Rebound

by Andrew Grey

  “I get that. This isn’t my first injury,” Bri said without heat.

  “What did the doctor say at your last examination?”

  “That I need to give it time. But the longer I can’t move my leg, the more muscle I’m going to lose and the harder it will be to come back. When I was twenty-two, this would have been nothing.”

  Obie switched his attention to the other leg. “You aren’t twenty-two any longer, so the healing process requires more work.” He got the muscles loose, and Bri groaned under his breath as the tension in his quads and calves released as though they were on a spring. “I believe in whole-body healing. Not just the part that’s injured.”

  “Okay.” Bri kept his eyes closed, listening to the soothing sound of Obie’s voice. It had a gentling quality. He spoke just softly enough that Bri had to listen carefully, which kept his attention off his leg, especially when Obie turned his attention to his knee.

  “Don’t tense up. I’m not going to hurt you.” He kept his touch light, and soon Bri found himself relaxing once again. “So, as I was saying. You need to eat for recovery. Plenty of protein, but make it lean, chicken and fish, plus lots of vegetables and fruit. Give your body what it wants and don’t be hard on it.” He continued working gently. “And no heavy drinking. The body wastes energy getting that out of your system.”

  “So, no onion rings, then?” Bri teased with a smile.

  “Oh. Those you can have all you want, especially the ones from Blooms around the corner.” Damn, Obie was teasing him back. That was unexpected. “My God, those things are my one weakness. They make them fresh, with a tempura batter that they put a little pepper in, so it has a kick. Then they serve them with ranch dressing.” Obie chuckled. “I don’t think that’s what you were getting at, though, right? But it made me hungry.”

  “You?” Bri did his best to sound affronted. “Now I’m starving, and the hummus and baba ghanoush I had for lunch just isn’t cutting it.”

  “From Mediterranean Garden? I love it there. They make everything fresh that morning, and you can tell by the way it tastes. Yeah, you can go there all you like.”

  Obie giggled, and Bri slipped his eyes open to watch him. Obie was smaller, with fewer angles and more soft lines than the guys he was usually attracted to, but he was stunning. Bri mentally shook himself. He was not going to have those kinds of thoughts. Not here.

  “You’re an athlete, so you know all about eating well. Be good to your body and don’t strain the rest of it.”

  “Okay.” Bri let go of his curiosity and let Obie work.

  “See, we only have so much juice,” he continued. “So if you strain your arm, your body has to heal both the knee and your arm. But we want all the good energy focused on your knee.” He pulled his hands away, and Bri sat up slowly. Obie handed him a small bottle of water. “Drink up. You need to flush some of the toxins I just released out of your system.” Obie stood close enough to him that his own fresh, clean scent filtered in over the lotion. Bri leaned in slightly, inhaling slowly just to get a little more. He stopped himself a second later, pushing the thought away. That was not what he came here for at all. Yeah, he was friends with Hunter and understood about the whole gay thing. But that wasn’t for him. He couldn’t risk his career that way. Bri had long ago accepted that he wasn’t going to get married. He was a bachelor, he was happy, and he’d stay that way. When he needed an itch scratched, he did so discreetly and always out of town—far out of town. Damn it all, he was not letting his mind go there.

  Bri pulled the top off the water bottle and drained the contents. “Is that it?” Bri got his head back where it belonged and away from the interest that certain body parts were beginning to show.

  “No. Now that I have the muscles warmed up and supple, let’s see where you’re at. We aren’t going to work too hard today. I’m going to have you lie down and we’re going to check your range of motion. No quick movements and no untoward pressure.” Obie helped him get settled on the table once again, and Bri slowly lifted his leg. Obie helped maneuver it, bending the knee slightly back and forth. His hands were soft, and true to his word, each movement was fluid. Their eyes kept meeting, and Bri told himself that it was because Obie was doing his job, that he was looking back at him because it was what he should do. Still, Bri couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him, and he had to admit, it wasn’t all because of what Obie was doing, but more about his biggest, bluest, “get lost in them and never come out again” eyes. “Can you do a little more?” Obie asked.

  Bri closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and bent his knee a fraction farther, to the point of pain. “How is that?”

  “Good. Hold still.” Obie measured quickly and then slowly settled his leg back on the table. “It’s better than I thought it would be. You’re moving your knee about 20 percent. That’s not a bad starting place. We’ll keep working on it as healing progresses. Okay. I’m going to give you some exercises that I want you to do at home every day. These will help keep your leg limber and the muscles supple.” He took Bri through each one and had him repeat them. “Good. And don’t overdo it. I usually have to scold my patients into doing their exercises, but I have a feeling that won’t be the issue here.”

  “Probably not. I’ll do them every day.” Bri got up and carefully got off the table, returning to the changing room to dress in his street clothes.

  “Just leave the shorts in the hamper and I’ll wash them,” Obie called through the door. Once again, it took him more time than he would have liked to dress and then get his brace back on. He hated the thing, but felt better once it was in place. “Put some heat on your knee if it’s sore, but that shouldn’t last too long. Try not to take pain medication. It dulls the body.”

  “Don’t like pills anyway.” That was the truth. “In college, the trainer….” God, he so didn’t want to go there. “I stay away from as much of it as I possibly can.”

  “I’m aware that team trainers and doctors overprescribe sometimes and will do just about anything to keep you guys playing.” He pulled up the chair and sat down again. Bri let his legs settle to the floor. It felt good to have both of them free again, for a while anyway. “I’m the same way. I’ll do anything to help my clients get better. I’ll work just as hard as you do. But I can’t work miracles. I also advocate healthy living and plenty of rest, eating right, proper, controlled exercise, and….” Obie giggled again. “I sound like a commercial, don’t I? Sometimes I go on and on, I know that. Feel free to tell me to cool it. I won’t get offended, I promise.” He took a breath, and Bri stared at his lips a little too long, then blinked. Damn, he needed to get it together.

  Obie nodded. “And drink plenty of water. Is Friday afternoon good for you?” Obie opened the laptop on the small desk. “I have two thirty open again, if that’s okay.” He was already typing away.

  “I’ll be here.” Bri got his crutches and hobbled toward the door. Obie opened it, and Bri made his way back to his car, through the incredible garden. Obie followed and waited until he was back to the car, then closed the gate.

  Bri got behind the wheel, sliding his crutches into the back seat and closing the door, then taking a deep breath. This was a professional relationship and nothing more. He needed to get back on his feet so he could play again. If Obie could help him do that, great. The rest of it didn’t matter. He needed to keep his head in the game.

  Bri started the ride home and placed a call to Jack. “I had my first appointment.” He spoke through speakers built right into the car. He loved that.

  “How did it go?” Jack asked.

  “Pretty well, I think. He’s not at all what I expected, but he seems to really know what he’s doing. My leg aches a little, but it feels good too.” He got on the Schuylkill Expressway and, of course, came to an almost immediate stop. Good thing he only had to go a few exits.

  “I hear doubt in your voice,” Jack said. “Look, you need therapy and this is the last guy available. Hang in there and get it done so w
e can put you back on the active roster.”

  “I know.” He needed to put his doubts away and keep his mind on what was important—his career. Nothing else mattered. “I’ll keep you posted.” He ended the call, and thankfully traffic ahead began to move.

  His phone rang, and Bri pressed the button on his steering wheel to answer it. “Hello.”

  The line crackled. “I know what you are,” a mechanical voice rang through the car speakers. “And I won’t allow you to taint the sport any longer. You don’t seem to be able to read a message when I send it, so I’ll have to try again. This time, it will hurt more than it did the last time.”

  “Who the hell is this?” Bri demanded, even as a chill raced up his spine. “How did you get this number?”

  But nothing else came through the speakers.

  Chapter 2

  “HOW DID it go with the client you won’t talk about?” Chippy asked as he crossed his legs and sipped from his wineglass. He was seated on Obie’s brand-new slimline sofa in a perfect shade of blue that matched his eyes. Or so he’d been told.

  “You know I won’t talk about anyone I work with, so you can stop bugging.” Obie picked up his own glass and lowered himself into the perfectly offsetting chair in white. He scratched his head. “I have to wash this stuff out of my hair. I thought I’d like the yellow, but it just isn’t me.” He tilted his head so he could look into the mirror over the fireplace. “I think it makes me look like a lemon.”

  “And Lord knows you don’t want to be sour,” David quipped from where he sat next to Chippy. Obie had met David when he was trying to figure out the whole gay thing. Chippy had been his best friend ever since they’d been kids. The three of them were sort of the gay musketeers. “But what color will you go?” He looked aghast when Obie didn’t answer. “You mean natural? How… original.” He fanned himself and giggled.

  “I know. I haven’t gone outside with my original hair color in years, but don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I have to decide what I want, and this temporary stuff makes me feel kind of skanky and weird.” It was supposed to wash right out, and Obie certainly hoped it did.

  “After all, not everyone can have my raven locks,” Chippy chimed in. Chippy had shoulder-length black hair that curled slightly and was so dark, it shone blue in the sun. Obie had always wished for hair the same color as his friend’s, and had tried dying it once. His hair had turned out awful—flat, and mousy. After a few weeks, he’d buzzed his head to get rid of all of it. “So, what are we doing tonight?” Chippy asked, doing a slight hair flip. “There’s a new club opening downtown, and I’d like to go. It could be fun, and all the most interesting people are going to be there. Hunter Davis and Monty are supposed to be going.”

  “I know. Monty told me the other day. Hunter isn’t too thrilled about it. But Monty wants to go, so they’ll probably end up there, but not stay late.”

  David leaned forward. “Okay. What I want to know is if Hunter is bringing any of his football friends? I’d love to shimmy and shake up one of those guys.”

  “They’d break you in two,” Chippy countered. “Besides, can you see those guys in a gay club? Really?”

  “They’re pretty cool. Monty had me over for one of Hunter’s poker nights. He and I had cosmos and binged Queer as Folk reruns while they got all testosterone-y in the other room. They were kind of hot and pretty good guys, but I don’t see any of them taking the trip to the dark side.” Obie sat back, sipping from his glass.

  “And he didn’t invite us?” David asked, sounding dejected.

  Obie rolled his eyes. “Remember the last time Monty had you two over? It was Girls Gone Wild, and you two were the girls. The squealing… and that was just Hunter when Chippy here decided he was a tree and tried to climb him.” Obie glared at his friend. “Hint… humping someone’s husband is not the way to get a repeat invitation.”

  Chippy did his best to look hurt as he probably tried to remember the evening. They’d both had way too much to drink, and Obie had ended up taking them home since he’d drawn the short straw as the designated driver. “So, you’re saying the club is out?”

  “What do you think? We’re nobodies. So we wait in line with a hundred other people while the glitterati pass us by and we watch them go inside.” Obie had had enough of that, thank you very much.

  “But I love watching the glitterati, and maybe if I glitter enough, I’ll get to go in.” David flashed his cheeks in the light, already shining from the sparkly makeup he had on. “Come on, it will be fun. If we can’t get in, then I’ll buy us all munchies and we’ll drown our sorrows in onion rings.” He knew Obie’s one weakness and was obviously willing to exploit it.

  Obie set his glass on the table. “And for this little jaunt, you probably expect me to drive, right?” He’d only had about six sips of his wine, and it looked as though he wasn’t going to be having any more, if history held to form. Granted, he wasn’t a big drinker anyway.

  “The train is only a few blocks away from here. We might be able to catch it if we got going and Miss Thing over here could do her makeup without taking three hours,” Chippy teased, turning to David. “It’s a great night, and we should make the most of it.”

  David sighed dramatically. “Fine.” He stood and was already checking himself out in the mirror. “Just give me ten minutes.” He rushed off and was out the front door and back within thirty seconds. Then, moving so quickly he was just a blur, he passed the doorway to the living room. Seconds later, Obie heard the thunk of the downstairs bathroom door closing.

  “Ten minutes my sweet ass,” Chippy said. “I bet he’s in there for at least an hour.” He stood. “Come on, I’ll help you clear this away and then we can get going.” He picked up the plates of munchies that had already been picked clean and took them to the kitchen. Obie followed with the glasses, rinsing them all out and setting them in the sink.

  “I have to get some things upstairs. Be right back.” Obie hurried up the stairs and into the bathroom. He pulled off his shirt, turned on the water in the tub, and stuck his head under it. The water ran yellow and he reached for shampoo, rubbing it in and scrubbing, then rinsing it out, as his unfortunate hair color ran down the drain. Then he washed it again, then a third time, until the water ran clear. Turning it off, he grabbed a towel from under the sink and dried his hair and head.

  That felt damn good and his scalp felt clean. Standing up, he grabbed a comb and styled his still-wet hair a little. Then he put on his shirt and checked himself in the mirror. He looked fine, and it wasn’t like he was expecting to meet the love of his life—tonight, anyway. He was going to be standing outside for hours, so what did it really matter? He glanced in the mirror, shrugged, and shook his head slightly before hanging up the towel and leaving the room.

  “Are you ready?” he yelled down the stairs, grabbing his wallet and keys and sliding them in his pockets before descending the stairs.

  “Wow,” Chippy said as he met the others in the living room. “Is that what that stuff did to you? That orangey red color, it’s….”

  “My real hair,” Obie said as he grabbed a dark hat, adjusting it to a jaunty angle to cover most of his hair. “Now let’s get going before we miss the train.” He pulled open the front door, and they stepped out into the night.

  JUST AS Obie suspected, they got there only to stand in a line a block long. Worse, it hadn’t moved more than ten feet in the last half hour. At this rate, they would get in next Thursday. In desperation and because he was tired of standing there, he messaged Monty and got a quick response.

  I’m inside. I’ll send Hunter out to get you.

  The guys are with me, Obie replied.

  I’ll warn him. The message was followed with a happy face. And sure enough, five minutes later, Hunter, accompanied by one of the bouncers, found them and they were escorted around the rest of the line and into the club, which pulsated with energy.

  “Oh my God,” David said, holding on to Obie’s arm as though
he might faint. “Would you look at him.” He pointed, and Obie let his gaze follow. “Do you think he’d let me climb him like a tree?”

  “No!” Obie said firmly. “Just don’t you dare.” Then he turned at the sound of a familiar voice. There was his newest client, propped up on crutches.

  “Hunter,” he heard Bri say as they approached. “This isn’t my thing. I’m happy to support the AIDS Research Council, but it’s getting late. I think I’m just going to head home.”

  Obie was definitely surprised to see Bri here, but then, the evening was for a good cause. He liked that Bri cared enough to help out.

  He was just about to go over and say something, but his friend beat him to it.

  “Hi, I’m David.” He held out his hand to Bri. “You’re Bri Early, aren’t you? I’m sure I’ve seen you on television. You do those luscious commercials for Chanel. I went out and bought some just because of you.” He leaned closer. “Want to check it out and see?” He pressed his upturned hand forward so Bri could supposedly smell his wrist.

  “Knock it off,” Obie said. “Be nice. He doesn’t want to smell you.” He definitely needed to run a little interference.

  “Yeah, none of us do,” Chippy added, much to David’s visible consternation. Chippy tugged David in the direction of the bar as Monty joined Hunter, wrapping an arm around him.

  “Dang, half of gay Philly is here tonight.” Monty looked up at Hunter, his partner. “I think I need to mark you, just so all the trolling queens will keep their damn distance,” he said, louder than was necessary. The circle of guys inching their way closer seemed to back away a little, but not for long. It seemed they had their sights on Bri as well.

  “I know. Thanks, Hunter, for coming to our rescue,” Obie said. “I thought we’d be in that line forever.”