I looked down at his fingers then up at his face, holding my breath for who the hell knew what. Him to stop accusing me? Touching me? Hating me?
“The worst part of this bullshit with you is that back when I was with the Predators, I really fucking liked you, man.” Simeon released a harsh laugh. “There’s so many jokers on your team. Show-offs, braggy mofos, dudes who are more worried about fucking every night than putting in the work to win. DUIs, violence against spouses or even the press, all kinds of arrests for pitiful shit . . . and none of them gave a damn. It was disappointing, because I’d sworn all that was media spin.”
“Some of it is.”
“Nah. You’re lying to yourself, but I get it.” Simeon pressed harder. The imprints of his fingers would be on my skin later. I knew it. “But anyways, out of everything, you were the best part of being there. You were funny, didn’t treat me like a scrub just because I was new, and didn’t laugh during training when I said I’d be happy to even make third string. I liked you, man.”
Liked me how? Cringing, I tried to back off so he wasn’t touching me, but the desk had me caged in.
“But now I see that you’re just like them.”
“No I’m not,” I said quickly.
“Yeah. You are. You’re a big kid who grew up privileged with your rich baseball daddy and fancy lawyer mommy. This is all a game to you, dawg. I know it. You know it. Fuck, even Casey Rose knows it. But to me?” Simeon took a step back. “This is my life. This shit is everything to me. And I don’t have time for some fool who wants to ruin it just because me being gay makes him nervous.”
“You don’t make me nervous.”
Simeon smirked. “Yeah? Then why’re you sweating?”
A blustery protest formed in my throat, but he turned away and walked out before I could form the words.
Chapter Three
Simeon
Nothing made you feel more like a regular person than riding the subway in New York City. I’d driven down over the weekend to check out the situation in Williamsburg, but parking had been a nightmare.
It was all street parking with the cars real cramped together. I’d have a better chance walking from the Hamptons and getting to the community center on time rather than my ride remaining unscratched if I parallel-parked my truck every day.
Mel had suggested I rent a smaller vehicle, but I’d literally never driven a sedan and couldn’t see how I could fold my body into one. It was trucks or nothing. I gravitated to pickup trucks like diesel was in my veins. The probable reason I hadn’t been able to park my F-250 anywhere near Grand Street.
So today, the first day of a two-month punishment that I was convinced I didn’t deserve, I’d girded my loins for autograph seekers but had gone virtually unnoticed on the subway. No one had given a goddamn about my big ass squeezing into the two-seater on the E train or the L train. A few people had glanced my way, and I’d gotten more than a few long, admiring looks from dudes sweeter than my auntie’s pecan pie, but no one had approached.
I could fuck with New Yorkers.
Finding the Grand Street Center should have been cake since the subway had let me out at a station literally called Grand Street, but I got turned around twice before finding the place. It was easy to miss, and I had no idea where they thought we were going to teach these kids how to play football. There were probably a couple of small parks around, but where was the practice field and turf?
“Why do you look confused?”
Forcing myself not to sneer, I glanced back at Adrián. He was wearing basketball shorts, a sleeveless striped T-shirt the color of a Creamsicle, and Ray-Bans. He was also casually licking an ice cream cone. I wanted to fuck the shit out of him, but settled for rolling my eyes back towards the community center.
“Where are we supposed to practice?”
“Probs using the high school’s field.”
“There’s a field somewhere in the middle of all this concrete?”
“Yup.” Adrián gave another slow lick while staring at me from behind the safety of his reflecting sunglasses. “I know it’s probably a real shock to your country ass.”
“Fuck you, Bravo.”
It was a bullshit insult, and I wasn’t really mad, but it still made me hate him just a bit more.
“Stop standing out here like a lost tourist and take your ass inside. The paps haven’t found us yet, but they will.”
I flipped him off and strode through the doors, hoping one of them rebounded and broke his little button nose. Fucker had nerve being cute as hell while trying his best to get under my skin.
“Soooo,” he drawled. “How was the journey from the Hamptons?”
“Just fine. How was your journey from wherever the hell you crawled out of?”
“Great. Legit walked down the street and stopped for a Mister Softee on the way.”
“Mister Softee? Sounds like a gay-for-pay bottoming porn scene.”
Adrián tilted his head, puzzled and still licking his cone. I had no idea what he thought he was doing with that goddamn thing. Introducing himself to the kids and our new supervisor while eating like a child?
“What’s gay-for-pay?”
Smirking, I glanced at the reception desk and then back at him. “When a porn star lets dudes bang him on camera even though he’s really straight. So, his dick stays limper than a softwood tree after a rainstorm.”
Adrián wrinkled his nose. “They must be getting that good money.”
“Probably. Feeling tempted into a career change?”
He pushed his sunglasses to his forehead and winked. “Not for nothing less than eight figures. They gotta match my EA Sports endorsement.”
I couldn’t stand him.
Turning away, I strode to the receptionist’s desk only to see the woman behind it had already noticed us. She was wearing a floral pantsuit with high-top Converse and had a big purple bow in her Afro. If I was straight, or a little bit homo-flexible, I’d be in love. Instead, I just admired her skin since it was glowing like a moisturizer commercial.
“Hello there, ma’am,” I said, smiling wide. “You wouldn’t happen to know where two troublesome NFL bozos should head to get started on their coaching project, would you?”
“I sure do,” she said, smiling back just as wide. Her big dark eyes flicked over me before glancing more dismissively at Adrián. I may be gayer than a San Francisco Pride parade, but I was also smug as hell.
“You guys are actually early, but I’ll show you to the director’s office.”
“Early?” Adrián wrinkled his nose. “But we were told to be here from like nine in the morning to four in the afternoon.”
“Huh. Interesting. The kids for the sports program usually come in from noon to four. Maybe you’re supposed to help out around the Center for the full-day program too?”
Adrián muttered something and went back to his cone. Child.
I flashed another smile. “Thank you, ma’am. I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”
“That’s because I didn’t give it to you yet. It’s Sheila.”
“Okay, Sheila. Nice to meet you.”
She turned away to show us to the office, and Adrián nudged his shoulder against mine. “Why would you flirt with her when you don’t like ladies?”
“Why not? It’s fine, and she’s pretty.”
Adrián gave me big, owlish eyes. He was so boyishly adorable it was hard to hate him for long periods of time. I solved that little dilemma by reminding myself that he was a douche canoe.
“You find women attractive?”
“You poor sweet child. Unlike cis hetero men, who think admitting another man is attractive will turn their fragile sexualities in a different direction, I’m more than capable of admiring a beautiful woman without questioning my shit.”
“Huh.”
“I
’m just opening all kinds of new worlds for you, ain’t I?”
Adrián shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see what else you got in the next two months.”
There were so many places that comment could go, but I tamped down on all of them and picked up my pace. Sheila led us to a grim little room that was stacked full of paperwork, overcrowded bookshelves, and one tiny window high up towards the ceiling. It was the most depressing shit I’d ever seen, but the rest of the Center hadn’t been too fancy either.
Not having spent much time in New York, the only things I knew about Williamsburg had come from people who made fun of it. They said it was a former diverse neighborhood made up primarily of Hasidic and Latinx communities that had been overrun by gentrifiers trucking in from Manhattan with their Pilates studios, tea shops, bars, and boutiques. I’d expected to see hordes of wealthy young people with eighties glasses and high-waisted jeans or whatever swanning around while taking pictures of artisanal sandwiches with their iPhones.
Instead, this particular corner of south Williamsburg seemed like it hadn’t been completely changed just yet. The Center was no frills but had been decorated by the staff with artwork and graffiti, and the kids I’d peeped while walking through were a mix of ethnicities. That gave me hope. If we were paying it forward with our skills, I’d prefer it not to be just to rich kids with trust-fund parents.
“Yaritza?”
I hesitated before following Sheila into the office, not moving until Adrián hard-bodied me all the way inside. After tossing him a vicious glare, because what did he think he was doing making me barge into this woman’s space, I turned to our new boss. She, like Sheila, really made me all kinds of happy. I had a soft spot for nerds and hipsters, and Yaritza had matched her bow tie, big glasses, and acid-washed jeans with Jordans and big gold-hoop earrings with her name in the middle. Took me way back. Marcus would be in heaven. Well . . . soon-to-be engaged Marcus would have been in heaven. I had to keep reminding myself that my boys weren’t bachelors anymore.
“Hey, guys,” she said breezily. “I’m so happy to have you here. Take the most comfortable seat you can find, and we can go over everything.”
There were a couple of tiny folding chairs and one slightly more comfortable-looking office chair that Adrián immediately snagged. He went for optimum man spread while eating his ice cream with his eyes still shaded. Frowning, I leaned over to snag his sunglasses.
“Don’t be rude.”
He sucked his teeth. “No one cares.”
“I care.”
Sheila snickered and gave me a little wave before hurrying out. I was so going to be the teacher’s pet. Adrián shook his head.
“You guys are funny,” Yaritza said. “I honestly thought you would be showing up with an entourage.”
“I’m not on that Tom Brady shit, miss. I live around the corn—”
“Stop cursing,” I muttered.
Adrián sighed. “This kid really thinks he’s my daddy. Can you believe I have to put up with him?” he asked Yaritza, giving her the big, chocolate-brown eyes. “For like two months!”
“Well, considering you’re going to be around a bunch of kids with helicopter parents, you might want to get used to censoring your mouth.” Yaritza sat back in her chair with arms crossed over her chest. “I talked to both of your agents, and they aren’t going to call in the media for planned photo ops for a while. The point of that is to not overwhelm the kids right off the bat, but also not show you two being an overwhelmed hot mess, since that’s probably what it’s going to be like at first.”
I laughed. “Trust me, we’ll be okay.”
“Ah ah ah,” she said, wagging her finger. “Don’t underestimate the wiliness of preteens. They’re hardheaded, sassy as hell, and some of them will have no real interest in football. These kids are more likely to have been playing basketball or handball than trying to figure out complicated plays. Expect the first two weeks to be a lot like herding cats.”
“Come on, Yaritza. Give us a bigger vote of confidence than that,” Adrián said. “And they have to do plays.”
“If you really want to do that to yourself,” she said with another breezy smile. “But you’d be better off just teaching them teamwork and leadership skills than worrying about all that other crap.”
Adrián and I looked at each other. He did the sign of the cross.
“You’re not a football fan, are you?” I asked, cringing.
“Not really, but you will see me rocking orange and blue from head to toe when the Knicks are playing.”
Lord. Jesus. Maybe I couldn’t fuck with New Yorkers after all.
Adrián
As much as I disliked Simeon pretending he was about that I’m-super-serious-about-this-BS-publicity-stunt-ma’am life, I could not deny the cat was charming as hell.
It annoyed me through the first three hours of our first day of volunteer work, which was apparently us minding the kids who were there for a full-day camp. They did arts and crafts, had snacks, then free play, while I hung back in a corner and tried not to let anyone notice me. The funny thing was—most of the kids had no idea who we were. Only a few of them got big eyes once they noticed it was Simeon’s face on their cereal boxes and even then it took them a minute. I had no idea how they didn’t recognize him. His face wasn’t exactly forgettable.
By the time noon rolled around, I’d texted my agent twice about how bullshit this little project was while Simeon sat in a circle and colored with first graders. What was life?
“Hey, guys.” Yaritza walked over to us with her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “We ordered pizza if you want to eat with us. I doubt it’s enough, so feel free to take off for a half hour and be back by eleven thirty. You’ll meet your players at twelve.”
“Bet,” I said. “What’s the deal for that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what are we doing with them for the first day?”
Yaritza’s brows pushed together and she tilted her head. Bad sign.
“You don’t have a plan? I thought you guys would have gone over it together.”
“Us?” I barked out a laugh. “We don’t talk to each other unless we have to. Come on, now, Miss Lady. You know why we’re here. We can’t stand each other.”
Simeon nodded but mostly just looked troubled, gnawing on his lower lip. “What are we going to do for four hours?”
“I have no idea, guys. This is your thing. The program is new.” A glimmer of frustration crossed Yaritza’s face, like she wanted to shake us both. “Listen, this is what I’d do, grab lunch and come back. We can spend the next hour trying to draw up a fast-and-dirty lesson plan. Sound good?”
“Yeah, I appreciate—”
“Yeah, he loves it fast and dirty,” I said.
Yaritza’s mouth twisted to the side. Simeon punched my arm.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up, Bravo? I mean, damn.”
“Sorry. I forgot you’re sensitive.”
He looked ready to murder me but still pasted on that big white smile for our supervisor. Damn suck-up. “We’ll get it together, ma’am. I swear. If my boys were here, we’d have this on lock.”
It was hard to contain an epic eye roll. His boys. Mr. Perfect Marcus Hendricks and Redeemed Asshole Gavin Brawley. Well. Slightly redeemed. Brawley had recently flipped off a paparazzo and shoved the pap’s camera after the dude had basically camped in the lobby of his new penthouse in the West Village. They were fiending to get a shot of Brawley and his man.
“Whatever,” I said. “I’m gonna go to Pacini’s, and I’ll be back.” Simeon said nothing. I gave in and epically rolled my eyes. “Bring your country ass on.”
“You clearly never been to New Orleans, boo.”
“Hell yeah I have. Partied on Bourbon Street all night.”
“You are pathetic.”
&
nbsp; Yaritza gave us a pained smile and left us to our own devices. Not the best idea, since we probably needed a sitter. Huffing out a long sigh, I slapped my sunglasses back on and led Simeon to my favorite pizzeria. It was a hole-in-the-wall and an original staple of the neighborhood that had managed to hold out as everything around it was eaten up and bought out by rich developers trying to make it fancy. That was the main reason I’d first started going in. I liked the old-timey booths, greasy glass counter with the uncovered pizza pies, lack of signs about gluten and farm-fed animals, and the yellowed pictures of celebrities. They also made bomb-ass chicken rolls.
Simeon scanned the menu once, twice, and then flashed his stupid charming smile at the grumpy Italian dude behind the counter. “Can I have a grilled shrimp Caesar salad and the sausage with broccoli rabe?”
Pssh. What an amateur. Like, what? That was barely food.
Elbowing by him, I thunked my forearms onto the counter.
“You know the drill, Pete. Chef salad, chicken roll, rice ball Parm, two slices of pizza, and lasagna.”
Simeon gave me a look of disgust. “You’re suspended. You working out enough to counter that much grease and cheese?”
Me and Pete looked at each other. “Aiight, cut the pizza.”
“Your choice,” Pete said, like I’d die due to this decision. It was cold out here in these pizzerias.
Simeon sat in one of the booths, and I joined him on the opposite side. I wondered if a pap would stroll up out of nowhere and snap a picture of us being all cordial.
“Look, Bravo. Don’t fuck this up.”
So much for cordial.
“You need to stop making perverted jokes and being a jackass around the people at the Center,” he continued. “How’s it going to look when reporters talk to Sheila and Yaritza and they say you acted like a prima donna asshole with a lousy sense of humor the whole goddamn time?”
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