Just like before any cup or major tournament, the city is crawling with sports professionals. Most of my meetings are for Zeke’s sake, although I get the chance to brag up Kevyn and Orlando, too, laying the groundwork for some future sponsorships.
Feels good to do it, even though I can’t see Orlando myself.
I sit and squint at my phone, reading emails, while I’m driven across town.
Orlando is on track, and there’s lots of buzz about his recovery, with occasional mention in the press of his antics and the rumors swirling in the background. He can make it through this, join his team, and earn their spot to CONCACAF. And it will just be a matter of days until Marshall and Patel are officially our clients.
Mel is right about the publicity frenzy. There are even profiles of the agency coming out in a few publications.
Everything is on a knife’s edge, but this doesn’t have to be a disaster. I don’t have to lose everything I built again, and neither does Orlando.
An ache rips through me when I think about how much I miss him, and I rub my hand over my beard. Quickly, I pull myself back together, steel myself.
I’m fine. I was alone for years. I don’t need anyone but myself.
As we pull up to the restaurant, my phone buzzes again.
Orlando: The coaches are taking the Force on retreat. We’ll be gone two days before the MLS Cup.
Orlando: Keep us from the distractions and in sync.
That’s smart. I’ve seen teams do that before, and I feel some relief knowing Orlando will be tucked away somewhere safe.
Me: That’s good.
Orlando: That means we leave tomorrow.
Orlando: The agency doesn’t need to see me for anything before I’m unavailable?
Orlando: Or you???
I wince.
That pain eats at my chest again, but I fight it off.
Me: I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Going to work late at the office tonight.
Me: Talk later.
I shove my phone away and walk into the restaurant.
I’m used to knowing what I want, going out there, and goddamn getting it. With my baseball career and the agency, I set clear goals for myself and accomplish them without wavering.
With Orlando, though, I start coming apart.
On the one hand, it’s so simple. My desire has risen up stronger and stronger the last weeks. I want him in my bed. I want him to be mine, just like I want to be his.
But what would that even mean? I’d have to come out of the closet, I guess, although I don’t know if there’s a word for me. I understand now that I find men attractive sometimes, but my eyes aren’t searching for other men.
I just want Orlando.
At dinner, I enjoy a steak with a couple representatives from the pro soccer league, and they let spill plenty of industry gossip that I can use. The good news about Marshall and Patel has spread, and I can tell they’re trying to impress me, get on my good side as the agency’s profile keeps rising.
It’s a productive use of my time, and I finish up my notes on the way back to the office. When I get there, it’s nearly empty, but I see Mel, a new media employee, and a junior agent all huddled around a laptop.
Mel looks up to me. “Just in time. We’ve got incoming.”
I notice theoh, shitlook on the faces of the employees as I stalk over to the conference table. “What is it this time?”
