Long Pass Chronicles 02 - Canning the Center (22 page)

“You sure? You don’t mind?”

He smiled. “I haven’t been showing up at the club much since I met you. I need to get my drag time in somehow. One curtain call for the queen.”

Should he do it? Last time he’d been backed into a corner. This time he had a choice.

Trevor cocked his head and put a hand on his hip. “I’ll let you watch me dress.”

Jamal smiled. “For that, I’d take you to a hundred parties.” But why did Trevor want to go so bad?

Chapter 14

T
REVOR—
T
RIXIE
—
got out of the Cadillac, looked up at Jamal, who held the door, and smiled. The bunny. The sweetest guy. Maybe too sweet to survive in this tank of sharks. He needed protection—in spike heels.

He glanced at the house they’d parked in front of. About what he expected. The driveway curved around a Mediterranean mansion safely tucked behind a gate that was behind another gate that guarded the wealthy Newport Beach community. The gate flew a large American flag. He strapped his purse with the nice weight of his phone across his shoulder.

Jamal looked scared. “You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He slicked the black dress over his narrow hips. Few women were built like him, but men never noticed when he flashed some cleavage.

“You look great.”

“Thank you. You know all my secrets now that you’ve seen the transformation.”

Jamal grinned. “I’ll admit, tucking seems damned painful, and creating those breasts looks almost as hard, but the whole process was one serious turn-on.”

He fluttered his painted lashes. “Perhaps when the potential for a hard-on becomes less of a threat to my masculinity, we can do something about that.”

“Don’t tell me that. I might turn around right now.” Jamal stared at his shoes. “Do you think Boogie might recognize you? Since he saw you so close?”

Trevor shook his head. “The guy looked so mad, I bet he didn’t even see me. I was just a thing in his way. Plus, like you said, people see what they expect.” Trevor walked toward the big double doors, heels clicking on the slate surface. Jamal knocked, and a Hispanic man in a white coat and bow tie answered.

“Good evening. Mr. Arondel and his guests are on the patio. This way, please.”

They followed him through an entry and a large formal living room to french doors. The sound of voices came from outside. Jamal squeezed Trevor’s hand as they stepped onto the flagstone.

A large patio with a breathtaking view across Newport Beach to the ocean took up most of the space—a fire pit in the middle and maybe a pool beyond, but it was hard to see past the trees and landscaping in the dusk. Just the people Trevor expected sat around the fire—except no coach. He didn’t seem to be there. Just a bunch of the players. The handsome blond guy Jamal had said was the quarterback sat beside a beautiful dark-haired girl. And sure enough, beside him on a big easy chair lounged the very man who had tried to take Trevor out only hours before. Boogaloo. Trevor shuddered. No way the asshole would recognize him. Men like that only saw “fag,” not a real person. The pretty woman with the elaborate hair perched on the arm of his chair, and across from them was—
shit on a stick
—Lavinda. She sat beside a big man Trevor had met at the other party, but he didn’t remember his name. One of Boogaloo’s friends. My, my, the god-awful gang was all here. How did Bunny attract such a pool of sharks?

Arondel held the center position with an attractive older woman on the seat next to him. Trevor looked her over. He’d done some checkup on Mr. Arondel, and the woman beside him had brought the money that bankrolled him and got him started in real estate. Arondel had done a decent job of capitalizing on the jump-start, but some said she was the real brains in the family—and a lot of the money.

Arondel looked up, his face brightened, and he jumped up.
Interesting
.

“Jamal, Trixie, how good to see you.” He came forward with his hands extended.

Jamal nodded. “I hope we’re not late, sir.” Arondel shook his hand and slapped his shoulder at the same time, but his eyes never left Trixie.

“Not at all. Everyone was just a bit anxious to get here and relax.”

Relax, my ass
. Trevor smiled. “It’s my fault, I’m afraid. I just take forever to get ready.” Ha. That was an understatement.

Arondel squeezed his hand and placed his other hand on top. “But the results are so lovely.” Jamal squeezed Trevor’s other hand, and he wanted to giggle. Arondel gestured toward the pool. “Come and meet my wife and say hello to everyone else. Trixie, please take my chair.” He glanced at the man who had led them outside. “Jose, get me another.”

Into the shark pool
. Trevor sat in the open chair and turned to the woman beside him. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m Trixie, a friend of Jamal’s.”

“I’m Karin Arondel. I heard from Boogaloo how lovely you are. Welcome to my home.”

Jamal scraped a chair with arms from the nearby table and set it next to Trevor.

Arondel waved a hand. “Let Jose do that.”

“I got it, thanks.” He leaned over and bumped fists with his quarterback. “Hey, Jet.”

“Hey, man. This is my girlfriend, Marie.” He extended a hand to Trevor. “Hi, I’m Jet West.”

“Trixie. Hello, Marie.” The pretty woman nodded and smiled.

Boogie leaned forward. “Hey, brotha, good to see you. Thanks again for saving my ass from itself.” He laughed. “I hope you’re not pissed at me. I just lost it, man.”

The woman named Sasaundra looked between them. “What you talkin’ about?”

“Jamal here kept me from bashing a queer picketer today. The dude was incitin’ outside the stadium and getting the press all up on writing stories about queers on the Diablos, and I went off on his ass. Jamal stepped in before I did something I’d be sorry about later. Thanks, man.”

Jamal looked a little sick. Trev kept his hands from balling into fists.

Jet West frowned. “It’s a good thing Jamal stepped in. You can’t let things like that bother you, Boogie. A man your size, they’d throw you in jail for assault, and that would be bad for you and the team.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

Arondel, who had settled into a chair provided by Jose, patted Jamal’s shoulder. “Wise of you.”

Lavinda lounged back in her chair. “Who was the person you were attacking, Boogie?”

Why the fuck did that bitch care?

Boogaloo shrugged. “Some guy. I axed when I got there who was in charge and they said that blond, so I took my piss out on him. Excuse me, ma’am.” He nodded toward Karin Arondel.

Lavinda glanced at Trevor just for an instant. “I’ve asked around and I hear most of those picketers go to SCU. You know anything about that, Trix?”

Trevor looked into those narrowed, dark eyes. “No I don’t, but the LGBT Alliance at SCU is very active, so I’m sure it’s possible.”

She smiled. Yeah, like a cat right after it ate something valuable. “And our Jamal just waded in to save—Boogie, right?”

Boogaloo nodded. “That’s what I said, yeah.”

She smiled again but said nothing. Jose called everyone to dinner, and he and a woman served roast beef. The food was way better than the company.

Trevor turned toward Karin Arondel, who was being left out of the football conversation. “Do you work outside the home, Mrs. Arondel?” Not that she probably had to do much work inside the home. He didn’t see any kids.

“Most of my work these days has to do with my foundations and charities. At one time, I had my own business.”

Trevor smiled. “Of course. Everyone knows Martin Public Relations.”

She beamed at Trevor. “Thank you so much for saying that.”

Arondel took her hand, though she didn’t look ecstatic about it. “Karin sits on the boards of a number of the nonprofits we contribute to.”

They finished dinner, and coffee was served in the big living room. The guys started talking football in a big way. Trevor glanced around. Mrs. Arondel had excused herself, and Marie and Sasaundra were talking to Lavinda. No way he’d join that conversation. He tried to look really fascinated by football. That only worked so-so.

“Excuse me.” He got up and walked toward the hall that presumably led to the bathroom, where he’d seen Sasaundra go earlier. Might as well add some more lipstick. He stayed in the heavily wallpapered half bath as long as he reasonably could without appearing to have an intestinal disorder and then walked out and headed back toward the living room.

“Trixie.” Arondel’s voice came from behind him.

Trevor turned and smiled.

Arondel walked forward, looking like he’d been waiting, and put a hand on Trevor’s arm. He had to force himself not to shake it off. “You seemed a little bored with our conversation.”

“Not really. I’m just not a football expert yet, so some of it’s over my head, and I didn’t want to interrupt to ask questions.”

“I completely understand. Some of it’s even too technical for me. Perhaps you’d enjoy a tour of the house instead.” He tightened his grip on Trevor’s arm, so it didn’t seem to be a question.

“All right.”

Arondel glanced back over his shoulder and guided Trevor down a long hall. “I’ll show you my study. It’s my favorite room because no one is allowed to bother me there.”

That sounded like a threat.

The large room was beautiful if you liked old English manor houses. Green and burgundy, with leather chairs and a huge mirror over an equally enormous fireplace surrounded by wooden ducks. Trev gently removed his arm from Arondel’s grasp and crossed to look at the etchings of men on horseback chasing foxes below several heads of deer. A large bearskin rug covered the wooden floor in front of the leather couch. “Do you hunt?”

“Yes, actually. I go to Alaska at least once a year to hunt bear and other large game.”

Trevor shrugged and moved on to look at the book titles.

“Women seldom have the stomach for hunting. It’s a man’s sport.”

“Like football?”

“Yes, although I think women like the tight pants.”

Trevor smiled as he turned. Arondel stood a few feet behind him. “Jamal certainly looks good in them.”

A hint of a frown skittered across his face. “Yes, well, he’s young. Men that big turn to fat as they get older.”

“I suppose.” Trevor grinned. “May I take a picture with you? It would be such an honor to show my girlfriends I was really here at your home.”

For a second Arondel hesitated.
Will he do it?
Trevor hunted in his purse as if there wasn’t a chance Arondel would refuse. He pulled out the phone and pointed at the mirror. “Shall I take it in the mirror or do a selfie?”

“Uh, the mirror, I suppose. Selfies so often come out looking comical.”

Trev moved over to the mirror. “Here. Come closer.” Arondel walked over, and Trevor positioned the camera so it was below the reflection. “Smile.” Arondel did, and a couple of clicks preserved the moment. “Thank you so much. I’m going to caption it so I always remember.” He fiddled with the phone for a minute, flipped the switch, and put the phone back in his purse. “So what else would you like to show me?”

Arondel pointed at the couch. “Why don’t we just relax here for a moment? I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

Trevor sat on the edge of the couch. “Oh? I can’t be too long. Jamal will be wondering about me.”

“Yes, but once they get wound up on football tactics, there’s no shutting them off.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m just interested in you. Beautiful girl like you, studying mathematics. It seems incongruous.”

“Even attractive women can have brains, Mr. Arondel. Look at your wife.”

“Please call me Lex, and of course, I wasn’t suggesting that you could only have one or the other. Quite the contrary. But I do question your, shall we say, taste in boyfriends.”

A little shiver ran up Trevor’s spine. “Oh? I thought Jamal was one of your favorite players. Isn’t that why he’s here tonight?”

“Yes, well, his taste in girlfriends may have influenced my invitation. But besides that, an appreciation for a good football player doesn’t mean I think he’s the man for you.”

“I’m a little confused.”

“It seems to me you need a far more experienced and capable mentor. Someone who knows the ropes and can help you find the kinds of opportunities available to you. Also, I think you need someone of your own race.”

Son of a bitch. He said it
. “Mr. uh, Lex, I’m surprised to hear you say that. Most of your team is made up of African Americans.”

“Of course. They’re the best damned football players on earth. Can take the hits without damage.”

“I see.”

“Inferior intellect. I’m sure you’ve seen the studies.”

“I believe those so-called studies have been disproved as hogwash.”

“It depends on your point of view. Trust me, I know these people intimately. But regardless, he’s not a match for a gorgeous mathematician.”

“And who would be?”

He chuckled. “I know I’m not being very subtle, but I think having a man like me take you under his wing could be very good for your future.”