Long Pass Chronicles 01 - Outing the Quarterback (23 page)

There it was. The truth. “Yeah. And I fuck everybody to get by.” Will turned and walked to the Ferrari his father’s money had bought, got in, and drove away. Noah didn’t try to stop him, but that made sense. Noah Zajack was way too good for him.

He pulled out onto Laguna Canyon and drove toward the freeway. Shit, maybe he’d never come back to Laguna. Laguna meant freedom and hope. Laguna meant Noah.

He glanced in the rearview. His face was wet. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and he swiped at them with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. What would it be like to be good enough for Noah?
Fuck
. He didn’t have time to cry. He had to get busy pretending to be a football player, and a business student, and straight.

No way was he going into his father’s office today. He dialed the phone. His supervisor answered and he begged off.

“Are you okay, Will? You sound funny.”

“Yeah. I pulled a muscle in the game. I think I need to rest up.”

“Sure. You need to take it easy for the first game.”

“Thanks.” Everybody made it easy for him to lie.

He pulled into the drive at his house and went inside. Anna was cleaning in the back. God knew where his mother was. He climbed the stairs, locked the door to his room even though his father hated it when he did, and fell on the bed.

He needed to think. To plan. Maybe he’d call Ev and arrange a date in the next couple of days. Someplace real obvious where the reporters hung out. She’d be at the game, of course. They could make this look real convincing. He looked at his watch. Probably still at her internship. He’d call later. Maybe a little rest. His eyes drifted closed.

H
E
OPENED
his eyes. His phone bonged. Plus it vibrated in his pocket, which felt kind of nice. He blinked. Was it dark? He sat up.
Must have fallen asleep
.

His phone rang. He pulled it from his pants and glanced at the screen. Race Jaston. The reporter. He shook his head. Not awake enough to talk to him. What the hell did he want anyway, calling his cell?

A quick reach and he turned on the light beside the bed, then looked down again. Jamal had sent the text. He clicked. Two words.
Holy shit
. And a link.

No. Didn’t want to look.
Please God. No more
. He shoved his feet over the side of the bed, threw the phone on the mattress, and walked into the bathroom. Shower. Yes, hot.

He stripped and stood under the water until his fingers wrinkled. Could it be a good thing? “Holy shit” could mean good. What were the chances? Zero. How bad could it be? Holy shit bad.

He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around him, and went to his laptop. May as well learn the worst on a bigger screen. He copied in the link. Death by video. He clicked.

Yep, Dennis’s Den again. The fucking, retarded, son of a bitch—

“Hi, SCU-ers. I know you’ve been waiting for the next development in the quarterback saga. Yes, our golden boy has been calling old Dennis a liar, hasn’t he? Yes, he has.” He waggled his finger at the screen. “Not wise, Willy boy. Because I just love a challenge. So maybe all of you will take my guests tonight more seriously than you took my video.”

He got up from the chair and panned the camera to the left.

Will stared. Heart attack at twenty. How was this possible?

Dennis faced the camera again. “Let me introduce you to Rainbow and Rainbow Two.” Rainbow sat in a chair with his long blond hair, heavy mascara, and bright pink lipstick on his pouty lips. Will knew exactly what those lips could do. His jeans looked painted on, but he wore a shirt open to the waist showing off his lean and obviously boyish chest.

Will’s stomach heaved.

The redhead he remembered so well from his aborted trip to the bathroom sat next to Rainbow. Same tight jeans and bare chest. That day had to have been a century ago. Will’s nightmare sat on two straight-backed chairs in Dennis Hascomb’s studio.

Hascomb smiled at the two prostitutes, then stared back at the camera. “While I know you think these lovely ladies are SCU cheerleaders, I assure you they both have very masculine equipment under their jeans. And what do they do with that equipment, you might ask? Well, among other things, they serviced our own SCU quarterback.”

Rainbow Two fluttered a hand. “That’s not exactly true. I only saw him once when I went in place of Rainbow when she was sick, but the cutie patootie ran off without his goodies. It’s okay. Rainbow paid me anyway.”

Just what he needed. An honest whore.

Dennis looked at Rainbow with a leer. “But you, Rainbow. What did you do with our quarterback?”

The guy shifted in his seat. “I don’t know nothing about no quarterback, but I do know that the guy whose picture you showed me is a really nice guy who paid me a lot to blow him.”

Will clicked pause. Why? Why? He got up and walked into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and went back to the laptop. Like watching a train wreck, they called it.

Click. “So you gave him oral sex?”

“Yeah.”

“One time?”

“No, on several occasions.” He sounded like he’d learned that line from TV.

“Do you think Will thought you were a girl?”

“Oh no, he asked for a boy specifically. A pretty boy.”

“Well you certainly are that. So would you say that Will is gay?”

“What the fuck do you need with labels? Who cares if a guy wants another guy to blow him sometimes? All those people I watch on TV who come to see me never call themselves gay.”

Dennis swallowed and chuckled. “I think we better leave that subject alone.” He looked at the camera. “For now, at least. And I’m sure that our viewers can draw their own conclusions about whether their quarterback is really gay. Thank you so much, gentlemen, for being my guests today.”

Rainbow started to say something, but the screen went black.

His cell phone rang again.

The house phone rang.

Then his cell phone rang again.

“W
ILLIAM
,
OPEN
the door.” The hammering felt like it was inside his body. Dead. He would like to be dead.

“Will. Open the damned door.”

Will stared at the screen. If he went in the closet, could he find something to hang himself?

“William, do you hear me?”

Yes, he heard. He’d heard it all his life. If he opened the door, would he still be able to kill himself? Hanging was hard. Maybe if he let his father in, he could sneak out and find some of his mother’s pills. That wouldn’t be so bad.

So this was it. Open the closet door and let in the bogeyman. It was time.

He got up, crossed to the door, flicked the lock, then went back to the bed and lay down.

It took a minute.
Duh
. Finally the door opened and his father came in. No looking. He didn’t want to see the man’s expression.

“William, what’s the meaning of this?”

“What?”

“This.” He pointed at Will’s prostrate form. “This ridiculous display. And why was your door locked? And why the hell is the press calling me and asking for a statement?”

Will sat up and flopped his legs over the edge of the bed. Weird after all the years of fear and hiding it came down to this. “You better sit down.”

“All right.” He crossed to one of the easy chairs and sat kind of uneasily. “I’m sitting. Talk.”

“The guy who put the video up on his YouTube channel found two male prostitutes to come on and claim I paid one of them for blow jobs.”

“Like hell he did! All right, this is over the line. We can sue him for defamation and I plan to do it.” He stood.

“Sit.”

He sat.

“You can’t sue him.”

“Why not?”

He formed the words in his mouth. Words he’d tried out in front of the mirror since he was a kid. He sighed. “You can’t sue him because it’s true. I did pay for sex.” He swallowed. “I’m gay.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. When did you decide such a dumb thing?”

He stared at his hands. Good hands. Capable, strong. “When I was eleven I had a pretty good idea. I wasn’t sure until I was twelve.”

Silence.

His father shook his head. “You can’t be. All those girls. Tiffany.”

“I really tried. I hoped I was at least bisexual. No go. That’s what she’s telling Hascomb. That I was a lousy lover and couldn’t get it up most of the time.”

His father’s voice got flatter. It was sinking in. “What about Evangeline?”

“Let’s just say she knows I’m gay and agreed to play along with me.”

More silence. “Why have you never told me?”

Will looked up. “Because you didn’t want to hear it. I’ve tried to be everything you wanted me to be, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself straight. Besides, I’ve barely been gay all these years. I paid for sex occasionally, but not much else. I never had any reason to tell you.” He scuffed his bare foot on the rug.

His father’s eyes narrowed. “Why now?”

“I think I just got dragged out of the closet.”

“Bullshit. Your word against a prostitute. People will believe you for the same reason I did. Because they want to. Sure, they love the titillation, but when push comes to shove and you throw a winning pass, they’ll flock back to their golden boy.”

Will shuddered. “I’m tired of lying.”

“Double bullshit. Your future depends on your lies, son. The NFL—”

Will shook his head violently and sprang off the bed. “I’m never going in the NFL. I’m probably not good enough anyway, and if I am, I’d have to spend my whole fucking life hiding. I won’t do it. I won’t.”

He held up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Jesus, I always wondered why you were so reticent about the pros. I guess now I know.”

“I guess you do.” He sat back down on the bed.

Will heard his father take a deep breath. “But you still have to graduate and you have a season to play, Will, and if you want to be a success in business, being mixed up in an ugly scandal is a fucking bad way to start.”

The words lined up in his mouth again, pushing to get out
. Just say it. I want to be an artist. Say it!
He stared at his father. The old man wasn’t freaking as bad as he’d expected. If Will dropped the double bomb on him, what would he do? Throw him out? What if he did?
Crap
. No degree. Tarnished reputation. He swallowed and the words hit his stomach like rotten food.

His father speared him with cold green eyes. “I want to know why you decided to be ‘gay’ now.” He turned those three letters into a four-letter word. “What changed?”

He knew. Will sighed. “I met someone.”

“The guy in the video.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Will, a fucking waiter!”

Will fell back on the bed. “I don’t believe it. I tell you I’m fucking a guy and you’re worried about his pedigree.”

“You can do better.”

He sat up and glared at his father. “Actually, he’s a great artist and works at three jobs to pay his way through school. If he was your son, you’d have more reason to be proud than you do with me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” His father leaned forward. “If you deny this shitstorm, do you think Evangeline will play along?”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. She agreed before prostitutes started coming out of the fucking woodwork.”

“About those prostitutes. Do you know how to get a hold of them?”

Will stared at his father. Why was he reminded of a rattlesnake about to strike? “Yeah. There’s just one, actually.”

“Call him. Offer him money to change his story.”

“Really?”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to sic my lawyer on this Hascomb. We’ll threaten him with expensive litigation. Meanwhile, we’ll pay the prostitute to change his story, and I’ll gladly pay Evangeline to be your fag hag.”

“Shit!” Will hopped up again. Those words shivered up his spine. “She’d never take money. I think she’d be insulted if I asked.”

“You might be surprised. I never got the feeling that Jamal’s family was loaded.”

Only with love, but he didn’t say that.

“Call the prostitute.”

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Jesus, he should get up and walk out. To what? He grabbed his phone from the bed and searched for Rainbow’s number. His finger hovered over the button.

“Do it.” His father practically snarled.

He hit call. It rang three times.

Suddenly that high, affected voice burst on the line. “Will, is that you, baby? Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, Rainbow.”

“This asshole called me and said he was making a porno and you were in it and I was so excited to see you again so I said yes. I went to see him, and he tells me what he really wants and threatens to turn me in to the police. I didn’t want to do it.”

“If I can make him go away, would you be willing to tell the press that he threatened you with jail? Maybe say it never happened? You know, you and me?” Will glanced at his father, who was boring holes in him with his eyes.

“He’d really not call the cops?”