Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You know that saying: having skin in the game?”
COLTON
“What’s foie gras?” Ruby leans my way, side-whispering behind her menu, “Is it like fancy French grass clippings?”
I laugh. I like her. Immediately, I trust her.
“I think it’s duck liver, but I was raised on hot dogs and Cheez Whiz, so I ain’t sure.”
“Me, too!” She beams.
Actually, I know this menu. Beau and I are co-investors in this French restaurant and two others. But it’s fun joking with Ruby.
Our vibe is informal, though Beau and I are dressed in dark suits and Blair looks elegant, kicking her curves in a red flare dress, and Ruby stuns in a sapphire, backless number. We’re relaxed, Ruby and I on our side of the four-top table and Beau snuggling Blair on their side.
We’re seated in the center of the room, where everyone watches us, but Ruby doesn’t care. Neither does Blair.
They hit it off immediately, like an instant trouble-making duo, so God help us.
Blair smiles, conspiring across our table. “Let’s get the snails, the frog legs, the sea urchins, and the blood pudding. Let’s go all French tonight.”
“Let’s go all hell-no tonight.” Beau laughs. “I don’t care how much melted butter you drown it in, I won’t eat it.”
Blair challenges him, swirling her white wine. “Where’s your adventurous side?”
Beau lowers his voice. “In bed, where I’ll put anything in my mouth, but here?” He glances around the crowded room. It glows with amber light. The tables, the furniture, the walls, everything is the color of a flickering candle. “We’re here to get busted, not sick.”
“Yeah.” I set my menu down. “We’re tossing salads tonight, not cookies.”
“I knew it.” Ruby laughs. “Y’all are my people. You’re gonna fit right in.”
“Just uh… ” Beau fiddles with his bourbon tumbler. “Just when do we meet your people?”
“I had to meet you first.” Ruby’s tone gets softer but serious. “It’s part of what I do. I do the munches.”
“Munches?” I ask.
“I do the first meet-up,” she replies. “In public. Informal. Usually, over brunch. But,” she gestures to the posh room, “not always, but you get the idea. I vet the people. I ask and answer questions. Then, we review the basics if we agree to proceed.”
“Proceed to what?” Beau sounds worried.
“Proceed to whatever makes you comfortable,” she answers. “For all we invite, we talk first. Mostly, we’re about support; we’re about protection. But for others, it goes further if they want.”
“Further how?” I’m worried like Beau.
And curious.
“Further, if you want to meet more professionals like yourselves,” Ruby reveals, and like lightning, my brain does the logic.
I flick my stare to Beau, and he does the same.
It can’t be? Is the world that small? Could Ruby be part of the same group Dr. Gary mentioned?
Beau hasn’t reached out to the contact Doc gave us yet. We’ve been too busy with training camp.
But if Ruby is my beard, if she’ll really get my back and be my friend, it starts now. So, I probe, “What do you mean ‘professionals like us.’?”
She drops her voice, glancing around, making sure no one is eavesdropping.
“I mean, you have to know, by sheer numbers alone, you aren’t the only ones, right? There are lots of… pros in your situation.”
Pros? She means gay and bi pro ball players. NFL players who don’t feel safe coming out. So far, there have only been a few out of thousands, but none have been marquee or Top 100.
“Like who?” Beau’s cautious.
“No names, not yet,” Ruby answers. “Only in person. Only over a handshake and a vow to protect each other. No matter what. You’d want the same assurance. Right?”
Beau nods.
So do I.
“But,” Blair inquires, “you’re a woman. You’re not a… professional. How did you get involved, and why do they trust you?”
“Mutual friends,” Ruby answers. “Family, too, you could say. We met and got close. I’ve never judged and always understood. I love them and want to protect them, too.”
Beau gently kisses Blair’s cheek, pulling her gaze his way. “Sounds like you, baby,” he says. “Like us and the night I came to your door.”
“What night?” Ruby sounds sweet with her question.
“The night I sorta told Blair about me and him.” Beau nods to me. “We go way back. Colt and I have always been best… friends. And Blair was the only woman I ever felt safe with. I couldn’t help it. She wore cute glasses, and I fell in love with her, too.”
Beau makes a show of squeezing her hand, held in his on the table. Blair squeezes it back, and I get that fuzzy feeling again.
Not once has their love made me jealous. It’s the opposite. It makes me happy.
The other morning, while Blair and I drank coffee, she asked about the difference between a cornerback and a safety. So, after I bored her to death with my explanation, I asked her about my feelings—the one I got when Beau served her a blueberry muffin with a kiss, and then he kissed me, too, all while she sat on my lap.
“Y’all,” I asked, “why don’t we get jealous? Isn’t it weird? Because all I feel is happy when you kiss.”
“It’s called ‘compersion’.” Blair brushed muffin crumbs off my beard. “It’s when you feel happy seeing the pleasure your partner gets from another partner. Like in a relationship. It’s not technically a word, but people like us use it.”
People like us?
Of course, I knew I wasn’t the only man with feelings for another man. But in the locker room or on the field? I always felt so alone until this season. Until Beau and I decided to try.
But is Ruby saying there are others like us, too? Ones who have more than one love?
She turns to me, tenderly asking, “And you? How do you fit with them?”
“Me?” My answer’s simple. “I’ve always been Beau’s, and now I’m falling for Blair, too. It took us years to get here, in our own ways, and we’re not going back. But we need help going forward.”
“I’ll help,” Ruby offers, tilting her head. Her hair is twisted up, pieces falling, framing her face. A face that reminds me of an auburn-haired Tinkerbell.
She’s cute in that sexy-as-fuck way.
But then, she has a rebellious tiny diamond pierced to the left, just above her pillow lips. And she wears a rose gold diamond ear cuff from Tiffany’s. I know how much it is. Amber wanted me to buy one for her. I never did, but I can sense it; someone gave that to Ruby.
Ruby’s a score. She’s got an edge. She’s got lady-balls, I can tell.
“But,” Blair asks her, “why do you help? No offense, but what’s in it for you?”
Our eyes aim at Ruby, and she chews her lip. It’s not coy, it’s careful. “I do it for someone who stays hidden because I believe in what he does. So we have to be careful. We have to protect our group, and that’s where I come in.”
“So, you’re protecting… professionals like us?” Beau asks.
“Yes,” she answers. “Pros like you and others, too. Others who have to stay hidden, so they need a public face, and that’s where I help. I help in different ways, so when Stacey called—she helps us, too—of course, I said I’d return the favor.”
I clue her in. “I think we’ve already heard about your group.”
“I think you did, too.” She surprises me. “I bet you journaled about it.”
Holy shit. Beau and I exchange another look. We’re right. It’s the same group of NFL players Dr. Gary mentioned.
And for the first time in weeks, I’m relieved. The pressure in my chest feels lighter. I’ve been so damn happy but hiding my dread, too. I keep waiting for my secret to explode into my life, but maybe this is a sign.
My mom believed in signs, and I do, too. You just have to be open to seeing them.
“Can we meet them soon?” I ask. “Your group? Like, how do we start?”
“We can meet sometime this season. You can take our private jet to Charleston, and I’ll take it from there.”
“A private jet?” Blair shares our shock.
“Yeah,” Ruby chuckles, “I grew up on rusted bikes and Greyhound busses, but now, I hitch a ride on a new Gulfstream.”
“What if we meet and… ” Beau lowers his brow. He’s always cautious. “What if it doesn’t feel right to us?”
“Then you stay on the first floor,” Ruby answers.
And Blair smiles. “Like at Delta’s.”
“Yeah, like at my favorite store.” Ruby shares a knowing grin. “It’s all chill on the first floor. Just folks having a beach house barbecue.”
“But then?” I ask and…
Why do I already know her answer? And why does it make my cock twitch when I only want Beau and Blair?
Don’t get me wrong. Ruby is captivating, but she’s just that—I can tell—completely captured by another, in the best way, and she doesn’t want to be free. That’s why she’s perfect for us. She belongs to someone else.
Someone willing to share her this way. Someone with power who’s willing to help us. And why? Why do I fear we’re going to need it?
Oh, I know.
Because Beau and I are bisexual NFL players, in a throuple with a woman, while we’re about to begin the biggest, most winning season of our career. I can smell the Super Bowl in the air. I can feel the one hundred and twenty-three million fans of the game and their eyes already watching us.
And I can read the posts of my angry ex-girlfriend, blasting shit on socials. She’s on a mission to ruin our lives.
And then… there’s my secret. The one ripping me apart inside. Now that I’m living with Beau and falling in love with Blair, I don’t know how long I can keep it.
It’s a bomb, ticking on the sidelines.
But this group feels like a solution, a way out of the closet.
“But then, if you like the party and feel comfortable,” Ruby answers me. She has a way of making this feel safe. “You can go upstairs and explore. You can meet others like you, but there’s one rule.”
“Which is?” Blair asks, and I cock a brow at her tone.
Is our woman twitching hot and curious like me?
With her fingertip rimming her crystal goblet of merlot, Ruby answers, “You know that saying: having skin in the game?”
“Yeah,” Beau answers, his voice gruff. I know his tone, too. He’s aroused. “In this case,” he says, “you mean literal skin, right?”
Proudly, Ruby lifts her chin. “If others show you who they are and how they love—consensually and safely, of course—our one rule is you show them your skin, too. Even just a little, but with no shame.”
Now Blair’s leaning over, kissing Beau’s cheek, her lips brushing his ear. She lets us hear her say, “Imagine being safe and free enough to show everyone how beautiful our love is—the three of us. Imagine not hiding it.”
I watch the idea land in Beau’s blue eyes. They’re a storm of desire, hope, and fear, and I’m in the hurricane with him.
All we’ve ever known is hiding who we are, living as half of ourselves, cutting off our truth to fit into someone else’s narrow definition of love.
It used to piss me off. It made me silently rage. Sometimes, I still do.
But the older I get, with my love with Beau and my love blooming for Blair, too, I understand.
I don’t accept it, but I get it.
The only people who judge the love of another are those who have no love of their own.
As we leave, it makes me proud, wrapping my arm around Ruby’s bare shoulder. She may not be my girlfriend, but she’s my friend.
I trust her.
I can feel my mom smiling down on us.
It’s the same way I felt the first night Blair sat by the pool with me. I felt my mom guiding me to Blair, like giving her to me like a gift, and I feel her now, blessing our foursome as the ma?tre d’ holds the glass doors open for us.
Beau exits first, holding Blair’s hand.
The flash of lights, the wall of hissing camera shutters, and shouts of, “Beau! Beau! Colton! Over here! Over here!” are instant.
We’re greeted by the swarm of paparazzi we summoned.
I squeeze Ruby tighter. I’m six-five, and she can’t be over five-five; I got her covered. She turns her face toward my chest, acting shy and surprised, but it’s a performance. We don’t want to look staged.
“Beau! Colton! This way! This way! Are these your dates? Are they your new girlfriends?”
The paps shout questions we don’t answer.
Beau blocks, and so do I. We try smiling through the swarm, making our way to the end of the sidewalk while the valet signals for the limo we left waiting for us.
“Ms. Monroe! Ms. Monroe!” Some dude with a Nikon shouts. “Is it true? Do you write books about Beau Bronson? Is he your alien fantasy lover? Does your father approve of your kinky romance?”
What the fuck?
I whip my glare to the asshole trying to goad Blair.
So does Beau. “Back off,” he growls. “And show her some respect.”
We know better. Opposing fans heckle us all the time. The worst you can do is answer. The dumbest you can do is insult back. The rookie mistake is letting them provoke you into a fight, which is exactly what they want.
But the surge of cameras gets worse, blinding and blocking our path. It’s like pushing through a rush of defensive linemen. I hold my palm up, expertly shucking them aside while clutching Ruby tight.
Beau does the same for Blair. He’s protecting her, but that same Nikon asshat gets in her face.
“Are you just like your dad, Duncan Monroe?” This pap pushes too far, jeering, “Blair, are you a sports whore like your dad? Will you ruin Beau’s game? Is he your first of many husbands and a dozen baby-daddies? Will you have little blue alien babies with him?”
Fucking dick.
This shitface sounds like Amber sent him.