The Locker Room (27 page)

dogs would have hurt, but not as much as Chris.)

“He was being rough with her, and she was fighting back. He

didn"t see me.” He thought about that for a minute, and blushed. “Which

makes me a big cowardly douchebag myself, I guess. But Mandy was

pretty intent on getting me out of there. I guess a big thugly asshole who

would beat up on his ninety-two-pound girlfriend might try to take me

for everything I"m worth if he got his day in court.” Xander shrugged

and sighed. “Good thing I"m not worth much, right?"

150 Amy Lane

Xander was not prepared for the pillow in the face.

“Ow, Penny, fuck! What was that for?”

“My brother"s breaking his heart over you, so shut up!” she

snapped, and Xander threw his head back against the pillows and patted

the side of the bed.

“No,” she sniffed. “I"m still mad at you.”

“Your brother"s doing better at this than I am,” he told her, feeling

it. “He took Denver to a win tonight, you saw that, right?”

“Cliff took Denver to a win. Chris stuck around for the ride.”

“That"s a hot lie—Cliff is only that good when he"s playing with

your brother. See? Everyone says it"s me, but I think you"re all bug-shit

crazy. It"s him.” Oh God. It was. Chris was the one who was golden.

Xander was just the Cave Man. Big, hulking, silent—unless, of course,

he was beating douchebags over the head with his clubs.

“What happened at halftime?” Penny asked, at random.

“I don"t know. Coach chewed everyone a new asshole. They got

tired of sitting on it and remembered to run.”

Penny gave another snort. “The sound picked up on you, you

know? „Goddammit, you shouldn"t take that shot"? Is that ringing any

bells?”

Xander blushed. “I"m an ass. It"s why I don"t talk—I should

probably break wind instead.”

This time Penny threw some sort of glass tchotchke that Chris had

picked up on a trip to Vancouver that summer. Xander dodged neatly

and caught it, and looked at her in outrage.

“Penny!”

“Grow up, Xander. You grow up, and I guarantee you, your

precious team will win, and you and Chris can come out of the closet and

the world will kiss your goddamned homo-toes.”

Xander wiggled his bare toes, except for the black-and-blue one,

which was still wrapped. “Are they different than straight toes?” he

asked. “Because near as I can tell, only one of mine is bent right now.”

Penny didn"t even crack a smile. “Yes, Xander. You"re gay right

down to your straight toes, okay? And the only thing wrong with it is

The Locker Room 151

that you and Chris have hidden it for so long, that you"ve practically

forgotten it yourselves. For you guys, it"s just”—her hands flailed for a

minute—“„us". You say, „me-n-Chris"s, and Chris says, „Xan-n-me", and

even Mom and Dad and I forget. And we know, and we love you, but

you"ve never had to tell the whole rest of the world. You think maybe

you could do this better if the whole world knew you were married, and

it wasn"t just a secret joke with your tattoos?”

Xander looked at her, tired to his bones. She was a human rights

defense attorney—very junior, it was true, but God. Chris"s little sister

now had a law degree and a stubborn streak a mile wide, and she was so

much like her mother it made Xander"s chest swell just to look at her.

But he couldn"t do anything about it now. He knew what she wanted,

and doing it now would just fuck them all. God—God. Chris and

basketball. It"s all he"d ever wanted. When had making a political

statement become a requirement of growing up?

He couldn"t answer it now. In fact, right now, there was only one

thing he could control.

“Penny, my foot hurts like… like… like I don"t even have words

for it. And my
husband
isn"t here to kiss it and make it better. Sure. I"d

love to change the world, but right now, I"m going to take a fucking

painkiller and find an old movie to watch. Does that suit you?”

“Someday you"re going to have to face all this, you know that,

right?”

“Yeah, but for now, could you just get me some water?”

“Have you eaten?”

Xander groaned. “Not hungry.”

“Too bad. I know you just want the painkillers to get you high, but

I"m going to feed you anyway. I"ll be back.”

That wasn"t fair! He wanted the painkillers because
his fucking foot

hurt!
Besides. He"d learned the night before that whatever Malloy was

giving him might make him high, but it didn"t make him sleep, and if it

didn"t make him sleep, it wasn"t much good, now was it?

It didn"t matter. Penny fed him a sandwich and a big glass of milk

and a pill big enough to choke a horse, and they stayed up and watched
V

for Vendetta.
Xander wondered about the world in that movie—would he

152 Amy Lane

be screwed twice because not only was he six foot nine but queer to

boot? Either way, he wouldn"t be playing basketball, that was for

damned sure.

Still, that one line resonated.
For three years, I had roses.

He and Chris had roses for nearly twelve years. They"d have roses

again. The world wasn"t as dark as that movie. Yet.

The Locker Room 153

In the Box

THE world was darkness, and cold. He could scream all he wanted,

scream until his throat was hoarse and his ears hurt with his own

shrieks, but warmth, kindness, and rescue were still far away. It didn"t

matter. He reached out with his hands into the absolute black, and felt…

nothing. And then his fingers grew numb, and then his arms, and then his

hands, and when his hands were weighted at his sides, useless and

aching into the bones, things started to touch his face. He screamed, but

they brushed his lips and he clamped them shut to keep them out. Tiny,

biting things, squirming, skinless, wet and sticky, attaching to his face,

his numb arms, his stomach, his chest, his privates, and he kept his

mouth clamped shut and screamed and screamed and screamed….

“Xander!”

Was that in his dream? He couldn"t decide for a moment.

“
Xander!”

He kept his eyes and his mouth clamped shut and screamed, and

then one of the dogs half-whuufed and he was startled into looking into

the dark of his room. He flailed for Chris, but Chris wasn"t there, but

Chris"s voice screamed,
“Xander!”
and suddenly he was bolt upright in

bed and wide awake.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes. “Oh,

Jesus fuck me, Chris?”

“Jesus better not be fucking you, genius—that"s my job!”

Chris"s voice was faintly disembodied, and Xander turned toward

the brightened computer screen to see Chris, in a nice-looking hotel

room, looking back at him.

“Oh.” Suddenly what Chris had said penetrated, and Xander"s inner

fifth grader (never far from the surface) reared his head, and Xander

choked on a smirk. “Oh, geez, Chris, we"re going to hell for that!”

“Hey, you swore first!”

Xander fumbled for the lamp next to the bed table and blinked

while his eyes adjusted to the light.

154 Amy Lane

Chris looked… tired. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and he was

shirtless, leaning into the camera so Xander could see the blond stubble

on his jaw and the sleepies (as Andi called them) in the corners of his

eyes.

“Yeah, I did.” His dreams were always followed by a bone-drilling,

marrow-chilling cold, and Xander wrapped his arms around his knees

and gave in to the shivers. He felt pathetic. Somehow it was worse

letting Chris see him like this when they couldn"t touch, when Chris

couldn"t make it better.

“Shhhh….” Chris reached out a hand toward the camera with a

pained grimace. “Shhhh… "kay, Xan. You"re just going to have to listen

to my voice for a little, okay?”

Xan nodded, ashamed and embarrassed, but comforted by Chris"s

voice, because it was the only thing he had. “"K… k… okkk… kay…,”

he chattered, and then he leaned his head on his knees and let Chris"s

usual burble of conversation wash right over him.

“So Cliff and I went out with the team after the game, and we

managed to get some spoons from the waitress, right? And next thing

you know we"re playing spoons in the middle of the bar. Except, it

wasn"t just a shot, it was shot and an appetizer—cheese stick, potato

skin, whatever we were eating. And Cliff and I just totally ordered all of

the greasiest, nastiest shit we could think of. You know, stuff that goes

with Scotch like nitro in a blender, right?”

In spite of the shakes, Xander had to laugh a little, because he knew

where this was going. God, Chris could be a bastard sometimes—that

impish sense of humor could totally go south, with anybody
but
Xander.

“Right,” he said with a rusty voice. “You totally sabotaged them.”

“Oh. My. God. It was
epic!
Cliff and I—well, you remember what

we did in school, right? You should have seen him. He"d like grab one

spoon and then hand it to me under the table before he grabbed the other

spoon, and then I"d do the same for him, and there"s this rookie….”

“Oswald,” Xander supplied. Cocky little—five-foot-eleven—

sonuvabitch who kept trying to prove he had the balls to play with the

big boys on the court. A good player, just needed seasoning.

The Locker Room 155

“Yeah, Oswald. Anyway, between the two of us, we"d totally

snatch all the spoons, and after like, the kid"s third round, he was so out

of it that all we had to do was say, “Look! Shiny!” and then we"d all go

for the table, right? And he"d be stuck with the greasy appetizer platter

and
the shot of rotgut Scotch, because that"s the shit he drinks

because—”

“He doesn"t know any better.” Neither had Chris or Xander when

they started. But they were good at being quiet, watching other folks,

blending in. They"d had to be, in order to pass for straight for so long. By

their second game, they were ordering Royal Salute without batting an

eye, and comparing the taste to Glenlivet 18 Year without even a flush

for how incredibly fraudulent they"d felt.

But a rookie who was used to being a trendsetter and a star? No.

He"d be pretty easy prey.

“Dayum,” Chris said, chuckling. “I"ve never seen anybody puke

that much. I mean… I thought we"d see his toenails or something, or

pictures from the first grade. Well, that"ll teach him.”

“What did he do?” Whatever it was, Xander had missed it. All he"d

seen was Chris—Chris"s stats, Chris"s highlights. Well, he always knew

he had a one-track mind.

“Fouled out of the game, for one. The kid is brilliant. Not as

brilliant as you, right, but— Fuck. Me. If that didn"t almost cost us the

win. Nope. Next time he"ll listen to Coach, and Cliff, and all the rest of

us shouting at him. I mean, Denver"s doing pretty good this year—he

doesn"t want to get traded.”

Xander whimpered in order to not point out the obvious, and Chris

grimaced and yawned.

“How you feelin" now, Xan? Better?”

Xander nodded. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Anything good happen to you?”

So it was Xander"s turn to tell him about the new roommate, and

when he"d gotten most of the story out (he"d just finished the part where

Mandy jumped up on the counter) there was a knock on the door.

“Xander? Xander, is that you?”

Xander put his hands over his face. “Oh Christ.”

156 Amy Lane

Chris laughed, but the sound was strained. “Well, she"s your kitten,

sweetie. You need to housetrain her if she"s going to stay.”

“Chris—”

“Xander, who are you talking to?”

“I"m on the phone,” Xander said, trying to keep his voice level.

“Sorry, I didn"t mean to wake you!”

“I was up getting a snack. Penny said I could—”

“Yeah, that"s fine, Mandy. I"m just talking to a friend right now,

okay?”

“At four in the morning?”

“Well, it"s that kind of friend,” Xander replied with simple dignity,

and Chris had the balls to guffaw, loudly, over the computer.

“Well, man, as fun as this has been—”

“No, wait!” Xander begged. “Please? It"s… I don"t want to hang up

yet, okay?”

Chris"s voice turned gentle, soft, and Xander suddenly forgot that

Mandy was probably up listening.

“I"ve got to shower, man. Our plane takes off in two hours, and

I"ve got half an hour to report, okay?”