Long Pass Chronicles 02 - Canning the Center (8 page)

Jamal sipped. “I wish I’d had more time to work with Ray. I was looking forward to being his shadow this year.”

“You’re doing great. But yeah, I miss Ray too. He’s a really good guy.”

Jamal glanced at the quarterback. So much for Boogie’s theory that Jet had complained about Ray. Jet’s handsome face looked kind of sad. Couldn’t blame him. He and Shields had been a unit for years. Jamal tossed the bottle. “Do you think he should have left?”

“Coach didn’t give him much choice. He would’ve had to really make an issue of it, get his agent and the union in on the action, if he wanted to stay. That would have torn the team apart, and Ray’s worked hard to build up this team.”

“Why did it become such a point of honor now? I mean, he only had a year. He held out this long. Why now?”

Jet shook his head. “Who can say?” His eyes followed Ray as he coached Boogaloo, and he gave a small smile. “Sometimes shit just gets too high.”

Talk about truth. Jamal stared at Jet. The guy glanced at him and grinned. “Want to get back to work?”

“Yeah.” But the words kept bouncing around in his head for the next hour of sweat.
Sometimes the shit just gets too high
. Finally the coach called time, and he started trudging back to the locker room. Why couldn’t he get Trixie out of his head? She had his number and could easily call him if she wanted to see him. That meant she didn’t want to see him. End of fucking story.
Give it up, Jones
. But nothing in him wanted to quit. The same way he felt about football.

A hand slapped his shoulder, and he looked over at Boogaloo. That face was scary even when he smiled. When he frowned, it gave you the chills. It was the Diablos’ secret weapon—scare the other team shitless with Boogaloo’s scowl. The reason for the storm clouds was way obvious. From across the field, anyone could see all day that the big guard was pissed. Jamal didn’t ask. He just kept walking.

“Can’t believe Coach made me spend the day with that fucking fag.”

Keep your mouth shut
.

“He even had his fucking hands on me.”

Jamal stopped. “Okay, Johnson, hang on. Nobody asked you to suck his dick. You want to be a backup center? Ray Shields is the best in the business. Give him some respect.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be no center. I’m a guard. Don’t want some pussy quarterback shoving his hands up my butt, a’ight?”

Ball now in his court
.

Jamal forced a grin. “Right. You’d rather have two linebackers with their noses in your jock.”

Boogaloo stared, looking as dangerous as possible. Jamal didn’t move. Was that his future he felt hanging in the balance? Boogie goes running to Arondel about Jamal being an enemy sympathizer? Then Boogaloo burst out laughing and slapped Jamal’s shoulder again. “Aces, man. I’ll take my fucking medicine. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Jamal followed Boogaloo into the locker room and headed for the shower so fast his shoulder pads were probably still spinning on the bench. He turned on the water and leaned against the wall. Things felt off. He’d hidden who he was all the way through college, but it never felt quite this—messy. Dirty, even. His family always gave him a haven. A place to rest and be real. Now they felt far away. Was this real life? Worrying about this shit took too much energy.

Finally he quit wasting the team’s water and trudged back to his locker. He pulled on his boxer briefs and the trim black jeans he liked over them. John Matoa dragged his shirt out of the next locker and gave him a whistle. “You planning on getting some, Jones? Lookin’ good.”

“Thanks, man.” Getting some sounded very, very good and equally unlikely.

Boogaloo walked out of the therapy room wearing a towel that barely covered his junk, much less the rest of that enormous body. “Hey man, I’ll call Lavinda and see if I can shag us a double tonight.”

A knot the size of a football tied itself to his esophagus. Spend another night with Boogaloo and his terrifying sister?
Shit
. “Sorry man. I got plans.”

Boogaloo narrowed his eyes. “I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?”

“I actually never said that. But I don’t have a girlfriend. I do have plans tonight.”

“Lavinda says you got some—” He made quotes in the air. “—relationship on the down low?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Could happen.”

“What should I tell Lavinda?”

“She’s a lovely woman and I enjoyed having dinner with her. She isn’t looking to marry me, Boogaloo.”

The guys still left at their lockers were working hard to look like they weren’t listening to every word.
Shit
. All he wanted was out.

Boogaloo still stared at him like he’d done something wrong. “She likes you a lot.”

That seemed extremely unlikely. He sighed softly. “I’ll call her this week and we can set something up.”

Boogie smiled. “Good, man. That’d be dope.”

Jamal grabbed his jacket. Not his favorite jacket. That one he had given away—along with some piece of his brain, and his heart. He walked out of the locker room. Hounds had to be biting at his fucking heels. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

He got into the car and stared through the windshield. Now where? Plans. He’d said he had plans. Couldn’t show up at the hotel. Go back to his bare-ass apartment? Maybe he could call Will and Noah?

No. He did have plans. There was only one fucking thing he planned to do. He started the car.

“T
RIXIE
?”

Trevor adjusted the top of his blue gown and smoothed the skirt. “Yes?”

“Darling, the bunny’s here.”

Everything inside froze and leaped at the same time. Mathematically impossible. Well, maybe in quantum physics. “So?”

Lucretia turned and placed a large fist on her ample hip. “Don’t be taking that indifferent tone with me, cutie pie. I know a suitor when I see one.”

“He’s not a suitor.” That came out a little sharper than intended.

Lucretia’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Trouble in paradise?”

“Of course not. There is no paradise. He has—I mean, I have nothing to do with him. I don’t even know him.”

“And yet he has this power to get you, the queen of cool, riled. Hmmm.”

Trevor stamped a foot, which clunked the heel into the wood floor of the dusty theatre wings. “I’m not riled.”

“And I’m the president of Focus on the Family.”

“Get onstage and leave me alone.”

“Okay, Miss Thang. Have it your way.”

Trevor pulled the edge of the curtain aside. There he sat. Jamal. The bunny. The gorgeous guy—with the gorgeous girlfriend. Just another make-believe heterosexual slumming in LaLa Land. Some little stupid voice whispered, “But he called you three times. He sounded so sweet.”
Yeah, chocolate bunnies are sweet, but they rot your teeth
.

He went over to the guy who controlled the sound system. “Jamesy, switch to this song.”

“Sure, Trix.”

From onstage, Lucretia said his name.
Her
name. Trixie LaRue. He took a deep breath and walked into the dark. When the lights started up slowly, some spilled over the apron of the stage, and the bunny’s somber face showed softly in the light. Not the rapt adoration she’d seen there before. More stern, focused—determined.

Trevor’s music cue crept up. Trixie leaned into the mike. “All men are false, says my mother. They’ll tell you wicked, lovin’ lies.” She spit out the last word as she turned, then faced front again.
Set this up. Make sure he gets it
. “The very next evening, they’ll court another. Leave you alone to pine and sigh.” Trixie stared directly into those liquid eyes. “My daddy is a handsome devil. Got a chain five miles long. On every link a heart does dangle, of another maid he’s loved and wronged.” The bunny named Jamal winced when Trixie sang that. Yes, it had been Trevor’s plan, but it still squeezed his heart.

He hadn’t thought further than that line. He stumbled through the rest of the song—maybe her fans didn’t notice—and left the stage and stood in the wings.
Breathe. Just breathe
. Lucretia frowned as she passed to go onstage and close the show.

“Pssst.”

He looked over at Jamesy.

“Was that okay?”

“Yes, fine.”

The old queen shook his head a little. Kind of like he was saying “women” under his breath.

Better get out of here. He hurried to the dressing room and pulled down the zipper on the gown.

With a deep breath, Trevor stepped out of it. Not like he had enough money to treat his gowns roughly. Every extra cent he had went into that wardrobe. He put the gown on its padded hanger, then leaned against the counter.
Oh, Trev, you’re such a sorry piece of work
.

He looked up at the rap on the door. “Trixie.” Lucretia.

“Dressing, darling.”

“He’s still here. He hasn’t moved a muscle from that table. People are cleaning up around him to get ready for the next show, and he’s just sitting there. I don’t think Duke is big enough to move this guy.”

“This is my problem how?” His chest must be jumping from the hammering of his heart.

“Girl, you made this mess. You clean it up.” Lucretia’s heels hammered on the old wood floor as she walked away.

Damn
. He slipped on a flowered robe Trixie kept in the dressing room and walked over to the narrow closet. There it hung. The big leather jacket. How many times had Trevor caressed it, smelled it? He opened the door as Jamesy walked by, lugging a mike stand to the lock-up. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, doll.”

“There’s a man sitting down front at a table. Would you go get him and bring him here? The big guy.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Trevor watched Jamesy go, then dropped his head into one hand. What in hell did he do now? Stay Trixie? Become Trevor? Put his dress back on? Lock the door and scream? Why in hell was he looking forward to seeing that man’s face?

Three deep breaths.

“Trixie?”

He raised his head first, then his eyes. That boy must have blazed a trail of fire getting backstage.
Oh hell
. It was easy to understand why he wanted to see that face. The bunny was all sweet frowns of concern. Good. That made Trevor mad again. “What are you doing here causing problems?”

He frowned. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t mean to cause problems. But I called you three times and left you a message. I want to take you to dinner.”

Trevor clenched his fists as if he could use them on this giant. “Why did you ask to see me when you have a girlfriend? I’m not a cheater, and I don’t cause men to cheat.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t give me that. I saw your picture in the paper with that pretty girl. They called her your girlfriend.”

The dawn set in all over his face. His dark, arched brows rose and those full lips parted.

Trevor crossed his arms. “See, you got caught. You said you didn’t have a girlfriend. Maybe you meant you have twenty.”

He smiled just a little.

“Funny?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s that guy’s sister. He invited me to dinner and I found out it was a date five minutes before I went. I haven’t seen her since.” For a second his face clouded, and then he gazed into Trevor’s eyes. “That’s the truth. The reporter made up the girlfriend label. Yes, I’ve lied and cheated in my life, and I’ll probably do it again. But not to you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“My heart says I do.”

“Pretty, but sentimental crap.”

He frowned. “No, I’m serious. I feel like I know you. Like we’re, I don’t know, friends, I guess. My friends brought me here because they knew I’d think you’re beautiful, and I do. But it’s more than that. It’s like I recognized you.” He glanced at his giant sneakered feet. “Sorry. I’m not saying this very well.”

Lucretia’s voice came from around the corner. “You’re saying it fine, sweetheart, and if that bitch won’t listen to you, give me a try.”

Trevor whirled. “Lucretia. Butt out!” He grabbed Jamal and dragged him into the small room. It got smaller really quick. He slammed the door and looked up. Trevor hadn’t taken off his heels, so the distance wasn’t quite as far as it would be otherwise. “How big are you?”

“Almost six seven.”

“Jesus.”

He had this grin that sneaked up on you, then flashed some glistening teeth. “What? You don’t like big guys?”

Trevor crossed his arms over his padded chest. “I like big guys fine.”

“Would you like to go out for a drink or coffee or, what was that line—some caramels?”

“
Good Will Hunting
.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor remembered watching the movie on TV and solving all the problems on the board as Will Hunting solved them. He’d loved that movie. The bunny stood there looking gigantic and extremely delicious. Why oh why did he want to break all the rules for this man? “So, like a date?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no one knows I like guys, so I can’t be too out and proud, but yeah.”

Trevor stared up at that handsome face. He always complained nobody could really like him because nobody knew him. Whose fault was that? None of the people from school knew about Trixie. Trixie didn’t have friends. Here stood a chance to change that. He blew out a breath. “You told me you’re trusting me with your secret. That no one knows you’re gay, right?”

“Right.” He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple danced.

“Well, not many people around here know what I look like as a man. Do you want to see? Or would you rather maintain the mystery?”
Yes, this was a test
.

“I want to see. I’ve wanted to since the first moment I saw you on stage.”

Right answer
. “Okay, turn around since there’s no real privacy in this chicken coop.”

The bunny did as Trevor asked. Without taking off the robe, Trevor pulled down his bikini panties and untucked. The rush of blood made him half hard. Or maybe it was the company. He stepped out of the heels, pulled on some jeans and slip-on sneaks, then took off the robe and bra.

A wet washcloth removed the contouring on his chest. With a rip, he pulled the tape that helped create his cleavage.