Isolation Play (Dev and Lee) (4 page)

“
Hey,” he says, soothingly, “it’s okay. You’ll get over it, you’ll meet someone. You’re really beautiful, you’re sweet, you smell terrific...”

I should; I pay $30 a bottle for this scent. “I know, I know,” I say.

“
You had no idea he was gay?”

I shake my head, and then meet his eyes. “Well, there were signs,” I say, putting a little catch in my voice, “but I didn’t know what they meant.”

“
Like what?”

I look pointedly at the notebook sticking out of his pocket. “Is this for a story?”

He starts, sitting straighter. “Hey, no.”

I narrow my eyes. “Really?”

“
Well...” His ears fold down. “I mean, I need to sell stuff to get by. If there’s a good fluff story, I could sell it to some women’s mags. ‘Is Your Man Gay? Tips From Devlin Miski’s Ex.’ Shit like that—sorry, Miss. I mean, things like that. Anything to help pay the bills.”

I shake my head and take a sip of the latte. It’s hot, strong, and not quite as sweet as I like it. “What about, like, stories of how difficult it is for a gay athlete?”

He frowns. His ears stay down, his voice flat. “Those’re gonna be all over, this week.”

“
Sure, vague, abstract ones with no source.”

His ears perk. He takes a sip and puts down the coffee. “You could get me quotes from Miski? You think he’ll still talk to you?”

“
He just dumped me on national TV.” I give him my best calculated smile. “I’d say he owes me one.”

He rolls his eyes. “If you can hold him to that, I should get you to go talk to Cimarine.”

“
Is that her name?”

His ears flatten. “Yeah. She’s...”

I wait, but he doesn’t finish the thought. “How long ago?”

“
Three months and two days.” He barks a sharp, humorless laugh. “Not that I’m countin’.”

“
And did you have any idea it was coming?”

“
Hell, like you said, there were signs. One big one, really, but I didn’t think...”

I lean in a little. “Did you smell another guy on her?”

His ears flatten, and his muzzle scrunches up. “Naw. Naw, it was...something I did.”

“
Took her for granted?” He doesn’t seem like the cheating type, but you never know.

His ears shoot straight up. “Hell, no!” he says, indignant. “I never forgot a birthday or anniversary.”

“
Then what—”

“
Let me say it like this.” He clasps his paws together in front of him. “She didn’t want to hitch her cart to a stone.”

I flick my ears. “But you said you got laid off after.”

“
Cimarine can smell the way the wind’s a’blowin’. Like you can.”

My curiosity compromised by tinges of guilt, I sit back. It’s one thing to pretend to be a girl, but now I’m pretending I was dumped, and he’s feeling this false empathy. Somehow that feels worse. I swish my tail slowly and pick up my drink. “All right. Why did you say it wouldn’t last?”

He frowns, then his expression clears. He settles back as well. “Oh. I just think, y’know, if the boyfriend ain’t up there with him, then where is he? If he’s still in the closet, that won’t last. I know a gay basketball player, him and his boyfriend are both in the closet and they’re cool with it. But if one’s out and one ain’t...” He clucks his tongue.

“
Who’s the player?” I flick my ears forward.

“
Can’t say.” For the first time, his smile looks smug. “Look, I know the gay thing is hard. Talked to a couple ex-athletes, that one current one.”

“
Did you go to Dev’s conference expecting that announcement?”

He shakes his head. “Ain’t paid much attention to him, honestly. But I’m local, and I thought, hey, what else am I gonna do this afternoon?” The whiff of scotch reminds me what his likely alternative was. “I guess you didn’t expect it, either?”

“
No.” I catch myself before I smile. “I told you, it was a surprise.”

“
Any idea who the boyfriend is?”

Here I can’t quite catch myself before saying, “No, none.”

He peers at me, ears coming up. “But you have an idea. Someone he’s talked about, gone out to see...”

I hide my expression behind my cup. “I don’t think it would be fair of me to make a guess.”

“
You can smell which way the wind’s blowin’.”

“
I...” My phone buzzes. I reach into the purse.

“
Listen, Miss White.” He leans forward earnestly. “An exposé like that, it could get me a freelance contract, maybe a full-time gig.”

On my phone is a text from Dev:
4:28 pm: On way home c u thr?

I text back,
On my way
, and replace the phone. “So sorry,” I say to Hal. “That’s my ride.” I pick up my latte and stand.

He stands with me. “Please,” he says. “You seem like a real nice lady. And you don’t owe him nothin’, right?”

Again, I tell myself: walk away. But I think about Brian and his little blog. I think about the media’s reaction, and how we wished we’d known someone who could deal with the media competently. Besides which, I remind myself, he knows Corcoran. “You don’t believe that,” I say, slowly, walking toward the door.

He falls into step beside me. “You know,” he says, “I could write up your story, too. Tabloids’d pay for that. ‘Dumped Ex-Girlfriend of Gay Football Player Tells All.’ Maybe a book deal, even.”

I have to laugh. “Why would I want to tell all?”

We’ve reached the door, the sun outside turning the coffee shop interior into dusky gloom. I set a paw on the door, but he stops me. “It’s a chance to have your story heard,” he says.

A cloud passes over the sun. The shadow outside lasts for just a moment. I flick my ears back and put on my demure female voice. “Nobody wants to hear my story.”

He smiles a wide, earnest smile. “Course they do.” His whiskers twitch. “I know I do.”

The hope in his dark brown eyes turns them bright, glimmers of reflected sun in them. He’s holding out a card, white with a smudge across one edge and a folded corner. “Think about it,” he says. “If his boyfriend ever does want to go public. And I’d throw your story in as well.”

Echoes of Morty flicker in my memory, standing on a cold field in Chikewa Falls talking about Dev coming to the pro football scouting combine. I wanted Morty to take me on as a scout, and he said:
if Miski comes, you can come too
.

I reach out and take the card delicately in two fingers. “I’ll be in touch,” I say, and raise the coffee cup. “Thanks for the drink, Mister Kinnel.”

Chevali is usually too hot for me, but today the clouds are keeping the temperature down, and the sun’ll be down before too long, anyway. The light evening breeze feels good, ruffling my dress. When I swish my tail, I attract the eyes of a wolf across the street, earning him a dig in the ribs from the lady he’s with. I enjoy his reaction, but the real reason I’m swishing my tail is waiting at the end of my walk. My swishes pick up speed and frequency as I get closer to Dev’s apartment, like a ‘tiger counter.’

Yesterday when I was here, I was so proud of his performance in the game, so ashamed of the way I’d kept the secret from him about that one night with Brian, so anxious to make it up to him. Now I’m excited, but still anxious. I should put off worrying about the future. I can wait to return the messages on my phone. I don’t want to think about anything but Dev.

The elevator smells like him, so I know he’s home before he even comes near the door. My tail’s wagging and I’m in danger of producing a bulge in my dress that I’m sure the designer never planned for. When he opens the door, we’re wearing matching smiles, and I stop thinking about what my dress looks like.

“
New outfit,” he rumbles.

I touch his Chevali Firebirds polo shirt, pressing it against the muscular chest beneath. “Is that from the gay pro store?”

He yanks me in and slams the door. I throw my arms around him, but not before he’s wrapped me in his powerful embrace. “Did I surprise you?”

Pressed tightly against him, my nostrils full of the smell of him, I feel as taut and alive as a guitar string, thrumming with our music. “You surprised the hell out of me, tiger. But in a way...not really.”

“
Not really?”

“
You followed your heart. I didn’t expect it, but it’s perfectly you. That’s what I love about you.”

He sniffs, and squeezes me, without saying a word. I give a little “oof,” and wag my tail. “I think you surprised Caroll more.”

He shifts, pressing his nose down between my ears. I feel the warm exhalation through my fur. “She took off right after. I should call her.”

My paws slide down his back, cup his rear. “There’s something else you should do first.”

I feel his laughter all through me, in his stomach pressed to my chest, in puffs of air between my ears. “Shouldn’t we get dinner?”

“
I mean, tell me what Coach said.”

He stops, pulls back, keeping his paws around me. I look up until my nose is almost touching his, his golden eyes searching mine. “You want to talk about Coach?”

I rub my stomach into his hardness. “We have all night, right?”

His tail whips around to rub behind my leg. “Fisher wanted to go to dinner. So did Charm.” He thinks about whether he wants to go, whether he wants to take me. I think about whether I want to go. “Oh, and Ogleby, I’m sure.”

I laugh. “Oh, God, you should’ve seen his expression. I almost thought you’d outed
him
in front of the whole world.”

“
I only heard him when I first...” He pauses, remembering. “And then he was gone. But he called three times after.”

“
Just realizing what opportunities await the agent of the first openly gay pro football player. Probably he got a bunch of calls.”

“
Yeah.” He dips his muzzle a little further and kisses me. I arch up into it: a warm kiss, not passionate, although it could certainly turn that way, given that we’re both hard and pressed close. But no, it’s romantic, affectionate, familiar. I close my eyes and resist the urge to lift my foot daintily.

His tongue tastes like beer. I grin as I pull back. “Coach took you to a bar?”

His ears flick. “He’s got a little fridge in his office. I didn’t know.”

“
So I guess it went well.”

He moves to the couch. I trail behind, ears perked, and sit down against him. We face the window, the setting sun outside. “I think so.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder, fingers sliding beneath the neckline of my dress. “Hard to tell, with Coach, but I think so. At least it’s over now, one way or the other.”

He feels so relaxed that I almost don’t want to say anything, but I can’t help it. “Over?”

“
Yeah. All the hiding, you know.”

They have nice sunsets here in the desert, glorious red and brilliant gold that it hurts to look at, and around the edges, deep violet shadows. I lean my head back so that Dev’s head blocks the brightest of the light. Up at the top of the window, I see the gleam of a star. “Sure, the hiding’s over, but now...you’re gonna be a target on the field, you know that.”

He rumbles. “The guys’ll back me up.”

“
Some will. But you’re gonna have to fight twice as hard for the respect you used to have.”

He stares me down. “You think I can’t do it?”

“
If I thought that,” I say, “I wouldn’t’ve let you back into my apartment three years ago.”

His fingers press a bit harder. I lean into him and rub my muzzle against his cheek. “You think you could’ve kept me out?” he says, softer.

“
You think I couldn’t have?”

He laughs, again, and reaches his other paw over, sliding it under my dress and up my thigh. “I know what you foxes are all about.”

“
Now you do.” My tail shivers; I can’t help shifting into his touch.

Things might’ve gotten warmer then, except his stomach rumbles. I reach over to pat it. “Been a while since you had some food?”

“
Almost as long as since I had some fox.” He snuffles my ear. “We could order in.”

I flick my ear, squirming at the tickling. “I think you deserve a nice dinner out.”

He presses his muzzle closer, teasingly. “How about that spaghetti place across the street?”

“
The one with your picture on the wall? It’s good, but maybe something a little nicer. Like, with tablecloths.” I reach over and grasp his tail, my ear getting very warm. If he keeps this up, I’ll probably go back to the ‘order out’ suggestion.

But he relents, then. “Sure. You want to do dinner with someone else? Fisher, or Charm maybe? Or just us?”

My initial response was to have it be just us, but I’m reconsidering. “I’ve met Fisher, and it might be interesting to hear what he thinks.”

Dev nods, slowly. “You want to change?”

“
I don’t think so.”

He removes his paw from under the dress and smooths the fabric over my leg. “Liking the outfit?”

“
Well, I was just thinking. I mean, now, if you go out with any guy who’s not, you know, verifiably straight...”

“
Oh.” A little bit of tension creeps back into his body, against me. “I don’t care if people know I’m with you.”