Chapter Ten #2
Neil always was too smart for his own damn good, plus I was a terrible liar. “Uh, well, Rip suggested that if we said we were dating, it would ramp up interest in me, so people would want to watch the show.”
“Son of a bitch.” He laughed, loud and hearty. “I don’t know whether to punch him or shake his hand.”
“What?” Surprised he wasn’t biting my head off, I breathed a sigh of relief as well. I didn’t want Neil angry with me, especially when we’d aired our feelings and were on this new, tentative ground of friendship, along with the bond of brotherhood.
“As much as I hate to admit it, he may be right,” Neil said.
“Fans will be curious, as will the sports community. Rip’s a star in the league, and that, together with his status as one of the major faces in hockey’s Pride events, makes him one of those athletes who naturally attract media attention.
Being his new love interest—God, I can’t believe I’m actually saying that about you and Rip in the same sentence—will also put you in the spotlight.
Lots of eyes on you.” He paused. “You sure you’re ready for that? ”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But I think I should try. Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure. But this is your life, your choices. See? I’m treating you like a friend, or someone who can make their own decisions.”
My lips twitched. “And I thank you. I’d better get back to work. Thanks. I-I appreciate the call and the conversation.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
The afternoon flew by, and I finished all my tasks a little early.
The temperature had dipped, and a chilly wind stung my cheeks as I walked down Seventh Avenue toward the train.
It was that in-between time in the city—the holidays long gone, while the promise of spring remained a tantalizing few weeks away.
A cold resignation was set in everyone’s faces as we all hurried to our destinations.
I wished I could go home and stay there, eating hot-and-sour soup and General Tso’s chicken.
I wanted to go out for dinner and make small talk with a reporter like I wanted to have a root canal.
My phone buzzed, and seeing Rip’s name on the screen, my pulse skyrocketed. The cold and wind forgotten, I smiled and leaned against a lamppost.
“Hi. Where are you?” I checked my watch.
“Just got to the hotel. How’s it going? How was your day?”
I couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure his call gave me. Foolish, I knew, because it was all a farce, but a guy could hope.
“Did you get my message? About the interview?”
“Just reading it now. We had turbulence and the Wi-Fi was out.”
Which meant he contacted me on his own and not because he was answering my question. My heart did a double-time beat of happiness, but I squashed any excitement immediately. Rip was simply following our action plan and acting as a good boyfriend. A pretend boyfriend. I had to remember that.
“I’m getting on the train to go meet him. What do you think?”
“Think about what? You’re gonna talk about the show.”
I rolled my eyes. Could he be that dense?
“You know that’s not why he wants to meet me. It’s an excuse to get to the real story of you and me.”
“Yeah? And? That’s what we planned.”
Sweat broke out over my body.
“What should I say? I don’t know how far we’re taking this.”
“Take it as far as you want,” his husky voice rasped in my ear, and my body thrummed at the imagery of Rip and me having sex. Making love.
I bit my lip and fought for control.
“Which is what?”
“You tell me, Adrian. Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later.”
The call ended, and I continued on my way, down the stairs and hopping on the train.
Deciding to play it by ear and not get too worked up about the interview, I took a deep breath and pushed open the door of Barbalu. The hostess led me to the table where Jay Monroe sat. He rose to his feet as I approached.
“Adrian? Nice to meet you.”
“Same.”
We shook hands and sat across from each other.
Jay was older, around my father’s age, and dressed in a beautiful suit and designer tie.
He wore a thick gold wedding band, and a thin Cartier love bracelet peeked from beneath his sparkling-white shirt cuff.
His silver beard was trimmed short, and bright-blue eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses held warmth.
I felt easy in his presence, but Rip had warned me that reporters were always looking for an inside scoop and I should be on my guard to expect probing questions.
Before either of us spoke, the server approached. I ordered a glass of Pinot Noir, and Jay ordered a Scotch and soda.
“Why don’t we get right into it?” he said, and I braced myself. “We know you and Ripley Tremaine grew up together. When did you reconnect and decide to take your friendship to the next level?”
I wet my lips. “Well, I guess it was the night of the game with the Snow Caps? That first game of the second half of the season? Louie Rozner got hurt, and I was called to step in.”
“Yeah. We were covering it. And the rest is history, as they say. Tell me a little about yourself.”
I went through my rsumé—leaving out the embarrassing parts about getting fired and freezing up on camera—while he took notes on his tablet. The frequent sips from my water glass eased the dryness in my throat. We ordered dinner, and I ate too much bread, nervous that I wouldn’t know what to say.
“When I heard that a position at Channel 8 News opened up, I jumped on it, hoping I’d get to come home. That’s about it. I landed a job working for Louie Rozner, a legend as you know. And as I said, Rip and I reconnected that night Louie got hurt.”
“Fate.” He pinned me with a direct, unblinking gaze. “How is Rip handling being on the team with Denis? Has he mentioned any tension between them? Are you concerned about the two of them being together so much?”
My smile was faint. “No. First of all, remember Denis is engaged. And Rip and I are so new.”
“Have you dated other professional athletes?”
My lips twitched. “No. I haven’t dated much. Been busy trying to build up my career.”
“You’re originally from New York?”
“Yeah. My parents live in Florida now, but my brother and his family are here, so I wanted to come home.”
“And now there’s Rip.”
My cheeks burned. “Yeah. But…my work and personal life are separate.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Do you really think so?”
“I’m hoping.” My chin tipped up. “I want to be known for something else besides being Ripley Tremaine’s boyfriend. That’s why I’m starting a show called Playing the Field, where I’ll talk to players and try to let the audience get to know them better.”
Jay tapped away on his iPad. “That sounds interesting. So something more personal?”
“Yeah. And not only hockey, but baseball, football, basketball—I plan to have athletes from all the sports. I think fans will enjoy that. It’ll be on Sunday night.”
“I’ll make sure to watch it.”
“Thanks.” I thought I gave a good shpiel, and hopefully he’d plug it in the article.
“So about you. Were you always a hockey fan?”
“No, not at all, although I watched my brother and Rip play all through junior high and high school. And I’ve kept track of Rip’s success through the years.”
“Did you have a crush on him when he lived with your family?”
Damn my tendency to blush so easily. “No. I was eight years younger. He probably thought of me more as that annoying little kid always tagging after him and my brother.”
“When did you first realize you were gay? Did you know Rip was gay when he was a teenager?”
Jesus, Jay was tossing out these questions like the automatic pitch machine at the batting cage my dad used to take me to. And now, like then, I was a little overwhelmed.
“Uh, I…about Rip, no, I didn’t know he was gay.
From what I remember, he always dated girls.
I came out to my parents at fifteen. Rip was already playing professionally, but I don’t remember if he’d come out.
” I chewed my lip. “Someone’s sexuality shouldn’t have anything to do with their job.
Rip is a great hockey player no matter whom he loves. ”
Jay glanced up from the screen. “He’s the best of the best. Youngest team captain the Blades ever appointed.
But he’s been playing it hard and rough for almost fifteen years, and I can imagine he might be coming to the point where he’s thinking of his next steps.
Has he mentioned what he plans to do after he retires? ”
A sneaky question and one I knew—from when I’d asked it—would upset Rip.
“We haven’t discussed anything about that. He’s concentrating on winning games. That’s all I know.”
“I heard you and Rip were at Fiorello’s this afternoon.”
“Yeah. A good-bye lunch since he left for the airport right after.”
“Must be hard to separate so soon after you got together.”
“It’s okay. I’m plenty busy with work.”
Jay cleaned his plate, then excused himself to use the restroom. My phone rang, and seeing Rip’s name gave me a ridiculous rush of pleasure.
“Hi. You’re at the hotel?”
A little out of breath, he stretched, groaning in my ear. “Not yet. On the bus. I’m ready to crash. I hate flying.”
“Well, you can rest now. I’m still with Out in Sports, but we’re wrapping it up. The reporter asked if you were thinking of retiring, but I shut him down.”
“Good. Fuckers,” he growled. “How’s it going otherwise? Don’t forget to plug the show.”
“I did. When will you be home?”
“Miss me already?” he teased, and I couldn’t help smiling. Yeah, maybe it was all for show, but I still enjoyed talking to him. I didn’t have many friends, and I knew instinctively I could trust Rip.
“Yeah. Definitely.” I could keep it light and easy even if the truth was, I wished he were the one with me.
“Dammit,” he swore.
“What’s wrong?”
“My father. He called again. Third time today. Bastard isn’t leaving me alone.”
I didn’t know what to say and watched Jay approach. “I-I’d better go. The reporter is coming back, and I don’t think you want me talking about your father in front of him.”
“No, ’course not. I—can I call you later? I know it’s silly, but you’re the only one I’ve told about him.”
Something twisted in my chest. “Yeah, sure. Text me later.”
“Thanks, Adrian. That’ll help.”
“Bye.”
Jay took his seat. “Everything okay? You look a little red-faced.”
“No, I’m good.” I slipped the phone into my pocket.
“Was that Rip?”
No sense in hiding it. “Yeah. He just called to tell me they’re at the hotel in San Antonio.”
“Are you going to fly out to see him?”
The idea hadn’t crossed my mind. “N-no. Why would I?”
Jay shrugged. “Just curious. It’s the weekend, so I thought maybe you’d want to have a little getaway and see him play.” He raised his hand. “Check, please. I have to get home and take out the dogs. It was nice meeting you, Adrian. Refreshing, actually.”
Amused, I watched as he handed the server his card and signed the receipt. “Why’s that?”
“You’re not the usual type—after a star for the attention or money. I hope it works out between the two of you.”
“Thanks.”
We shook hands and parted at the door—me to walk home, Jay to get into the car waiting for him. On my way home I passed couples walking together, on their way to dinner or finished and heading home. The ache to belong, to be touched, grew with each step until it hammered at my brain.
Do it. Yeah, it’s crazy, but you know you want to.
Maybe if I’d stopped to think, I would’ve realized it was a silly idea, but I pulled out my overnight bag from under my bed, threw some clothes inside, and within minutes headed out the door to the car waiting to take me to the airport.
At LaGuardia, I headed directly to the gate, having bought my ticket online.
I scanned my boarding pass, and the ticket agent smiled at me.
“Enjoy your flight to San Antonio, Mr. Hunt.”