Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  They needed a distraction of epic proportions to rein them back in.

  Next to him, Kam’s lips pulled down in a pronounced frown. Chuck was in front of them, trying to keep his lens focused on anything that would be usable for pics, but Jesse watched as Chuck kept his camera in his hand more than to his eye.

  “I’ve never seen them like this,” Chuck said over his shoulder.

  Jesse grimaced.

  “Ash!” Kam called out across the gym. When Ashton’s head snapped up Kam gestured for him. “You too, Miguel.”

  Ashton and Miguel eyed each other warily as they crossed the gym.

  “What’s up, Coach?” Miguel asked.

  Kam took a deep breath and leveled them with a look that had both kids shifting nervously. “If the cameras are too much we’re going to have to pull this. I’m telling you two this because both of you are natural leaders—the others listen to you and follow your lead. You gotta talk to me here. What do you think is needed to get everyone’s heads away from grandeurs of fame and back to solid ground?”

  “We’re nervous, Coach,” Miguel said. “None of us want to fuck up in front of the cameras.”

  “It’s a lot of pressure,” Ashton added.

  Kam scowled. “Too much pressure? Be honest with me. All of you being ready for your competition next week is the most important thing for me.”

  “For all of us,” Jesse said.

  Ashton fiddled with the tape around his hands. “It’s not too much, it’s just…new? We’re used to Mr. Dunn. We know he’s going to make us look good.”

  Chuck turned, a wide grin on his face, and Jesse recognized that look. Whatever thought was developing in Chuck’s head was going to be unexpected. And probably exactly what they needed to do. It was exactly the look he’d had on his face when he’d asked Jesse to road trip it to Wellings Field.

  “You know what else would make you look good?” Ashton and Miguel shook their heads and Chuck focused on Kam. “How about we take a break for five? Let the others know and let me talk to Coach Kam.”

  Kam nodded and Ashton and Miguel skulked off. Chuck stepped closer to Kam so he couldn’t be overheard by any of the other kids. “They’re freaked about looking like asses on screen, right? Put me in the ring with Jordie. Let them do exactly what they’ve been doing for the last month. They can coach me.”

  Jesse glanced at Jordie across the room. He was much bigger than Chuck. Much thicker around the neck and arms—and would have much more power behind every hit. “Why Jordie?”

  “He’s not a boxer either. Divide them up and let each side coach one of us from the ropes.” Chuck tipped his chin up, all defiance. “They’ll get to see just how human Jordie is.”

  Kam glanced between Jesse and Chuck. “You think he’d go for it?”

  “Oh yeah. Jordie is all Jersey swagger. He’d probably think he’s got this down just from being in the gym for the last few hours.”

  Jesse hated this idea—in theory, in practice, and definitely on principle. Chuck getting the shit beat out of him sat like a lead weight in Jesse’s stomach. “He’s way meatier than you are, Chuckie.”

  Chuck knocked the back of his hand against Jesse’s arm. “Which means he’ll have all the finesse of a rampaging rhino.”

  Kam set his hands on his hips and blew out a long breath. “What the hell. Talk to him and see if he’s up for it. It’s not like things can get any worse.”

  Chuck readjusted his helmet and opened his mouth for Kam to put his guard in place. Across the ring, Jordie bounced on the balls of his feet and grinned at the kids leaning on the ropes. His crew was stationed around the gym, their cameras already rolling.

  “You sure about this?” Jordie called out and did a few shadow jabs in Chuck’s direction.

  Chuck smiled as much as he could around the guard firmly planted between his teeth. Punching Jordie hadn’t been one of his life goals, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to at a couple of times since they’d met, so he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity now. He made a motion with his glove for Jordie to bring it on.

  Jesse settled the guard into Jordie’s mouth, clapped him on the back, and exited the ring behind Kam. They’d hastily split the sixteen kids currently in the club into two groups—one led by Miguel and the other by Ashton. That Jordie wasn’t a boxer was of little solace to Chuck. Jesse was right—Jordie was ripped, as only a good gym bunny could be. It didn’t matter if Jordie lacked style, the power behind his fists was enough to make Chuck hurt, even with all of the padding he was wearing. But Chuck had Ashton at his back and the kid’s cool demeanor made Chuck’s confidence soar.

  “You got this, Mr. Dunn,” Ashton called out. “Remember what we talked about with your form last week. Keep your gloves up and your elbows in. Listen to your feet.”

  Listen to your feet. It was a statement he’d heard a few times from Kam and the other coaches. At first, it had made him laugh. How the fuck did you listen to your feet? But that ended up being the lesson he’d picked up the quickest.

  Since Jesse’s impromptu advice in the locker room weeks ago, he’d realized that his greatest strength was his ability to move his feet yet still be solid. Once he’d internalized that and understood that he already had that skill, his ability to outmaneuver almost all his sparring opponents had fallen into place too. His punches were more on target than before. He could swish out of the way when he needed to move fast yet keep his defenses up.

  He cracked his neck and listened to Kam go over the ground rules of sparring with Jordie. Then Jordie was stepping forward, crashing his gloves together. Chuck steadied himself, keeping his gloves to his cheeks and his elbows tucked in. From both sides of the ring the kids were calling out instructions, laughing, and the volume only increased when Jordie attempted to take his first shot and Chuck deftly side-stepped him. Chuck gave a half-hearted uppercut to Jordie’s exposed ribs that made Jordie grunt and Miguel groaned. Jordie bounced away, his smirk no longer firmly in place.

  “Keep it clean, boys,” Kam advised. “Why don’t we stick to jabs and crosses for this session.”

  “I think he means give the newbie a chance, Chuckie,” Jesse bellowed from the other side of the ring and the kids all laughed.

  They played around for a couple more minutes, testing each other, and Chuck gave Jordie room to get the feel for how to hold himself, how to protect himself, and to listen to Miguel’s on-point coaching. This was a sparring session—more for fun than training—and Chuck was keeping it light…. Until Jordie didn’t.

  Jordie cocked his right arm back and his glove connected with Chuck’s jaw with a force that made his head snap back. It didn’t matter that he had a helmet on, the hit stung and was hard to shake off. There were groans from Ashton and the kids on his side of the ring, then a chorus of hisses and boos.

  So we’re really going to do this. Chuck faked a jab from his left and brought his right glove into Jordie’s cheek. Jordie stumbled and couldn’t keep his gloves up. Chuck took advantage of the opening, connecting with Jordie’s shoulder.

  Jordie spit out his mouthguard as he stumbled away. “Dude! That fucking hurts!”

  “Language!” Jesse chuckled and leaned against the ropes. “You had enough, Jersey?”

  Chuck smirked.

  “Hell yeah,” Jordie replied. “This is way harder than it looks.”

  “Good effort, Mr. Masters,” Miguel called out.

  They knocked their gloves together—Jordie’s eyes shining with mirth. “Is there any sport you’re not good at?”

  Kam approached and Chuck opened his mouth for Kam to take out the guard. “I think the answer to that is a definitive no,” Kam said for him.

  Chuck left that taunt unanswered. He wasn’t a pro at anything, but he was tenacious and flexible. Willing to go balls out for the adrenaline high. There were kids in here that had an actual chance of going pro someday, and they had more tenacity than he did. He hoped that maybe Jordie could step down his overl
y confident bravado and give the kids space to show him just that. He climbed under the ropes and jumped down, holding up his gloves so Ashton could help him remove them.

  “Thanks for the excellent coaching, Ash. Having you at my back made the difference.”

  Ashton gave a sad smile as he lifted Chuck’s gloves off. “Wish I had you around all the time to protect my back.”

  “Nah, you don’t need me. You got this too.”

  Ashton’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed, but before Chuck could say anything else Jordie was clapping him on the back and wrapping him in a hug, then prying him away from the crowd with promises of a rematch when his head stopped spinning. Chuck peered over his shoulder at Ashton, a disquiet settling into his belly at Ashton’s demeanor. But he was smiling again, surrounded by the other kids as they talked. Chuck shook off the feeling and replied to Jordie, “It gives you a taste of how hard they work, right?”

  “It’s humbling for damn sure.”

  He and Jordie headed for the coaches’ locker room to get changed and clean up, and Chuck took a look around to get a read on whether or not their sparring session had had the outcome they wanted.

  The energy of the club had shifted—less Terrier and more German Shepherd. And while half of Jordie’s crew was talking with the kids, cameras were up and rolling, but the kids were paying them less attention. Kam and the other coaches were directing the kids back to their scheduled training sessions, and the smiles on their faces were screen-ready.

  He caught Jesse’s eyes from across the gym and Jesse gave him a thumbs up.

  He couldn’t wait to show off this group to the world.

  “Really fucking humbling indeed,” he said to Jordie.

  Being at McLoughlin’s wasn’t the best idea tonight with how rattled Jesse was. And it wasn’t the pitchers of beer surrounding him that were the problem. Okay, they definitely weren’t helping, but it was Chuck who had him so off-kilter tonight. Watching him in the ring—tats on display in his fitted tank top, all fluid motion and power, knowing there was a barbell through his nipple just under that thin layer of fabric, being intimately aware of the tats that no one else in the room knew about, their meanings, their history…. All of it had been nearly too much to handle.

  If he was being really honest, it wasn’t solely Chuck’s appearance that had affected him so much either. It was the overwhelming protective drive he’d felt with Jordie barreling down on Chuck. Chuck knew how to take care of himself, and Jesse was well past the desire to ever lay his hands on anyone else in anger, but he’d been sick thinking about any harm coming to Chuck. He’d thought that being with Chuck five days a week—with them becoming friends again—would’ve been enough to clear his head and make him fall out of love. But the more time he spent around Chuck, the deeper he fell.

  He couldn’t do this anymore.

  He didn’t want to hide anymore.

  He wanted to be out, he wanted to be free….

  He wanted Chuck.

  “You okay over there, Sollie?” Matt called out across the table.

  He gripped the cooling cup in his hands and took a sip of the tepid coffee. “Yeah. Probably shouldn’t have chosen anything with caffeine. Feeling on edge.”

  Matt frowned. “If you need to leave because this is too hard then we’ll all go.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that, but thanks. Just been a long day and I should probably be sleeping instead of out.”

  Out.

  What. The. Fuck? Jesse sighed, picked up his cup and headed to the bar for a refill. It wasn’t as if he’d be sleeping tonight anyway.

  The number of people who knew he’d hooked up with Chuck was growing—Kam, Matt, Emily, Lila, his therapist—and all of them had been accepting. He had no idea if being with Chuck anymore was an option, but he’d never know if he stayed in the closet.

  He set his cup on the bar and leaned down, resting there, his head turned to the corner of the room where Chuck was playing pool with Jordie.

  The bartender refilled his cup and Jesse slid his hand around it, warming his fingers and attempting to warm to the idea of what it would be like if every one of his friends in this bar knew he wasn’t straight. The thought of losing any of them was terrifying, but the thought of losing out on a life with Chuck because of his own cowardice was even worse.

  He slammed the hot liquid back, winced from the burn on his tongue, pushed the cup to the edge of the bar then moved before his tail was too firmly entrenched between his ass cheeks. There was a line of bar stools set up next to the pool table and Jesse took a seat there.

  “Mind if I take winner?” he asked them.

  Jordie scoffed. “Fucker is just as good at pool as everything else. My ass isn’t winning this game, so whether you can take winner is up to Chuck.”

  Wasn’t that the answer Jesse wanted.

  Completely oblivious to Jesse’s inner monologue, Chuck guffawed and pointed his stick at Jordie. “I still think you’re trying to hustle me. You were never this bad at pool.”

  “Yeah, well someone kinda knocked me around today. Brought me down a few notches.”

  “Well-deserved notches.”

  Jordie shrugged. “Not gonna argue that.”

  Chuck leaned over the table, concentrating on his shot. “We never played pool, Sollie. How’s your game?”

  Jesse swallowed, trying to find his voice. Being smooth was so much fucking easier when his inhibitions were lower, and the coffee he’d just downed wasn’t doing anything for his chill factor. “You can take me.”

  Chuck whiffed, completely missing the cue ball and sending Jordie into a fit of hysterics. Chuck’s neck flamed red as he lined up again, this time knocking in the last of the stripes.

  “Shit,” Jordie lamented, all joy wiped from his face. “Guess Jesse’s playing you. I’m gonna get another round. Either of you want a beer?”

  “None for me,” Jesse answered.

  Chuck nodded, studiously moving around the table to set it up again and not meeting Jesse’s eyes.

  What he’d said hadn’t affected Chuck that much? Had it?

  Jesse stood, pulled the rack off its hook on the wall and set it on the table for Chuck. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say after blurting out something that definitely could’ve been taken in a lewd way. He didn’t want to take it back, though, especially if that was the reason for Chuck’s silence right now. Maybe it meant that there was still something between them for him to work with.

  Jesse grabbed a stick. “You want to break?”

  Chuck’s eyebrows were stitched together as he racked the balls. His silence dragged on until Jesse wasn’t sure if Chuck had heard him.

  “You break,” Chuck finally replied. “I’m going to sit for a minute.”

  Chuck started to weave around Jesse for the chairs behind the table and Jesse caught sight of a spreading red mark on Chuck’s chin. He frowned and reached out, touching his fingers to Chuck’s neck below the angry bruise, then pulled back just as suddenly. Chuck’s eyes snapped to his, held him, and Jesse couldn’t look away.

  Jesse tried to clear the thickness in his throat. “Jordie got you pretty good, huh?”

  Chuck licked his lips and kept his gaze locked to Jesse’s. “I’m tough.”

  “Oh, I know you are. Doesn’t mean I like seeing you take one to the chin.”

  Chuck raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like to see me banged up?”

  “Not by someone else.”

  Chuck clenched his jaw and stepped around Jesse. “It’s not like that with Jordie.”

  “I know it’s not. That’s not what I meant…. Shit.” He cringed—outwardly, inwardly, in every fucking cell of his body—and forced himself not to say anything else. He bent over to set the cue ball then sent it crashing forward. “I’ll take stripes.”

  Jordie reappeared with drinks and handed one over to Chuck as Jesse prowled around the table, deciding on his next shot.

  “Before I forg
et again to ask you, Chuckie,” Jordie started. “The release forms that these kids’ parents signed are pretty comprehensive and completely enforceable on our side, but I want to get a read from you on how much you’re making public.”

  “I don’t follow,” Chuck answered, staring at the table as if he were miles away.

  “In one of the interviews today a kid told us he’s gay. It was a great interview—really compelling stuff—but he’s a minor. You know I’m not in the business of outing people. Especially after what happened with you. That’s one battle I’ll fight with you to the death.”

  Jesse tried to school his reaction as he stood and glanced between Chuck and Jordie. “There’s a story there I haven’t heard.”

  Jordie took a drink of his beer. “I’ll let Chuckie tell you the whole thing if he wants. It’s not my grave to dig up.”

  “It’s not much of a story,” Chuck said before Jesse could decide if he wanted to know at all. The resignation etched in Chuck’s features said something entirely different than his words. “I got an assignment to track down where a certain player disappeared to on his off nights, and I found him with his boyfriend. Instead of delivering the pictures, I destroyed the memory card and quit my job. That’s it.”

  Jesse clenched his jaw. That obviously wasn’t it. “They tried to blackball you, didn’t they?”

  “Tried being the operative word there.” Chuck spun his cue between his palms, avoiding Jesse’s gaze. “It wouldn’t have mattered if they had. I don’t out people.”

  Jordie nodded, shifting in his chair to face Chuck. “That’s why I wanted to get a feel from you—artist to artist—how you’re handling stuff like that with the club.”

  Jesse tried to refocus on the table, but he couldn’t help glancing up to see Chuck’s reaction. Jesse’d heard a rumor about Ashton but hadn’t had any direct conversations with the kid to know whether or not it was true. Chuck’s expression was unreadable, so Jesse focused on his shot again.