Uncovered (Dev and Lee Book 4) (47 page)

“Are you attracted to him?”

There’s a long pause, which is an answer in and of itself. “Never mind,” I say. “Not important. Just tell him you’re not if that’s what he needs to hear.”

He gives a long, slow sigh. “Listen,” I say, “you’ve got a long off-season. But do tell Dev, at least. The thing about Polecki is…” My call waiting goes off. I check the number: it’s Gena. “Sorry, I need to take this other call. The thing is,” I say quickly, “that Polecki’s teammates all look like they knew about it already and were fine with it. So keep that in mind.”

“Thanks,” he says. “But I don’t think I can do it yet. Go take your other call.”

“Sorry, I’ll call you later.” I cut him off and pick up the call. “What’s up?”

Gena sounds calm, not too stressed. I take that as a good sign. “Hi, Lee. I just wanted to let you know I’m with Fisher now. The trainers let him go, but he’s got some medication and…”

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Well, yes. I mean, they seem pretty sure he’ll be okay. He sounds fine, but he’s really angry.”

“I saw him sitting on the bench. He didn’t look happy.” There’s not much activity at night in the park. Streetlights cast little circles of warmth in the cold, and people hurry from one to the other. Out on the bay the water is mostly dark.

“He says it was just one point and he should’ve been able to do something about it.” She sighs. “I don’t know. It wasn’t his fault.”

“No. I don’t know that there’s much else he could’ve done.” Though my mind is replaying that last blitz now, wondering if two tigers coming around the end instead of one would have made more room, if Pike’s slowness wasn’t a handicap for that play.

“So I just wanted to let you know that he’s…he’s okay for now.”

“I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”

“I’m glad he’s coming home.” Home, where he won’t be able to keep illegal steroids in a locker. Home, where he won’t have the pressure of the game calling to him. But there’s next season. He’ll want to keep playing, won’t he?

“Me too,” I say. “You guys have a safe flight.”

But she doesn’t hang up. After a moment, she says, “What did you think about that coyote?”

“I thought it was great. About time.”

“Right. I was glad to see it. I hope things get easier for you and Dev.” She hesitates again. I think she must suspect that something’s not right between us. “Would you like to come over this week, once things settle down?”

I don’t know if she’s asking for our sakes or for hers. “Sure. I’ll…I’ll work it out.”

“Okay, good. We’ll see you then.”

I hang up and think, well, maybe that’ll be a good excuse to have a talk with Dev. Or maybe it’ll end up just being me going over to their place. I rub my whiskers and wonder whether I should tell Hal to interview Fisher.

On my way back to the room, I go back to the conversation with Kodi, and I get a chill in my chest, remembering Kodi slumped against the wall of the hotel, remembering the resignation in his voice. I go back to the elevator lobby and dial his number again.

“That was fast,” he says.

“Yeah.” I try to sort my thoughts into the right words. “I just wanted to say, even if you don’t come out to the team or to Dev or anything, you can always call me. I promise I won’t give your secret away.”

“Thanks.” He sounds puzzled.

“I mean…you’re not alone. I know I can come off pushy, but I won’t think less of you if you stay closeted. Maybe you’re right and it’ll be best for you. I’d hate to keep it from Dev, but it’s more important that you feel you can trust someone. Me, I mean.”

“Yeah. Okay. I think I want to keep it quiet for now. But I will talk to you. Thanks.”

I feel better after that. I walk back to the room, where Hal is back at his research, and I sit on the bed, staring out the window at my new home town. After a few minutes, I find myself smiling.

Chapter 32 – Looking Forward (Dev)

Polecki is waiting for me in a quiet corner of a café across the street from a bar sporting rainbow flags all over the front of it, and a bookstore with pink neon triangles and those gay marriage bumper stickers with two male and two female symbols. The café is much more neutral on the outside, named the Portrait Coffee House, but when I get inside, I see portraits of gay writers and entertainers—at least, I recognize several from Lee’s collections, and I assume the rest.

The coyote is sitting in the back, and though he’s in a blue button-down shirt, he has a gold Sabretooths pin on the collar and is bigger than anyone else in the café—football-player sized. He grins when he sees me walk in and stands to shake my paw. The blue shirt fits him neatly—one of those things you notice as a rookie is how much better the veterans’ shirts fit, because they get them custom tailored.

It also sets off his blue-green eyes nicely. That’s something Lee taught me to look for.

Otherwise, he’s a coyote through and through, with tall brown ears and tan fur and a long tail with a black tip. The resemblance to Gerrard goes beyond species and the position they play: they have a similar build, a similar energy, but where Gerrard keeps his tightly reined, Polecki is grinning fit to burst and can’t stop his tail wagging. He bounces from one foot to the other in the short time it takes him to grip my paw tightly, warmly, and then let go.

“Hell of a game,” I say to him before we even sit down.

His grin gets wider. “It’s still like a dream.”

“This is two for you, right?”

“Yeah, but the first was my rookie season. Didn’t really play in the game that much.” He points at me. “You, mister, got a pretty impressive sack. McCrae was
pissed
.”

That makes me feel a little better. “I’m gonna watch a ton of your film.”

He flicks his ears back. “Thanks, but you got a good teacher there. Marvell’s the best. Wanted to be like him all through college.”

I nod. “He’s great. Steez is awesome too.”

“Yeah.”

And then we just look at each other. “So,” he says.

I laugh. It’s so weird sitting across from him, having a bond like I did with the guys I just left, only definitely not as deep, not as strong. But still, even though this is the first time we’ve talked, I know we have things in common and I want to ask him about them. “How did it feel coming out to seventy thousand people?”

“Almost didn’t get it out.” He grins. “I had to say it right out, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t do it at all, and then once I started I had to finish. But holy shit. I have never had more difficulty saying two words. I kept thinking, what if they boo? What if the Chevy guys kick me off the stage?”

“Yeah.” I remember the feeling. “Your teammates knew?”

“That I was going to come out? I told Rich—Yates,” he clarifies. “I said, ‘I think I gotta say it,’ and he said, ‘Do it,’ and Bridger was right there and he said, ‘Yeah.’”

“I meant that you’re gay, but I guess so.”

He laughs. “Yeah, some of ’em. They were mostly like, ‘Don’t bring it in the locker room and it ain’t a problem.’ Couple of ’em wouldn’t shower with me for a while.”

“Shit, me too.” I tell him about the period when I showered alone, and how some of my friends stepped up to show the rest of the guys there was nothing wrong with it.

“That’s great.” He smiles. “With me, I think it just stopped being a thing.”

“Good for you. Get ready for it to start up again.”

“Ah.” He waves a paw dismissively. “By the time the season starts, it’ll be old news. Half the team’ll be gone anyway. Happens whenever you win a title. Everyone thinks they deserve more money.”

I nod. “You seeing someone?”

“Uh-huh.” He looks down and taps the table. “He’s another player. I talked to him a little. He’s still not sure he wants to come out, but he said I could tell you. As long as you can keep it under wraps…”

“Of course.”

“His name’s Jay. Jay Cornwall. He’s a running back for the Whalers. So I get to see him twice over the season.” He lowers his voice. “We got a tradition of making good use of halftime.”

I laugh. “Really? I never have more than ten minutes to myself.” He winks, and I shake my head. “Wow, and I thought I had it bad only seeing Lee on weekends.”

“Yeah, so, that fox of yours. Is he in town?”

I hesitate. “No.”

He inclines his head. The barrier of trust is already lowered by his confidence in me, so I plunge on. “We fought a lot, the last couple weeks. I haven’t talked to him in a while. He sent me a message before the game.”

“What’d you fight about?” His ears stay low, his eyes sympathetic.

“He wanted me to be more active, to do all this gay rights shit. It was starting to distract me from football.”

Polecki nods. “You got a contract year coming up. Need to stay focused. I mean, you played well in the game, but you gotta keep it up. If you backslide next year, everyone’ll be like, ‘Well, that season was a fluke.’”

“Right, exactly. And I told him that, but he didn’t—well, I mean, he got it, but it’s just the kind of guy he is, he kept pushing me, and finally we had a fight.”

“You kicked him out?”

“Not really. He, uh. He left.”

The coyote frowns. “He got fed up with you?”

“Maybe.” I sigh. “I think…I think he felt like he was distracting me and it was better for him to be somewhere else.”

“So…are you broken up?”

It’s my turn to stare down at the table. “I don’t…
think
so?”

We’re interrupted by one of the servers, a ferret who bounces over to ask what we want and then gushes over Polecki. She keeps saying, “I’m sorry, but you were
so good!
And then after, you were
so brave!
I can’t believe it! I went and ordered your jersey online and I’m going to wear it every day and if you come back will you sign it?”

He says he will, and grins at me when she’s gone. “You get this in Chevali?”

“Not so much anymore.” I watch her leave. I feel a little hurt that she didn’t recognize me at all. Didn’t even barely look at me.

“I’m sure it’ll wear off.” He laughs. “My agent says I’ve got some hate mail but a lot more supportive mail.”

“That’s what I’m seeing, too.”

We look at each other across the table and he grins. “Maybe it really is changing, you know?”

“Lee—my boyfriend—my ex—” No, that doesn’t sound right. “My fox. He’d say we’re the ones changing it.”

“I dunno. I was afraid for so long. My boyfriend still is. He doesn’t even want to come out to his team…well, he didn’t. Maybe he will now. Even though you’re out and I’m out and our teammates are all cool with it.” His fingers tap the table. “And places like Millenport, Kerina, the south, the middle of the country. Who knows?”

“You don’t seem afraid.” I curl my tail around the leg of the chair, uncurl it again.

“It’s easy now it’s over.” He leans forward. “Did you find that? Did it get easier for you once it was over?”

“Well, um.” I scratch the surface of the table. “Do your parents know?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Great. Then I think it should get a little easier, yeah.”

He perks his ears up. “Wait, did you—did your family not know until you came out on TV? Oh, Jesus Dog. That can’t have gone well.”

I shake my head. “Worked out okay, I think, but…yeah.”

He laughs and settles back. I like the light tone of his laugh, and can’t help smiling along with him. “So,” he says, “we’re the UFL Gay Alliance or something, I guess.”

“Guess so. Want to do some PSAs together?”

He nods, the laughter remaining as a sparkle in his eyes. “I’d like to do that. Talk to teens, record announcements. You know, all that stuff you’re supposed to do. Grow this alliance of ours a bit.”

“It’d make Lee happy.” Honesty compels me to add, “And me too. I’d love to.” I feel again the relief at not being the only one, the gratitude to this coyote for opening up a world where I can say, “
W
e’re
gay,” instead of, “
I’m
gay.”

He starts to ask another question, but as if on cue, the ferret comes back with our drinks. “On the house,” she says. “Oh God, I’ve always wanted to say that. Would you sign one of our napkins?”

“Sure.” His Blackberry rings as he finishes and smiles up at her, a big long bright smile. “So sorry, but this is my agent. Gotta take it.”

He nods apology to me as well. I sip the coffee and take out my own phone. Might as well look at the messages, if not listen to the voicemails.

The first one is still that short one from Lee. Then there are a bunch from some of the beat reporters I know, and a couple from my parents. One from Gena, and one from Ogleby.
working on it
, he wrote.
will get asap
.

Working on…I check the history. Oh, I’d asked him to get Polecki’s number. If it wasn’t him, then…I scroll up and look at Lee’s message again. Free from the pressure of the game, I look at each word and I can see him typing them slowly, composing the message in his head carefully because he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to upset me or distract me before the game. I can see the focus in his eyes, the concentration, the importance to him of walking that line, and then I imagine him after the game calling up Corcoran or Rodriguez and saying, “Hey, give Dev’s number to Polecki.”

The coyote is talking about booking an appearance on some late night show, and hangs up a moment later. I put my phone away too and come back to the present. “Surprised it’s not ringing more often. Mine’s full of messages and I didn’t win a championship
or
come out.”

“Oh.” He taps his phone. “I have it set up so my agent and boyfriend and family get through. Most of the other calls just go to voicemail.”

“No shit. How do you do that?”

He laughs and puts the phone away. “My little sister showed me. I’ll see if I can get her to give you a tutorial too. What do you have?”

I show him the iPhone and he whistles. “Those are hard to get hold of. Still, should work okay.” He runs a finger over the screen. “Cracks pretty easy?”

“I’m hard on phones.” I put it away. “So how did you get my number?” I say.

He frowns, and his ears flick forward. “Gil—our GM—sent it to me. Said I should talk to you.”

“How does your GM have my number?”

“I dunno. He’s got your GM’s, I’m sure.”

Corcoran probably has my number, or a way of getting it. And maybe he was watching, and figured I’d want to talk to the coyote. Or maybe a fox called to tell him. “Oh, of course. That makes sense.”

He lifts his coffee and blows gently on it. The smell is rich and full. “So how did you and your boyfriend meet?”

I tell him the story—actually, I don’t start out telling him the whole story. I use the version I give publicly, that this girl I picked up in a bar introduced me to her gay friend and we hit it off. But then I feel weird, so I say, “Actually, Lee was the girl. He liked to dress up and he was, uh, pretty convincing.”

He leans forward again, voice low. “So that was the first time you did anything with a guy?”

I nod. “And then I…just kept going back.”

“You’ve never been with another guy?”

I think of Argonne, half-naked in my hotel room. I shake my head. “Not like that, no.”

“Ever wanted to?” He laughs again and holds up a paw. “Not offering. Just curious.”

I shake my head. “Recently, I mean, since we’ve been fighting, I’ve been maybe a little curious. But I had a lot of other shit to think about.” Saying the words together, linking our fighting to my curiosity, makes me wonder if there really is a link. Does our fighting get me worked up? Am I conditioned now to want sex after I fight with my fox? Not sure how I feel about that.

“I hear you.” He takes another sip. “I met mine in college too—well, when he was in college. He went to Hoffridge U., a little south of here.”

“That’s where we practiced this week,” I remember.

“They have a good football facility. And team. Anyway, I used to go to the gay clubs down there because it was far enough from here that people didn’t recognize me. Not that they recognized me that much before, but you know. Less chance. Anyway, he recognized my build or something, saw that I was a football player, and he bought me a drink. We hit it off, and when he got drafted, we just kept dating, because we both live in the same world, you know?”

Briefly, I let myself imagine that. “That’d be nice.”

“I dated some other guys, but they were always either starfuckers or idealists who wanted me to take them around the clubhouse or come out to clubs and didn’t really get the life, you know?” I nod, and he tilts his head. “Your boyfriend worked for the Dragons, right? I read that. Well, that’s cool. He knows the life, too.”

I startle. “You read—?” Well, of course he did; as a closeted gay player, he would’ve been following me and therefore my boyfriend. “Kind of. He hasn’t lived it, though.” Even as I say that, I wonder if it’s really that big a deal. Lee’s smart. He’s talked to plenty of athletes, he does know what it takes.

“Well.” Polecki laughs, takes a bigger drink of coffee. “Don’t know what your chances are of finding another player. I got really lucky.”

“I did too. I thought.” I bury my nose in my own coffee and inhale the sharp, rich scent. Lee would like this. I can detect traces of other flavors, subtle and nuanced, just at the edge of my perception, but he would be able to appreciate them fully.

“I mean, they’ve gotta be out there, right?”

I take a drink and snort. “So there’s one guy on my team…”

In the pause where I’m trying to decide whether to tell this story, the coyote chuckles. “The leopard, right? Omba?”

I blink. “Um. No. No, there’s one guy—I just found out recently he’s got a steady blow job…um, guy? I don’t know, is there a name for it?”

“Date?”

“Well, he’s married. But he meets up with this guy a lot. And he pissed me off. He gives me shit for being gay, so I went to talk to him, like, I know this about you. And he said it wasn’t serious. That it didn’t mean anything.”

“Probably didn’t, to him.” Polecki nods. “A lot of these guys have trouble seeing how you can actually make a commitment to another guy. One guy on my team asked if I wanted to blow him. Actually…” He grimaces. “He asked if I
needed
to. You know, like I was going to go crazy if I didn’t have a cock in my mouth from time to time.”