“What are your plans after you retire from fighting?” I asked.
“Ask me that when I announce I’m retiring.” He looked at Rupert once more and asked, “You approved these questions?”
“There’s nothing wrong with them,” Rupert replied.
“I’m twenty-fucking-four years old. Retirement isn’t even a blip on my radar yet.” Macio turned back to me. “Next.”
“What are your hobbies?”
“I don’t have hobbies. Fighting is my life,” he said tersely.
“And when you’re not fighting?” I prodded.
“Training.”
“Okay.” I could see that line of questioning wasn’t going anywhere at all. “Are you in a relationship with anyone?” That question wasn’t on the approved list and I expected Rupert to call me out, but he didn’t. It was met with a death glare from Macio, however, so I wisely decided to move on and steer clear of that topic. “Batman or Superman?” A smile spread slowly across his face and I nearly jumped up out of the chair to do a victory dance.
“Superman,” he said incredulously. “Batman doesn’t have any super powers beyond a super large balance in his checkbook.” He looked at me suspiciously and asked, “Are you one of those bat freaks?”
“I’m a journalist,” I said, as if that explained everything. “Team Superman all the way.”
Our eyes held, and for once, I caught a glimpse of the real man behind the façade, but it was gone so fast, I thought I had imagined it. I was about to ask another question, but Barry appeared in the doorway with an expression that meant business.
“Playtime is over, kid.”
“This has been more like torture than playtime,” Macio told his coach.
I tried not to take his comment personally as I shut off the recorder and began putting my stuff back in my messenger bag. I knew coming in that he hated interviews, so what the hell had I expected? It felt like I was pulling teeth when I tried to get answers out of him, so it probably had felt like a bad trip to the dentist to him.
Rupert came over and slapped me on my back as I rose to my feet. “Don’t take Macio personally, Aiden.”
I felt Macio’s eyes on me and looked down at him. “No offense taken.”
“I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time,” Rupert said, pulling my attention back to him. “I thought your coming out article was brave and well-written.”
“Thank you, Rupert.” I didn’t know the man, but for some reason, his kind words meant a lot to me.
Macio stood up from his chair. “You’re gay?”
I couldn’t tell if his tone was one of disgust or surprise, nor could I decipher his thoughts when our eyes met again. I found myself standing taller in his presence, even though I had no reason to cower. I loved who I was and the journey I took to get to the point where I could say that about myself. “I am.” I held his gaze, daring him to say something homophobic or cruel. Animacio De Niro could totally kick my ass, but I’d be damned if I backed down to anyone ever again.
As if he had just realized that all eyes were on him, he extended his right hand across the desk to me. “It was nice meeting you, Aiden.”
I accepted his offer and hoped like hell he didn’t see the tremor that rippled through my body when his skin touched mine. “It’s Mr. James,” I corrected. “You haven’t earned the right or respect to use my first name.”
The shocked look on his face put a little extra sway in my hips as I walked my happy ass out of there. I had been told on many occasions that I loved to have the last word, and it was mostly true. I hoped like hell they weren’t the last words I ever spoke to Macio.
That little sexy motherfucker walked his ass out of Barry’s office like he owned the place. The fact that he’d tossed my own words back in my face wasn’t lost on me. Hell, in fact, I respected him for it. I was used to a lot of guys talking shit at me, none have been able to back it up since the sixth grade. But there was something about Aiden—I mean, Mr. James, which sparked my interest in more than just his comebacks. I mean, I thought he was just some stuffy ass, dorky fucking reporter who wanted to pry into my life. But his questions didn’t come off as too prying, except the one question he asked that I never answered.
“Are you dating anyone?” Why did that always seem to matter to people? Shit, I was twenty-four fucking years old. I wasn’t looking to be tied down to one person anyway. I was in the prime of my career and I had lots of oats to sow. Still, I was having a hard time focusing on the interview because I couldn’t take my eyes off his mouth and his perfect teeth. I wanted to see those sexy, plump lips of his sucking down the length of my shaft, and then I wanted those white teeth of his to give me a little nibble on my head. My cock was hard during the entire interview and I was actually thanking god for the cup I was wearing. It kept my little contender in his place.
But what damn near floored me was the fact that he was gay. I would have pegged him as some preppy straight dude, one of those metrosexuals who probably prided himself on being smarter than jocks. Well, it looked like he was some preppy gay dude that, while smart, I could tell—didn’t seem to lord it over me. I took that into consideration. Out of all of the reporters I’ve had the misfortunate of meeting… he wasn’t so bad.
“Stop day dreaming and get your ass in gear. You’re sparring with Mike,” Barry said.
“Sure,” I replied as I adjusted the strap on my gloves, tightening it.
“See, I told you it was going to be painless,” Rupert said, coming up behind me as we exited the office.
