The star football player is a running back. He’s as incredible at rushing as receiving, and he’s logged enough touchdowns to make any team blush. His current contracts reflect that, but when I review it all, I see a million details I want to fix, ways his career could better serve his game.
I scribble some notes down. Offers like this, contracts and professional athletes, I know my way around. I’m damn good at my job.
The offer Orlando threw at me, on the other hand, I’m still figuring out.
There’s no doubt that in a purely physical way, I want this. He likes to tease me about how forbidden it is. And sure, the forbidden aspect of it turns me on. It’s unexpected and hot, like the jolt of electricity I needed to get my motor going again. But there’s more to it than that.
I’m always on my toes with him. His energy is raw and a little unruly, but that’s part of his power. Most people would run away from me, but Orlando keeps coming back, and I like that.
The man got me off with his feet, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even know I was into that.
Working out together, falling into our rhythm was natural and easy. There was silent understanding and respect as we moved, taking turns on the benches, pushing our bodies to the edge and grunting our jock noises.
It was hot. Maybe it’s time I start to accept that I’m bi or something. I don’t think I’ve been repressing being gay. I know I’ve enjoyed the sex I’ve had with women.
Could be that time in the gym with Orlando felt so good and familiar because I’ve built my life around sports. This is the way I know how to relate, by being on a team, working out, just being physical together. I’m not the most natural person socially, and I wasn’t any better as a kid. But sports gave me a way to be with other people that felt right.
The companionship and shared passion are like a lifeblood for me. It’s a big reason why I felt so shocked and abandoned after I hurt my knee and lost that world.
Whatever the reason, though, I enjoyed sharing that connection with Orlando. Lifting weights, swinging the baseball bat, sweating together.
And everything else we did, too.
An offer that feels this good is hard to refuse. And didn’t I decide all those weeks ago at the bar that I owed myself something like this? Something different and fun.
I tilt my eyes around the office, looking at the framed photos that line the walls, all the clients I represent. Athletes with our agency have won just about every major sports title you could name. They’ve all trusted me with their careers.
If I were to get caught sleeping with a male client half my age, I wouldn’t be the only one to feel the hit. The scandal would cost the agency, Mel, the athletes. Everything we’ve built.
My reputation.
I’ve earned that reputation with hard, honest work. From little leagues to law school, I’ve been self-driven, making it on my own. I don’t know if I can justify risking everything I’ve accomplished just because I’m horny.
Not that I’m particularly good at resisting the temptation when Orlando is right there in front of me.
A knock on my doorframe pulls me from my thoughts. Mel stands with her jacket slung over her shoulder. “Freshen up, sweetheart. It’s date time.”
I change into a gray sweatshirt before we take off, always preferring to fly under the radar when I’m at the old stadium. Home games put me in a good mood. Seeing all the fans out reminds you how much bigger the game is than any one athlete or team.
But it’s a funny feeling to go back there, too. Tends to remind me of all the things I’m not a part of anymore, the distance between me and pro baseball and my old team.
That doesn’t stop me from attending every home game I can. But I like it best when I can avoid the attention and just watch.
Mel and I go over the game plan on the way there, the talking points we want to mention to Patel if we get the chance. He made a big splash when he was a rookie, brought his enthusiasm to every match. But he’s four years into his career, now, and he’s got a reputation for being a hardened athlete with remarkable endurance on the field.
I end up signing a couple autographs on the way into the stadium, including one of my rookie cards, but we get beyond security without anyone cornering me to talk about the good old days. Patel is here as a guest of Marshall, so I’m not sure when we’ll be seeing him. Instead, I walk into the empty suite and immediately start my routine.
“A chili cheese dog and Cracker Jack,” I tell the young man catering as I shake a twenty into his hand for a tip. “And a PBR. Thanks.”
The agency keeps a nice suite at each of the pro sports arenas in the city, but I splurged extra for baseball. We’re right up under the announcer’s booth, behind home plate. Leather couches and chairs face the glass wall, and there’s a narrow balcony outside, just big enough for a few seats that face the field.
We also hold a couple choice seats down closer to home plate. If the game is a good one, I relocate to the action.
Mel opens the door to the balcony, and the sounds of the stadium fill the room. She inhales deeply. “Don’t you just love the smell of baseball in the evening? Especially when you’re on the verge of signing the star player.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Are we on the verge now?”
She smooths the front of her dress. “Will any other agent have seen literally every one of Marshall’s home games?”
