Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)

In the spirit of my New Year’s resolution, I’d managed to make it over three months without pissing anyone off. I tried to focus all of my energy on the positive elements in my life: family and my job auditions. I’d made it a habit to go to my parents’ once a week for dinner, and my television try-outs had been going fairly well. I’d had more than a few pre-game spots, while some of the other guys only had one or two before they weren’t asked to come back again.

But other than that, there wasn’t much going my way. Especially when it came to my love life. For some reason, I hadn’t considered that being so selective about who I bang would cut down on my sexual activity. And out of all the things that I’d recently been trying to change about myself, abstaining from fucking and chucking had been by far the hardest. I hadn’t hit a dry spell this long since puberty hit. And it was killing me.

As it turned out, being an unemployed ladies man is an unbearable combination. It led to long stretches of boredom that can only be sufficiently filled with a little “self-love.” Surprisingly, using a cheesy euphemism didn’t make what I was doing seem nearly as lame. But it didn’t matter what I called it. When it came down to it, flogging the log, giving myself a one-gun salute, making stomach pancakes, or using some other name coined by an imaginative middle schooler didn’t make a damn bit of difference. It all meant the same thing. If I were being honest with myself, I was a thirty-year-old man sitting around on a random weekday watching porn and masturbating.

My rock bottom had arrived a few weeks ago when I’d caught myself Googling home remedies for carpal tunnel syndrome. Then I started debating whether to continue my search or fill my day with porn again. When I decided that porn was always the better option, I knew it was time to take my mom up on her offer to go on a date with her friend’s daughter.

***

Months ago, when my mom had suggested that I go out with Mary, I’d been too busy banging randoms and being a selfish prick to even entertain the idea. Mary and I had gone to grade school together, and though our moms stayed close friends, I hadn’t seen her since eighth grade when her family had moved to Atlanta for her dad’s new job. A few months ago, the idea of dating the lanky, awkward girl I remembered from seventeen years ago could not compete with stickin’ it in a drunk blonde with a perfect rack.

But now that the most action I’d seen in months had been from myself, lanky and awkward seemed preferable, hands down. Literally. And when I almost didn’t recognize the dark-haired beauty that tapped me on the shoulder at the bar, I couldn’t have been more pleasantly surprised. Hell yes. The color of her eyes matched her silky hair: a gorgeous shade of midnight that, when combined with her tanned skin and perky breasts, created an erotically exotic look.

Before I realized it didn’t matter, I briefly wondered why I hadn’t ever picked up on the fact that she was probably partially Hispanic. I’d probably do just about anything to get those plump soft lips on my mouth. And I’d definitely do anything to get them around my dick, which was already perking up at the thought.

“Max?” she said shyly, her soft voice pulling me out of my erotic daydream.

“Mary?” I knew my voice revealed my shock at her changed appearance.

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug so tight her breasts squeezed against my chest. I momentarily wished I’d gone to church more regularly so that God would answer my prayer that there’d be more to her than just her physical features. That would at least make me feel less like a man-whore if I wanted her for more than her body. I don’t ask for much, God. After that, I did a cursory check for a wedding ring. All clear. I wasn’t making that mistake twice.

As we got re-acquainted, I found out Mary and I had a lot in common. She had spent a few years as a sports writer before deciding to move back to Philadelphia to start a sports- themed magazine. “A friend of mine from college had the idea,” she explained. “It’s nothing major yet, but we’re hoping in time it’ll take off. I have a few connections in the area, so that should help.” She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear as she spoke, and I wondered what it would be like to pull on that hair. “Luckily,” she continued, “I had a great job out of college at a Dallas paper. It paid well enough for me to save some money so I could pursue my dream.” She took a sip of her wine and licked a stray drop from her lips. “I’ve always wanted to be a part of something big.”

“I know the feeling,” I said. I told her a bit about my hockey career, leaving out the less flattering parts, and jumping to my current job opportunity. She seemed impressed and, judging by her hand resting comfortably on mine on the bar, at least somewhat attracted to me. Thank you, God.

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