| |
In the back of our cab, I sneak my hand across the seat and hold Tyler's hand. His hand is warm and big and he squeezes mine back.
The cabbie keeps taking peeks at us in his rear view mirror. I wonder if he recognizes us?
Tyler knows it, too. We don't say a word. We hold hands in secret and I watch all the old, familiar scenery roll by as the cabbie takes us to our hotel.
What a night. I know we've just lost Game 1 of the Finals, but I don't care too much about that right now.
I sure hope Tyler knows what he's getting himself into ... because I know where this leads for me. That's why I tried so hard to push him away. I can't go getting attached to somebody who isn't sure what he wants.
The cab drops us off at the hotel. We pay up and head inside. We make our way through the hotel halls, but Tyler gasps when we turn the corner.
“Shit,” he mumbles.
“Huh?” I look ahead and see what he sees.
It's Donovan. He's sitting on the floor, outside our hotel room. He sees us coming and hops up to his feet.
“Well, well,” he says. “There they are.”
“What's up, Don-o?” Tyler says skeptically.
“We were wondering where you guys were when you missed the bus.”
“I ran the stairs.”
“I see. Good excuse. What's his?” He nods in my direction, not even looking at me.
“Why do you care?” Tyler asks.
Donovan cracks a grin. “Well, I just thought I'd let him know ... Burkhardt had some interesting things to say after the game.”
I step forward to defend myself. “I don't care what he says, Don-o.”
Donovan apparently won't talk to my face. He'll only talk to Tyler. “Well, you should tell the kid he might actually care about this one.”
Tyler rolls his eyes.
“Apparently he was pretty embarrassed by the way you kicked his ass, Vance. Guess you broke his nose? Good scuffle, by the way. Anyway, after the game, Burkhardt burst into his coach's post-game presser and announced to the media that he's got a video. Of our kid, here—” he points at me dismissively, “—at a certain kind of club. And he's gonna release the video to the media if the kid doesn't hold a presser tomorrow and tell the truth.”
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“It's true, ain't it?” Donovan asks. “I knew it. Knew it. All along.”
“It's no one's business but Callan's,” Tyler growls.
“Tell that to Burky,” Donovan grins. “Because it doesn't seem like he agrees.”
Tyler gestures him away. “Goodnight, Don-o. See ya at practice tomorrow.”
“Whatever.” Donovan shrugs and walks off. “Night, ladies.”
Tyler unlocks the door. We step in and he balls his fists. “The nerve of that guy ... Burkhardt, I mean. Hell, him and Donovan.”
“It's okay,” I say quietly, gazing at my feet. “I knew this was coming, anyway. This is the bomb I've been waiting for.”
He shoots me a sorrowful look. “Is – is it true? They have a video? I thought you said he only had pictures?”
“Yeaaahh ...” I trail off, scratching my neck anxiously. “Ha. I lied.”
“Uh oh. You better tell me what we're dealing with here, Cal.”
I stuff my hands into my pockets and rock nervously on my heels. “Remember when I said the evidence was damning?”
“Go ahead.”
I groan. I don't wanna tell him this at all. “You're gonna think I'm a slut, man.”
“Just tell me, Cal.”
Sigh. “Alright. Well – yeah. That night I went to the club. Burky followed me. He recorded me on his cell phone, right. He actually went into the club to video record me. The GM pulled me aside and showed me the video before the trade, so I know it exists.”
“The fuck?”
“Yeah. Bad enough, right? Welllll ... that Jason guy ... the realtor. He's a real fuckin' freak. I knew the second I saw him I should stay away – he had the crazy eyes. But I let him drag me out to the dance floor. We were dirty dancing and stuff. And uh. I don't know how to say it, Ty.”
“Just say it. I know you slept with the guy already. How much worse can it be?”
“Welllll,” I chuckle. God, I feel dumb. “He uh, he kinda played with me on the dance floor. Played with my cock. I knew it was risky. I knew some people might have been able to see – but I never would've expected Burky would be right there filming the whole thing all along.”
“Holy shit, Cal.” Tyler covers his mouth with his hand. “And it's clearly you?”
“Yup.”
“But can you really ... ya know ... see what's happening?”
“Oh, yeah. Not like, in high-def detail or anything like that. But you can definitely see him jerking something hard that's sticking out of my pants. Sooooo ... yeah.”
“That's pretty bad.”
“Ha, yeah,” I rub my neck again. “And uh, then you see him get something on his hands ... and we head off to get napkins ... and he wipes his hands off, and I wipe my shirt off.”
“You jizzed in a night club? The fuck?” Tyler's face twists with shock.
“Yeeeah ... you know how easy it can be for me ...”
He slaps his forehead. “You never told me it was this bad, Cal.”
“Yeah I did. I told you it was damning, remember? You think I was freaking out all along just because of a rumor? Nah, man. The video is what'll do me in.”
Tyler is speechless. I can tell he's trying to think of some solution to my problem. But a solution won't ever come, and all he can do is shake his head.
“You really think he'll release the video?” he asks at last.
“Knowing him? Yeah. Probably.”
“Damn,” he grumbles.
“I'm sorry,” I say. “Sorry for everything. Like I said. I'm kind of a slut, I guess. Sorry you had to find out like this ...”
“It's okay. I don't care about your past, Cal. I know you're a good person.”
... I just wish I knew that.
“Thanks.”
“There's gotta be some way to protect you from all this.”
I shake my head. “It's too late for that.”
There's nothing left to say. It's time to get ready for bed. We've got practice tomorrow, and afterward we'll have one of the biggest media circuses of my life, I'm guessing.
I slide under my bedsheets with a sigh. Tyler climbs in with me.
I'm surprised. “You sure?” I ask him. “After what I just told you?”
He wraps his arms around my stomach and pulls me in close. “I told you I don't care.”
With his arms nestled tightly around my core, I feel a warm glow in my stomach. Something I haven't felt for anybody in a long, long time.
“Thanks, Tyler.”
***
I WAKE IN THE MORNING to the sound of our door opening and closing. Tyler's already woken up, and he comes in holding two plates of food from the hotel's breakfast. He jumps in bed next to me, somehow balancing the plates perfectly so he doesn't spill any food on the sheets.
“Mornin'.” He sounds calm, composed.
“Morning,” I reply groggily.
“Got you a plate.”
“Mm. I see that. Thanks.”
He sets it on my chest, just below my chin. I peer down my nose at it. Eggs, sausage, orange slices and grapes. I sit up and take a bite.
“So,” I ask with a mouth-full. “Run into any of the guys out there?”
Tyler takes a bite of eggs and shrugs. “Yeah. Tanner, McNabb, Nelson.”
“And?”
He shuts his eyes and gives a knowing shrug. “Well, about what you'd expect. Wondering what you're gonna do. Wondering if it's all true.”
“Yeah ...” I let out a deep exhale. “Man, I'll be happy when this is all over. It's gone on way too long.”
“So I've been thinking.” He begins, but he shovels another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. I wait for him to swallow.
“Yeah?”
“I know how we're gonna handle this. I think.”
“Run away? Announce my early retirement and disappear completely?”
“Ha,” he takes another heaping bite of sausage. “No. You're gonna play out the rest of the games.”
Tyler tells me his plan. Which isn't much of a plan at all. He just wants me to hold a presser and tell the truth, like Burkhardt demands.
“That's it? Give him just what he wants?” I shrug. “Some plan, Ty.”
“Trust me, alright. It's our only option.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. What choice do I have?”
We finish up our breakfast. Then it's time to get ready for practice.