by V. L. Locey
“That’s my man! Oh, and decide on that charity, so we can have that added into the contract.” Pete shook my hand once more, grabbed the check resting in a slim black bill presenter with the eatery name embossed on the front in gold lettering, and then hurried off to light a fire under legal. Arn leaned back in his chair, his whiskey tumbler resting comfortably in his long fingers.
“You’re a maniac,” he tossed out. I stirred some sugar into my coffee and blinked innocently. “He could have had a very different reaction to that gay announcement.”
“Then we’d have left. I’m done hiding who I am, and I am incredibly done dancing around bigots. Accept the gay guy or hit the fucking road. You going to finish that cheesecake?”
He pushed the slice of raspberry topped delight to me. I picked up my fork and dove in.
“You may want to lower that aggression just a bit. Not everyone you meet is going to be as welcoming as Pete was.” Arn studied me over the rim of his glass. A woman laughed loudly a few tables over. “I wager a damn good amount will refuse to do business with you.”
“Fuck them,” I mumbled around a mouthful of the best cheesecake I had ever tasted. “And the horse they rode in on.”
“Nice, very original.” He sniggered into his glass, took a small sip, and then placed the tumbler beside his dirty napkin lying on the table. “While I agree with the sentiment, I must point out as your agent that your coming out to the world is not going to be a happy day for all your fans. Many of them may be disgusted.”
“Refer to my previous statement about them and their horses. I’m retired. My bank account is fat, my days of pretending to be something I’m not to placate hateful jerks is over.” I forked off a huge bite and shoved it into my mouth with flair. “Next item?”
“Fine, I just wanted to let you know where you were headed. I’ve handled other athletes who have come out or been outed in various phases of their careers. It is never easy. So, now that you have been warned, we need to work on a press release for an official statement.” He checked his watch. “Why don’t we go to your hotel room and hammer this out? I’ll send it to Adam, my new PA, to edit and send out over the wires this evening. Should give you enough time to call your parents before it hits the news outlets.”
Fuck yeah, calling the folks. That was going to be fun. “Okay, that’s good. You okay to drive?”
“Not in the least.” He dug into the front pocket of his slacks, pulled out the keys to his new baby, and tossed them over the lone carnation. “You scratch her you’re buying me a new one.”
“I already paid for that one.” He smiled wickedly then tossed back his whiskey. “Not even going to argue that fact, are you?”
“Nope. Eat up. Let’s go. Time is money.”
I rushed to eat the rest of Arn’s cheesecake. Sliding behind the wheel of that new red Mercedes made me a little hard. Just around the edges. She handled like a dream, smooth and fast to respond. Arn talked her up the whole way to the Whyte Towers, my home away from home for the next week. As soon as I was settled in my suite, I excused myself and slid into the bedroom leaving Arn out on the sofa to get his phone set up for recording our short statement.
I sat on the massive bed, slid my feet out of my sneakers, and dialed my folks down in Florida. Mom picked up on the second ring.
“Kye! How is New York?” She sounded so happy to hear from me. Ugh. Now I was going to crush her and Dad with this news. “Did you get to see any plays on Broadway yet?”
“No, Mom, we just got done with a business lunch.”
“Ah, well try to see that play with the cats. They say it’s good.”
“Will do, Mom. So, how’s Dad?” I bumped the back of my shoe with my toe. “Is he acing rehab?”
“Well, you know your father. He’s a stubborn ass and tried to do more than he should have. Strained himself and popped a staple so he’s resting for a few days then we’re heading back. Back surgery is no fun, Kye.” She sounded worried.
“No, I’m sure it’s not. Is Dad there? Can you put this call on speakerphone?”
“He’s in his bedroom napping. The pain pills make him dopey. Is there something wrong?”
Using my toe I kicked my sneaker up and over top of the other. “Not so much wrong but big. It’s something big I need to tell you. I was hoping to only have to do this once but since Dad’s not awake maybe I should call back later and—”
“Is this about your gay speech at the lake a few nights back?”
My mouth dropped open. All toeing of shoes ceased. “I uhm…maybe?” I swallowed down the wedge of shock and fear. “How did you hear about that? It’s just now leaking into some sports sites.”
“Oh, Fiona Smith, you remember her? She works for the township. Well, she called me the morning after and told me. Said you were quite passionate in your declaration and then went to talk to Davy for the longest time! You two were always so cute together. Are you and he dating?”
“I uhm…no, we’re not dating. Yet. I mean I would like to but…Mom, how can you be so calm about this?” My gaze stayed locked on my toes.
“Kye, we’ve known you liked the boys since you were fourteen.”
White noise. My brain had shut down and there was only white noise between my ears. I’m blaming it on the hit I took in the ’09 playoffs against Philly. Interstate rivalries are brutal. Concussions and broken bones are commonplace. Yep, had to be the hit that made me hear bells for about ten minutes.
“Oh. Okay. I…huh. And you’re okay with it? You and Dad?”
“Why wouldn’t we be? To be honest I’d been hoping for years you’d settle down with someone nice and have a few babies, but you were too scared to come out and using those beards.”
Beards. How in the hell did my sixty-year-old mother know about beards? “You mean wearing scruffy playoff beards?”
“No, Kye, for heaven’s sake. I mean dating women to hide your homosexuality. Seems a gay man would know what a beard is.”
“I do! What I need to know is how you know!”
She giggled. “I know all kinds of gay things. Dad and I have been preparing for this day for close to twenty-five years. I know about HIV and condoms and anal sex and prostate stimulation and—”
“Mom, for shit’s sake.” More giggles. Jesus H. Christ. “You never said anything.”
“We figured you’d tell us when you were ready. Oh, there’s the tea kettle, hold on!”
Off she darted, the faint whistle of the kettle flowing into my ear. The break was a good thing. It gave me time to gather my composure. When she returned I had gotten my upside-down world righted.
“Right, here I am. So, are you and Davy rekindling? Dad and I always suspected you two were young lovers, the way you’d look at him when he was eating dinner with us was just so precious.”
“Mom, I’m working on rekindling but Davy’s a little reluctant. I just…are you okay with all this? I mean, me being gay and hiding it for so long?” There was a big old chunk of emotion lodged in the middle of my chest. “I wanted to say something a long time ago, but I couldn’t. Hockey wasn’t as accepting as it is now, hell, the world wasn’t as accepting.”
“We’re fine with you coming out when you felt it was best. We’re just saddened that so many young people have to hide who they are.” She sighed heavily, sipped her tea, and then made me cry by asking if I wanted a rainbow cake for my next birthday. “It would be our first as a family!”
“Yeah, I sure.” I coughed thickly, swiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. Arn softly rapped on the door. “Crap, I have to go. Arn is waiting for me to work on this press statement about this whole coming out thing. Can you tell Dad I called? Tell him Dunny is fine. I’m working hard on getting the place nicer for him. Tell him I hope he bounces back soon, and I love him and that I’m sorry Fiona told you I was gay before I did.”
“We love you, honey. Gay or straight you’re our only son.” I heard the hug in her words. Wished I could feel it. “Now go work wit
h Arn before he gets snippy. I’ll tell Dad all you said. Can you get me a little apple magnet for the fridge? I don’t have any from New York.”
“I’ll get you the best apple magnet in the world. I love you too, Mom. Give Dad a kiss for me. Talk to you soon.”
She wished me well then hung up. I swiped at my face, blew out a steadying breath, and opened the door to find Arn back on the sofa. He looked up. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I replied, dropping down into a nicely padded chair of deep blue that faced the window. “Mom said she’s known forever that I was gay. Can you imagine?”
“Huh, wish she’d have whispered that into my ear,” he muttered while handing me a pad with Whyte Towers across the top of the paper followed by a pen. “Let’s get to writing. Make it short, concise but relatable and moving.” I wrote I LIKE TO SUCK DICK on the paper and flipped the pad so he could read it. He was not amused. “Something a little less in your face.”
“Fine, but it’s not going to be flowery or anything.”
“Your fans wouldn’t expect flowery. Just be Kye.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned on the TV to some cop show. My coming out announcement took me exactly three minutes to write. I’d been thinking about this announcement for a long, long time. I wrote…
Being a professional athlete brings with it some incredible responsibilities. Living up to the expectations of your team, your fans, the organization, the sporting community, and the kids who dream of being you some day. With that in mind, I feel that it is my responsibility as a gay man to give visibility and voice to myself and the LGBTQ community by coming out publicly. I hope that by doing so it will show the world that gay, bi, trans, and lesbian athletes are no longer hiding who they are. Perhaps some gay boy or girl in some tiny town is reading this, and they are seeing someone like them, and they’re realizing that they too can be a hockey player, or a footballer, or a soccer star. It’s for them that I’m making this announcement, but it’s also for me because now I am free to love who I wish openly and without fear. I just have to crank up my wooing powers a bit and win his heart back.
Thank you for your support,
Love,
#65 Kye McLeod
“Good?” Arn asked.
“Damn good. Hit send.” And with the tap of a finger, my biggest announcement ever—even bigger than my decision to retire—was streaking down the wires. Or cables. Or airwaves. However internet worked, the gay news alert was on its way. “I’m torn between having a beer or going to see a play. Heads we drink, tails we go see a musical.”
“I don’t like musicals,” Arn informed me. I dug into my front pocket, plucked out a nickel, and gave it a good snap. Up it went and when it came down I caught it and slapped it to the back of my hand.
“Oh, tough shit for you. Musical it is!”
“I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
Chapter Six
“Okay, so the most important thing to remember is that they’re not at all prepared for us. We’re a group of hungry lions. They’re pigeons. Look at your sweaters.” Twenty kids glanced down at their jerseys then looked back at me. “See that lion? That’s us. The Middleton Mart Lions. And our competition are birds. Pigeons. You know what cats do to birds?”
“Eat them!” the kids all shouted. God, I was a natural at this coaching stuff.
“Darn, Skippy. So go out there and show those Penny-Dealer Dollar Deal Pigeons who’s hungry! Let me hear you roar!”
They all roared in unison then hit the ice. I grinned at the head coach, a nervous guy by the name of Newton Briggs, who owned the grocery store who had sponsored the team. He looked stricken.
“What?” I asked over twenty tiny purple helmets.
“I’m not sure we should be encouraging the kids to eat the other players,” he replied in his squeaky voice. The man was mousy. How he’d been chosen to coach ice hockey I didn’t know. Probably he lost a bet.
“I didn’t tell them to actually eat the other players. We’re not zombies. They won’t go out on the ice and literally—Hey! Bobby Jenkins! No, do not bite him!”
I glanced at Newt. He was smiling smugly at me. Dumb ass Newt. Fine, no more cats eating birds speeches. You’d think kids this age would know better. Maybe Bobby Jenkins needed more fiber in his diet if he was gnawing on the opposition. I’d talk to his mother about that.
Aside from carnivorous players, this summer league gig was fun. The kids were eager to learn, the adults that were involved loved the sport aside from Newt who, I felt, was better suited to sell hot dogs but hey, what did I know? Overall it was a great way to spend my Saturday mornings, random acts of biting aside.
There wasn’t much real hockey being played but the kids were having fun. Unless someone fell or was called a booger or lost track of the puck. Four-year-old kids weren’t really able to grasp the beauty of keeping the puck carrier to the outside, or what backchecking was, or even the basics of a good neutral trap. But man they were having fun out there on the ice, and so was I, and Newt too, his worrisome face aside. We were just basically getting them on skates, many for the first time, and trying to give them a basic knowledge of hockey, concepts of playing on a team, fair play, cooperation, and so on. What I was hoping to do was to instill a love of the game—my game—so that they’d want to play in the higher levels.
So yeah, not much real hockey was going on. Our top scorer, Jennifer Peals, kicked the puck in and when it was called back she had a tantrum on the bench. Her mother had to come down and calm her. Jonah Smith was skating around on his wobbly ankles singing some song about a fox as he pursued the puck. Maybe we needed to work a bit more on skating during our next mini-mites practice.
After the game, which was a tie with two goals each, we took the teams to a local farm store that sold hand dipped ice cream cones. Late July. Ice cream. Forty kids. Lord the mess was unreal! I rolled back home sticky from head to toe, my arms and hands coated with forty flavors of ice cream and a spilled root beer float. My new sneakers would probably never be the same. I’d just gotten my dirty shorts and shirt peeled off when someone began hammering on my sliding door. I padded out to the main room in my briefs and there stood Davy on my tiny porch, wearing shorts and a tank top. I caught the glance he made down to my junk. Seeing that made a frizzly warm feeling in my belly. It had been four days since I’d returned from New York, and this was my first time seeing him. I’d not pushed when I’d gotten home. He’d wanted room, so I’d given it to him, even though it killed me. I knew eventually we’d bump into each other. This damn county is too small to avoid people indefinitely.
“Hey,” I said after unlocking and opening the door.
“Hi…listen, there’s something I think you should come see.”
“Uhm okay.” I ran back into the bedroom and pulled on my recently discarded shorts. The ones with gobs of melted cookies and cream ice cream on the crotch. Those were mine. I should have known not to order a large waffle cone when it was this hot. Oh well.
We both walked around the pond in our bare feet, something we’d done a million times before. The feel of the grass and the heat of the sun on my head made me feel sixteen again. His calves were attractive. As was the rest of him. He had a tattoo on his back, on his right shoulder, but the strap of his tank top obscured most of it. That was something new.
“Over here behind the rhododendron. Watch where you’re walking. You step on Mom’s hens and chicks and there will be hell to pay.”
“Don’t I know it.” I stepped carefully over the hens and chicks, the bark sharp and rough on the soles of my feet. This side of the house, the side that faced Stella’s, was shaded at the moment. I crept up behind Davy when he dropped to a crouch. Moving carefully he pulled back a large part of the bush and there on the ground was a large nest thick with gray down. I glanced at the five eggs in the nest then down at Sampson swimming on the pond.
“I think Sampson is a Delilah.” Davy, ugh, Dave smiled pleasantly up at me.
&nb
sp; “Looks that way.” I crouched down beside him, leaning into his side to get a closer look at the nest. “Nice nest. You think those eggs are any good?”
“I kind of doubt it.” He released the bush and it sprang back into shape, hiding the nest neatly. “I was weeding for Mom and Dad because they’re up visiting Mara for a few days, and I found this little surprise.”
“How’s Mara doing?” I asked, genuinely interested in his reply. I’d always liked his younger sister, even when she did follow us around when we would have rather been left alone.
“Great. She’s got her master’s in political science and is working in the governor’s office as the head of human resources. She’s been married for twelve years and has twin boys who are eight.”
“She’s done well for herself. Tell her I said hello and that I miss her endless supply of bubble gum.” He nodded. “So, the nest. I think this is super cool. Why don’t I see if I can find someone with some good eggs, fertile eggs, you know, and we can swap those duds out with good eggs. Oh! You’re a game warden. Get us some Canada goose eggs!”
“First of all, it’s illegal to possess the eggs of any wild bird. Secondly, the wild geese nested months ago. The goslings need to be fully feathered for the migration south in a couple of months.”
“Oh, okay. Scrap the idea.” I leaned on the cool siding of the Aguirre house, deep in thought. “I might be able to find out where Dunny got Sampson. Maybe they have more geese who are still laying eggs. Or maybe I can find some online. Hatcheries probably have goose eggs for sale, right?”
He stepped in front of me, his legs straddling the hens and chicks, and kissed me. It was quick. My eyes flared, and I reached for him. He’d either step away or step closer. Praise be to the saints he stepped closer and crushed his mouth against mine. I wasted no time. I spun us around, his back slapping against the soft brown siding. Hands on his hips I licked into his mouth, rubbing my tongue over his as I gyrated against him. His cock was hard. My breath hitched when my dick ground over his.
