Uncovered (Dev and Lee Book 4) (10 page)

“Yeah!” We laugh, and those closest to him hug him.

“Hey!” Steez and the other assistant coaches and coordinators have all gathered in a group, with the cougar speaking for them. “Maybe one more shower, yes?”

He steps aside to reveal the offensive coordinator with his thumb over the mouth of a bottle of champagne, which Coach only registers for a second before he’s getting sprayed with the contents. He laughs and swipes at the bottle, but they keep it out of his reach. “First playoff win,” Steez says. “Is worth celebrating!”

“All right, all right.” Coach licks champagne from his dripping muzzle. “We’ve got the hotel ballroom reserved for tonight and we’re ordering out from Jack’s Steakburgers, so I’ll see all you winners there.”

He and the other coaches disappear back into their offices while the rest of us continue to gulp champagne and get undressed and showered and dressed again. Near me, Vonni’s on the phone with Daria, his wife, telling her where to come for the dinner. I hadn’t thought that spouses—partners—would be welcome, so when Vonni’s off the phone, I ask if his wife’s coming, just to confirm. He says, “Yeah,” so I take out my phone to tell Lee to come over too. As soon as I turn it on, it comes to life with a dozen text messages, only a few of them from my fox. My parents left me a voicemail, and a couple of my teammates from the Dragons texted me congratulations. But Lee’s are the ones I read first.

Great job!

Then, at the end of the game,
Yeah!!!

And then:
So proud of you. Two more. :)

I put the phone down, feeling the warmth in my chest that Lee always brings when he’s like that. I resolve to do my damnedest to win our next two games—devote myself to practice, learn every assignment, watch hours of film, whatever it takes. This feeling echoes back to those games in college when he gave me a goal to play for, showed me how I could be great. I want to be the best for myself, for the guys around me, and maybe most of all for him.

Fisher’s walking out of the training room when I look up. “You okay?” I say. “What got dinged?”

He puts a paw to his head and shakes it slowly, but he doesn’t appear to be limping or anything. “Nothing much, just wanted to check out the injury, make sure I didn’t make anything worse.”

“So?”

“I’m good.” He gives me a fierce smile.

I nod. “Okay. Gena’s coming to the thing tonight, right?”

“Uh-huh.” He sits by his locker, but doesn’t move to get dressed right away.

“All right. I’ll tell Lee he can come too.” I call my fox and tell him he can come over to the hotel and that I’ll see him there. He asks twice if it’s okay and I assure him it’s fine, the other wives will be there. He snorts and says he loves me, and I kinda lower my voice and say I love him too.

And when I hang up, Fisher’s still just sitting there on the bench in front of his locker, stripes wrinkled on his forehead like he’s trying to remember something. “You getting dressed?” I say. “Or just going to go in your Ultimate Fit underclothes?”

He blinks at me, and the stripes straighten out. “Quit fucking rushing me! I’m fine.” And then he peels off his undershirt so violently that one of the seams rips, and he heads for the shower.

He doesn’t seem quite right, but I don’t want to ask him and maybe get him more agitated. And most of the other guys I would confide my worry in have already left. The only one nearby is Pike, with Kodi the brown bear trailing behind him like always, and as Fisher’s backup I’m not sure Pike wouldn’t go right back to the trainer and say there might be something wrong with Fish. He says he’s okay being a backup again, but seriously, which one of us would be in this locker room if we didn’t desperately want to start? Well, Kodi and a few other backups seem happy to ride the bench. But not Pike.

So I just go out to talk to the media as per usual. I’m amused that they’ve pretty much stopped asking me if the other team is targeting me because I’m gay now that a team was actually doing it. But I don’t mind; I’d rather not talk about it. Mostly they don’t want to talk to me anyway. They want to talk to Strike, who was voted player of the game with his two touchdowns, and they want to hear why this game was so different from last week’s, and so I get away with a couple questions about containing their slot receiver, the fox, and that’s it.

After the media session, I see Fisher again, laughing and joking with Gerrard. He looks fine now. So maybe the doc just gave him a painkiller and that was his initial reaction to it. I did notice he didn’t drink any champagne that I could see, which we’re told not to do if we get the extra-strength painkillers.

On the bus back to the hotel, he’s just as jovial and happy as the rest of us, so I stop worrying about him. He’s a football player. He’ll be fine. We’ve switched to bottles of beer, being tossed around the bus and opened in a spray of foam, and I manage to get through one of those on the short trip, by which time I’m feeling definitely buzzed.

The hotel ballroom is set up with Firebirds flags and red and gold crepe paper, TVs in the corners tuned to ESPN, and several buffet tables that are empty as of right now. I’m still in a giddy good mood—the beer and champagne helping—and so are most of the guys. We stand around talking about the game and how hungry we are, so when the guys from Jack’s Steakburger arrive, we hover over them as they’re unpacking their stack of delivery boxes.

Lee calls me just then to ask me to come down and get him past hotel security, and I say, “They’re delivering our food on a forklift. This is amazing!”

The Jack’s guys are trying to arrange the burgers on the table, but we’re not patient. I don’t know who the first one is who just grabs a burger, but pretty soon we’re all grabbing at them and the poor ferret just has to jump out of the way as this mob of football players descends on his food, ripping open the next delivery box when the ones he’s unpacked run out. Then they run over to the ’roo setting up the fixings bar with lettuce and tomatoes and onions in huge bins. Well, some of them do. A bunch of us just cram the burgers into our muzzles without any condiments or toppings or anything.

“These are really good,” Jaws mumbles through a mouthful.

The ferret edges away from the huge wolverine and back to the table. “Thanks,” he says, and takes the next delivery box and starts setting up burgers on the table.

“Got any mustard?”

The ferret points over to the kangaroo who’s setting up fixings and condiments. “Did they not feed you guys all day?”

“We just won our first playoff game!” someone shouts, and the whole room cheers and whoops and hollers.

“You a Pilots fan?” someone asks the ferret.

He puts his paws on his hips and looks around at all of us. “Not for the next couple hours.”

We all laugh and slap him on the back. I grab another burger and head out to fetch Lee. Somehow when I meet him in the lobby and hold the burger out to him, it’s already half-gone.

“Thanks,” he says, looking at it, “but I already rummaged around in the garbage bin back at my hotel.”

“Sorry.” I take a few more bites from it. “I’ll get you a fresh one. Meant to, just…I’m really hungry.”

“It’s no problem.” He smiles. “Hold up, Gena came with me.”

“Oh, okay.” I finish the burger and look around the mostly-empty lobby. “No groupies this time?”

“I guess not.” He follows my gaze. “Maybe it’s still too early. They’ll be around later, I’m sure. Phew. Have you been drinking beer and champagne?”

I flatten my ears. “Not at the same time.”

He laughs. “Well, that’s good, anyway.” Gena walks out from the restroom and Lee says, “Okay, let’s go on up.”

By the time we get back up, more of the wives have shown up. I don’t really think Lee needed me to get him through hotel security this time. We walk over to the buffet table to get burgers for Lee and Gena, and then stand a little ways away.

Fisher finds us quickly. “How’re you feeling?” Gena asks.

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “Never felt better.” He rips a chunk out of his burger.

“You looked great,” Lee says. “Like old times out there.”

“Yeah.” He chews and swallows. “Good as I ever was.”

Gena looks worried but doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure why she’d be worried. She should be happy that Fisher is back to his old self. Less for her to worry about around the house, I guess.

We talk about the game and about Boliat’s team, which leaves Gena kind of out of the conversation, but Lee makes an effort to say things she can follow. I grab a third burger and a beer and am starting to come down a little off my buzz when a sharp voice interrupts us.

“Hey,” I hear a yard away. I turn to see Colin standing there, a beer in one paw. Behind him are two guys I only vaguely recognize; I think we signed them to the practice squad a month ago. But Colin’s staring at Lee. “I thought this was for players and wives. You a player or a wife?”

His breath reeks of beer. He points at Lee with the paw holding the bottle. Lee hunches inward for a moment and then stands up straighter. “I’m here with Dev,” he says.

“I asked, are you a player or a wife?”

“Listen,” Fisher says, “there’s no problem here. Why don’t you just go back—”

“Not talking to you, old-timer,” Colin says. “I want to know why this little bitch is here at our playoff celebration eating our food.”

Lee opens his mouth. I pre-empt him. “Hey,” I say to Colin, “Just keep walking. We’re having a nice chat here.”

“Who the
fuck
are you calling old?” Fisher’s voice rings out. Gena holds his arm, and I really think he might just clock Colin in the muzzle if she lets go. I don’t move to help her.

Colin turns on me. “Wasn’t talking to you, either,” he says. “I know what you think.”

“No, but you were talking to me.” Fisher strains against Gena’s hold, not as hard as he can, of course, but enough to make Colin take a step back. “You want to show a little respect, you pissant little snot?”

“I got plenty of respect for you,” Colin says, “and any other guy who actually
plays
this game.”

“Chill,” I tell Fisher. I’m worried about Lee, but he’s frozen, ears flat, eyes wide. I don’t know what’s up, but at least he’s not causing more of a scene, and I’m more worried about Fisher right now.

“No.” He yanks an arm free of Gena and pokes Colin in the chest so hard the fox stumbles backwards. “
This
motherfucker has to chill. You play on a team, you give everyone on that team your respect!”

His voice is so loud that silence spreads in ripples around us. Colin glares at Fisher, his ears down, and his fists are clenched, but I don’t think he’s going to try anything. I’m tense too, ready to go for him if he does.

Then Gena breaks the silence. “That’s enough.” She grabs Fisher’s arm and drags him backwards. “Sorry. We’re leaving.”

Lee opens his muzzle again and though I try to edge in front of him, I can’t think of anything to say to that, and Lee talks before I can get a word out, his voice low and quiet. “I’ll go.”

“No. Fuck that.” I turn on Colin. “You don’t like it, go stand in another part of the room. But he’s here with me and he’s gonna stay here.”

I see Pike making his way toward me, Charm near him. Colin just stares at me and says, “I’m trying to do you a favor, asshole.”

“Watch who you’re calling asshole, dickweed,” I say. “And if you call my boyfriend a bitch again, I will show you who’s a little bitch.”

Colin shakes his head and then looks between us, at Lee. “You people. Corrupting your immortal souls, throwing away God’s gifts.”

“My soul’s prepared,” Lee says. “How’s yours?”

“Shut up!” He flinches forward, like he’s going to start something, but I don’t budge. “You want to do something for this team, you should just get out! Out of here, leave him alone…” And then Pike is near us, and Charm, and Kodi, and Zillo, and the coyote is the one who grabs Colin’s arm.

“Hey, listen, Colin, just let it go. Let’s all just enjoy this, ’kay?”

Colin shakes Zillo off violently. “I’m sick and freaking tired of everyone just pretending this is okay!” he yells.

“We’re not pretending,” Charm says. Pike and Kodi stand off to the side, behind Fisher. “Come on, there’s lots of things to get upset about more than who Gramps wants to date. Like that Dijon mustard. What the fuck is up with that? My nose is burning.”

“Joke all you want,” Colin says. “This is a trave—a tragedy. No. A travesty. It’s…”

Zillo grabs him by the arm again. “C’mon, let’s get back to the room,” he says. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

“I don’t need to lie down!” Colin yells. “I need to be in a place where people respect the bond between a male and a female.”

But he lets Zillo drag him off. And then we all stand around and look at each other, and Lee finishes the last of his burger. “Well,” he says, ears flat, looking down at the floor. “Maybe I should get going.”

“You don’t have to.” I put a paw on his shoulder. “Fuck that guy.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m tired. If you’re not ready to go back, I’ll just…see you later, I guess.”

I’m disappointed, and angry at Colin for ruining the night. So I tell Lee, “Wait for me outside. I just want to go find Coach and tell him about this.”

He nods, but his ears stay flat and his shoulders are slumped, and right now I want more than ever to go punch Colin in his smug little fox muzzle. But I walk Lee to the door, keeping my paw on his shoulder so everyone knows he’s with me. And when he’s out the door and it’s closed behind him, I feel like shit.

Chapter 5 - Aftermaths (Lee)

I should’ve expected something like that to happen. I mean, alcohol—lots of alcohol— and emotions with all these people gathered together. Colin’s probably not the only one who feels that way. He’s just the one who’s most comfortable expressing it.

I sit in the hallway, tail curled around my ankles, wondering how this team can offer me a role doing gay outreach when Colin can make that outburst at a team function and the most anyone can say to him is, “You’re being rude.” Shouldn’t he be fined for it? Isn’t that hate speech? Maybe not calling me a bitch, not in a football context. I guess he could argue that it’s a common epithet.

It wasn’t my place to say more, I tell myself. I’m not a team employee and might never be. The truth is, though, I flashed back to Mother yelling, to myself yelling, and that loss of control that scared me. The cross around his neck, his fox’s muzzle, that species familiarity betrayed again—I wanted to open up my throat and scream, but at the same time all that rage terrified me, paralyzed me. Behind that, too, was the memory of my ill-advised attempt to get into the Firebirds’ locker room in drag, when one of the players spotted my false chest and things got a little bit rough. Colin was there—not one of the guys pushing me around, but also not the guy who got things under control and escorted me firmly out. Both those guys are gone, cut before the first game of the season. Colin’s still here.

Thank God he insulted Fisher, too; without that distraction I might have just run away, or called Colin a bigoted self-righteous asshole, and none of that would be helpful to Dev and his playoff run. I’m sure my movie quote wasn’t helpful either, but it was the only way I could think to respond, challenging but half-jokey if he got it, and allowing me to feel superior if he didn’t. Only of course it fell flat, because he didn’t get it and it just pissed him off.

Running away doesn’t feel good, no matter how much I tell myself it was better than the alternative. The hallway is empty and silent, so there’s no judge but my own thoughts. Two confrontations in just over a week, and I didn’t handle either one of them admirably. There’s got to be a middle ground between yelling and running away, but damned if I can find it.

When the door to the ballroom opens, I look up, expecting to see tiger stripes. Instead, I see the heavier figure of a brown bear, and Kodi walks over to lean against the wall beside me. He doesn’t look down, but he folds his arms and talks softly. “Dev’s talking to Coach. I said I’d come out and keep you company.”

He’s tucked his paws into his arms, shakily, and his shoulders are hunched inward. He stares down at the floor and a moment later looks over at me. There’s only a slight haze of alcohol on his scent; I don’t think he’s been drinking. Maybe it’s a personal or a religious thing. Or maybe it’s someone afraid of what he might reveal when drunk, what he might do without control of his desires. I can read body language well, and when he meets my eyes, he gives a guilty start. The suspicions I had at the Christmas party crystallize, and I decide to take a chance.

“I don’t think you should ‘come out’,” I say softly. Recklessly, maybe, considering what just happened. If I’m wrong, I could get kicked or punched or worse. But I don’t care.

And I’m not wrong.

He doesn’t even ask how I know, doesn’t act surprised. Maybe he figures coming out to be with me when we barely know each other is enough for a fox to figure out. Maybe he remembers our conversation at the Christmas party.

“It’s easy for Dev.” His voice is so soft, I need to perk my ears up all the way, and even then the whisper is ghostly in the empty hall. “He’s a starter. He’s important, he’s special. He’s got someone.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

Kodi shakes his large head, slowly. “I—I never thought I could. I dated in college, but always broke it off. I’d go to clubs, dress down.” He picks at his claws. “Nobody knew who I was.”

“Does Pike know?”

The bear twists his paws together. I know that gesture; it’s hard for me to stop myself from unconsciously imitating it. “We haven’t talked about it. I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Do you ever talk about your personal lives?”

He shakes his head, but hesitates. “I mean, I know he has girls. I try to talk about girls a bit, but it always feels wrong.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He looks down at me. “Were you always out? Not around Dev, I mean, but…you just seem so comfortable.”

I laugh shortly. “It’s been a long journey for me. And I’m not sure it’s over. Scratch that: I’m sure it’s not.” After all, I was just yelling at my mother, then frozen nose to nose with this other guy I don’t even know. Maybe my journey isn’t about discovering how to be gay, but just about discovering how to be myself. You know, without pissing off everyone I care about. “But no, I wasn’t always out. I was closeted when I worked for the Dragons. When my relationship with Dev was exposed there, I was let go. So that was my price for being outed.”

“So you know,” he says, and leans his head against the wall with his eyes closed. “Nobody’d miss a backup tackle. Nobody’d notice if I just…went away.”

“It’s a business,” I say, looking up at him. His pose stirs a memory, but I can’t place it right away. I rest a paw on my curled tail. “But you have friends who’d miss you.”

“There’s twenty guys who could do my job who aren’t…” He slumps, then bobs his muzzle in the direction of the ballroom door. “And there’ll always be moments like that, that make you feel…just worthless. It’s easier if I keep quiet.”

“I want to tell you that you don’t have to,” I say. “I’d like to tell you that you’d be making the world a better place by being honest. I think you would. But I think you’re right. I don’t know that the team would let you go, but…you know the situation better than I do.”

“If I had the chance to start,” he says. “I could become part of the team. Dev was lucky. They traded Mitchell! Beginning of the season, I never woulda thought…”

“Well. Corey did kind of dig his own grave. Hot-headed and reckless.”

Kodi nods. “Don’t think any of the line is going anywhere. Even Fisher came back and now Pike’s a backup again.”

“Next year, maybe. I mean, Pike might get a contract somewhere else and then…” I try to remember if Kodi is the primary backup. “There’s always injuries, always a chance.”

“I know. That’s what I keep telling myself.” He scratches the hotel wall with two claws, up and down. “Just another six years. Eight if I’m lucky. Then I can retire and it won’t matter any more. I’m saving my money. I won’t have to work.”

I push myself to my feet. “If you need someone to talk to, you’ve got my number, right? You can always call me, even if you don’t feel right coming out to Dev. I promise I’ll keep your secret.”

He turns to me, and I know I’ve only met him twice, but he gives me a smile, an actual smile, with something like hope behind it. “Thanks. It does feel good—”

The ballroom door opens again and Dev comes out, scanning the hallway and then stomping toward me when he sees me. Kodi jumps and says a quick, “See ya,” and hurries down the stairs.

Dev barely spares him a glance. “I talked to Coach, and he’s gonna talk to Colin, but he says people are under pressure and you can’t expect everyone to like you all the time and I know he’s not gonna do anything.” He smacks a fist into his paw. “We can’t even just fucking celebrate winning a goddamn playoff game. This fucking gay stuff has to…”

I flatten my ears. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe it’d be better if I just didn’t come.”

To his credit, if there’s even a split-second when he agrees with that (which I’d expected), I don’t see it at all. He meets my eyes and loses the anger, and puts a paw on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I say, and I feel a bit better. “But Colin’s got some issues. More than just whatever he did in college with the illegal money, I mean.”

“It’s just religion,” Dev says. “But I mean, I’m sorry I…y’know, sorry I didn’t do more.”

His ears are down and he’s looking past my muzzle to my feet, whiskers drooping, paws limp at his sides. I’m glad he feels bad about it, but at the same time, I don’t want him to feel bad. There are a bunch of things he could have done: he could have started a fight (bad), he could have insisted I stay (good), or he could have taken it up immediately with Coach (probably bad in the short term). My heart wants him to have done more, but my head tells me he did pretty much all he could while keeping the peace with the team. He can’t take my side against them. So I reach out and squeeze his paw. “It’s okay. I don’t know what else you could’ve done. You stood up for me.”

“Yeah.” He looks at the door, swinging closed. “Was nice of Kodi to keep you company. He feels bad for taking off in the middle of the trip to Korsat, I think.”

Kodi accompanied us to the café, coming along with Pike, but left before we all went to the gay club to dance. I hadn’t thought much about it, but it slots in neatly to his confession now. I wish I could’ve done more for Kodi. I wish I could do more for a lot of people. “I told him not to worry about it.”

That gets me a smile, maybe just relief, as Dev squeezes my paw back. “Look, you wanna get back to your hotel? I’ll walk you back. I can stay the night with you, too.”

I do want that, and so we walk on. But I think, too, that my moving to Chevali has exposed just how much I am still a stranger in his world. When I was only visiting every weekend or every other weekend, it was easy to say “well, they just don’t know me,” and “well, Dev just needs to get used to having me around.” All of the courtesy they treated me with the two times I was at Gerrard’s seems hollow now. Only Fisher and Gena seemed to genuinely like and accept me. Vonni, maybe, but he is a fox—though that didn’t make much difference with Colin. Anyway, they all just stood there and didn’t say a word to Colin.

Not that I’d expect them to. He’s a teammate. They live and die with him on the field. I guess I’d been fooling myself into thinking that maybe there was more there—respect, if not friendship. After two months of living with Dev, it’s harder to keep doing that.

All of that doesn’t matter now, though. I just need to tell myself to relax and enjoy the night, and then enjoy the week leading up to the next game. I need to be supportive, because Dev has a chance to have the experience of a lifetime in the next month, and if I do anything to mess that up, I’d never forgive myself. I’m not sure if he would, either.

There are phone calls I can make this week, though. Planning for the future.

That night, Dev is sore from the game, and we’ve had sex the last two nights, so I suggest we could just sleep together—really sleep—and he thinks that’s a great idea. He’s affectionate, maybe a little more than usual, and I let his tongue wash over my whiskers and muzzle, his large paws rubbing behind my ears as I press my slender fingers into the fur over his hard chest, feeling the muscles shift ever so slightly with each of his movements. It’s nice, just the warmth between us, and his scent and the custom of what we do in bed does get me a bit worked up, but I’m also tired and worn out from the evening, so sleep comes easily.

I’m still thinking about stuff in the morning, and Dev picks up on it. “You’re not still worried about Colin, are you?” He wraps his arms around me. “I told you, I talked to Coach about it. He’s not going to fine him or anything, but that shit shouldn’t happen again.”

“I’m not worried for me,” I say, but I stay in his embrace because it feels good, warm and safe. I curl my tail around his legs and he curls his tail back around mine.

“I’m doing what I can, but you know, football comes first.”

I can’t help flicking my ears back. That just makes me think about that meeting Brian wanted Dev to go to for Equality Now, the one with the senators up in Potomac. Did Dev remember that was supposed to be tomorrow? Why did he have to say it like that? Is he just making sure I don’t ask again? I try not to tense, to force myself to relax, because he’s going to be gone in half an hour and anything I say is just going to linger throughout the week.

It was a lot easier to just shut up and not argue about the same things over and over again when we were apart. Our times together were more precious, arguments could happen over the phone and be resolved over the phone, muted by distance. I wonder if the muting of distance was a good thing, if perhaps the arguments we had were just surface issues, leaving the deeper rifts untouched.

This isn’t the time for that. His body pressing against me is so nice, his arms around me feel so strong and warm, that I feel like a total ass. These are thoughts for later, when I’m alone on the plane flight back, for when I’m sitting alone in his apartment surrounded by the smell of him wondering what the hell is going to happen with my life.

So I turn my muzzle to the side and I kiss his arm, and he kisses between my ears again, and if he noticed the flicking of them, he doesn’t say. I turn, lift my muzzle to his, and wrap my arms around the solidity of him. For the moment, I try to forget all my doubts.

As soon as he’s gone, though, it’s a different matter. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, so I keep my phone put away, but I do wear a Firebirds shirt on the way to the airport in the hope of getting into a fight, or at least a snide argument (the kind of fight I’m most likely to be able to win). Sadly, the people of Hellentown, or at least the people coming back to or leaving it, are mostly well-mannered, and the worst I get is, “Hey, maybe I should send your luggage to Chesterfield,” from the airline agent behind the counter.

“How about Boliat?” I counter snidely.

That just makes her check the ticket again. “Wait, I thought you were going back to Chevali.”

I sigh. “Yes, I am.”

“I was just being funny, sir.”

“I know. I was trying to, too.”

“Oh.” She smiles at me, full-on fake smile, and hands me my boarding pass. “Have a nice flight.”

I don’t, not really. The plane is so full that even with the Neutra-Scent tissue I bring to my nose every so often, the scents of all the people crowd me, make me dizzy. I downloaded Dev’s e-mail to go through on the plane—the volume jumped after they qualified for the playoffs and after yesterday’s win, but I hadn’t been really looking too closely at it. Reading through just the subject lines is hardly inspiring. The tone of the messages is mostly positive, but there are still some negative cranks mixed in to the lot. Anything with “fuck” in the subject line I delete immediately, but even in skimming the rest of them, I still get surprised once in a while. A letter with the subject “You’re Going All The Way” begins “… To Hell” and just gets worse from there. At least that lets me turn some of my anger and frustration toward these letter writers. I write out responses to the nice letters and nasty ones both, and then delete the nasty responses right away.