Shameless Game (Shameless Sport #1)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“No more silence.”

COLTON

My brain is blitzed.

Can anyone tell?

I’m casually leaning against the deck railing of a swanky beach mansion, the Atlantic sparkling blue on my right. I got a chilled beer in my hand. I look relaxed, my ankles crossed, all casual in my black shorts and a weathered gray T-shirt.

But I wish I didn’t leave my shades at the hotel. They’d hide my roaming eyes.

There’s an outdoor dining table covered in brown paper, with a pile of seasoned shrimp, smoked sausage, half corn cobs, and red potatoes steaming on it.

It’s a traditional Lowcountry boil while I’m steaming, too. And it’s not from the bright afternoon sun.

It’s the crowd of beefy bodies milling around. It’s the faces I know, the names, too, ones I’ve played against on the backs of jerseys. It’s the laughs and jokes and ease.

It’s a dozen NFL players, along with other guests, men and women, who are so relaxed, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

All of these players are gay or bi?

Blair mingles with Ruby. Beau is talking to Nick Barinov, the tight end for Carolina. Our host, Zar Rollins, swigs a beer, too, working the crowd. He catches me staring, probably with my jaw hanging open, flies buzzing in and out, so he grins, aiming my way.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks.

“Uh, there ain’t many cats here. It’s the dogs I’m shocked about.”

“They’re good men. Like you.”

Zar has the braun of a fast player, like a running back, but he’s not one. He’s a C-suite executive.

I can’t make sense of it.

“Just how are you involved though?”

“See that man talking to your man?” Zar subtly points his brown bottle toward Nick Barinov. “He’s mine. He’s how I got involved. He’s why I care so damn much.”

He must clock my confusion. How I thought Zar’s with Luca and Scarlett Mercier.

So he cocks a half grin, using that sexy Texas drawl. “Being a sub ain’t the same as being a spouse.” He shrugs. “Not always. I serve Luca, and I’m loyal to his wife. But I belong with Nick. As soon as we can, we’re getting married.”

I nod, letting the dust fall over my logic.

“And you and Bronson?” he asks. “You’re with Ms. Monroe. Equally? Exclusively?”

I don’t waver. “Yes, and yes. We’re not… What does Blair call it… Open? Yeah, we’re not open. We’re closed. It’s just the three of us. Hope that’s okay.”

I don’t know what the expectation is. I don’t know what these guys think of us being here. I’ve heard of swinger parties, and I’ve done several threesomes, me and two women before I found my forever throuple, but this is a whole new world to me.

“That’s quite alright,” Zar answers. “Most here are in closed relationships. That’s why we’re here. We want to protect them. To celebrate them.”

“How? None of us can be out. How can we celebrate that?”

Zar tilts his head toward his lavish living room on the other side of the open accordion glass doors. “I think it’s time we all meet. It may answer your questions.”

He gestures for me to lead the way, then he calls the others to join us.

I find an overstuffed chair. The room is full of them and sofas, all draped in beachy white slipcovers. Blair joins me. She sits on my lap while Beau sits on the wide arm of the chair, draping his hand over my shoulder.

At first, I flinch. We don’t show our affection in public. But here?

I exhale. I try to relax and enjoy it.

Other guests settle into seats while Zar stands beside Nick with the ocean gleaming behind them. They look like a true power couple.

“Thank y’all for joining us,” Zar begins. “We know it’s not easy finding a day off during the season.”

“Fins up!” Shouts Booker Davis, the nose tackle for Miami.

“DUUUVAL!” Carter Smith, Jacksonville’s safety, shouts back, and we laugh.

“Exactly,” says Nick, who plays for Carolina. “And may the best team win, but we’re here to talk about our team.” The room gets quiet. “The one that finally deserves to win, too.”

Eyes dart. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Just understanding. Just feeling the weight of our secret. The injustice of it.

I scan all the players. How their trained muscles are tense. Their steel jaws clenched. I can imagine what they hear in their locker rooms, too. The homo-erotic jokes. The mocking teases. The outright slurs. We have thick skins, but we have hearts.

Hearts we’ve been hiding for too long.

Beau cups my shoulder, asking Nick, “So what’s the play?”

And goddamn, I fall even deeper in love with this man.

I know his gruff tone. I know his firm grip. I know when Beau puts his nose down like that, glaring up through his eyebrows, he’s ready to fight.

To fight for us.

“Leave it to a QB to ask,” Booker jokes, and it’s true. QBs can’t live without a plan or a play.

“Bronson’s right, though,” Brayton Jervis, the QB from Tennessee, adds. “I appreciate the support.” He holds the man’s knee beside him. He’s not a player. He must be his partner. Huh, I never knew. “Having this group means a lot. And adding to it helps.” He nods to me and Beau. “The world is changing, but not fast enough. Not for the NFL.”

Beau glances at me. I glance back.

That’s what Dr. Gary said.

“So what are we gonna do?” Brayton continues. “Stay closeted until we retire? Or worse, we get outed? Or do we just stay silent until we die?”

“Imagine,” Booker says, his tone grave, “how many already have. It has to be hundreds after a hundred years of the league. Probably some of the legends in the sport, but we’ll never know.”

Nick answers, “That’s why we’re here today.” Zar coughs. “Oh, and for our host’s top-notch Lowcountry boil and party later.” He hooks his arm around Zar’s waist. “We’re here to support each other, to relax and be ourselves, but also to propose a play, a plan. Just hear us out.”

A curious rumble ripples through the crowd.

“Who’s us?” Beau asks.

It raises Zar’s eyebrow. As Blair said, we know it’s not just Zar. He and Nick are connected to others in a bigger network.

“You’re a secret group.” Zar gestures to us gathered. “And there’s another. One that wants to help.”

“Who?” Booker asks, rightfully suspicious. “And why?”

“Some are family,” Zar answers. “Some are friends. Some are partners for a few.”

Blair elbows me like I’m supposed to know what the fuck is going on, but then I remember Ruby and Vale, and however they’re a part of this, too.

Vale, Blair’s sister, isn’t here, but Ruby is. She sits like a referee on the sidelines of our conversation.

“It’s a group that can help,” Nick says. “They’ll provide resources and protection should we do this.”

I’m jumping out of my skin. I can’t stand the suspense. “Do what?” I ask.

Nick looks at Zar, then Ruby, before he answers, “Before we come out together.”

You can hear a pin drop on the other side of the planet.

“Fuck,” Blair huffs. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

“That’s fucking crazy,” Booker says what most of us are thinking. “You expect me to be Black and out as gay in the NFL?”

“Or married to a man?” Brayton gets his back. “Jim and I already married. No one knows, and you expect us to come out about it?”

The room descends into grunts of protest and riled side-chatter until Beau calls it like a play on the field.

“Stand together or fall alone. We got a choice. And I’m fucking tired of being alone. Of being silent. Of hiding who I am and who I love. I’m bi and a better player because of it. I’m fucking winning because I’m finally in love. I’m finally living my life.”

“Me, too.” My throat is burning. Fuck, I love him, so I speak up, too. “Since we were sixteen, we’ve been in love and had to hide it. And now we have to hide the woman we love, too. It’s bullshit. We play. We perform. We make them billions. And then what? It’s a matter of time before one of us gets outed, and then it’ll be brutal. If the rest of us wait to come out then it looks like we were ashamed of our love when we’re not.”

“But if you come out now,” Blair adds, “you look proud and powerful.”

“Exactly,” Ruby chimes in. “You do it on your terms, under your control, and you do it together. No more silence.”

“We do it as a team,” Nick announces. “Then they can’t single us out. Then, they have to confront the closet. The one so many are in.”

“Yeah,” Blair asserts, “then you become a movement. Other players will come out, too. It’ll change everything for good.”

“So what?” Beau asks like he’s ready, like it’s war. “We hold a press conference next week?”

“No,” Zar answers. “We wait. We make a plan. We work with the other group that wants to help. Legally. Financially. PR. Security and such. We get ready for the ultimate power play.”

“Then,” Nick adds, “we do it at the end of the season. We come out on the day of the Super Bowl. When one hundred million people and the league will have no choice but to see us. And to watch us win.”

Eyes turn to me and Beau.

Like they know it, too.

We’ll make it to the Super Bowl. We’ll be the ultimate example.

Half of me is fearless. I’m proud to do it.

The other half of me knows it could be like a war, where people I love can get hurt.

“Well, shit,” Beau scoffs with his cocky grin. “We got this. It’s just a game.”

The crowd laughs low, still processing the shock. Me, too.

Do we really know what we’re agreeing to?

“Look,” Zar adds. “It’s like every smart business deal or political plan. Think about it. Don’t decide now. We got three months to chew the fat, to see if this dog will hunt.”

“What my man is saying,” Nick pulls him in closer, “is let’s eat. Let’s have a good night. Let’s see how we feel in the morning… three months from now.”