The Locker Room (33 page)

instead.

Sacramento was eleven games up. They were playoff-bound, and

probably had been since December. Xander"s season was officially going

into June, goddammit, but that didn"t mean he didn"t have to play the last

game of the regular season, same as Chris.

Xander played his at San Antonio, on the tail end of a three-game

road trip, and Chris played his at home. Xander got back to the hotel in

time to watch Colorado—one game out of playoff position—almost take

it in the teeth to Boston.

“Aww, fuck,” Xander muttered. “Chris, goddammit, I
know
you

could have made that last three-pointer!”

Chris"s playing had been off since March—since the NCAA break,

when Xander had caught him spiking his orange juice with vodka.

Chris hadn"t missed his morning phone calls (although he looked

crappier and crappier during them), and Xander would have
known
if

he"d been playing drunk, but that didn"t keep worry from being a

constant roil in his stomach.

The Locker Room 187

He"d taken to calling Cliff at night, before bed, just to check on

him.

“Hey, Cliff, how you doing?”

“Look, man—I think he"s fine. But you know? He"s got his own

room. As long as he doesn"t stain the comforter or mess up the curtains,

he could be doing Jack, blow, and heroin in there, right?”

(Oh Jesus. Thanks a lot, you bastard.) “Is he?”

“No, Jesus, Xander, of course not! Or at least I"m sure about

everything but the Jack. Why don"t you call him yourself?”

“Because I"m texting him while we"re talking, and his spelling"s

better than this, dammit!”

(Sigh.) “Look, Xan, I"m not… I"m not going to make any

assumptions here about you two, so just tell me if I"m stepping over the

line here. But… my wife. If I didn"t get to see her almost every night, I"d

be drinking too. If she wasn"t here when I got back from a road trip, or if

she didn"t get to come with me sometimes—man, I would fucking lose it.

You guys… you were… you know—”

“Married. Say it. Yeah. For real. We were married for almost

twelve years, and yeah. That"s exactly what this is, Cliff, and he"s not

doing well, and we"re going to figure it out at the break, but right now, I

just want to know he"s okay!”

To his credit, Cliff remained exactly the same after that

conversation—the same good friend they"d had in college, the same guy

who helped Xander keep an eye on Chris as he struggled to hold it

together. Xander was grateful for him. Xander and Chris had stood up

with Cliff for his wedding, and now it felt like Cliff was standing up with

them for their marriage, and that meant something.

Between Xander on the phone and Cliff in real life, they managed

to hide the alcohol, keep Chris out of the bars as much as possible, and

generally help him hold it together for the last hectic, visit-less, six

weeks of the season.

So Xander watched Chris play the last game of the season with a

heart twisted with different wants. He wanted to see Chris play well,

God,
did he want to see Chris play well. He remembered that first

magical game when they were kids, and the way the beautiful boy

188 Amy Lane

seemed to move with the ball, seemed to fly with it, seemed to make it

magic. Even though Chris didn"t look as golden when they weren"t on

the court together, Xander could still see the vestiges of that magic

boy—he hoped he always would.

But God, did he want Chris home. Win this game, Denver went

into the playoffs, and Chris was gone for another six weeks. (Well, there

would be some time off in between, one week, at the very least, between

the last game and playoff season, but still.) Lose this game, and Chris

was home, cheering Xander on at the sidelines.

In the end, Xander liked to think his better nature won. Chris

finally landed a three-pointer, the buzzer rang, and Denver was in the

playoffs, and Xander was waiting to get Chris"s text that said they"d

meet at home.

The text never came.

Two hours after the final press conference, after trying Chris"s

phone about six hundred times, Xander was on the phone to Cliff.

“Cliff, hey—”

“Xan, I swear, he got out of the showers, dressed, and said he was

on his way to the airport.”

Denver was playing at home—it was maybe forty-five minutes to

the airport from the arena, and Xander"s stomach went cold, and then the

entire rest of him, down to his numb fingertips and his icy lips.

“He was okay, right? I mean, you know….”

Cliff grunted. “I know he still carries a hip flask, man, but I don"t

think he"s used it.”

Xander swore. “What was he driving? I"m going to call him one

more time, and then I"m calling the cops.”

Xander was cut short as the phone in the hotel rang.

“Wait a sec, maybe this is him.” Xander balanced a phone on each

ear, and waited for Chris"s voice on the other line.

It wasn"t Chris; it was a woman from the press. She wanted a

quote.

“A quote on what?”

The Locker Room 189

“Christian Edwards—he"s just been life-flighted off the freeway to

a Denver hospital. The paramedics say he"s lucky to be breathing.”

A quote?
“Oh Jesus. Holy fucking God.
Chris.
Where"s he going?

Jesus. I"ve got to call his family… oh, Jesus, Cliff, did you hear? Lady,

where"s he going? I don"t give a shit about your quote, just tell me about

Chris! Where"s he going?
I don"t give a shit! C"mon, bitch, you"re the

one with the answers!
Where"s he fucking going!”

The hotel phone exploded against the wall, and Xander was left

with Cliff"s panicky voice on the other end of the line.

“Just get a plane out here, Xander. You get the plane out here, I"ll

be there to take you to him, got it?”

“Oh Jesus.”

“
Xander, do you got it?”

Xander fought to breathe, fought to see, fought to think. His vision

was dark, pewter gray, like that first night, when the shining magic boy

had played some ball with him, talked to him, joked with him, took him

home, took his heart—

Xander had a sudden vision of that shining boy, fourteen, slender,

flashing smile, dark eyes all mischief, and then he saw him, clavicles and

knees, bony elbows, narrow jaw, lying in a hospital bed, broken and

alone.

Cliff was yelling at him from the other end of the phone, and he

hadn"t taken a breath in too long.

He pulled in air, and again, and again and again, and then, when he

could see the room, he said faintly, “I got it, Cliff. I"ll let you know when

I get there.”

He was wearing jeans and tennis shoes and a hooded sweatshirt,

with his wallet in his pocket. He left everything else in the hotel room,

and didn"t make another phone call, just turned around with his wallet in

his pocket and walked out, looking for Wi-Fi and the airline on his phone

so he could buy his tickets before he got to the airport.

When he"d done that, he called Mandy, and told her and Audrey,

and had them go in and take care of Penny when she fell completely the

fuck apart. While Mandy comforted her, he gave Audrey instructions to

have her packed, and then the number for the town car, and instructions

190 Amy Lane

for it to go and get Andi and Jed first. Then he hung up, glad as he"d

never been for his little “harem” of women to take care of Chris"s little

sister for him when he couldn"t.

Then he called Chris"s number, the same number Chris had when

they were kids, and the same old yellow wall phone, with a cord and

everything, as well.

He told his family that Chris was in the hospital, and that they had

tickets waiting at the airport, and that he"d be there, because nothing

could keep him away from their angel, his shining magic boy, and they

put their faith in him as no one had in his life.

Xander had grown up with nothing. Food, clothes, a place to

sleep—they"d all been iffy propositions for a lot of years. His profession

had brought him wealth, and he had appreciated it—he loved his house

and his dogs. He enjoyed his television, the basketball court, the fact that

he could pay Lucia to make him food he was not good at making

himself. But never in his life had he appreciated his money as much as

when he walked up to the counter at the airline and plonked down a

useless piece of plastic, and that thing took him to see Chris, and brought

their family too.

WHEN he got to Denver, Cliff was waiting at the airport for him, with a

hospital name and an update, and a grim, pursed mouth. His wife was in

the front of the car when Xander got outside into the chill, thin Colorado

air, but she stood up without a word and moved to the back of the Lexus

when Xander got there.

“You"ve got longer legs,” she said quietly, her full mouth turned

down for probably the only time Xander had seen her. Her makeup was

done, and she was finely dressed in a black pantsuit, but she was missing

her trademark earrings, and her mouth was tight and tense. Even Alicia,

it seemed, had fallen in love with his boy. “Now put it into gear,

Clifford, they don"t know when he"s coming out of surgery.”

“Surgery?” Xander asked, waiting for the details. When Cliff was

done giving them, Xander had to make him pull over to the side so he

could throw up.

The Locker Room 191

Alicia handed him a bottle of water wordlessly from the back when

he was done, and he rinsed and spit, and then came a little box of breath

mints. Cliff pulled the Lexus into traffic, and Xander looked behind him

gratefully.

Alicia gave a thin smile. “If it was Cliff, I"d need sedation.”

“Dammit, Cliff!” Xander started, but Alicia cut him off.

“Oh, honey—I figured it out a long time before Clifford did.

Nobody pines the way Chris was pining for just his „bro", right,

Clifford?”

“Right, honey,” Cliff said, so automatically that Xander felt a

surprised, rusty chuckle rattling his throat.

Alicia had been called a ball-buster by most of the NBA. People

said she was a bitch, and Clifford was P-Whipped, and her name was

used as a cautionary tale among players and fans alike when they were

warning against the wiles of the opposite sex.

But one look behind him and the note of tenderness in her voice as

she said, “I knew you"d agree, Cliff,” made Xander think that his buddy

was a lucky man.

THE family had made it there before him—Xander figured they would.

Penny had dragged Mandy along, and the two girls were clenching white

hands, as Jed and Andi sat together on a little couch in the private

surgery waiting room.

As Xander walked in, he was suddenly assaulted by Cliff"s words

in the car, and the sweet little moment between Cliff and his wife was

forgotten.

“Is he… his spine? His head?” Oh God. Spinal injuries… brain

damage… all of it came back, and Xander grabbed the doorframe,
hard,

because if he keeled over, there wasn"t a soul in this room who could

catch him.

“They"re fine,” Andi said, coming up to him and putting her

shoulder underneath his arm. He wanted to laugh at the idea that she"d be

able to support his weight, but he couldn"t. It was too close to the truth,

because his knees almost buckled.

192 Amy Lane

“Fine?” He looked at Andi, because her face was still tight and

stoic with worry. Chris was obviously not fine.

“He"s got some internal injuries,” Andi said, blinking hard. “They

were able to stop the bleeding in his kidneys, and they had to remove his

spleen, but it"s… it"s his legs. That"s why they thought there might be

spinal damage. He whacked his head pretty hard, and while they were

testing his reflexes, there wasn"t any response, but it"s because his legs

were—” She stifled a sob, and Jed"s arm came around Xander"s body as

he took Xan"s other side. Xander shook them off gently, and took their

elbows to lead them back to the couch. He was grown. They"d taken care

of him when he"d had no one—he could be their strength now.

“Tell me,” he said gently, when Andi was weeping softly on her

husband"s ragged denim jacket.

“His legs were crushed,” Jed said brokenly. “He"d punctured his

main arteries in a couple of places, and they"re trying to get them

repaired now. When they"re done with that, they"re going to start to put