by Kyell Gold
He comes over to us and shakes his head. “High as a kite. Almost asked him for a hit, but my agent told me to lay off.” He scowls. “How are you guys doing?”
“Good. Sorry about the traffic.” Dev clasps Ty’s paw. “It’s almost as bad as Crystal City.”
“I wouldn’t know. I just take taxis everywhere and chill out to my music.” Ty shakes my paw, too. “Nice view, eh?”
“Gorgeous.” Clouds have rolled in for the evening, but the low grey light still glimmers on the water. A bunch of small boats skid and glide about, and from this pier we can see the stately Golden Bridge spanning the strait that leads out to the ocean, and in the other direction, the longer, lower Buena Bridge crossing the bay. Out in front of us is De Ayala Island and its famous prison, dark and gloomy without the sunlight on it. I turn to the taller fox, whose ears are partway down like mine against the breeze that ruffles our fur. “No Arch?”
Ty shakes his head. “He’s gotta work in the morning. Said for me to pass on his apologies for missing you guys.”
Dev says we’re sorry to miss him, too, and I nod toward Ty’s shirt, an aquamarine silk/linen blend with nice stitching and patterns inside the cuffs. Even the low-necked t-shirt under it looks fancier than your standard jock underclothes, and it’s light enough to flutter in the wind. “Nice shirt,” I say.
He reaches up and fingers it. “Arch took me to the fancy shopping area here,” he says, his ears splaying out, and then he grins. “You like it?”
“Yeah,” Dev says, and turns to me. “Why don’t you take me shopping?”
“We’ve got an hour maybe tomorrow morning before our flight,” I say, so Ty gives us the name and some vague directions, and I note them down on my phone.
“You’ve been shopping for apartments, though,” he says. “Way better than shirts. Find a place?”
Dev tells him about the house we saw on Tuesday that we liked, and Ty says, “Oh, going to buy? Smart. Maybe you can find something with a view like this. So are you buying together, or Dev, are you buying—?” Before we can answer, or even look at each other, his eyes widen, remembering something. “Shit, you heard about Gerrard, right?”
“Uh.” Dev’s ears go a bit flat. “Yeah. How did you hear?”
“Vonni called me. He said he heard from…” Ty’s ears go a bit askew as he concentrates. “Zillo, maybe. I figured you’d already know, though. What the hell, huh?” He shakes his head and then grins at Dev. “Better watch yourself on the road or you might get kicked out of that house you’re gonna buy, right?”
He elbows Dev, who looks uncomfortable for a moment but recovers quickly and says, “Hey, at least I won’t come home with another cub.”
The other fox double-takes. “God damn, he had a cub? Did he know about it or was it like, someone shows up at the door and tells Angela this is her husband’s cub?”
“I don’t know.” Dev keeps himself from showing his annoyance, but I see the flicking of his tail tip and I know it’s taking an effort. “I mean, from what Zillo said, it sounds like it. But I haven’t actually talked to Gerrard yet, so I’m not sure exactly what happened.”
“Oh.” Ty frowns, looks at me and then Dev, and for a split-second I see the question in his eyes: why haven’t you talked to Gerrard? But he figures out that Dev doesn’t know why he hasn’t talked to Gerrard either, and his muzzle settles into a smile. “Like you said, guess you don’t have to worry about that.”
He raises his glass. Dev raises his and says, “Also I don’t cheat on Lee, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it anyway.”
“Aw,” I say with a smile. “You guys want to walk around some more? Anything else to see here?”
“Up there,” Ty points toward the Golden Bridge. “There’s street performers and a chocolate shop.”
“We haven’t eaten yet,” Dev says. “But it looks like there are plenty of restaurants around.”
I take out my phone to see what I can find online, but Ty waves a paw. “Let’s walk around and see what we find.” He starts off, and we follow.
He’s heading back up to his parents tomorrow, he says; it was supposed to be Monday, but he decided to stick around because we were in town. Dev accepts the explanation but I think that probably the absent wolf is more responsible for the extension than we are. I don’t know if Ty is always happy and tail-waggy like he is at this dinner, but I can’t attribute all of it to our company.
He also seems a little nervous, but I only pick up on that the second time he glances at me and seems about to say something. Walking with three people is tough on sidewalks meant for two abreast, especially when two of the three are bulky football players, so mostly I let the two teammates walk ahead of me and I trail behind in the middle, listening and chiming in when there’s something for me to say. But twice Ty looks back at me and meets my eye and then responds to whatever Dev was saying.
We find an Etruscan place that smells of melted cheese, marinara sauce, and fresh basil, and crowd around a tiny wooden table that’s barely large enough to contain the baked ziti and the pizza we all get to share. The house chianti is okay, but to my surprise Dev tells Ty how much better the wine was up at Polecki’s winery, which leads into the whole story of that evening. “Fuckin’ Sabretooths,” Ty says. “Can’t wait to get my next contract and a championship. Maybe we’ll rent out this place.”
A tourist restaurant on one of Yerba’s busiest piers might, I ponder, cost more than the winery. But I keep my muzzle shut and laugh with them, and limit myself to half a glass of the chianti because I’m driving. And also Dev’s right, it’s not as good as the wine we had with Polecki.
When Dev gets up to use the bathroom, I say, “I’ll go too,” and Ty coughs. Dev and I both stare at him.
His ears splay and he says, “Uh, Lee, can I talk to you for a couple minutes?”
“Sure.” I stay in my seat and Dev lingers for a moment. “I’m just warning you, though, Dev and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“Yeah.” Ty fidgets, which is kind of funny, this big athletic fox who’s at least a foot taller than me, six inches sitting down, and he’s all nervous. “I’ll tell Dev tomorrow or Friday, I promise, it’s just…I need to ask you something.”
Dev grins. “All right,” he says, and reaches down to tease one of my ears. “I can always work it out of Lee later.”
As he walks away, I lean forward to Ty. “He can’t really. Well. Probably not.” I grin and brush my whiskers back. “What’s up?”
He takes a breath. “I was thinking about trying…uh…letting him fuck me.” He drops his voice to a fox-whisper, not that anyone would hear him over the crowd here. “I just wanted to ask how your first time was, and, y’know, any tips?”
“Oh.” I scoot my chair closer. “Well, basically, use lots of lube—lots—and go really slow.”
“Did you like it right away?”
It’s surprisingly easy to talk about personal details because he’s a fox and he’s at least exploring his gay side. I try to ignore the fact that he’s really hot and I’m about six inches away from him and we’re talking about sex. I am mostly successful. Mostly. “Well, yeah, but you gotta understand I’d played with myself a lot before I had a first time.”
He considers, takes another sip of wine, and then says, “You think I should wait?”
“Nah.” I push away the image of his wolf mounting him, attractive as it is. “Trust me, if I’d had anyone in high school willing to play with me, I’d have done it. But also, some guys just like that more than others. Polecki says he and his boyfriend—” I remember in time that Cornwall’s identity is still secret. “They switch back and forth. Dev and I don’t. You might try it once and think, eh, not for me.”
“Yeah.” He taps the table. “I kinda feel like that’s what’s gonna happen. But you know, just looking down at him when he’s taking it, and he gets…” The corners of his mouth curve up. “Mmm. He gets loud like a girl, and I’m thinking, wow, I should try that at
least once. Maybe it’s awesome.”
For all his size and confidence, it’s hard to remember that Ty is a couple years younger than I am. “You’re exploring. It’s cool.” I wag my own tail because I’m thinking of Dev under it now, which is better than thinking of Ty under it, or his wolf, or…. “How are things going with him?”
“Good. But you know, it’s not really a relationship or anything. I mean, I’m gonna have to get married and have cubs; that’s how my family is.”
“He knows that?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t want anything long-term or serious either. So maybe this is it.”
Which is why he wants to try getting fucked tonight. Might be his last chance. “Who knows,” I say, “maybe in ten years your wife will be kicking you out because she found out about him.”
“Ah, shit, I hope not.” He gets serious. “I like to think I’m better at keeping secrets than Gerrard. Dude just lives football year-round. Probably he sent the cub a football or something. But that’s the life, you know? You get laid on the road because there’s all this tail hovering around waiting for you. Like,” he waves a paw around the restaurant, taking in the decorative wine bottles and the pictures of old Etruscan crooners and the delicious smells. “Say you’re on a diet and you walk into this place and they tell you that you can have anything on the menu for free. And you think, well, I can cheat on my diet this one time and nobody will care.”
“But eventually you get fat,” I say. “And also then you’re only cheating yourself, not someone else who trusts you.”
His ears splay out a bit and he grins. “We took Dev to a strip club once. Charm and I banged a couple waitresses there, but he just went home. Didn’t really care about any of it. Don’t know if that’s because he’s gay or because he was thinking about you, but…I don’t think he ever did anything. Not that I heard about, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I say with a smile as Dev comes back across the floor.
“I took as long as I could,” he says, dropping his bulk into the chair. “But there’s only so much writing on the wall in there. Secret fox conference over?”
“Yup.” Ty punches my shoulder. “Lee’s helpful.”
“Ask him about running your routes sometime,” Dev says. “He’s helpful like that too.”
“I don’t watch the wideouts,” I protest, but Ty laughs and says something about how he’s got plenty of coaches already and he’s okay, and then he and Dev talk about one of the coaches on the team.
They get a big serving of tiramisu for dessert, and the one bite I take makes me seriously consider Ty’s diet-cheating example. But I’m really full, so I savor the taste of my one bite while the two football players devour the rest.
Ty pays the bill, insisting on it, and Dev and I walk him outside back along the pier. The sun’s set and the water looks different in the night, flashes of white as the wind-blown whitecaps crest and disappear. We can’t see De Ayala anymore, but both bridges are lit up and glowing through the twilight. The street performers Ty talked about before have tripled in number, buskers with guitars and jugglers and living statues. We enjoy them and walk around the crowds of tourists until we get to Ty’s car.
The air has a little chill to it and a drizzle has started up, so we don’t linger long. “Great to see you guys,” Ty says. “I’m glad you came to the club.”
“Me too,” Dev says, and they squeeze paws.
Then I lose my paw in Ty’s huge one and he says, “Good luck with the house and all.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Good luck to you too.”
He winks and then gets into the car, brushing the rain off his ears, and Dev and I hurry back to ours.
“So,” Dev says when we’re inside and I have the heat on, “do I have to work it out of you, or are you going to tell me what he said?”
“He said he’ll tell you tomorrow,” I say.
Dev’s paw creeps around to my tail and starts to tease around the base. “Maybe I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”
“Not while I’m driving!”
He relents, laughing, and lets me get us back to our hotel. There we play prisoner and interrogator, an informal game that I win based on not giving up Ty’s secret, although I’m amused to think of how close Dev’s methods of interrogation actually come to the secret itself.
Early Tuesday morning we call Clara and give her a firm list of our top three houses and she promises to get more info for us. I’ve got an application from the apartment complex I liked in case I change my mind, but the prospect of the house is more appealing, despite (because of?) the weight of the relationship it carries with it.
In the city, we spend an hour shopping and I get Dev a half-dozen really nice shirts, plus some pants and ties while we’re at it. Rather, I team up with the salespeople in three different stores to pick out some clothes and Dev buys them. Same difference, right?
And then we return the car and deal with airport hassle and this time I upgrade our tickets to first class at the counter so that Dev won’t complain all the way home. “But we should watch our expenses if we’re going to buy a house,” I say.
He frowns. “It was what, three thousand? What’s the big deal?”
It’s not worth arguing about. I’ll let my father talk to him this weekend or whenever Father’s coming into town. And when we’re sitting in first class, stretching out, and I’m plugging my laptop into the power port, enjoying a complimentary wine, well, it’s hard to argue with how much happier he is. Three thousand, to me, is an immense amount of money. It’s three months rent (or was; in Yerba it’d more likely be two, or one and a half), it’s half a dozen round trip plane trips, all squandered on one flight so that Dev can stretch his legs out.
But it’s his money, not mine, and he’s earned it. So who am I to tell him how to spend it?
When we land in Chevali just after noon, there’s a message from Damian asking Dev to be at the Firebirds offices at 3 pm for Fisher’s retirement, so we have time to stop by the apartment.
There we collect all our mail, and there are a couple things for me, including something from the Superior Court of Boliat. “Oops,” I say, opening it with a sinking feeling. If it’s a summons that arrived last week and I missed it, I could be in actual serious trouble.
But no, it’s only a notification that my presence isn’t required. “What’s the matter?” Dev asks, sifting through credit card pre-approved applications and dropping them in the trash.
“Oh, nothing, it turns out. Remember that wolf I got in the fight with in Boliat?”
He growls. I smile and hold up the letter. “It says here that the judge has issued a ruling and that neither of us is required to appear. He filed an assault charge against me, but I’m not guilty of that.”
“Good.”
“And he’s found guilty of assault…sixty hours of community service, no prison time.”
Dev makes another growling noise. I skim the rest of the document. Nothing about a hate crime. Maybe that’s not a law in Boliat, but I was pretty sure I made it clear he assaulted me because I’m gay. Well, anyway, it’s over, so I file the paper away. I make a couple quick calls: to Hal, to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow night, and to my father, to confirm when he’s coming down. Then Dev says he’s going to call Gerrard. I go to the kitchen to make lunch.
Part IV
Part 3
15
Going Home (Dev)
Gerrard picks up almost right away, as though he were waiting for my call. “Yeah?” he barks.
“Hey, I’m back in town,” I say. “Are we working out this weekend?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m trying to see if we can get the field. If not, the U of Chevali said we could use theirs when their team’s not on. I’ll get the times.”
“Okay. So you’ll let me know?”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s silence. I shift uncomfortably. “So, I heard you aren’t living at home anymore?”
“Not for the m
oment.”
More silence. “What happened?”
“Well,” he says, calm and reasonable, “I’m at a hotel.”
“Yeah, but…”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It has nothing to do with football. I’ll let you know when the workout is, and I’ll be there ready to get back to the championship game. Will you?”
“Yes.”
“All right, then. I–”
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you after your text.”
“My feelings aren’t hurt. You were busy.” He pauses. “How did you find out?”
“Zillo called me.”
His tone is nonplused. “Huh. Well, he better be ready to work his body as hard as his mouth this summer.”
“You can bother me, you know. If you need to talk about stuff.”
Now he sounds amused. “I’ll remember that if I need to, little brother.”
That bothers me, but it’s not his fault that it bothers me, so I change the subject. “Did you hear about Fisher?”
“Yeah.” The amusement’s gone and he’s sober again. “His agent asked me to come to the offices to support his retirement. I assume you’re going to be there.”
“Yeah. Are we going to keep Pike, you think?”
“All we can control is how we perform on the field. We can’t talk to the coaches for another two months, so we can only worry about ourselves.”
I pace around, phone to my ear. “Good point.”
He’s the one who breaks the next silence. “You hear anything about your contract?”
“Nah. I’m talking to my agent on Wednesday. Oh, I switched to Fisher’s agent, by the way. So I’ll see him tomorrow but we’re not going to talk business then.”
“Really?” Gerrard pauses. “So no more commercials in the middle of practice, I hope? Or in the middle of a playoff run?”
