The Right Words (20 page)

I could see the pride practically emanate from him as he stood straight and tall gazing out at his own personal field of dreams. This was his mecca. His place of honor and truth. Only the most callous of people would walk into a cathedral and criticize the interior, regardless of their faith. To do so would only prove the point had been missed. A cathedral, a church was built as a place of prayer to serve a higher power than any known on earth. A field like this might not hold itself to such a lofty standard, but even I recognized there was a majestic quality here. Nothing else would put such a worshipful look in Michael’s eyes. When I turned to answer his question, I did so with my first true understanding of what his sport meant to him.

“It’s impressive.”

“Yeah. It is.” His tone was reverent and held a hint of the longing I expected.

“So is this place usually full? It’s enormous. I can’t imag—I mean, it seems like it would take a lot to fill every seat.”

“You’d be surprised. This place seats twenty-seven thousand and I’ve seen it filled to capacity many times. But this is nothing compared to the stadiums in Europe. Those seat eighty or ninety thousand depending on location. Imagine that.” He gave me a wide-eyed, wondrous look. “And every damn seat gets filled.”

“Wow. That’s like a rock concert.”

“Exactly. It’s funny. Like any kid, I played in my backyard, at school or a neighborhood park. Over the years the fields got a little bigger and so did the crowds. Then… it gets a little smaller again.” His lips quirked to one side thoughtfully.

“Twenty-seven thousand isn’t so small.”

“It’s not, but….” He took a deep breath and fished his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket. I’d noticed him do this when we first met. He used the dark lenses like a shield. I knew now I should pay close attention. Whatever he was going to tell me was important. “Someday, whether it’s starting now or in year or so, there will be no audience. Full circle, I guess.”

“Can you see yourself coaching or—”

“I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead, and it’s stupid of me not to be thinking hard about the future. It will come whether I’m ready or not. Fuck, it sucks growing up.”

“What did you want to do before you played soccer? Doctor, lawyer, engineer, interior designer?”

He gave a half chuckle at my lame attempt at humor but kept his eyes focused on the field when he answered. “I never wanted anything else. I was never more free, never felt more alive than I did when I strapped on my cleats and picked up my ball. Soccer saved me fr—”

“From what?”

I watched his Adam’s apple move almost convulsively in his throat. “From me.”

“What do you me—”

“You know what I mean, Luke.” He sounded irritated, but I didn’t think it was directed toward me. “Here, I can be a version of me everyone accepts. No questions. Out there? Not so much.”

I silently waited for Michael to continue. He was practically vibrating with excess energy now.

“I was thirteen when I caught on for the first time I might not be like the other boys. They were talking about girls’ tits and who was the prettiest while I worked on technique and pretending to not have time for girls or partying or anything but the game. It was partly true, but there was more to it. I knew I had to keep to myself because the first person who ever made my heart flip and my hands sweat wasn’t a girl at all.

“I tried so hard to ignore the feeling. I prayed extra hard at church. I got my homework done early and offered to do extra chores for my parents. My brothers and sisters gave me a hard time, and even my mom and dad wondered what the deal was. ‘Are you okay, Son? You can tell us anything.’” He snorted derisively. “Yeah right. I could never tell them. Ever. This… this had to be a punishment or a test from God. I had to fight it somehow. I was just a kid, but I was tortured by fear. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong to be this way. So I concentrated on what I was good at. Soccer.”

He looked at me sharply as though willing me to understand him.

“Soccer never let me down. It gave me opportunity beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve lived all over Europe, played with some of the best athletes the sport’s ever seen, traveled the world and made a fuckload of money. And yet, one thing never changed. Me. I can’t shake this”—he beat hard on his chest—“feeling inside me. When I was seventeen I met Alex and decided I shouldn’t fight so hard. As long as I was careful to hide, I could have it all. And I’ve been very careful.”

“Who’s Alex?”

“Alex is my best friend, but years ago we were a little more than that.” He bit his lip and stared back at the field. “We played for the same club. He was a forward and he was good, but I was faster. We were always competing for speed, and I always won. One afternoon, we stayed after practice to race. We didn’t tell anyone. We practiced more drills until everyone left and we were alone. Then we set up a sprint and a long-distance run, and guess who won? I teased him all the way back to the locker room. When I went to pick up my bag, he knocked into me hard. We got into a fight. It wasn’t any big deal, but there was no one there to break it up, so it went on longer than it should have. Alex pushed me into one of the lockers hard and it cut into my back. I was pissed, but it hurt. I closed my eyes for a second and he was in my face. ‘Dude, are you okay? I’m sorry. Let me see. Are you hurt?’ When I opened my eyes, he was so close. Normally I would have shoved him away and yeah, I probably would have called him a name similar to the one Tonio used yesterday. But I didn’t. I let him fuss and I even turned around so he could see the scrape on my back. He never really moved. He was inches away from me, feeling my skin and… I could feel my dick getting hard just being near him. I didn’t know how to hide it. I remember staring at him while he asked for the umpteenth time if I was okay and thinking, ‘Fuck, he’s pretty. I want to kiss him.’ Kind of like I feel standing here next to you now.” He winked playfully.

“Did you?”

“He kissed me first,” Michael said with a grin. “The rest is history.”

“What’s the history? Is he still your boyfriend? Do you have an open relationship or something? Or is he going to kick my ass for suck—”

“Shh! You’re lucky Jorge doesn’t speak English,
cariño
.”

“You mean I’m lucky we’re alone in a ginormous stadium?” I corrected him snarkily.

He rolled his eyes and reached out to smooth my hair from my forehead. The gesture was sweet. I wanted to lean into his touch, but I wanted answers more. Who was Alex?

“History means it’s over and has been for a long time. Alex and I were each other’s first everything. First kiss, first hand job, first blowjob, first fuck. And miraculously we stayed best friends. It was a secret relationship, though. No one knew about us. Well, actually his dad caught us once but—”

“Oh my God!”

“He was surprisingly cool. I think he’d suspected for a while. Whatever. We haven’t been anything more than friends for a decade. At least. We played for different teams and lived in different countries. That’s not conducive to maintaining a relationship, you know?”

“Does he still play too?”

“No. He retired last year.”

“Why? Did he get injured?”

“No. He… he wanted to….”

“What?”

“Come out.”

“Oh. I’m guessing he didn’t.”

“No. I think he will eventually. Alex is… Alex. You’d have to meet him to understand. He was in love and was ready to declare it to the world but…. His father talked him out of it around the same time he was cut from the team and his lover called it quits.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah. There were probably other circumstances at play there. Alex’s story is his own. Mine is mine. Professional athletes can only play professionally for so long anyway. I understand that. Something will change for me. It may be a matter of a month, six months or a few years. I don’t know how it will shake down. In the meantime I’m going with my plan to get better, play again, and hope Jamie is all talk and no action.”

He sighed heavily. “The only reason I’m telling you all this is so you see a little piece of my world. This is where I’m from, Luke. A place where family, God, and
fútbol
reign… the order depends on who you talk to, of course.” He winked again and rubbed my shoulder playfully. “Let’s go, sexy. No more daydreaming.”

“S
OMEBODY
IS
daydreamin’ more than usual,” Brandon singsonged. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Lukey?”

Brandon was perched on the stool near his designer distressed-wood-topped cashier counter. He’d just opened the front door and a few customers had wandered in to shop and escape the unseasonably warm October Saturday morning. I’d been spending so much time at the beach lately that the fifteen-to-twenty-degree shift in temperature bugged me. I would have preferred wearing a lightweight sweater to ward off the marine-layer chill to sifting through my summer shirts to find one that didn’t scream “Fourth of July.” I couldn’t help it. I took color and mood very seriously, even in my wardrobe.

I gave my best friend an innocent “whatever do you mean?” look he was quick to intercept.

“Don’t even. I know you too well. Must be the not-so-straight soccer player. Fess up!”

“Bran….”

“Here in body but the mind is far, far away. Come back to me, Lukey. Come back!” Brandon altered his voice to sound like a damsel in distress. I cracked up and rolled my eyes.

“You’re goofy. And weird,” I maturely pointed out. “But if you must know, I’m thinking about the job.”

“Oh right. The job… not the client.” Bran snapped his fingers in true diva fashion and gave me a sarcastic look.

“Exactly. The job. The plumber started last week, and Monday will be anoth—”

“I know, I know, no need for boring details. I’m only interested in your Latin lover.” Bran waved to a couple walking into the store but his attention was definitely on me. Great.

“He’s not my lover,” I lied through my teeth as I turned to ring up a pretty young girl purchasing a picture frame.

“Not yet.” Brandon smiled sweetly. The moment the customer was gone, he bumped my hip playfully and nudged me with his elbow. “Lukey, I have a feeling that may be just what you need, though.”

“What?”

“A light affair to keep the ghosts at bay.”

I laughed out loud. “Where do you get that stuff? ‘Ghosts at bay’?”

“I won’t be sidetracked… but it is a good one, huh? My point is simple. In fact, the whole equation is simple really. Sex is good. Actually it’s great. And you’re both unattached gay men, so why not?”

“Um, let’s see….” I cocked my head as though pondering his suggestion.

I hadn’t shared any juicy details of the past week with my best friend, and it was killing me. When I’d lived up north and held back the not so fantastic ins and outs of my life from him, I’d felt terribly alone. Now we spent every Saturday together and I kept the majority of my worldly possessions in his guest room, but I still hadn’t divulged the more tumultuous recent events surrounding my client and his stalking, sleazy ex. I was dying to, but I promised Michael I wouldn’t say a word.

Another part of me savored having a delicious secret. I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking Michael and I had a chance at a future. I refused to fall for a closet case, and the man had way too much crazy surrounding him for my taste. But for the duration of the remodel, I’d happily take his pleasant company, his proud determination, and any sexual overture he offered. I liked him. We’d become friends over the past month, and when this was over, I hoped we still would be.

I tried to figure out how to skirt around Brandon’s well-meaning push toward the sex life he was certain I needed. I decided to go with the obvious answers.

“Reason number one: he’s my client. Reason number two: I’m a head case. Reason num—”

“You are not a head case!” Brandon smacked his hand on the countertop hard, startling me and effectively alerting the entire store that at least one of us was a little deranged.

“Keep your voice down and don’t be ridiculous!”

“Why is it so ridiculous? I’ve been thinking about… things… and I think the best way to get rid of the creepy past is to take a more
active
approach. Get my meaning?” Brandon winked once for emphasis.

I shook my head. “Seriously, Bran? Yes, Michael is very… attractive, but I’m working for him. Like I worked for Neil and we all saw how great that turned out.”

“Neil was slime. A disgusting, cowardly prick. An unfortunate lesson. But, baby, not all men are like him. And while you are technically working for Michael on his home, it isn’t like working for Neil’s firm. This is a short-term deal. My point is only that, well, maybe it’s time for you to come out from behind that big wall you’ve built up and have some fun. Maybe the soccer boy isn’t the one. Lord knows Trevor isn’t the one for me. But I’m not going to wait around for my true Prince Charming to come to my rescue. He’s taking his sweet time as it is!” Brandon did one of his fabulous head bobs, making us both giggle before he continued, “I don’t want you to be alone, Luke. It’s time to start living again. Really living, not going through the motions.”