Chapter 4
Eastfield, NJ
A couple of months later…
The train doors swooshed open, and a small crowd jostled out onto the sidewalk—Foster among them.
He walked the old cobblestone street a couple of blocks toward the diner to pick up dinner on his way home, as promised.
His parents loved that place, but since his dad’s stroke, they went out less often.
He pulled his necktie off, tossing his light suit jacket over one arm and shoving the tie into a pocket.
The heat was near unbearable. He hadn’t missed the humidity of the East Coast, that was for sure.
As soon as he walked in, he noticed the place was packed and not too terribly much cooler than outside.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long. A beer and a shower were calling his name.
The second he spied a table full of old friends, he cringed and turned his back to them, hoping none of them had seen him walk in.
Old friends had turned into new bullies.
Though, they hadn’t really been friends back then, if he was honest with himself.
Ashley had called all her old high school friends when she’d learned he’d returned to their hometown and gave her version of events, omitting her role in that.
As expected. In the weeks since his return, he’d had familiar people cross the road to avoid him or look at him with disgust. Nearly everyone had sided with her and was making his life miserable.
He was nearly thirty-three years old and suddenly felt like he was back in high school again. Only this time, he wasn’t the beloved star quarterback dating the head cheerleader.
“Well, if it isn’t Foster Price,” a voice rang out behind him.
Stiffening, he glanced out of the corner of his eye and was relieved to find Cary Archer sidling up beside him. “Don’t say my name too loud.”
Cary frowned.
Foster nodded toward the corner of the restaurant.
Cary peeked that way. “Gotcha.” He moved a bit closer to Foster. “Your dickhead friends are still dickheads. How surprising.”
Foster rolled his eyes at the sarcastic tone to Cary’s voice. “Not like I picked them. They were my teammates. They came with the jersey.”
“I know you weren’t like them,” Cary murmured. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t call you a friend now.”
Foster smirked. Cary was one of the few who would still speak to him.
The only one who’d go out and have a beer or two with him on occasion since he’d been back.
Because of that, they’d gotten closer since he’d been home.
He was glad to have someone still in his corner until he could figure out where his life went next.
“Didn’t you have an interview today?”
Foster groaned.
“That good, hmm?”
He shrugged. “It’s the perfect job. I want it. But the owner knows Ashley’s father. Very well from the sounds of it. I suspect he’ll make one phone call, and I’ll be out of the running.”
“Shit,” Cary said. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Not the first time since I started the job hunt. Probably won’t be the last. It’s my fault for going to work for her dad after college. I put too many eggs in Ashley’s basket.”
“You doing okay? Moneywise?” Cary asked.
“Oh yeah,” Foster said.
Foster saw that look in Cary’s eyes. He’d seen it a few times since he’d been back in his parents’, too. The assumptions rankled.
“Just so you know, Ashley’s father forced us to sign a prenup, trying to cover her trust fund—but it helped cover me in the end. She got the house and that was it… which is fine by me. I had a decent-sized savings working under his banner, and she wasn’t able to touch it.”
“A banner that’s keeping you from getting hired elsewhere now. How long’s that savings going to last?”
Foster shrugged. “I’ve got time.”
“Have you thought about trading independently? If so, I could always send some money your way to invest.”
“I’ve done a few trades to keep fresh and made a few bucks, so I could consider doing some here and there for a friend.” He lifted a brow, glancing at Cary. “I didn’t think repo men made that kind of money.”
“I’m not your average, run of the mill repo man,” Cary replied, grinning.
Foster frowned. Cary’s smile grew.
He crossed his arms over his chest as he searched Cary’s face. Foster hadn’t been able to get much out of Cary about his line of work and wondered if he was lying about what he did. “Are you some kind of gangster or something?”
Cary burst out laughing. “A gangster? No.”
Foster narrowed his eyes.
“Maybe I’ll tell you about it one day,” Cary said, his voice hushed.
Foster frowned and smiled all at the same time. The curiosity was killing him, even more so now. “I look forward to it.”
“Cary!” a voice roared through the crowd.
Foster’s gaze swept toward the voice behind them and found the very people he’d hoped to avoid.
“You dating Fozzie now?” Rick asked Cary, eyes never leaving Foster. While there had been humor in his tone, it wasn’t gleaming in those dark eyes. “He’s not your usual fruity flavor, but then—what do I know? Maybe you like the jocks, too.”
“You seem to know an awful lot a lot about my preferences,” Cary said, grinning at Rick. Without moving his gaze, he added the next bit for Rick’s wife. “Better be careful, Imogene. I think your husband might be flirting with me.”
Rick chuckled, a smile playing at his lips, all while his meaty fists tightened on either side. “Not your type. Never will be.”
“Exactly right,” Cary said, his lids narrowing. “Never gonna happen, Rick. No matter how much you flutter your lashes over those cold, dead eyes of yours.”
Rick took a menacing step forward. Cary didn’t flinch.
Foster shoved himself between the two men before it escalated.
Rick snarled, jumping back as if touching Foster might infect him with something. “I’m not interested in you sucking my dick.”
“Didn’t offer,” Foster said, lifting a brow.
“I always knew what you were, Golden Boy,” Rick said, his voice low. “I’m just glad everyone knows the truth now, so I don’t have to hide it anymore.”
Foster had always wondered why Rick had never told anyone back in high school. It hadn’t made sense then and made less sense now.
“What I can’t believe is we’re still talking about high school like it matters anymore.” Foster shrugged. “But then, those were your glory days, weren’t they, Rick? Everything went downhill from there, I’m sure.”
Rick took another aggressive step forward, filled with caveman swagger. “You’re one to talk, Fozzie. You’re the one whose wife just kicked him out after finding him sucking another man’s cock in her bed.”
“Oh, I didn’t suck his. He sucked mine… after she begged me to bring him home with us. She keeps leaving that part out of her stories for some reason. I wonder why?”
Rick’s eyes widened, steam almost visible coming from his ears. “You’re sick.”
Their other teammate, Aaron, had the good sense to pull Rick back. Apparently Aaron hadn’t gotten tired of Rick’s bullshit in all the years that had passed. A shame. “It’s not worth it, man. You can’t catch another charge right now.”
Another charge? Foster saw nothing had changed at all.
“Leave the fruity boys alone, Rick,” Imogene said, glaring at Foster. “Let’s go.”
Erica, Aaron’s wife and once Ashley’s bestie, leaned toward Foster as the others walked out. “What you did disgusts me.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Foster asked, feigning obliviousness.
“You broke up a happy marriage with your cheating,” Erica said. “You broke her heart.”
“She’s not innocent in what happened between us,” Foster replied, leveling a glare Erica’s way.
“You’re smarter than that.” Foster’s name was called at the nearby counter, so he spun to grab his bag.
As he turned back around, he eyed Erica.
“But then, I’m sure your marriages are perfect. Aren’t they?”
He knew, for a fact, they were not. Ashley loved to gossip and had regaled him with stories over the years he likely shouldn’t have known. He had a couple of small skeletons packed away, just in case, and it didn’t hurt to let her know that. Erica’s eyes widened, her lips going to a firm line.
Foster didn’t wait for an answer. He marched out into the late August heat, avoiding Rick and the gang. Halfway down the street, Cary caught up with him.
“You just left me with them. Thanks.”
“Sorry,” Foster said, shaking his head. “I needed to get away from those mouth breathers before I lost control.”
“It’s still new,” Cary said.
Foster turned toward Cary, frowning.
“They treated me like shit for a few months after I came out… until they got bored. Just let it blow over.”
“It didn’t sound like they’ve let it go,” Foster snapped. “They got in some jabs at you, too.”
“Well, your newfound notoriety coupled with seeing us together made me low-hanging fruit. We both know those jerks aren’t smart enough to use anything but.”
“I can’t believe I was ever friends with them. It feels like a million years ago.”
Cary chuckled. “Feels like a dream I had… not even real.”
Foster chuckled mirthlessly. “More like a nightmare.”
They both walked a few more paces without speaking, Foster trying to let go of his irritation.
“So, anyway… I was glad to run into you because I’d planned to give you a call,” Cary said. “Are you interested in going into the city with me this weekend?”
“For?”
Cary hesitated, which piqued Foster’s interest a bit. After his long, hot trek into New York for his interview, the idea of returning any time soon didn’t sound appealing. It had better be a good reason.
“I’ve been invited to a private party next Saturday night. I was wondering if you might like to come with me.”
Foster eyed Cary’s profile before he stopped in his tracks, remembering what Rick had said. Cary paused and turned his way.
“I like you, Cary… but you’re pretty much the only person who’ll talk to me these days. I think we should stick to friends. I’m not in the right headspace for any kind of relationship right now.”