“Don’t you get it?” Jane said, hysteria pulling her off the bed to pace the room. “Somebody is going to figure out who I am. And I’m going to become that slut who was doing it with King Ulupoka and Sam Taylor at a party in front of everyone.”
“Okay, first of all, hands down pants is third base, not doing it. And wouldn’t this be more damaging for Sam and King than for you? After all, they’ve just been outed as gay.”
“Not gay,” Jane said, deflating. “Bi. They like men and women. Each other and me, in particular.”
“There must be something in the water at the Gulf Coast Arena,” Margo said. “Although I heard that Diamonte Weber of the Clippers just came out as bi, too, citing the Rebels as his inspiration to come clean and live his life honestly and without shame.”
“What?” Jane asked. “What are you talking about?”
Margo shrugged. “I’m just saying that the Rebels and their openness about their sexuality has inspired a lot of people to live their life openly, that’s all. Sam and King have joined a pretty exclusive club. And Sam is ex-military, too, a vet. That’s going to make a splash.”
“But they’re sports figures,” Jane said. “They can handle the backlash. Like you said, they’re not the first. People won’t like it, but it won’t ruin their careers.”
“It won’t ruin yours, either,” Margo said firmly. “You’re an ER nurse. If somebody comes in bleeding or having a heart attack they’re not going to care who you’re sleeping with, or how many.”
“I’ll be on night shift for the rest of my life,” Jane moaned. “I’ll never get another job around here.”
“Bull,” Margo said, crossing her arms. “You’re overreacting.”
“Margo, what are people going to say?” Jane asked, sitting down next to her and taking both of Margo’s hands in hers. “I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I’m a rule-book follower, Margo. I’m reliable. Dependable. Good old Jane. Suddenly I’m this wild woman who fucks two guys on a dance floor.”
“I thought you said you didn’t do it?” Margo asked.
“Technically, no, but you know the Internet. Pretty soon it will be double penetration with a cheering crowd gathered around.”
Margo blushed. “Were there other Rebels there? You know, watching?”
“Margo!”
“What?” she asked defensively. “That’s hot. I’m just saying. An NFL team watching you have sex, like you’re the main porn attraction? That’s hot.”
“That is not hot,” Jane said. “It’s…it’s…abnormal.”
“Now who’s judging?” Margo asked stiffly, trying to pull her hands away from Jane.
“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Jane said quickly, ashamed she’d said something so mean to Margo. “You say potato, I say patahto.” She bit her lip. “Sam says that his therapist told him there is no normal. Do you believe that?”
“What do you mean?” Margo had settled back beside her.
“That what’s normal for me isn’t necessarily normal for you or for the next person, and so on,” Jane explained, grabbing a tissue to wipe her runny nose. Crying really sucked.
“Oh, sure, totally,” Margo said. “I mean, look at Fifty Shades. That shit was outrageous, but all sorts of people are into it now. It’s normal.” She shrugged. “As long as everyone involved is an adult and no one gets hurt who isn’t asking to be hurt, no harm, no foul.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Jane said miserably, turning away from Margo. “But it doesn’t feel normal. It feels like everyone is staring and pointing fingers because I’m a freakish slut who’s with two guys at the same time.”
“No one is doing that,” Margo said softly.
“I know,” Jane admitted. “But even though I know it, I still feel dirty.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be in this relationship,” Margo said sympathetically. “I know you like both guys, but it seems like it’s making you miserable.”
“But I’m miserable at the thought of giving them up, too. Having two amazing guys taking care of you, worrying about you, laughing at your jokes, and in general being crazy about you, that’s pretty heady stuff. Not just that, but they get me.” Jane thumped a fist against her breaking heart. “They get that…” She glanced uncomfortably at Margo, but decided it was time to come clean. “They get who I really am. That maybe I’m not the good girl I’ve always tried to be, you know? They don’t judge me for what I like. In bed.” She bit her lip. “The sex was wild and hot and uncontrollable,” she confessed in a rush. “Like we couldn’t wait to fuck each other. I’ve never had that before. Never been with someone who was ready to try anything, do anything I wanted, and who asked me to do some pretty outrageous, delicious things, too. And afterwards, they were so sweet, like what we did just made them like me more, not less. Like they respected me for being so…open. You know?”
“I don’t,” Margo said longingly, “and now I am completely jealous.”
Jane spun around to face her. “But it was a lie! While I was with them, when it was happening, yeah, I was wild and into it. But I’m not that person. I’m repressed Jane, who just wants people to like her and approve of her. Not the sexy, confident woman they think I am.”
“Wrong.” Margo took Jane’s face in her hands and stared into her eyes. “You are that sexy, confident woman. You said it yourself: you repress her. They bring her out. When are you happiest? That’s really the question you should be asking.”
“Is it?” Jane asked, confused. “Or is that just a selfish way to rationalize what I want, whether it’s right or wrong?”
“It’s not wrong,” Margo said, exasperated. “Look, you haven’t even seen the pictures online, or the public reaction. Maybe you’re making mountains out of molehills.”
Jane looked at her hopefully. “You think so?”
“Sure,” Margo said. “Let’s take a look and you’ll see it’s no big deal.”
Chapter 32
Head coach Shannon Ludwig paced around his office, his face a thundercloud, while Sam, King, Tom, and Danny sat in front of him, squirming. King had no idea how they were going to get out of this. Two days since the pictures hit the Internet and the scandal hadn’t died down yet.
“All over the Internet,” Shannon barked again. “Were you filming a porn video? Is that what you set out to do? Threesomes”—he pointed at Danny—“gay sex”—he pointed at Tom—“and yet another Rebel ménage,” he said, pointing at Sam and King. “Three sex acts for the price of admission to one party. Congratulations, gentlemen, that’s going to earn you some sort of prize on the Internet, I think.” He laughed bitterly. “Boy, Cass and Beau were wondering when people would get over their sex tape. You guys have blown it out of the water. Cass and Beau are practically vanilla now.”
“Well,” Cass said in his Texas drawl, from the corner where he’d been sitting quietly as he listened to Shannon’s tirade, “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Okay, the fact that you even know what vanilla means astonishes me,” Tom said to Shannon. King could not believe the balls on this kid. “But, listen, coach, it wasn’t that bad. No one was actually fucking.”
Danny slowly raised his hand. “No, actually I was. Sorry.” He winced. “But you couldn’t see it that clearly because she was sitting on my lap, riding me. You know?”
“Oh, yes, that makes it so much better,” Shannon said. “That devalues the entire video. Good thing everyone can tell that King is jacking Sam off while Sam has his hands down his girlfriend’s pants, or everyone would be seriously disappointed in this amateur porn video. All”—he checked his phone—“three million people who have watched it on YouTube, not to mention the several hundred thousand who have seen snippets on various gossip sites.” He scrolled down. “Oh, I especially like this comment. ‘If the Rebels ain’t doing sex shows at halftime, I ain’t paying the price of a ticket, ’cause dick is the only reason to go see this team.’ ”
“Now, see, I don’t think th
ey’ve been following us this season,” Danny argued. “We’ve got a winning record.” The glare Shannon shot his way shut Danny’s mouth.
“Your teammates and I,” Shannon said calmly, indicating Cass and DeShawn Brown, who was sitting in as players’ rep, “have been working our asses off to change the image of this team and its individual players. We want the world to see us as a solid, winning football team, with serious athletes and a dedicated work ethic. With one party”—he shook his phone at Tom—“you gentlemen have managed to undermine three years of work. People are demanding the NFL disband the franchise. There’s a Christian evangelical group calling for a boycott of Rebels games, and petitions online for your suspension. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Sam covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. King pressed his lips together, not wanting to disrespect Shannon. Sam wiped his hands down his face. “You’re right,” he continued. “We screwed up. We acted stupid.”
Fuck keeping quiet, King thought. “I’m not sorry,” he said, standing up angrily. “I’m in love with Sammy and with Jane. What we have isn’t porn, or something we should be ashamed of. I’m not going to apologize.” He looked over at Sam, who was staring at him, openmouthed with shock. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I should have saved that for a little privacy.” He turned back to Shannon. “Maybe we didn’t use our best judgment out there on the dance floor, but I can tell you that what we were doing was an act of love and not some quick pussy and dick on the side.” He turned to Tom and Danny. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Tom said. “Go ahead.” Danny nodded, looking unhappy.
“What I expect from my team and my teammates,” King said, “is support. Our privacy was violated. They are dragging Jane’s name through the mud. She won’t even talk to us or see us, and she’s on leave at work because people won’t leave her alone. If it was Marian, would you treat her like that? Leave her to fend for herself?”
“Marian and Cass and Beau have conducted their relationship quietly and discreetly,” Shannon said.
“What about Ty and Brian and Randi?” King asked. “They’re always hanging on each other out in public. But the team issues statements about what a great ‘family’ they are, and how Randi is a hero because she’s a cop and shit.”
“They are a family,” Cass snapped. “They live together. His mother moved to Birmingham to be with them. They’re pictured with her, and with Randi’s family. The same as me and Beau and Marian. This is the first time we’ve heard of Jane.”
“So we can’t keep our personal lives separate from you guys?” Sam asked, standing, too. “We have to ask permission? It’s no secret I have issues. Well, guess what? They extend to the bedroom. Jane and King are more important to me than anyone else. They pulled me out of my private hell and made me start living again. They’ve accepted my faults, and my friends, and they’ve made me realize that I don’t have to keep apologizing for who I am or where I am or what I’m doing. You know what?” he said to Shannon. “I take it back. I’m not sorry.” Hearing what Sam was saying, what he was admitting, had King’s heart bursting with pride. King knew how hard it was for him to talk about himself and his feelings.
Shannon sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “I don’t expect you to apologize for being who you are, Sam,” he said. “Look, I don’t care who you love. I mean, I do, but it doesn’t bother me.” He sighed again. “What I’m trying to say is, you can have a relationship with King and this Jane person. But for the team’s image and the sake of your teammates who are working hard to change their own images and reputations, could we please keep the sex out of the public eye?”
“What about Jane?” King demanded. “She’s bearing the brunt of this, and it’s not fair. Sam and I have tried to take the blame, tried to keep them away from her, and it’s not working.” He sat down, suddenly tired and dejected. “We ruined her fucking life, man.”
Sam sat down next to him and put his arm around King’s shoulders. King would have been elated at this public display of affection if it were under different circumstances.
“I don’t know what we can do,” Shannon said helplessly. “Go see Melody Ann and see if you guys can brainstorm some kind of strategy that will help.” He sat down, looking as tired as King felt. “I wish the press would leave all you boys alone.”
“We promise to do a better job,” Tom said earnestly. “I swear. No more wild parties, no more sexcapades. Just solid football. You and the guys can count on us. Right, Danny?” he asked, nudging his roommate.
“Sure,” Danny said. “We’re solid.”
“Get out of here,” Shannon said impatiently. “Go see Marian. She’s got some new drills. And you,” he said, turning to Sam and King. “Go see Melody Ann.”
They left Shannon’s office, the two groups turning in opposite directions. It was as if Tom and Danny knew King and Sam needed some privacy.
“Love, huh?” Sam asked, walking at King’s side to the elevator, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Yeah,” King said, staring up at the lighted numbers as they changed. “I guess my timing was bad.”
Sam bumped him with his shoulder. “Nah,” he said. “It’s all good.” King looked over at him in surprise and Sam grinned.
“Yeah?” King asked, a smile breaking through his worry.
“Well, I guess if we were alone I could show you,” Sam said. “So there is that. But, you know. Whatever.”
“Right,” King said, stepping into the elevator. He reached out and tugged Sam inside. “We have a few seconds. You can give me the abbreviated version.”
Sam laughed, pulling his hands out of his pockets and hitting the button for Melody Ann’s floor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He moved across the elevator from King as the doors closed. “I might be able to hide an erection, but you? No way.” He pointed at himself. “Me, here.” He pointed at King with the other hand. “You, there. Tonight”—he wrapped the fingers together—“this.”
“You make a compelling argument,” King said. “Also, we need to focus on coming up with some kind of plan to save Jane’s reputation, get her back, and live happily ever after.”
“No sweat,” Sam said dejectedly. “That’s right up there on the easy scale with winning a war in Southeast Asia and licking your elbow.”
“Exactly,” King said, undeterred. “Easy. Come on.” He led Sam down the hall to Melody Ann’s office. Before knocking, he turned to Sam. “Happiness is this close, Sammy,” he said, holding his fingers a millimeter apart. “All we have to do is sacrifice our pride and our privacy. For Jane.”
“Yeah. For Jane,” Sam said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Chapter 33
“Jane Louise Foster, open this door,” her mother demanded, knocking firmly. “Enough is enough.”
“I can’t face you,” Jane called out, curled up in the rocking chair in the corner of Margo’s old room. She was out at her Aunt Vera and Uncle Tony’s house, in the middle of nowhere in Shelby county, about half an hour from Birmingham. So far no one had found her.
“Then why on earth did you come here? You knew your aunt would call me,” her mother said, exasperated. “Open this door and talk to me.”
“I’m trying to hide out here,” Jane said miserably. “But I hear the phone ringing all day. Everyone in town is calling to talk about what a slut I am.”
“Janey Foster, I will break this door down and slap your mouth if I hear you say that one more time,” her mom warned her. “People have sex. You had sex. I have sex, for heaven’s sake.”
“Oh my God,” Jane moaned. “Please don’t try to talk to me about sex.”
“I will carry on a conversation about sex at full volume through this door if you don’t let me in.” She paused. “And I will let your father up here and he can also share his sexual experience with you so you won’t feel so alone. He was quite a hound dog in h
is day.”
“I’m coming,” Jane called out desperately. “Don’t do anything drastic.”
When she opened the bedroom door her mother marched in, closed it behind her, and immediately began to inspect Jane.
“I’m fine, Mom,” she said. “It’s not like I was in a car accident.”
“Thank God,” her mother said. “I was expecting some sort of physical sign that you’re now the Hester Prynne of Birmingham. I’ve been cutting out felt A’s downstairs. Want me to sew them on all your clothes?”
“Very funny,” Jane said sarcastically. “Ha ha.”
Her mom pulled her into a hug. “I’m just kidding. Honestly, you were always so serious, even as a child.”
“This is serious, Mom.” Jane pulled away from the hug with a sigh and trudged back to the familiar rocking chair.
“You are seriously out of touch with modern ideas about sex and sexuality,” her mother declared. “Kim Kardashian became a star after her sex tape. And Amber Rose says that slut shaming needs to stop, and that women should be proud of their sexuality and honest about their needs.”
“What?” Jane asked, positively stupefied to hear her mother talking about slut shaming. Joyce Foster had a sensible, short haircut, and wore wire-rimmed glasses and elastic-waist pants. She did not embrace her sexuality. “How do you even know who Amber Rose is?”
“I stay current,” her mother said with a disdainful sniff. “We do have Internet, you know.” At Jane’s glare, she looked a little sheepish. “And also I found an interview with her about you and your boys online.”
“They are not my boys,” Jane said yet again. She’d been denying it for days.
“Don’t be an ass,” her mother said.
“Who are you and what have you done with my mild-mannered mother?” Jane demanded.
“I buried my son, who died too young,” her mom said with a tired sigh. “And on that day I swore to myself that I wouldn’t fail you, Jane. Nothing will ever drive me away. Nothing you say or do can ever be as bad as dying.”
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