“So, how long were you and… your ex, together?” he asked, probably to make idle chit-chat in an uncomfortable situation. I realized he probably felt obligated to stay and watch over me last night considering he was the reason I had downed so many drinks in such a short time. He also alerted the entire bar to my presence.
“Three years. It wasn’t anything serious, but I thought it could be.”
“You said he couldn’t handle your business?”
“Yeah, he’d rather jet-set than stick around at home while I worked. Going to races out of state wasn’t his idea of a vacation. He wanted Italy and France. I just want to race and build bikes.” Piling a plate with three egg whites, a croissant and one and a half slices of cheese on a plate I set it down in front of Parker. “Matthew wanted me to choose; racing or bikes, and I wouldn’t.”
“His loss,” he said looking down at his plate. For a moment I thought he was getting misty-eyed over a few lousy eggs, but then he just picked up his fork and started to eat.
I passed the pepper to him and finished cooking my eggs. “Yeah, well I just need to find someone who doesn’t want me to compromise who I am. Someone who enjoys my work as much as I do. Or at least can support my decision to do both.” I took a long sip of coffee and looked up at Parker who was studying his croissant. “Too dark?”
He looked up, his eyes locking with mine and I got a good look at the small orange flecks in his eyes as the sun filtered into the kitchen. “Huh?”
“Did I over toast it?”
“Oh, um…no. It’s perfect, actually.”
“Well, don’t sound so surprised.” I took a bite of egg and swallowed before I asked him a question. “so, why the move? Did you get a transfer or trade?”
“No, I um…left. I’m not playing anymore,” Parker placed his fork down and stood. “Thanks for breakfast, but I’m not feeling that hungry. Haven’t really been feeling well lately. Maybe it’s an ulcer.” He laughed, but I could tell like last night, that he didn’t mean it. It was out of place, and he looked like he was mad at himself for doing it. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, and you don’t seem to have a hangover.”
“Nope. I contemplated going to the bar for about two hours while I downed a gallon of water. I don’t know if that’s what did it, but I feel fine. Just a little headache. Thanks for uh…last night. In hindsight, I know I shouldn’t have ever gone to that bar.”
“But if you didn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to catch up.”
“Right.”
We both stood there awkwardly for a good minute before Parker moved to the living room to get his bag. “I guess I should be going. If you need to chat,” he dug around in his bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. “Here is my number. Give me a call someday. We’ll grab a coffee or something.”
“Yeah, and thanks again. I really appreciate the help.”
“No problem. Take care of yourself, Connor.”
“You too.” I walked him to the elevator and hit the button to unlock the lift, calling it to my floor. Once he got on and the doors closed, I realized that might have been the last I’d see of him. Although if he were moving to the city, chances were I’d see him again eventually. I doubt I would ever use the number in my hand, but stranger things have happened.
Chapter 4
Parker
By the time I got to the hotel and checked in I was tired again. I didn’t have much to do, except think about last night and this morning before my hasty departure. I didn’t mean to leave my number. I had no intention of letting Connor, or the rest of the world know my secret. If I’d stayed much longer, I would have blabbed. My emotional state was deteriorating more and more as I stood in his place. Not only had he furnished his apartment as I would have, but he also seemed to subconsciously remember everything about…us. From the décor to the coffee and breakfast. It was all a bit overwhelming. If he hadn’t asked me anything about why I moved and quit playing football, I probably would have stayed. Seeing as how it was an inevitable question, I should have guessed it was going to happen. I just didn’t know admitting the truth was going to hurt so bad.
What kind of man did that make me? A hypocrite for one. Always harping on him about his drinking back in the day, and here I was running away from something so much worse. I had to be the worse person in the city.
When the phone rang, I silently hoped it was Connor, but knew deep down he wouldn’t have called me so soon. He didn’t even come after me or call when I walked away from him all those years ago.
“Parker,” I said a bit too forcefully.
“What side, of who’s bed did you wake up in?” I recognized the voice as soon as he spoke. Nothing like an excellent razzing to lighten the mood.
“What do you want, Rodeo?” I said with an aggravated sneer, but he knew me well enough to know I didn’t mean it.
“Listen, Park…I realize why you want to leave Miami and the team. I get you wanna deal with all of this on your own, but someone’s pointing fingers.”
“Even more reason for me to get out while the gettin’s good. Now there won’t be any way anyone can point at me.”
“You think so.”
“What does that mean?”
“They already are. Your name was brought up in an interview yesterday with your old quarterback. He got slammed in that last game against Philly. Had to do blood tests and he tested positive. His agent must have told him to give the interview before the shit went viral. So, last night he got the big screen with the eleven o’clock news. He outed himself before the League could.”
“And he pointed at me? Did he name me specifically?”
“He said you left the team because the other players found out and were going to out you to management. Basically, calling you the ring leader in the whole fiasco. Not to mention that other incident.”
“See, Rodeo… this is why I left. I can’t get in with another team. I’m still the new guy. Who are they going to believe? The newbie straight off the assembly line or their long-standing quarterback? My career is as good as done.”
“I can get you back on the circuit. Or get you an interview. You can explain it all in your own words.” I could hear the pleading in his voice. I knew what it was for. Not to salvage my career, but his.
Randal Webber, otherwise known as Rodeo, had been my manager for the last seven years. I’d been traded to the Miami Reavers a little less than a year ago. Once I was on a professional team, we both got an increase in pay, and Rodeo loved his party money, as he called it.
“I’ll look like a laughing stock. Defending myself after my name was already slung in the mud? That won’t look good. No, I just need to lay low for a while until this all blows over.”
“And lose everything? You have offers right now! There’s no saying if you will in a month from now.”
“I won’t, not after Sharp’s interview last night.” I threw my fist through the air in defeat wanting more than nothing but to punch into the wall in front of me. But I stopped short and just rested my knuckles against it.
“I’ve got five just this morning,” he said, sounding proud of himself for being able to counter me.
“What for? Teams?”
“No. Mostly commercials. One is for a low budget movie.” He added the last as an attention getter, but he knew me better than that.
“I’m not an actor. I play ball.”
“You did. Now you’re going to have to rely on your fame to get other gigs. At least until another team is willing to pick you up. It happens. Besides, acting isn’t so bad, and it pays almost as good as playing does. For a newbie’s salary, anyway.”
“Fine. Email the offers to me, and I’ll take a look.” I hit end on the phone and shoved it into my pocket.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he had offers. Twenty of them before the interview would have aired, and the five from just this morning. I had my pick from cereal, toothpaste, and deodorant. None of which I felt inclined to look at, but Rodeo was ri
ght. I had to keep my face in the media, so I wasn’t forgotten. Other players had come back from this. I just didn’t know if I wanted to.
I went into the game knowing without a doubt, I would never get into this kind of shit. It was the same thing all athletes say when they first start out. Before they figure out what the demands on their bodies and time are going to be. The constant reminder that others have been around longer, and you’re expected to perform on their level. Nobody ever thinks about the hazing, ridicule of being the new guy on the turf, or the feeling of not belonging. So, when someone approaches you and asks the age-old question, you feel like if you accept…you will finally belong. Be an equal.
It was a stupid mistake. One I’ll regret for the rest of my life. It’ll also be a constant struggle to resist doing it again. The urge will always be in the back of my mind, but if I let myself give in… I’d hate myself even more. And that’s what keeps me dry.
Seeing Connor last night only cemented how stupid my decisions really were. I couldn’t go there, even though I’ve longed for him since the day I left him. I wanted so badly to touch him while he slept. To rest my hand and head on his chest. To feel his heart beating beneath me. I’d seen him only an hour ago, and yet I felt like it had already been another ten years. If I wanted what was best for him, this time I’d disappear for his good, instead of my own.
Chapter 5
Connor
Work was my salvation. After Parker left, my apartment felt emptier than it ever had without Matthew. There were plenty of times Matthew was away for work, and the space didn’t feel quite as…hollow. That was the only word I could think of. Parker was here for a fraction of a moment, and already his existence had an impact on my home.
I washed the pans I used to make us breakfast, and when I turned to look at the island, I expected to still see Parker sitting there. His presence was always bigger than life, and I always felt a sense of loss when he wasn’t around, but today was different.
Walking around the penthouse wasn’t much better than being in the kitchen. Everywhere I looked I was flooded with memories of Matthew. The man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. There were no pictures of us together anywhere, thankfully. It was the little things laying around. Like the seashells, we brought home from a vacation to Santa Monica Pier. Or the antique clock we picked up at a small thrift shop in Maine. We got that for a steal; the owner obviously didn’t know what he had.
Once I made it to the bedroom, I was reminded again. The king-sized bed sat in the middle of the room. My Adirondack theme stretched through the entire place. But still, I saw Matthew in the pillows thrown on the floor that he never slept with. Except for the one Parker had obviously used last night. I picked it up and inhaled his scent. His musk was ever present leaving no traces of Matthew anywhere on it. I laid it back on the bed and gathered the rest, taking them to the garbage shoot and throwing them inside.
If I stayed home, I would have spent the day cleaning every bit of Matthew away, and I couldn’t deal with that right now. So, after a quick shower, I slipped into a comfy pair of low-rise jeans and went in search of a clean shirt. When I found one on the floor by the foot of my bed, I didn’t hesitate in picking it up. It was folded with the shoulders pinned back and folded in half, preventing a crease from forming down the middle. Even without being worn, Parker’s deep sent was present. When I opened it, I noticed it was just a plain black t-shirt. I pulled it on, inhaling him as it went over my head. Being as we’re the same build, it fits like I owned it. As far as I was concerned, I did.
I grabbed my leather jacket after putting on a pair of work boots from my closet and grabbed my keys. Hitting the elevator button reminded me of how I felt when Parker helped me into the apartment last night. At that point the rum had hit me so forcefully I was barely coherent. The only thing running through my mind was that Parker was back, and he was in my home.
Don’t get me wrong, I was upset and hurt by the way Matthew left. More so, because of the reasons, he gave me for leaving. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me, he just refused to compete with my passion for both of my careers. Sure, racing came with fear and the unknown. Every time I got in my car at the starting line, I knew there was a possibility that I wouldn’t be walking away from it on my own two feet. If he had sighted that as a reason I would have understood. No, Matthew left because I had more enthusiasm for racing and building bikes than I did for him, and maybe he was right. I didn’t realize that until Parker called my name in the bar. I had started drinking to forget the hurt I felt when Matthew left, but I kept drinking because Parker walked back into my life. Last night I was brought back to ten years ago.
I grabbed my helmet, and my keys then hopped on the elevator to the garage. After locating my Ducati, I started her up and strapped my helmet to my head. The drive to the shop was full of thoughts of the night Parker left me, and more importantly the next morning when I finally sobered up and realized he was never coming back. My heart felt like it had been torn from my chest and thrown at a brick wall. Whatever large pieces were left were then ground to dust.
Drying up was difficult, but I was convinced if I did the work, and made him see how committed I was to him and how he felt that he would come back. After three years I finally realized it was never going to happen, and I vowed to move on. I just don’t remember how I managed to do that. Parker was my best friend. He loved me before I even knew he was interested. I figured he was a shit-head jock just like the rest.
He cornered me in the locker room one night after a game. Everyone had cleared out, and I was about to fill his jock strap with itching powder. He caught me just as I got the lock off his door and grabbed it out of my hand. His fist clung so tightly around the padlock that his light brown skin turned as white as me. His hand moved backward as if he was going to punch me in the face with the damn lock in his fist, but instead, he hit the locker doors beside me. He grabbed me by the front of my shirt with his free hand throwing me up against the wall of metal. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. When his fist on my shirt loosened and he dropped the lock to the floor, his hands grabbed the sides of my face.
For a moment I thought he was trying to make fun of me until his tongue begged for entrance into my mouth. I let him in and kissed him back, as forcefully as he kissed me. His hand snaked down to the front of my pants, and he cupped my cock through the fabric. It was a hesitant move that made me wonder if he’d ever even kissed another guy before. My hands wrapped around his back and pulled him closer to me. Making him move his hand and our dicks smash together. Even with our clothes between us, I could feel his throb, begging for release.
Then Parker pulled away just as quickly and walked away. I could see him adjust himself as he went toward the door. Then I did the one thing I thought I’d never do. I resorted to listening to one of those cheesy romance movies, thinking to myself if he turns before he leaves then he wants me. When he stopped at the door, his hand on the handle, he looked back, and like an idiot, I stood there with a hard-on and a smile. For the next six years, it was Parker and Connor against the world. The high school bully, and the shit-head jock. It took him a good while to come out of the closet, especially to his teammates, but once he did, we were inseparable even at school.
The shop was noisy when I pulled my bike in through the garage door, just like we liked it. The beautiful weather allowed for working in sunlight and gave the guys a few rays during the workday.
“Boss man’s here.” I heard the high-pitched voice ring out over the noise. Gabbie was working a pipe on the bender for a custom exhaust in the back of the shop. She waved once I killed the engine on the bike and took off my helmet, laying it gingerly on the seat. “What’s doing boss-man?”
Gabbie wasn’t your average chick. She wore a bandana of varying colors over her head to protect her long blonde hair from getting mixed in her work. She was tall and built like a Mack truck putting damn near half my crew to shame. Her work boots and tattered jea
ns were worn from working in the bike shop, and we saw her as just one of the guys. Even though she was very much a girl. I almost shit myself the first time I saw her out on the town in a tight black dress and heels. It almost made me want to fire her so she could show off her assets all day long working as a secretary or something. But she was a damn good fabricator and was an asset to my team.
“House is empty and figured I had nowhere else to be.”
“What’s ol’ tight ass up to today? Working again?” Ryan, my shop manager, stepped up behind me. His short blonde hair was spiked with some type of goop that made it blue. By comparison, he had more tatts than I did, and that was only the ones I saw during working hours.
Ryan is the annoying little nerd from high school. The one that follows the cool kids around until they have no choice but to let the nerd hang with them. And so they then have a convenient target. I’d like to be able to say I didn’t do that, but how else could I explain how Ryan started working for me. He just became a part of our dysfunctional group. The friend we all picked on, but it was ok because he was family. And we always took care of our family. Not those that shared blood with us, but those special friends that our hearts chose to love.
“Don’t know. He moved out.”
Gabbie looked at me with soft eyes while Ryan smacked the back of my shoulder. “Sorry, Connor. How you doin?”
“I’m fine. Just need something to do. Are the plans ready for the new bike?”
“Yes, sir. They were put on your desk this morning.”
“Thanks,” I said not waiting for more questions. I certainly didn’t want to give any more answers.
Ryan followed me up the four steps to the platform and up a ramp to my office. Luckily, he said nothing until the door was tightly closed behind us. Leaving the sounds of machinery muffled behind it. His eyes looked me up and down. I didn’t usually wear a suit and tie into the shop, but I did have a black polo shirt I always wore with the Fast and Loud logo on it. The same one he was wearing; except he usually wore flamboyant colors. Today was no different. He tugged on the front of his neon pink company shirt.
Connor's Achilles (Fast and Loud #1) Page 3
