Chapter Four Alex
I FOUND A spot at the end of the line of what I assumed was a long driveway.
I had never punched a “guest code” into a gatehouse box before, but it had been a week of firsts for me.
I parked my Honda Accord behind a suped up gold Land Rover and stepped from crisp air conditioning into a wave of summer heat.
I adjusted my shorts, worried I had worn the too-short ones but wanted to show off my legs.
I fanned my back with my shirt to help evaporate some of the sweat that had formed despite the A/C.
Shutting the door, I hoofed it along a wide curving driveway lined with enough luxury vehicles to fill a dealer’s lot.
I considered texting Rome to let him know I had arrived but thought better of it. Starting out whatever was happening between us as needy wouldn’t do either of us any good. I could meander and schmooze with the best of ’em if I had to and I could do that until I bumped into Number Sixteen.
Adding him as “Sixteen” in my phone had briefly crossed my mind the day I received that email. His name defaulted to “Rome M” in my email app and I immediately assumed it had to be some kind of scam. The message had appeared authentic enough but I didn’t hold out hope when I sent the texts.
And he called me! With video! That I did not expect, nor the moment his half naked body came across my screen.
I was rock hard only seconds into the call which, thankfully, only shot me from the waist up.
I couldn’t stop staring at his form, his musculature.
Not overly bulky like a football player but certainly toned and bumped out in all the right places.
I viewed the pictures I had taken of him with fresh eyes, as if the subject in every shot was a different person.
Romo then, Rome now. I had set up the e-share site the moment we ended the call.
I scrambled through granting him access, using my default password I used for everything .
I could hear the ghostly whisper of my college professor warning us against plagiarism and copyright infringement.
“Change your passwords!” he would shout at us.
But all I could do was sift through all my photos of Rome to upload, picture after picture of his incredible, athletic frame reaching, stretching. Power behind every muscle movement…
Easy there, killer , I told myself as the house came into view. I slowed my pace. I had grown hard again and in these shorts, everyone would notice. Take a breath. Look at the pretty cars. Oo, is that a Maserati?
A minute or so of focusing on vehicles did the trick.
I put a pep in my step, confident in myself, as a three-story house constructed from white walls and glass came into view.
I let out a low whistle. The driveway came to a circle around the front and a smattering of people to the side clued me into the direction I needed to go.
A cluster of screaming children shot across the driveway, each giggling as hard as the next, followed by a little dog yapping after them.
I stuck my hands into my pockets and smiled, then circled around the house along a stone walkway bordered by waist-high hedges.
Someone dressed in black and white was handing out flutes of champagne at the entrance to the patio.
I thanked the woman, but paused. The pool was enormous, Olympic size almost, with a stone waterslide and waterfall feature.
A raised portion behind it was home to a grilling system larger than my kitchen with high end cushioned patio furniture bordering the area.
A heavy throng of people clustered around the pool as a DJ bobbing his head worked at his mixer board.
Servers moved about, holding trays of hors d’oeuvres.
At first I thought everything appeared too swanky, given the cars lining the driveway.
But the more I peered at the crowd, the more…
normal they seemed. Or regular? I couldn’t put my thumb on it, but given the way everyone smiled and laughed…
it was like they enjoyed each other’s company.
For some reason, I expected the mega rich to hate one another.
Sports. One hell of a different world.
“Alex? The hell you doing here?” I turned and recognized the voice before I saw my brother.
“Hey, Dev. Trust me, I’m just as surprised to be here.”
He stood with another one of the coaches, both cradling beers. “Did… did you get invited?” He shook his head. “Shit, I’m sorry, that sounded rude. It’s just that I didn’t think you’d be here. Do you know Hiroshi?”
“Um, not really.” I looked from my brother to the other coach. A pang of indecision shot through me, followed immediately by frustrated resignation.
It’s already started , I thought. It was clear to me Rome was gay.
He was interested in me. I was interested in him.
But I most certainly was not interested in dealing with someone’s closeted issues.
As a gay man, I felt an obligation to hold onto Rome’s secret until he was ready to share.
I had no idea if my brother or this other coach knew.
Devin, obviously, knew I was gay, and would make the connection as fast as lightning the moment I told him it was Rome.
I let the moment draw on too long and must have made a face. My brother excused himself from his coworker and pulled me toward the corner where the house met t he fence. “Hey, what’s up? You all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I told Devin. I looked over my shoulder. “It’s Rome. He invited me. I didn’t know you’d be here. I would have said something if I did.”
Devin’s eyebrows slowly crept to the top of his head. “ Romo invited you? How… how did he…?”
“Look, can you keep this between us?”
“Of course I will. Wow. I didn’t…”
I patted my big brother on his shoulder.
“Neither did I. I’m gonna go find him.” I took a sip from my flute of champagne and weeded my way through the crowd.
I kept my head on a swivel to look for the tallest one in the bunch.
He’d be easy to spot. Although baseball, apparently, had a lot of tall players. Like basketball.
Hey, look at you. Sports references .
I scanned the people standing along the French doors leading inside. The stretch of space without furniture, and then to another set of glass doors at the corner of the house…
There he was. Staring right at me. Damn but he looked phenomenal in a tank top and shorts.
And his hair—he must have had it cut recently like I did and it appeared straight, not curled like I saw the night before and yesterday on the video chat.
Thick black hair sat atop that beautiful face.
I couldn’t help but smile and he returned one in kind.
I reached the door and he slid it open for me.
I stepped inside to the wonderfully cool air.
An awkward moment passed when he slid the door shut.
I had the natural inclination to hug someone, even friends, when seeing them.
I wanted to hug Rome and started to but stopped myself.
Laughed. So did he. I stuck out my hand.
He shook it, nothing fiercely strong, but easygoing.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said, then gestured around me. “This place is magnificent.”
“ Si, molto magnifico ,” he said. I gave him a look. “Just checking to see how much you’ve learned in the past twenty-four hours.”
I marveled at the way those Italian words rolled off his tongue. The accent sounded right, not that I was an expert. “Let’s see,” I said and held out my hand to count my fingers. “ Uno, due, tre. Buona fortuna. Prego . Five things so far.”
“ Se sei intelligente quanto sei bello, imparerai l'italiano in pochissimo tempo.”
“Oh hey come on, that’s not fair.”
He shrugged, his round and large shoulder muscles raising and falling. “Well, if you’re impressed with the house, let me give you a quick tour.”
“Of someone else’s house?”
“Yeah. Hiroshi doesn’t mind. Come on.” He walked past me and put a gentle hand on my hip to steer me in his direction.
I let my body move with him naturally as we advanced down a hall that emptied into a kitchen made of white stone and gold and stainless steel appliances.
I refrained from whistling but instead gave an appreciative nod.
Beyond the kitchen lay a living room with the largest television I had ever seen, second in size only to a movie theater screen.
We went up a set of stairs that bent at a ninety-degree angle and continued past the second floor to the third. “Second floor is all the bedrooms,” Rome informed me. “Private area. Third floor is where people would kill to be.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. I let him take a few steps ahead of me to appreciate the view.
No. Don’t do that. Short pants. Really, really short pants.
I averted my gaze and stared at my loafers as we reached the top.
A vaulted ceiling gave height to a single room filled with dormers and plenty of light.
A mini-split pumped in cooled air as light refracted on multiple, shiny objects.
I stared at a trophy room. Trophy floor really.
But I had no clue what any of them meant.
“Hiroshi is pretty accomplished?” I asked.
Rome pressed his hand against the small of my back and led me toward a bookshelf along the wall filled with three golden catcher’s gloves. Two small busts were next to those. Plaque upon plaque upon plaque…
“These are Gold Glove Awards. They’re voted on by other teams. Hiroshi has won twice with the Riders and once with the Brawlers.” I stared at the trophy, impressed by the design but not much else. “People would give their eyeteeth to see these.”
I looked up at Rome who stood close enough for me to lean into. His height would intimidate most, I knew, but I found it inviting. “Should I get some pliers, then?”