by Andrew Grey
“We need to get the video of that game, and take a look at the part when you were injured.” He hated to even say it, but the notion wasn’t going to go away now that the seed had been planted in his mind. “What if your injury was the message you were supposed to have understood?”
“Huh?” Bri rolled his eyes. “You have to be kidding. It was an accident. Things like that can happen during games. Don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions?”
“Let’s get your computer and take a look. There are a number of videos of the accident on YouTube from various people who were there.”
Bri groaned. “The laptop is in the office.”
Obie ignored his attitude and retrieved it, then sat next to Bri and booted it up. Moments later, they had at least a dozen clips to choose from. Of course, no one was actually supposed to be filming the game, but it was impossible to police everyone. “Check out this one.” Obie started the clip. It was from farther up, but it was pretty steady. “Right there.”
“What?”
“He came across. Did you see? Young was guarding Williams, and suddenly he was in your face. He ran a quarter of the way across the court to get to you, and when he got close, suddenly you go down with a knee injury.” He got another clip, this one closer and from the sidelines. It was difficult to see the exact angle they needed, but it was clear that the opposing player had indeed gone after Bri. Up to that point, he had been staying in position, guarding one of the other players.
“Things get chaotic during a game. These clips don’t prove anything. Maybe he saw an opening and thought I was going to go for the ball,” Bri reasoned, but Obie wasn’t buying it.
“Do you have a grudge with Young? Have you talked to him? Do you think he could be the guy who made the calls?” Obie asked, playing yet another video. “I know what I’m saying sounds a little out there, but what if it’s true? What if Young truly intended to injure you?”
“Why?” Bri asked. “I barely know the guy. We’ve never been on the same team, and he joined the league just two years ago. He’s a good player, but I doubt he’ll ever be a superstar. Why would he want to hurt me? Yeah, the game had taken on a more serious tone than exhibition play usually did, but to purposely injure someone else….” He blinked and locked gazes with Obie. “Do you really think it’s possible?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t my area of expertise, but I remember seeing the replay of the game and I thought Young’s move was completely wrong at the time. Something really bothered me, but it isn’t until I look at it now that I think I see why.” He ran through all the other clips, but they didn’t show much of anything else. “All I’m saying is, what if?” He closed the computer lid and set it on the coffee table. “Maybe I am just plain wrong… or maybe there’s something else going on.”
“Okay…,” Bri agreed reluctantly.
“Why don’t you run it by your dad and see what he thinks,” Obie offered, and stood up. “I think I should go home. But you need to be careful. Whoever is threatening you could be dangerous. I know you think you’re pretty invincible, but you aren’t… any more than I am.” He didn’t want anything to happen to Bri. “I’ll see you Tuesday for our appointment.” He leaned closer and lightly kissed Bri, because there was no way he was going to leave without one last kiss. “Now take me home.”
It was both the longest and shortest ride in history.
OBIE’S HEART beat a little faster Tuesday afternoon as he finished his appointment and got the area set up for Bri. He had planned to start with a massage, but second-guessed himself because touching Bri probably wasn’t the best idea. Crap, this was why he was taking a step back. He had to be able to treat Bri without his thoughts immediately going to sex. This was a therapy session, nothing more, and he needed to be professional about it.
Bri came in, and Obie met him at the door. “Are you ready?” His throat went dry as he looked at Bri. His shorts hugged his thick thighs, and Obie turned away, trying not to let his mind go on a wayward journey.
“Yes. My leg has been a little sore, but less so every day.” He stood a little taller.
“That’s good….”
“Look, Obie, we can stand here and act like there’s nothing between us, or we can just be ourselves.” Bri smiled, and Obie blew air out from between his lips. “Let’s get to work, okay?”
“Sure. Hop up on the table, and we’ll start with some massage like we have before and then we’ll work your leg.” He sighed and waited while Bri took off his shoes and climbed onto the massage table, lying facedown to start with. Obie got to work, loosening the muscles in his leg and trying not to notice Bri’s perfect, strong butt or the way his leg muscles flexed and relaxed under his touch.
“Are the exercises getting any easier?”
“Yes, and I think I’m seeing more flexibility.” Bri rolled over, and Obie loosened his thighs and lower leg. He wasn’t supposed to pay attention to the bulge in Bri’s shorts or allow his mouth to go dry. He turned away, forcing his attention where it belonged, and ignored the sheen of sweat that broke out on the back of his neck. Damn, this was going to be more difficult than he figured. Still, he was a professional, and he was going to do the job he was being paid for.
“Good. You’re making progress. Now let’s go through the exercises and work on your flexibility.” He had to do something more active or his head was going to explode.
Obie spent the next half hour working on Bri’s legs and knees. The muscles were strengthening and he was regaining flexibility. Obie was still worried, but kept it to himself, that regardless of what they did, there was going to be a part of Bri’s mobility that was going to be lost. Hopefully it wouldn’t be much, but with this type of injury, 100 percent mobility recovery was rare.
“What aren’t you saying?” Bri asked as he lay back on the mat. “You have that look.”
Obie sat back on his haunches. “You’re making a lot of progress. I can see that. But… I have worries about full range of motion. You have scar tissue, and that is going to impede your mobility long-term.” He sighed. “So I want to try some different things this time. We have been working on bending your knee, but we also need to manage body rotation and other movements.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Bri said gently and sat up, his eyes locking with Obie’s. Instantly, heat welled under his clothes. Obie swallowed hard and had to be the first to turn away from the intensity in Bri’s gaze. “I want this, Obie,” he added in a whisper, and Obie took a second to wonder if he meant playing, him… or both.
“Then let’s do it together.”
The remainder of the session was a lot of hard work that left Obie drained from trying to keep his head where it belonged and monitoring Bri’s physical exertion. By the time he said goodbye and made sure Bri made it to his car and was able to drive away, he needed a drink and a cold shower. Thankfully, he had a couple of days to get his head where it belonged.
Since Bri was his last appointment of the day, he showered and was in the middle of an intense fantasy when someone banged on his front door. He bit his lower lip and turned off the water, grabbing a towel. “Just a minute,” he called, hastily drying himself, and yanked on shorts and a T-shirt.
“What took so long?” Chippy asked as soon as he pulled open the door. “You got company? Is Bri here?” He winked and leaned closer. “Just say so and we’ll take off.”
“I was just cleaning up.” Obie stepped back so Chippy and David could come in. “What are you guys doing here?” He didn’t think they had anything planned.
“You’ve been quiet for days, so we thought we’d stop over, find out what was up, and maybe see if you wanted to go out.” David flopped on the sofa, and Chippy took one of the chairs and set a bag on the table. “We also brought the stuff for cosmos.”
“You could have called or texted,” Obie said as he went to his room to change. By the time he returned, drinks had been mixed and one sat on the coffee table waiting for him. “But I suppose this
was better.” He needed his friends.
“It is,” Chippy agreed, raising his already half-empty glass. “Much better.” He sat back, taking another sip of his drink. “So how are things with tall and hunky?”
Obie quickly decided to try to defuse the situation. “He’s a client, you both know that.”
David seemed content to let the subject drop, but Chippy could be like a dog with a bone if he thought there was a chance of getting any juicy gossip. “Come on, really? Some guy gives you shit on the court, and suddenly he was up and over there like a shot, crutches and all. Zoom.” He motioned with his hands and nearly spilled his drink on Obie’s sofa. “So, what’s the real deal?” He leaned forward, and David did the same.
“We don’t keep stuff from each other,” David added, playing the guilt card beautifully. “So spill. Has he rocked your world yet?”
Obie rolled his eyes. “No. Nothing like that has happened.”
“Why not? And don’t give me this client excuse.” Chippy turned to David. “God, it’s like he’s stuck in the fifties and Fonzie is going to come through that door any second.” Chippy paused. “Though I think Fonzie was super hot with that leather jacket.”
“Yeah, we know. You used to fantasize about him while we watched Nick at Nite reruns,” David teased with a dramatic eye roll. “Try to focus on the topic at hand. Maybe make yourself useful and see if Obie has something to munch on before you get sloppy drunk.”
Chippy huffed and set his glass on the table. “I’ll get something in a minute,” Obie said. It looked like they were settling in for the long haul, which was fine.
“So what’s the dirt?” Chippy pressed.
“Bri is a client.”
“Who likes you,” Chippy added, cocking his eyebrow and looking like he’d sit there till doomsday waiting for Obie to talk. And it was easier to give in than to fight it.
“Nothing is happening. He’s a client and he isn’t really out.” He didn’t want to go through all this in great detail. “So we talked about it and decided that we’ll see where things stand once he’s healed and has a chance to decide what he truly wants.” God, that sounded lame, even to him. “Just leave it alone, guys,” he added with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter what I want. Not really. He is a client, and I have a reputation to uphold. He’s a professional athlete, and that’s what’s really important to him. So it doesn’t matter that he’s amazing, or that he took me to meet his parents…. His dad is a hoot and a half, by the way.”
“You met his parents? When?” David asked, as though a little stunned.
“Sunday. He invited me to go along with him.”
David shook his head. “And when did you make this little decision? Afterward, I bet.” He shook his head as though Obie was the stupidest man on earth. “He took you to meet the folks because he likes you, and you threw cold water on it with all this crap. Babycakes, the heart wants what the heart wants. So, don’t get physical until he’s not a client, but call him, see if he wants to go to dinner or something, date, get to know each other, and if things get interesting….” David cocked his eyebrows.
“You’re all about when things get interesting,” Obie retorted.
“And you used to be too,” Chippy interrupted. “You must really like this guy if you’re willing to take this kind of chance.” Chippy settled in his chair. “He’s a famous athlete who isn’t out of the closet, but he’s coming to terms with who he is. Now, he can do that with you, or have every gay man in Philadelphia beating a path to his door. And believe me, they will be, as soon as word gets out. And it will get out. People saw you at the game, and they’ll put two and two together fast enough.”
Obie felt himself pale. “They will.” Shit. “Look, you guys can’t tell anyone. That’s another reason why this has to stay professional. Bri needs to be able to figure out who he is on his own, just like the rest of us did.”
David and Chippy looked at each other for two seconds before bursting into laughter. “We all came down the birth canal singing show tunes and you know it. There was no hiding for any of us. We’re all gold-star gays. The only time we touched girl parts was when we were born.”
David stuck his nose in the air. “I’m a platinum-star gay. Mom had me by cesarean.”
“Please,” Obie groaned. “We still had a choice to tell others. He should have that same choice. But if we’re seen together a lot, then people will talk and his choice will be taken away.”
David’s grin slipped from his face. “Either you’re crazy or you’re falling in love with this guy. I’m not sure which. But with all this selflessness, I’m going with the latter. You like him, you really do. But maybe, just maybe, you should talk to him and ask what he wants.”
“We did. And this is what we agreed to,” Obie said, draining his glass, because damn it all, he needed a drink to calm his insides, which were turning loops now constantly.
“You did?” David asked. “Really.” He turned to Chippy. “I bet he gave him that ‘I’m a professional’ speech and the ‘what would people say if they found out I slept with my clients’ thing.”
Obie growled under his breath. “He did,” Chippy said with a giggle. “That was the same speech he gave Kyle and Andy.”
“Yeah, but that was just to put them off. He wasn’t really interested in them. Maybe he’s falling for his own propaganda now.” David clicked his tongue, and Obie wanted to smack both of them.
“Just stop it. I’m right here,” Obie snapped.
“Yeah, but we’re right, aren’t we? Sometimes you make things sound so reasonable, but it isn’t what you really want. You’re trying to delude yourself because you don’t want to get hurt. Well, none of us does. That’s natural. But what’s going to hurt worse? You not giving this a chance, or taking one and having it not work out? Because that’s the real choice. And before you pooh-pooh me, what if it does work out?”
“Yeah.” Obie couldn’t help smiling.
David clapped him on the leg. “Then think about that. Everyone knows you aren’t going to sleep with your clients. So you take it slow, but don’t write this off.” They both looked at each other and nodded. “We saw the way he looked at you.”
“Okay.” Obie put his hands up in surrender. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Maybe ask him to dinner. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” Chippy said and then giggled again. “Well, the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his—”
“That’s enough,” Obie interrupted. The guys needed some food in their stomachs. They were already getting a little loopy.
“Come on. My Gran is almost ninety and she and Gramps have been married for over sixty years. At the big party last year, my mom asked her the secret to her long marriage. Do you know what her answer was? My mom nearly choked when she said it. ‘A full stomach and empty balls.’” He broke into peals of laughter. “I thought my mom was going to die of embarrassment, but Gran had it right. Call him, invite him to dinner, and if it leads to something, so be it.”
“You guys are worse than a couple of yentas,” Obie protested, but not harshly. They cared and were his best friends. At least he had them in his corner.
“Speaking of yentas, have you talked to your mother?” Chippy asked.
“And when are you going to ask your parents to meet Bri? You already met his folks.” Now the alcohol was definitely doing the talking.
“How about you let us take it one step at a time.” Good lord, this was just what he needed. “All right? My dad would love to meet him, but you know Dad. He tends to put the cart before the horse sometimes.” This was spinning way out of control, and Obie took a mental step back. He and Bri had kissed—nothing more. Yes, there was attraction—a stellar, black hole kind of gravity—but he was going to be governed by his big head, not the little one. That had gotten him in trouble before.
“How about you promise that you’ll call him and ask him out,” David said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yeah,” Chippy said, piling on. “We can see the wishy-washy already creeping in. If you don’t go for it, then you’re a fool. We’ve been friends a long time and we know when you’re scared and hiding.” They shared a glance and then glared at him.
“I’ll think about it, guys. God, it’s not like either of you is an expert in relationships.” Granted, he wasn’t either, not by a long shot.
“No. We definitely suck in that department.” David turned to Chippy. “I said suck.” He giggled for a second. “But your luck is no better, and it’s time that changed for one of us.” He jumped off the sofa, returned with the pitcher of cosmos, and refilled glasses.
“God,” Obie breathed.
“Let’s see, there was Craig,” David said, counting. “He was as interesting… as day-old bread.” He ticked off on his fingers. “Victor….” He and Chippy shared another look.
“Victor was nice,” Obie said defensively. Though the man could bore the wallpaper off the walls with all his talk of the mating habits of microscopic organisms. He was a professor of microbiology, and in the end, the last thing Obie wanted was for Victor’s own mating habits to come anywhere near him.
“He was weirder than you thought,” David said sheepishly.
Obie’s mouth fell open. “You went out with him?” They never dated each other’s exes. It was part of the twink code… if there was one. When your twink friend broke up with someone, you were indignant for your friend, but you never went out with the ex.
David swallowed hard. “I asked you, remember? You said it was okay and that he was nice.” David leaned forward. “He was also really kinky and not in a good way. He had all these fetishes.” He curled up his lip. “I can be as kinky as the next guy, but….”
Chippy snorted. “You are not. You’re a vanilla sundae with vanilla sauce on top.”
“Okay. Okay,” Obie said, nearly losing his shit. This was what he needed, even if he hadn’t realized it. An evening with the guys to laugh and let loose. He could figure out what he was going to do about Bri a little later. Right now, he needed to have fun.