The Locker Room (21 page)

guards the shots that should be yours and you throw this sorry assed

team in a sack and toss it on your back and take them to the goal—you

get that? You go show the entire world what kind of player they"re going

to be kicking to the curb… and then I"ll let you quit.”

Xander shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “But it"s not any fun

without you!” he said, aware of how childish he sounded. Chris knew it

too. His lips quirked up bitterly, and he shook his head.

“Our adulthood just called on the phone, baby, and fun is not in the

plans. Now help me pack, or I"m not going to make my signing, and then

we"ll be in a whole different world of hurt, okay?”

Players had been denied a contract for being late for a signing.

They had friends on the Denver team, Cliff from Chapel Hill, for one,

but they were both conscientious players, and the habit of trying to

please, of toeing the line and being good boys, was one that wouldn"t go

away.

They made it through the next two hours, and when the car arrived

for the airport, Xander put on a sweatshirt over his jeans and grabbed the

luggage. Chris looked up from where he was writing last-minute

instructions to Lucia about how to juggle the house, and smiled faintly.

“You never dress up,” he murmured.

“Neither do you!” Xander responded, without thinking. Then he

realized that Chris was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and a sport

coat, and he blushed. “You do,” he said, thinking about it now. Chris

dressed down when Xander dressed down, but he liked to look good.

When had that happened?

“Don"t worry about it,” Chris said softly. “It"s just… you look

good, Xan. You play it down, and you play down your role on the team

and… it"s like you"ve spent ten years trying to be the invisible six-foot-

116 Amy Lane

nine guy who can carry the team. You"ve got to step up, man. You"ve

got to be important.”

Xander remembered that long ago night, the one when he"d been

outside in the cold, playing with shaking hands, until an angel had

showed up, all brightness and joy, and taken his game to a thing sublime.

“I was important to you,” he said, seeing his angel, seeing his love of the

game, and feeling like they had both become bigger than that dark night

behind them.

Chris shook his head and bent to pat Mercury"s placid yellow head

and fondle Max"s golden ears. “You guys take care of him,” he told them

softly, as they rolled over into a belly-rub invitation like the shameless

attention whores they were. “He"s going to need you.”

“Where are you staying?” Xander asked belatedly, letting Chris

have his time with their babies.

“While you were out at the car, Cliff called. He heard about the

trade and he"s got a couple of guest rooms. He said I could put up there

until the end of the season.”

Xander grinned for a second. “Bet his wife"ll
love
that.” They had

both stood up with Cliff when he"d gotten married to an Amazon with

the loveliest ebony skin, a passionate love of ornate golden hoop

earrings, and a mouth made for keeping errant men in line. Cliff adored

her—but his reputation as the most pussy-whipped man in the league

was well earned.

Chris rolled his eyes. “There"s always hotel living, right? Go

minibar!”

And Xander"s grin faded, just like that. “God, Chris… don"t. Man,

you do the dishes, you take out the trash—you do whatever you have to,

but keep that woman happy. She"ll keep you sober, and keep that shit out

of the house.”

“You worry too much, baby.” He stood gracefully, and Xander was

envious, as always, of a shorter frame and better knees. Then he threaded

his hand with Xander"s, his own palm warm and soft from petting the

dogs, and led Xander outside to the waiting car.

Xander could never remember the car ride, but he remembered the

kiss as they pulled up, and the hot, almost desperate taste of Chris"s

reluctance to leave.

The Locker Room 117

“Stay in the car,” Chris said softly, his dark eyes fathomless in the

back of the car. “I"ll hug my folks outside, and someone will get in the

car with you for the trip back.”

There were a few cameras out there, shining sleepy-bright lights

for what was going to be, Xander was sure, a big sports story for the

area. (When Coach Meyers had been fired and Coach Wallick hired in

his place, they"d run a banner on all the local stations, like a storm

warning, for nearly twelve hours.) It was better nobody saw him, Xander

knew that, and a knot of bitterness stopped his chest, like the feeling of

walking pneumonia he"d gotten the year before.

Xander nodded, and then watched, quietly, as Chris got out,

angling his body so no one could see the person behind the tinted glass

with him. Someone got his luggage from the trunk and suddenly he was

hugging his family and waving at the cameras with a “resigned yet

cheerful look.” Xander caught his sound bite later, and he sounded so…

mature.

“Of course I"m disappointed. I grew up here, and I"ve loved

playing here, but a transfer is the nature of the game, right? And I"m

sure the owners are doing what they think is best. I mean, if you love the

game, there"s nothing personal or prejudicial at all in a move like this,

right?”

Xander had to admit that it was masterful—Chris at his best,

talking a good game, being personal and diplomatic in front of the

cameras. But he also caught the undertones—that some prejudices were

apparently bigger than the love of the game, and that some people would

sacrifice their biggest love for a bigger hate.

The thought that he and Chris were not, at least, defined by
that

actually served as a balm on Xander"s soul. Then the town car door

opened, and Penny got in, and Xander thought for a moment that he

might not be able to breathe.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly, and Penny launched herself

across the seat and into his arms, crying her heart out, and Xander

thought that maybe having to comfort her was the best thing to ever

happen to his manhood, because it kept him from bawling like a little kid

himself.

118 Amy Lane

ESPN NEWS—“Sacramento fans were shocked this morning to learn

that one of their most beloved players, Christian Edwards, guard, had

been traded to Colorado after lighting up the court last night with his

longtime friend and fellow King, Xander Karcek. When asked why the

move was made, Edwards simply shrugged, and said, “It"s part of the

job.”

“HE LOOKS like this didn"t even break his heart,” Penny said the next

morning. She"d spent the night in her guest bedroom in Xander"s wing,

and was wearing some old jeans and a Kings" jersey she kept there. She

had sort of a trendy/cool apartment in downtown Sac, Xander knew, but

birthday celebrations and family dinners, they"d all seemed to gravitate

toward the big house in Folsom. Partly because it was big, and partly

because Lucia could cook, and partly because Jed and Andi loved to

walk the running path when they thought no one noticed they"d slipped

away.

Right up until the night before, Xander had thought that it was

mostly because Chris was there. He hadn"t realized that he"d fit into the

equation there too.

“That"s because he left his heart here,” Andi said bleakly, and

Xander made a sound then and decided he needed to have his ibuprofen

and his Pepto and his run. The dogs were restless—they needed a run.

The family was downstairs, enjoying the pancakes Lucia had

cooked without a word because Chris had told her that strawberry

pancakes were Xander"s favorite. Xander had never told him that they

were his favorite because Andi had made them for him his first night

living in the Edwards"s little house.

“Xander, don"t go,” Andi said, slanting eyes at him but using the

same tone of voice she"d used to use when she was making Chris finish

his homework before going out to shoot the ball. She"d never had to use

that voice with Xander. (Xander had gone to live with them on the

understanding that keeping his grades up had been a priority. He"d never

done anything to jeopardize getting to live at Chris"s house.)

The Locker Room 119

“I"m going for a run,” he said, his mouth dry, because it might have

been the first lie he"d ever told her, and telling himself that he was

twenty-eight years old did him no goddamned good at all.

“You don"t need a run. You have conditioning later. Your knees

are already tender from the game, and you know what? You"re a

professional goddamned athlete and you can take a day off. Now sit

down and finish your breakfast.”

Xander rubbed his face with his hands and tried to get a handle on

the situation. “Andi, I"m fi—”

And now he had her full attention. “Don"t lie to me, Xander.

You"re not fine. You and Chris have been spouting all sorts of bullshit

about „nature of the game" and „we should have expected this sooner or

later" but you do
not
live with someone for what? Twelve years? And

then just wake up with them living a thousand miles away and be
fine,

okay?”

Xander sat down abruptly. Chris was in a strange place, with

people who didn"t know what he"d lost. How fine was he?

“I"m gonna go call him,” Xander said roughly now. “He"s usually

up by now.” He went to stand up again, and Penny brought him the

handset and patted his shoulder, then walked back up the stairs to her

own room.

Xander was in the room, alone with Andi and Jed. Uh-oh.

“You know, Penny,” he called, “you"re a grown-up now! You

don"t have to leave the room just because—”

“Shush, Xander,” Andi said softly, a smile on her face. “She left

the room for us, not you. We like to think she"s still a little girl, even

when we know different.”

“I"ll be fine,” he said abruptly, staring past the two of them through

the large bay window that overlooked the lake. It was actually a pretty

bleak view, even in the winter when the grass was green. In the summer

there was the high contrast—blue sky, blue-green water, yellow hills,

green oak trees—but now? Everything was a varying shade of

swampwater. Under the murky sky, even the bright green grass was

muted. The lake was a shifting glitter of tarnished gray. Xander had

always found a sort of spare beauty in that view, and he longed to be

120 Amy Lane

outside with the dogs. He could pretend that when he walked back in the

door, Chris would be there.

“Xander, we heard you last night,” Jed said now, and Xander

flinched his attention back to his only family. Jed"s hair used to be

darker, he thought. The color of wet sand. It was threaded with silver

now, longer than his collar, without the irrepressible curl that made Chris

look so young. But his narrow face, with his pointed chin, was still as

steady as it had ever been.

And he still hadn"t responded. “That happens all the time,” he said,

not wanting them to know about it.

Jed and Andi exchanged glances. “Even when you lived with us?”

Andi asked, and Xander shrugged.

“I used to hide it better.” He didn"t used to have Chris there,

quieting him down before he got too loud—he"d had to do it for himself.

“Xander….” Andi trailed off and ran her hands through her riotous

gold curls. Bottle-blonde now? Yes. But her face was nearly unlined, and

her smile was as serene as always. “Xander… God. You can"t just live

here in this house alone—”

“I"m not alone,” Xander said staunchly, standing up. His body had

just called a halt to this conversation when his mind couldn"t think of the

words to do it. “Chris still lives here. He"s just away on business. You

understand that, right? Business. Lots of guys have an on-season home

and an off-season home. This is his off-season home. He"ll get himself

an on-season home in Denver, and I"ll visit during the downtime and

he"ll come back here. It"s easy. It"s elementary. Lots of people do it—”

“But you don"t!” Andi shouted, standing up and stamping her foot.

She was five foot five, and Xander thought that to most people, she

wouldn"t look small. “My son might—
might,
mind you—be able to do