No question, everyone at the table was drunk off their asses. Jace helped the girl up as he focused on Colt. He got right in his face with panic filling his heart at what he saw. The entire left side of Colt’s face was contorted, swollen, and bruised.
“What happened? Are you all right?” Jace asked, the girl he’d helped all but forgotten. Seconds later, Jace was ripped away from Colt. Hank was in his face, pushing him backward.
“What the fuck are you doing here, fag?” Hank stayed on Jace with each step he took, his big beefy hands shoving against Jace’s chest. Paul came out of nowhere and pushed at Jace, too. They worked together, caused Jace to lose his footing and slam back against a crowded table. He toppled drinks and sent the table sliding until finally dumping over. Jace fell with it. Everyone sitting at the table got angry and involved, all focused on Jace. Hank was standing over him, pulling him up by the collar, only to push him backward again. This time, Jace stumbled back several steps until he landed on his knees.
Where was Colt? Why was he letting this happen?
“No one wants you here, faggot.” Hank didn’t spit on him, but every drunken word that came out of his mouth was followed by its own round of spit. The bartender jumped over the bar, and the bouncer appeared out of nowhere, grabbing him around his waist, separating Jace from the angry crowd. They abruptly lifted Jace and began dragging him to the front door. Jace couldn’t help but turn toward Colt who sat there staring at a man at the bar. Only for a brief second, did Colt look his way. That’s when Jace saw pain, resolve, hurt, and something else… a clear decision. Colt wasn’t going to get involved in stopping this brutal manhandling. His heart broke in that moment.
“Find your fuckin’ dick someplace else, fag,” the bouncer called out as Jace was shoved out the front door. He lost his footing again and landed on his ass on the sidewalk. This time the spit had purpose and landed on his chest. The window of the bar was filled with patrons cheering the bouncer on. A few of them stood sneering through the glass. Jace got to his feet, dusted himself off, and searched for anything to wipe the blob of spit off his shirt. He found nothing and carefully tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it in the trash. He’d wear his undershirt home.
As the crowd dispersed, the window cleared out, and Jace stayed back, hiding in the shadows, watching. Colt was still sitting in the same spot, his eyes focused on his cell phone for several long moments. He willed Colt to text him. Nothing came. Colt never moved and didn’t return the text, but his eyes were back on the man at the bar. Jace’s sensible side begged him to turn and leave, but his heart rejected his head. Colt had held him, made love to him, and romanced him like no one ever had before. Colt was for real, he had to be.
“You need to get the fuck out of here. Are you here tryin’ to start fuckin’ problems? Your kind isn’t welcome here. And I’m not gonna stop them if they beat the shit out of you, bitch!” The guy Colt had been staring at yelled at him from the front door. Jace still took a second to look at Colt one last time, praying he would get up and come outside.
“Get the fuck outta here, fag,” someone said from behind him. Jace hadn’t even known he was back there. The guy at the front door started advancing on Jace. That got him moving. Jace wasn’t sure how, but he jogged all the way from the bar to his apartment four miles away. As he hit his front door, the pain of everything finally settled in, becoming almost too much to bear. His heart went into survival mode.
Jace had broken the rules tonight and gone into Colt’s world. He shouldn’t have ever stepped foot inside the bar. Since he had met Colt, he’d allowed his heart to control his emotions, not his head. When he saw Colt had been beaten, he’d simply reacted. He knew better than to approach Colt when he was surrounded by his teammates. Colt wasn’t out. Surely that’s why he sat there. This whole night was Jace’s fault, he shouldn’t have gone there. Surely if he had been in any real danger, Colt would have gotten involved, right? This wasn’t the time for a broken heart. Colt had been hurt, that’s why he hadn’t called, right?
“Hey, are you okay?” Gregory asked.
“Yeah.” Jace didn’t say another word. He went straight to his room, praying Colt would find some way to make this okay.
Chapter 11
April 2003 (six weeks later)
The April sun shone brightly as most of Austin, Texas, turned out for the NFL football draft. It was early, a little before eight in the morning, and the university football stadium was packed full. This was Jace’s final cheerleading performance before graduation. The university had multiple players in the draft this year and most were suspected to be picked up by a team. For a town with no professional teams, this was the Super Bowl, World Series, and NBA Playoffs all rolled into one.
A stage was set up in the middle of the field. Huge television screens were installed and sat in every corner of the stadium. Although all the picks were important, Colton Michaels held everyone’s attention. He was widely reported to be this year’s number one, first round draft pick. The anticipation hanging in the air was almost tangible, and yet, Jace tried hard not to care.
Since all the cheerleaders were required to be here, he’d picked the first shift. There were enough of them to have two sets of stunt groups on the field for three hours at a time. If he was lucky, he could get in, entertain the crowd, and get out before the draft even started. If he wasn’t lucky, he’d be watching Colt accept his offer live for national television. Jace prayed for lucky.