With a beep, the message was over. Luke wanted to call her, but he didn’t need to hear any advice on how he should be honest. Not after the looks he’d received in the locker room and everywhere else he went. There was no way anyone would accept him the way he was.
He’d call her soon. Just not right now.
After deleting a few more messages from reporters practically salivating at the thought of a comment from him, there was a message from Aaron.
“Hey, Luke. Obviously, I’ve heard the news. Hope you’re doing okay, and call me anytime if you want to talk. In the meantime, you’d better be doing your sit-ups every morning or I’ll kick your sorry ass when you get home. Later.”
Luke didn’t have to think before dialing. Aaron picked up after a few rings.
“Aaron. Is this a bad time?”
“No, no. I just got back from my lunchtime jog. The beach is amazing today, man.”
“I bet.” Luke thought wistfully of home.
“So how are you doing?”
Luke barked out a sharp laugh. “I’ve been better. Everyone’s staring at me like I’ve got three heads.”
“To be expected, I guess.”
“I guess.”
“So you’re denying it?”
“Of course! What else would I do?”
“Well, there’s always the truth, Luke. Come on, it’s the twenty-first century, right?”
Luke snorted. “You must be living in a different world than me, Aaron.”
“Hey, no one said it would be easy.”
“You should have seen the guys today. The way they looked at me. No way they’d ever accept a queer on the tour.”
“Okay, so maybe it’s too soon. What does Jesse think?”
“He agrees with me. There’s no way we can come out. His career is just starting. He’d never get a major sponsor, and he’s probably going to have some trouble already because of this.”
“If he starts to win, though, no one can argue with that.”
“No, but they can sure make his life miserable.” Luke’s gut twisted at the thought of what it could be like for Jesse. His whole career could be in jeopardy. At least Luke had already had his share of victories, his moments in the sun.
“But you know, a gay man’s never going to be accepted on the tour if everyone stays locked in the closet.”
“Well, someone else can take the heat, Aaron. I have more important things on my mind, like this damn tournament. If I win my next few matches, I’m on track to meet Koehler in the semis. And I should have these guys I’m up against beat.”
“Hell, it would be great to see you knock out Koehler.”
Luke’s jaw set. “You have no idea. Just the other day he was needling me about Jesse, and now suddenly the press is watching our rooms and they get an incriminating photo.”
“Hmm. Coincidence?”
“Possibly. But with that bastard, I’m inclined to think not.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“I’ve got to beat him.” Luke felt the familiar competitive desire pumping through his veins, accompanied by a newfound rage.
“So do it. Play your best, man. You can do it.”
“Thanks, Aaron.” Luke cleared his throat. “You’re a good friend.” He and Aaron had known each other for years but didn’t exactly have many deep and meaningful conversations. Probably because Luke kept most people at arm’s length.
“Anytime, Luke. Anytime. Hang in there, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks. And I’m doing my sit-ups, don’t worry.”
“You’d better be!” Aaron laughed.
They said goodbye and Luke listened to the dial tone. He knew Jesse was home and after a moment’s hesitation, dialed his number. It rang repeatedly until Jesse’s voicemail picked up.
“Jess. It’s me. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay.” Luke sighed. He wanted to talk to him, missed him more than he thought possible. “Things here are okay, I guess. Could be worse. Hope everything’s okay for you. Well, I’d better go. I miss you. Talk to you soon.”
Luke hung up and winced—he always tended to ramble on answering machines. He flipped on the TV and tried to find something mindless. Anything but the news, anything but seeing his own face and hearing everyone speculate on his life, on Jesse.
The phone rang and he wished desperately that the hotel had call display. Taking the chance that it was Jesse returning his call, Luke picked up. “Hello?”
“Ross? What the hell is going on? Why haven’t you returned my calls? Jesus Christ, you’d better have a good explanation. The people at Top Spin are not happy, do you hear me?” Arnie Lachance’s voice boomed down the line.
“Arnie.” Luke winced. He was hoping to save this conversation for another day. Preferably, after he’d beaten Koehler to reach the finals. “I was just about to call you.”
“Don’t shit a shitter, Luke.”
“Look, this whole thing is crazy. You know how the British press is; they’re the worst in the world. They’ll make up anything to sell papers.”
“Right. So it’s not true? You and this McAllister kid?”