking insane? You two have been together all of what? A couple months? Before you got hitched? Are you honestly unhinged?”

“I love her,” I remain steadfast. “I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I’m sorry if you have a hard time accepting that but…”

“I honestly don’t give a crap,” Staalsy interjects. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you and I’m glad to see that you’re making a legit effort to settle down and all that shit. But I don’t have to like it and I don’t have to accept it. What you do is your business, Superstar. And if you can honestly sleep good at night knowing what you’ve done…”

“I sleep just fucking fine!” I snap. “I sleep just fine and if you don’t shut your goddamn trap…”

“I just hope you handle this whole announcing your secret marriage thing a lot better than you handled hooking up with Em,” he continues. “’Cause I think you’ve done Sid enough damage. Why inflict even more? Own your fucking mistake, sit down with the guy and…”

“And who the hell are you?” I growl. “Doctor Phil? What the hell gives you the right to lecture me on right from wrong? You’re letting a married woman give you goddamn lap dances! And if you were really honest with yourself and everyone else, you’d ‘fess up to the fact that you’ve probably been banging her for a while now. So don’t go preaching to me about morals and bad decisions and all that shit. And this whole Sid thing? This whole me stealing Em from him and…”

“Poaching,” he corrects. “The more dramatic and evil word is poaching.”

“It’s a dead horse, Staalsy. A fucking dead horse. So stop beating it already. I sleep quite fine, thank you. Beside my wife. Because that’s what she is now and if you think you can disrespect her to my face like this…”

“Easy…easy…” he holds his hands up in surrender. “I am not disrespecting your wife. I would never disrespect her. If you ask me, what you guys did and the way she looked because of it? Well you two fucking up like that did that job of disrespecting her just fine.”

“Are you done now?” I ask. “Are you done spewing all this bullshit? Because you’re about ten seconds away from getting my elbow in your face.”

“I just have the balls to say out loud what everyone is thinking,” he says, and gives an unapologetic shrug. “You’re my friend Max and I’m glad you’re happy and I hope you and Em have a long, wonderful life together and you have yourself a half dozen Talbot spawn. If this is what you really want and she’s what you really want…”

“She is. And if you can’t…”

“…then I accept it and I support it. But you know how you said you’re not going to kiss Sid’s ass? Well don’t expect me to kiss yours just because we’re friends. I tell it like it is and I call it as I see it. And I am telling you that I saw what you did to Sid as this completely fucked up. It was a nasty, bottom feeding, scum sucking thing for you to do. It was wrong and you know it. And if I think you owe it to him to tell him to his face about you and Em getting married. Whether or not you feel he deserves it or not or whether he actually gives a shit, I just think it’s the right thing to do. Show him some respect, alright? Can you do that? Show him respect just once in your life?”

“Depends,” I retort. “Are you capable of shutting your fucking trap from here on out?”

He nods and places the tips of his thumb and forefinger against his lips and mimics turning a key.

“Finally…” I mutter. “Peace and fucking quiet.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Staalsy asks. “Are you going to grow a set and tell him before someone else does?”

“I’ll think about,” I reply.

It’s going to one hell of a day.