Rebound

by Andrew Grey

  “Who did you call?” Bri asked, eyes widening by the second as the man on the phone turned a slight shade of green and looked about ready to lose the donuts he’d had for breakfast that morning.

  “My father works in the police commissioner’s office, so I made a call. Yes, they need to ascertain the facts of the case, but going so far as to accuse the victim of wrongdoing without a shred of evidence—hell, contrary to the evidence—is way out of line.”

  Bri was almost afraid to ask. “What does your father do? You said he works in the police commissioner’s office. Is he his deputy or something?”

  “Ummm.” Obie bit his lower lip. “He’s the police commissioner.”

  Bri swallowed hard and wondered if this was a joke. But then he looked at the two officers quaking in their shoes. The one handed the phone back to Obie and began consulting his notes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You never asked, and I don’t make a big deal about what my dad does. Lots of folks have powerful parents in this town, and I learned growing up that others try to trade on that.” Obie leaned closer. “For years, the department in the city had a bad reputation. There were a lot of things that should never have happened. Dad’s predecessor cracked down on internal corruption in a big way, and Dad has continued that work. Today the department is respected, and Dad really wants to keep it that way.” Obie glared at the two men, who seemed to have had a complete attitude adjustment.

  Their questions were respectful, and Bri got them to speak with the firefighter in charge. “I want to be able to get some things out of the house and go somewhere safe for a while. I’ll give you copies of all the messages I’ve received, and you can check over the garage and house for any evidence you need. Just find out who did this.” He was seconds from begging.

  “Give them all your information, as well as ways to contact you,” Obie prompted, and Bri provided that to the officers as well. “They can do their jobs.” He glared at them, which was almost funny—slight, beautiful Obie making both men flinch with a pointed look. “We need to get you some new crutches and then off that leg for a while.”

  It took an hour before the police were done and Bri actually felt he could leave. Obie helped him to the waiting Uber, and they stopped to get him a fresh set of crutches. His clothes stank, and Obie promised he’d wash them. Once they got to Obie’s place, he had Bri go on through, following behind him, but stopping to put in a load of laundry on the way.

  “You don’t need to clean up after me, I can—” Bri didn’t get a chance to finish.

  “It’s fine.” Obie hurried past where Bri had taken a seat on the sofa and ran up the stairs. “I put out towels in the bathroom for you. It has a soaker tub. I’m going to make some dinner. Why don’t you go on up, fill the tub, and soak your leg for a little while? It will feel better.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Obie shook his head. “You had therapy today, and then all that excitement. Your muscles have got to be screaming about now. Go on and let them relax. When you come down, we can get something to eat and I’ll give you a massage.”

  That sounded like heaven. Bri hobbled his way up the stairs and down the hall, following Obie’s directions. The bathroom was stunning, with a deep tub that Bri filled. He stripped down and sank into the deep, hot water. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d been carrying in his leg, neck, and back until it relaxed. Bri lay back, closed his eyes, and tried not to think about the fact that someone was truly out to hurt him. Of course, as soon as he pushed that line of thought away, another came to the front. This one about five seven, slender, cute, with great lips and eyes, blazing red hair, and a set of hips that waved just a little when he walked.

  Things heated up even more and Bri’s hands slid down his chest, enclosing his length in a firm grip. A knock on the door made him jump, and he splashed some water out of the tub. “Yes.” Did his voice just crack a little?

  “I have a robe for you. I’m going to slip it inside the door.” It opened slightly, and Obie hung the robe on the knob before closing the door again. “Come down as soon as you’re ready.”

  Nothing else was going to happen, and after a few minutes, Bri got out of the tub, dried off, and put on the robe. His clothes smelled like smoke and he didn’t feel like putting them on again, so he left the bathroom, crutching his way down the stairs. Obie was in the kitchen, getting dinner on the table. “I have the first load of laundry in the dryer.” He turned and his mouth fell open, his lips moved, but no words came out.

  “What?”

  Obie swallowed and pulled out a chair. Bri sat down, pulling the robe closer around him. “You….”

  “I see. Maybe I should just put the clothes I was wearing back on.”

  Obie nodded. “Yeah… you’re…. On second thought, just stay the way you are. The view is amazing and I could watch it all day.” Obie actually shivered and then shook his head, turning away, cheeks and neck going almost as red as his hair. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  Bri got to his feet, taking a few careful steps to where Obie stood near the stove. He gently slipped his arms around his waist. Obie grew still and stiffened; Bri felt him hold his breath. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Of course not.” Obie slowly turned around and held still. “I’m afraid this is a dream and that I’ll wake up.”

  “It may be a dream, but I don’t think either of us is asleep.” A timer went off, and Bri just about screamed. Obie jumped and backed away.

  “I need to get dinner out of the oven.” He took a few shaky steps, and Bri sat back down before he lost his balance and hurt himself again. He also needed to adjust the robe so his dick didn’t raise the terry cloth like a damned tent pole. He edged his chair under the table as Obie brought over a plate of baked pasta that made his stomach growl.

  Obie fixed his own plate and sat across from him. “Do you want some wine?” Obie jumped up, racing to open a bottle. The glasses clinked as he got two out of the cabinet and he nearly tipped them as he set the glasses on the table. “God…,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m sorry. But I’m nervous and….”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Nothing is going to happen that you don’t want to. I won’t force you.” He tried to keep from being affronted, and knew he was failing.

  “I know that. And it isn’t like I haven’t had sex before, because I have. But it never meant something, like this might… or could… or…. Shit, just stick something in my mouth to shut me up.” Obie must have realized what he’d said because he blushed something fierce once again and managed to sit in the chair without falling backward. He also stopped rambling and lowered his head to eat.

  Damn, he was cute, especially when he got flustered. The most interesting things came out of his mouth, and Bri never knew what he was going to say. “You have nothing to be worried about.” He reached across the table, Obie’s fingers sliding into his. “Just relax.”

  “I tend to get verbal diarrhea when I get flustered. My dad always said that I could never follow in his footsteps because at the first sign of stress, I’d start blathering like an idiot and the criminals would hear me coming a mile away.” He giggled nervously.

  “I like it when you talk that way. Not that I want you to be nervous, but it’s genuine… and honest.” He tried to think of the words he wanted to say, taking a bite to cover his thoughtfulness. “I have dozens of people around me, all the time, that I can ask an opinion of… but the only opinion I’m going to get is mine. They tell me what they think I want to hear. And fans, they just want to get close and they tell me how great I am… all of that.”

  “But isn’t that nice?” Obie asked.

  “Of course it is. But it isn’t honesty. The first therapist I had was so… awed that I was working with him that every time I flinched, he stopped. In the end, he did nothing to help me. Because I might get angry or… whatever. Sure, I might yell because it hurt, but I’m not afraid of hard work, an
d I may growl, but it doesn’t mean I’m angry.” It was hard for him to fully articulate what he was truly feeling. “I’m a person, just like everyone else.”

  “I think I understand. Everyone puts you on a pedestal because you’re the great Bri Early.” Obie swallowed and looked up from his dinner. “Was it that way in high school?”

  “Oh, God yes. I was a really good player for my age. I led my team to victory one year after another. I could play circles around most other players and I scored big. Everyone wanted that to continue—it meant money for the school and lots of people coming to the games. It was the same in college. I was held up as someone important, and if I did something wrong, it was fixed. The coaches, the other players, teachers… everyone had a vested interest in me because I brought in money, and plenty of it.” He set down his fork. “The thing was, I didn’t even realize it was happening. Not all of it, anyway. I was a kid and I thought this was what was due to me. So I took it and let others clean up the messes.”

  “Did you make a lot of them?” Obie questioned as his gaze intensified. “I somehow can’t see you as a problem player.”

  “I grew up. I had to, and I did it fast. See, there was an incident when I was a sophomore. It wasn’t pretty. A group of players decided to go to New York on an off weekend in the schedule. They hired some ladies to serve as entertainment and they spent the weekend having the time of their lives. There was lot of drinking… as well as harder… shall we say, stress relievers—as many as half a dozen women. They broke up the hotel rooms and caused a lot of damage. I was there for some of it, but not all. I had an uncle in New York, and he took me to dinner the night it happened.” Bri had never been so grateful for anything in his life. He had been away and he’d been able to prove it.

  “What happened?” Obie asked. “It was more than broken up hotel rooms, wasn’t it?”

  Bri shook his head. “It was a lot more.” He was barely able to whisper. “One of the girls, well, she had a specialty. She went off with one of the players so they could… play, and things got too rough. We were all pretty strong, and she got hurt really badly. The guys carried her out of the room and down the back stairs, and left her out back near the dumpsters, like she was a piece of trash.” Bri felt like throwing up just thinking about it. He pushed his plate away and saw Obie doing the same. “I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly dinner conversation.” His head ached and he wondered why he had ever gone down this conversational road at all.

  “Was she okay?” Obie asked and Bri nodded. “I take it she was found.”

  “Yeah. Some men from the hotel found her, called the police, and all hell broke loose about ten minutes after I got back. The police got us all up and brought us into one of the conference rooms, talking to everyone. I had just gotten back and was able to tell them where I’d been. They called my uncle to verify, and then they let me return to my room. The others… they didn’t get off so lightly. Charges flew all over the place. Some of the guys weren’t able to return, and even ended up in jail. The team got decimated, and the college was fined. They almost lost their basketball program. It was pretty bad. The team was tainted—and that meant me too, for a while. My uncle actually testified and even went with me to some of my pro interviews and ‘meet and greets’ to explain that I was with him when it all went down, just so they would know I had nothing to do with it.” He never wanted to go through anything like that again. “That’s when I grew up.”

  Obie nodded and swallowed hard. He took a tentative bite of pasta, made a face, and set his fork down again. Bri was no longer hungry. “Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Not really. I know she recovered. I heard on the news that she’d been a runaway, and there were reports that her family found her and took her home. She went by the name Charity, but I bet that wasn’t her real name. Still, it was the only one we knew. I hope she was able to go on with her life… somehow.” He pursed his lips slightly. “Everyone has that moment when they learn that life isn’t what they expected and that what they thought was true is really a huge crock of crap. That was mine.” Bri picked up his fork, even though his appetite was gone. “I really haven’t thought about all this in quite a while.”

  “Do you think this stalker you’ve got might be somehow connected to that incident?” Obie asked. “I mean, I suppose it’s a long shot, and you weren’t even there.”

  “I’ve thought about that. I don’t remember her name, but the last I heard, Charity had gone back home to live with her parents. She testified in court and then she left. I don’t think she’d come back to try to get even with me. Some of the guys went to prison, while I finished college and then went on to the pros.” He’d often wondered what had happened to her.

  “Maybe she had relatives,” Obie offered.

  “I don’t know. That was a long time ago. If something was going to happen, why now? Why not all those years ago? And I never even saw the girls. I was just the teammate of a bunch of guys who couldn’t behave.” He ate slowly, continuing to think.

  “You’re probably right, and I’m sorry I made you go over that again.” Obie reached across the table, taking his hand gently. “I’m sorry you got caught up in that mess.” Obie finished eating and carried his plate to the sink. He hurried from the room and returned with a laptop, sitting back down and opening the lid. He typed for a while, then turned to Bri.

  “Her real name was Charity Collins. The later news stories ran it. Apparently, she returned to Lancaster with her family.” Obie continued typing. “She’s married now and has two children.” Obie turned the screen to display a picture on Facebook. It was a photo of a woman, surrounded by her husband and two young kids. “It looks like she’s happy, and that she’s gone on with her life, judging from her posts and pictures.” Obie clicked a few times. “She really needs to adjust her privacy settings, but there’s nothing here to suggest that she’d want to come to Philly to set your house on fire.”

  Bri watched as Obie looked through the posts. “At least it seems as though she has a good life.”

  “And people with good lives don’t usually hurt others—at least not intentionally.” Obie closed the computer. “I was hopeful that we might find out something. I guess it’s always possible, but it doesn’t seem likely that she’d be your stalker.” He seemed flustered and drummed his fingers on the lid of the laptop. “There has to be a reason behind this. If we find it, we might get closer to figuring out who this nutjob is.” His fingers continued their rhythmic patter.

  “I wish I knew. It isn’t like I go around pissing people off all the damn time. Though I sure got someone mad at me.” He ate the last of his dinner, and Obie took care of the dishes as the dryer dinged. Obie hurried away and returned with some of Bri’s clothes, folded and in a pile, mercifully free of the smell of smoke. He set down the clothes in the next chair and turned away, stiffly going back to loading the dishwasher, the plates clanging as he did. “This is a difficult subject for you, isn’t it?” Bri asked.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, my being gay was no secret. It took everyone about two seconds to figure it out, and with this hair….” Obie didn’t look at him. “High school was pretty much hell, especially since I kept as much shit as I could from my dad.” His shoulders stiffened, and Bri levered himself onto his feet, using the crutches to steady him.

  “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t do my share in trying to make school an easy experience for a lot of people.” He groaned and wiped his hand down his face. “Lord knows if I had just said who I was, there would have been a lot of shit thrown….”

  “Yeah, probably. But you were a jock and really good. You’d have weathered it and come out smelling like a rose on the other side….” Obie slowly turned around. “But maybe you wouldn’t have gotten into the college you did. Or maybe the professional scouts would have discounted you the way they have other people. I really do get that. But there was no way they were going to squeeze you into a locker and try to close it on you.” Obie sighed. “Whatever
happened to me, none of it was your fault. And when my dad did find out….”

  “Fireworks?” Bri asked.

  Obie nodded. “You have no idea. He was down on the people at the school like a big papa bear. They instituted an antibullying program and even helped me start a gay/straight alliance at the school. Some parents objected—you know the type—but I had support, and that’s all that mattered.” He sighed loudly. “None of that has anything to do with you, and I’m only bringing it up because even today, if I met my bully, Kevin Webster, in public, it would take a great deal of restraint to keep me from kicking him in the nuts.” He held Bri’s gaze almost until it became uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t pick on people like that. Classes were already really hard for me, and you can imagine Mom and Dad weren’t particularly thrilled with that. Dad kept hoping I would apply myself and my grades would improve. So every report card was a hardship because I didn’t want to disappoint him. Who wants to be the dumb one in the family?” Bri turned away and stared at the oak graining in the tabletop. “I studied hard because Mom and Dad weren’t going to allow me to slough off. We had a deal. If I wanted to play, I had to keep my grades up.” He closed his eyes, remembering some of the kids who were picked on. Kids like Obie might have been. “There was a guy, Pat, who liked to pick on kids, one in particular. God, he was one mean son of a bitch. Pat was huge, and he thought anyone smaller than him was fair game. Pat was also about as smart as a box of rocks.”

  “Do you remember the kid he picked on?” Obie asked softly.

  “Not really. He was sort of tall, a beanpole kind of kid, with blond hair, and he talked with a slight lisp. I remember seeing him a few times, usually sitting by himself. He was smart, and he had a few friends. Funny, I remember thinking how bad I felt for him. I was pretty sure he was gay too, but I was too cowardly to go up and try to befriend him.” Bri pulled the robe around him tightly, as though it were a sort of armor against the past. “Sometimes being young and stupid really sucks.”