Long Pass Chronicles 02 - Canning the Center (10 page)

“So you’ll play football rather than teaching?”

“You can only play a relatively short time. Too hard on your body. The guy I’m replacing is just thirty-six, which is ancient as a center, and he’s really beat-up.”

“So back to my original question. Why do it?”

Jamal grinned. “Simple answer. I love playing. There’s a huge adrenaline rush associated with being a lineman. You have to work yourself up to taking that kind of hit, that much impact. It makes some guys crazy and some mean. It just makes me feel high, like I’m floating on a carpet of joy.” He tossed the sugar packet. “Sorry. I do have this tendency to wax poetic.”

Trevor smiled. “It’s delightfully unexpected.”

“Yeah. I’m Ferdinand.”

“What? Like the bull?”

“Yep.”

The waitress brought the food, and Trevor instantly took a sip of the float.
Wow
. “Amazing.”

“Yeah, see what I told you? Best around.”

He took a bite of hamburger and then went back to the float. “So, Ferdinand.”

“My sister named me. Calls me Ferd.”

“I like it. I—”

A man stepped up beside the table. “Sorry to butt in, but aren’t you Jamal Jones?”

The guy wore a windbreaker and a white baseball cap. Jamal nodded pleasantly, but he glanced toward Trevor. “Yes. I am.”

“Wow. Told the wife it was you. We used to watch you in the SCU games, man. Can’t wait to see you start for the Diablos.” He leaned against the table, really settling in. “I saw you come in and told the wife, a guy that big’s gotta play football. And then she looks and says, ‘Honey, that’s Jamal. You should know Jamal.’ So she says I gotta come and get an autograph, or I’ll never forgive myself. I’m Hank, by the way.”

Jamal extended a hand and shook Hank’s. He looked friendly, and it probably took a closer observer than Hank to see he wasn’t comfortable. “Glad to meet you, Hank.”

“So, would you sign my hat?”

“Sure. Got a pen?”

“What we need’s a waterproof marker.” Hank turned toward the back of the diner, where a woman was leaning out of a booth, smiling. “Hey, honey, you got an indelible marker? Jamal’s gonna sign the hat.” The woman hopped out of the booth like she’d only been waiting for an excuse and hurried over beside Hank. Half the people in the diner had turned to look. The bunny appeared to want to run.

“Hi. I’m Jeannie.” She dug through her purse.

Another woman leaned out of her booth with a marker in her hand. “Here ya go, sweetie. This is what you need.”

Jeannie took the marker and presented it with a flourish to Hank, who handed it to Jamal. Jeannie turned to Trevor. “Hi. I didn’t meet you. I’m Jeannie. I’ll bet you don’t play football.”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was surreal. “I’m, uh, Trevor.”

“You sure are pretty.”

Was this happening? “Thank you.”

“So, you work with Jamal?”

“No, we’re just friends.”

Jamal finished the signature. His eyes looked a little wild. “Trevor is a friend from SCU.”

“No kidding. We sure love watching them play.”

All Trevor could think of was his root beer float losing its fizz.

Hank took the hat. “Thanks so much. I guess we should go and let you eat. Thanks an awful lot.” He grabbed Jeannie’s arm and pulled her away. She looked over her shoulder.

“Great to meet you, Trevor. Bye, Jamal. We sure are fans.”

When they had returned to their booth, Jamal turned to his float and stared into it as he drank. “Sorry.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“No. But I guess it might happen more now that I’m starting.”

“You don’t look like you enjoy it.”

Jamal seemed to shudder. “The press and fans hounded a good friend of mine in college until he didn’t know which end was up. But it goes with the job.” He glanced up at Hank and Jeannie, still half hanging out of their booth, then looked back at the root beer.

Oh wait
. “Is it a problem that we’re together? You said you hadn’t told anyone you’re gay. I don’t exactly look like I play football, as that woman observed. Are you worried about what people think?”

He shrugged. “We could just be friends, right?” But he did look uncomfortable.

“Want to leave?”

Jamal looked up. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Sorry.” He pulled money from his pocket in a wad, tossed it on the edge of the table, and stood up. And up.
People sure do stare at a man that size
.

Trevor slid out of the booth and walked in front of Jamal. Voices came from behind them. “Bye, Jamal. Win one for us.”

Outside, Trevor walked straight to the car, listening to Jamal’s footsteps behind him. The beep signaled the unlock, and Trevor crawled in. Jamal was already in his seat. Jamal closed the door and stared at the wheel. “I’m so sorry to put you through that.”

“Through what?”

“Being embarrassed and everything.”

Trevor touched his big, muscled shoulder. “I’m not embarrassed. That must be somebody else in this car.”

Jamal just blew out his breath.

Trevor sat back. “So how bad is it for you if they find out you’re gay?”

“Bad, I think.”

“More and more athletes are coming out every day. Why not you?”
That was a disingenuous question
.

“I was going to tell the coach in case something happened. So he wouldn’t think I was a liar. But since I started with the team, some stuff has happened that makes it harder for me to come out.”

“What?”

He looked up at Trevor with those wide brown eyes.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

“One of the guys on the team is gay and was threatening to come out, so they retired him and put me in his place as starting center.”

“Well, damn. What are the chances of that?”

“Yeah. I was going to tell Coach before that happened. One of the main reasons was I hoped I might get to date you, and I didn’t want to have to worry about someone seeing me.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“I know, but the way I felt about you reminded me that I’m not really heterosexual, and I’d planned to tell Coach that. Now—?” He shrugged.

“And here I am looking like the girliest damned guy on the planet, right?”

“I love the way you look.”

Trevor stared at the dashboard. Not exactly like he was the great forthcoming truth-teller himself. Easy to say to Jamal he should come out, but then that was not always the case, as he so well knew. “So being seen with a guy who looks pretty gay could be a problem for you?”

“Oh shit, I guess so.”

Trevor grinned. “Then it’s a good thing I can look like a girl, right?”

The bunny got wider eyes. “Are you serious? You’d do that?”

“Honey, I don’t prance around on that stage dressed in evening gowns because I’m trying out for macho man of the year. I love drag. What the hell?” He double snapped.

“And I love you in it. I mean, I love you both ways. God, that would be so great.” He reached for Trevor, glanced over his shoulder toward the diner, and pulled back. “Guess I better not.” He grinned. “But I want to.”

Trevor nodded. “Point taken.”

“Can we go out on Saturday night? After my first game? I can take you someplace nice.”

Oh my, there was a lot he’d do to be with this man. Very few people could tell he was a man when he wore drag, and he’d never see anyone important.
Sometimes principles suck the weenie. Or perhaps keep one’s weenie from getting sucked.
He smiled. “I’d love to go out on Saturday.”

Chapter 7

J
AMAL
SLIPPED
on his sneakers and stared at the phone. It was early. She’d never answer. A good time to leave a message.
Okay, here goes
.

He dialed the number Lavinda had given him. One ring, two. He composed the message in his mind.

“Hello. This is Lavinda.”

He waited for the rest of the message.

Silence.

“Lavinda?”

“Yes. Hello, Jamal.”

Shit
. “Hi. I thought you were the message for a second.”

“Yes. Boogie told me you might call.”

That’s exactly what he figured. “Yes, I planned to call to ask you for dinner.”

“Planned?” That word sounded cool.

“Uh, yes. Remember how I told you I had started a relationship just before you and I met?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s, uh, taken a turn for the better.” He laughed, and even to him it sounded forced. “But I told Boogie I was going to call you, and I wanted to follow through so, uh, I guess I’m calling to say—” What the fuck was he calling to say?

“That you won’t be calling.” Her voice dripped with irony and not a little anger.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Well, well.”

What the fuck did that mean?

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jamal. I mean, of course I’m happy about your relationship, but I’m sad we won’t be able to get together.”

“Yes. Same for me. Both things.”

“At least for now. Relationships being what they are, right?”

Good grief, she gave him hives. “Thanks so much. Have a great day.” He hung up.
Holy shit, that was hard!
He wiped his hands on his sweats. But he’d done it and now it was over. He could hardly wait for Saturday.

T
REVOR
LOCKED
the bathroom door in his mom’s room. He stepped out of his jeans and pulled his sweater over his head, then slipped the dress out of his tote and put it on. Toeing off his sneakers, he replaced them with heels and pulled the clip out of his hair. He didn’t need makeup. Mama saw what she saw.

Slowly, he opened the door into her room with its hospital tile floor covered by one of a series of rugs he’d bought to try and brighten up the place. Of course, body fluids and food were tough on carpeting, so they never lasted more than a half year. This one was coming due. He’d save some money.

His mama sat in her chair facing the window. The TV was on as always, but it mostly produced background noise. She loved to watch the sky. He glanced at the door. People usually left them alone since they’d discovered his visits seemed to brighten her and make her more alert. “Hi, Mommy.”

She didn’t turn, but that was normal. Her normal.

He walked to her side and stood. She needed to see the whole picture. “Hi, Mama.”

Her head turned, though she kept her eyes on the sky until the last second. Finally she looked at him. Blank. Also normal. Her eyes traveled over him, and slowly she smiled. Oh God, he’d lay down everything—all the scholarships, whatever—for one of those smiles. “Trevor?”

“Yes, dear, it’s me.”

“Did you put the kettle on?”

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea soon and strawberry shortcake. Your favorite.” They wouldn’t, of course, because she no longer liked the taste, and she’d have forgotten by the time it came.

“Are you well? Tell me about your gentlemen. Do you have several, or are you serious about one?”

“I do have a new gentleman in my life, Mommy. You would love him. He’s very old-fashioned and courts me in this beautiful way.”

“That’s what you deserve, dear. Just like me. I was the prettiest girl in the state, and so are you.”

Which movie was she in? He twirled. “See how small my waist is?”

She smiled and stared back out the window. “Yes. Don’t pull those strings too tight, or you won’t be able to eat.” Slowly, her head fell to the side and her eyes closed.

He waited for another minute in case. Well, it had been a good visit. He walked back into the bathroom and changed, then sat on the toilet seat staring at the flowered dress he’d bought in a thrift shop. Mommy. She was the only one who’d ever loved him. And now? The dresses she’d given him to wear as a child that he loved so much were all she remembered. Their whole relationship added up to one big playact. Like his whole life. Hard not to want to rip the dress to shreds and beg her to just once remember him. Her son.
Oh well. Who the fuck ever said life was fair?

He got up slowly, wrapped his hair back into the knot at his neck, and carried the tote out into the room. She stared right at him, eyes wide. He stopped. “Just cleaning your bathroom, ma’am. Everything’s good in there.”

She frowned, searching, then nodded. “Oh good. Please take a tip from the dresser.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He scurried out the door.

The big orderly named Elmer sat across from her room beside another patient napping in a wheelchair. “Everything okay with Miz Landry?”

“Yes. She had a bad moment, but it seems to have passed.” Like everything else.

“I’ll check on her.”

“Thank you, Elmer.” Mommy loved Elmer.

Trevor hurried down the hall and out into the sunshine. Hot.
Good.
Heat burned away the smell faster.

It took about ten minutes to ride his bike to campus and get to the math building for his meeting. At least this time he wasn’t late. Edward was sitting on the table scrolling through his phone when Trevor walked in. He looked up. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“You look kind of upset.”

“No. Just family stuff.”