First Position

by Prescott Lane

  Eric was driving to the hospital when she called. “I’m so sorry about the other day at my house. I didn’t have sex with Molly. You have to believe me.”

  “Eric, it doesn’t matter whether you had sex with her or not.” Emory rose from Mason’s lap and stood with her back to him. “You knew I was coming over. You did it on purpose to hurt me.” Mason grabbed her butt, and Emory swatted his hand away.

  “This has gotten so out of hand, Emory. A week ago, we were planning our wedding. Can we get together tonight and just talk?”

  “No,” Emory said flatly.

  “Please, Emory, just dinner. We can go to that little French place where I took you for your birthday. That was the first night you slept over, and we . . . .”

  Mason snatched the phone from her hand, having heard enough already. “She has plans for dinner tonight, fuck face.” Emory crossed her arms, staring at Mason furiously, but he winked at her. “And after dinner, too.”

  “You’re the guy from the other night? Give the phone back to Emory.”

  “Listen up, asshole,” Mason barked. “Stop calling her. Stop texting her. It’s fucking over.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Well, let me offer a suggestion then. Just go back to banging your wedding planner.”

  Eric jammed on the brakes of his car and swerved to the side of the road, putting the car in park. “She told you about that?”

  “Fucking right she told me. And if you ever lay your hands on her again, I’ll beat the piss out of you with a bedpan!”

  Emory threw her hands in the air. As flattering as it was to have two guys fighting over her, she’d now heard enough. She grabbed Mason’s arm and took the phone. “Eric, I. . . .”

  Eric cut her off. “I can’t believe you told him about what happened with Molly!”

  “I didn’t think it was a big secret, and I was pretty shaken up about it.”

  “So you confide in him?” Eric put his head on the steering wheel, cars whizzing past. “He obviously stayed the night! You must be fucking this guy!”

  Mason smiled at Emory. I wish.

  “How could you do this to us?” Eric asked.

  “I swear I’m not having sex with anyone,” she said, a tear falling down her cheek. “I never cheated on you, just like I’m sure you never cheated with Molly. I know you don’t believe me, but that’s the truth. Now, please stop calling and texting me. It’s over.”

  Emory hung up and threw her phone on the bed, storming into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She dropped to the floor next to the bathtub and began to sob. I hate hurting Eric, and Mason is infuriating. After a few minutes, she heard a soft knock on the door. “Go away!” Mason opened the door and peeked inside. Emory fired a towel at him. “I said go away!”

  He briefly thought about giving her some space but decided against it. He was unable to hide his pleasure. He walked into the bathroom and kneeled in front of her, placing his hands on her bare calves. “I don’t think we have to worry about Eric calling anymore.”

  “Because he thinks I’m a slut.” Emory kicked him with her foot, sending him flat on his ass. “Was that your plan all along?”

  “I came up with it on the spot.” Mason smiled, getting back on his knees. “Seemed to work out well.”

  “Let me tell you something,” she said, pointing her finger in his face. “I know what it’s like to be dumped and have your ex fuck someone two seconds later. It doesn’t work out well.”

  Mason’s lips closed into a tight line. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get rid of him.”

  “Just go away!”

  Mason limped to his feet and walked to the kitchen to clean up, picking up the breakfast tray along the way. He hoped that if he did some chores, he’d get back in her good graces. Then he saw Emory gathering her photography equipment in the den, seeing her nose and eyes were red.

  “I have to go,” she said without looking at him and made her way to the front door. “I have appointments all day.”

  “Em, don’t leave like this.” He moved cautiously towards her.

  She held up a hand, freezing him a few feet from her. “I’m running late.”

  “Em, I’m sorry. OK?”

  “You got exactly what you wanted.” Emory pushed her hair behind her ears. “Just what are you so sorry for?”

  Not for anything I said to Dr. Cock! Mason reached out and touched her hand. “I’m sorry I ever put a finger on Alexis. That I hurt you like I did. It makes me jealous to think of you with anyone else. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you, knowing I was off with Alexis, so soon after we broke up.”

  Hell. She mustered a slight smile. “I really have to go.” She continued to the front door and put her hand on the knob, looking back with soft eyes to reassure Mason everything would be fine. “What time should I be ready tonight?”

  * * *

  Wesley finished his afternoon classes in the studio, and between the travel back to Charlotte and multiple hours of teaching, he was in no mood to cook dinner for himself. He walked upstairs and ordered a small pepperoni pizza from a local dive. There was no sense ordering a larger one; he’d be eating alone. Tomás wasn’t around anymore, and he figured Emory would be with Mason.

  He sat in his den, quietly waiting for dinner to arrive, the silence unsettling him. He turned on the television, flipping through several channels, but couldn’t find anything to keep his attention, so he shut it off.I don’t want to be alone. He missed Tomás -- the late-night movies they watched together, the bowls of popcorn, the meals he cooked, the care he showed to everyone he met. Wesley still couldn’t understand why Tomás had left. He also missed Emory’s company, wondering whether she, too, would soon leave -- that Mason would take her away from him. And, for the first time in a long time, he missed his parents. He hadn’t thought of them, at least not in any good way, in years. It was too painful, but his visit with his sister in Asheville, and the prospect of seeing his parents and other family at her upcoming wedding, made him miss the feeling of actually being a part of a family -- of being someone’s son.

  Wesley heard a car door close and footsteps approaching the apartment. It was too soon for the pizza delivery.Tomás? Wesley stood up from the sofa and walked to the top of the staircase, finding Emory coming up.

  “How’d it go with your sister?” she asked, hugging him.

  “She says I should talk to Mom, but I’m not sure. There’s a lot to consider.”

  Emory patted his back. “What about Tomás?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him, too?” Emory teased.

  Wesley gave her a disapproving look. “I think you’ve talked to enough people.”

  The doorbell rang. “I ordered pizza. It’s only a small. Didn’t think you’d be home. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’m going out soon with Mason.”

  Wesley went down to fetch the pizza, then opened the box on the kitchen table. He took a slice for himself, Emory staring longingly, as he devoured it. Wesley pulled a slice for her from the box, and with a huge smile, Emory doused her slice with parmesan cheese, folded it in half, and took a large bite.

  “Guess who I saw leaving when I got home?”

  “I gave him a key,” she said, blushing. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” He sprinkled cheese on his slice. “Have you told him yet?”

  “No.” Emory picked off a pepperoni and threw it inside the box.

  “Do you plan on telling him?” Wesley picked up her pepperoni and ate it.

  “At some point, I guess I have to.”

  “The longer you wait, the worse it will be.” Emory reached the end of her slice and tossed the crust in the box. “You have to forgive yourself. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

  Emory shrugged. She wasn’t so sure; she’d never been sure. “Mason will be here soon, and I need to get ready.”

  “That remi
nds me. He left something for you in your room.” Emory’s eyes brightened, and she dashed to her bedroom.

  * * *

  Mason came into the apartment, wearing navy pinstripe slacks and a cashmere sweater, his brown leather jacket hanging over his shoulder. He found Wesley eating pizza at the kitchen table, and the men exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Wesley knew Emory gave Mason a key, but found it presumptuous Mason would just walk in.

  “I need a few minutes!” Emory yelled from inside her bedroom. Mason smiled slightly to himself, draping a black swing coat for Emory on a chair. It seemed he was always waiting for Emory to get ready, whether for a date or for sex, and he had no choice but to be patient.

  Mason stood awkwardly, while Wesley finished his dinner, neither knowing what to say. After a few moments of odd glances and nervous smiles, Wesley cleaned up the table, and Mason took the chance to wander around the den, Wesley following him with his eyes. Mason picked up a portfolio on a bookshelf and flipped through the black and white photos of different landscapes.

  “She’s very talented,” Wesley said, wiping down the table.

  Mason looked up at him. “She always was.”

  “Hope you remember that this time,” Wesley said, narrowing his eyes.

  Mason put the book down and raised his eyes. “You have something you need to say to me?”

  Wesley took a small step forward and wrung his hands together. “Yeah, I do.” He knew Emory and Mason were getting close again and had some things to get off his chest, for his own sake, before they got too far.

  “OK.” Mason put his hand in his pocket and leaned against the bookshelf. “Go for it.”

  “I’m rooting for you guys,” Wesley said, his voice quivering, “but I’m the one who found her in the weight room crying. I’m the one who stayed with her night after night in the hospital, wiping her tears and forcing her to eat. I was there for the nightmares.”

  Wesley caught himself, hoping he hadn’t said too much. Mason looked at him curiously. Nightmares?

  “So,” Wesley continued, pointing a nervous finger at Mason, “you better be damn sure she’s your priority this time. I may be as queer as a three dollar bill, but I’ll find a way to fuck you up!”

  Mason suppressed the urge to laugh, a gay ballerina issuing threats to an NFL quarterback. And Wesley’s words themselves were comical, too. Three dollar bill? Mason knew a good threat when he heard one. He liked to throw them around himself -- Eric knew that by now. But Mason would never laugh at Wesley -- not at all. He absorbed what Wesley said and respected the hell out of him for saying it. He loves my girl, too, and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I don’t like his tone, but I respect that. Mason reached out his hand. “I promise she’s my priority, and if I screw this up, I’ll kick my own ass.”

  Wesley shook it. “Good. That settles it. I didn’t want to have to fuck you up. At least not in my own den.”

  “I’m relieved, too,” Mason replied, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow.

  “What are you guys relieved about?” Emory asked as she emerged from her bedroom, wearing a black, low-cut, v-neck halter dress, and black stilettos with red soles, all of which Mason had left for her with a note saying, “Can’t wait to see you in this tonight.” She looked better than he imagined, stunning, the dress hugging her hips and narrowing at her waist, plunging to the top of her breasts. Mason rarely had seen her so dolled up -- his angelic ballerina transformed into a sex siren. He undressed her with his eyes, dreaming about the black thongs he’d also left for her to wear.

  Mason nudged Wesley to answer, still overcome by Emory. “I just gave Mason some truth.” Emory looked at them curiously, as Wesley looked her up and down. “And now I’ll give you some truth. If I were straight, I’d hit it.” Wesley whistled at her and took her hand.

  “That’s good to hear, Wesley. Thank you for that.” He gave her a quick twirl in the direction of Mason, who grabbed the black swing coat and held it out, slipping it on her and leaving it unbuttoned, then leading her out of the apartment.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As soon as the front door closed, Mason pulled Emory to him and slid his left hand around her waist, holding her close. They were alone in the hallway. Emory closed her eyes, embarrassed, and smiled slightly, his hand drifting a bit lower, her eyes flashing open. He leaned in and kissed her. Emory put a hand on his waist and another in his hair, the warmth of her body causing Mason to pull her even closer. He pushed her coat aside, kissing her neck and grazing it with his tongue, Emory moaning in pleasure. Mason suddenly pinned her against the wall and kissed her hard, his left hand gripping her butt, as he pulled her harder against him.

  She gasped for breath. “Slow.” Mason snapped back, placing his head on her shoulder. “Thank you for the outfit.”

  “I have to know.” He ran his hand slowly across her bottom, kissing her neck. “Did you wear everything?”

  “No.” Emory moaned softly, and Mason stopped his kisses. “This dress is so tight they left slight panty lines, so I decided it was better to go without. Hope that’s OK with you.”

  Mason knew Emory was used to not wearing panties. Ballet dancers don’t wear them under their leotards -- which Mason was thrilled to learn back in college -- but he couldn’t believe Emory would show up for their date without any panties. Is this her idea of slow? Mason adjusted his pants.

  “Your hot body is mine. I don’t want anyone else to see you in that dress. Please keep the coat on.” Emory buttoned up and straightened her hair with her fingers. He led her downstairs to the parking lot. “I couldn’t very well take you out on a date in a cab, so I went by the dealership earlier today.” He walked her towards a dark gray Audi SUV.

  “And you bought a car?” Mason opened the car with the touch of a button, and got her car door, then hurried around to the driver’s side. “I can’t believe you bought a car. For our date?”

  “Relax, I needed a car in Charlotte, so I bought one. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?” I‘m not used to this. “The contract with the Panthers must be pretty big!”

  “It’s good enough,” he said, but went no further. Mason hadn’t signed the contract yet, but the deal was effectively done. He wanted to celebrate and share the moment with Emory. He’d been through hell with Alexis, even denying himself certain luxuries despite making millions, so Alexis couldn’t enjoy them. But he was a new man, with a new team, in a new city, and felt entitled to splurge on a luxury car.

  “So while I was working today, you shopped for women’s clothing and bought a car?”

  “And planned our date. By the way, I’m sorry about this morning. I just . . . .”

  Emory cut him off. “The damage is done. Let’s just move on.” She placed her hand on his and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m not upset anymore. Now, where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Emory flashed a huge grin, recalling the short drive to the historic hotel where they spent their first night together. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”

  Mason winked at her. “Any chance tonight can end like that night?” He pointed to their old hotel room key on his key chain, and started the engine.

  * * *

  Kathleen sat in the living room of Steven’s home and poured herself another glass of wine. “Son, I cannot tell you how excited I am for my first grandchild.”

  Steven was still working on his first glass. “We’re excited, too, Mom.”

  “Yes, this boy can’t get here soon enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Olivia said, her hand in a box of chocolate raisins. “I have been enjoying eating, though.”

  “You eat what you want, dear,” Kathleen said. “I’m sure your figure will bounce back for my son without much trouble.” Steven’s stomach churned.

  “For yourson?” Olivia tossed a handful of chocolate raisins in her mouth for dramatic effect, Steven pleading with his eyes for her to let it go, and also motioning to his mother t
hat her comment was inappropriate. “I’ll bounce back forme -- but Steven will benefit, I’m sure.”

  “Of course, that’s what I meant, dear.”

  Steven downed his wine and poured a second glass, quickly catching up with his mother. “Mom,” he said, desperate to change the subject, “Mason and I just got back from Seattle.”

  “Oh? How did it go?”

  “It went fine. But I think Mason is picking Carolina.”

  “Why doesn’t he tell me these things? I’m his mother, so I should know.”

  “Steven keeps things from me, too, sometimes,” Olivia interjected. “Must be something about your boys, Kathleen.”

  Steven rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he was going to tell you, Mom, but I guess he’s waiting for the right time.” He took a sip of wine and sunk in his chair. “I don’t know.”

  “What made him pick Carolina?”

  Olivia opened her mouth to speak, and Steven shut her down. Don’t mention Emory. She shrugged her shoulders and popped a few more raisins in her mouth. Steven quickly flashed a nervous smile to his mother. “I think he just felt a connection with the coaches and management.” Lying to teams is so much easier. “I wasn’t there for the meeting, but that’s what Mason said. It’s his decision anyway.”

  Kathleen could tell Steven was lying but decided to let it go. She would take it up with Mason directly. “I just hope he’s doing what is best for him, and that you are steering him in the right direction. This may be his last contract, you know, with his shoulder and all.”

  * * *

  Mason could no longer keep the surprise, turning towards the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center. Emory screeched, clapping her hands together, then kissed his cheek. “I can’t believe you’re taking me to the ballet!” The Joffrey Ballet was in Charlotte to performSleeping Beauty, which included her favorite dance the “Rose Adagio.” Emory had tried to get tickets, even using her and Wesley’s dance connections, but no luck. It was sold out for months.