"There's one way that we can wash you of these scandals," Larry says. "While the SportsNation highlights are damning, we can flip the story. It's like that old saying, 'if you don't like what people are saying, change the story,' and in this case, I think it would work brilliantly."
"How can we change the story when the evidence is captured on video? I just don't understand," I say, furrowing my eyebrows. “And why have you been talking to AJ? You didn’t answer my question.”
"Right now, the media – basically spurred on by AJ - is painting you as a willing participant in these actions," Larry says. I can hear Dave giggle at the word 'action' and I wonder if he is secretly 12 years old. “Ninety-nine percent of the anger is because of his daily column where he takes you and runs you over the coals. But I know he’s open to a deal.”
Larry continues, "What if you weren't a willing participant after all? What if you were seduced and strong-armed?"
"That's not what—" I begin to say, but Larry cuts me off. I know I just said that I was open to any ideas, but now I really am not so sure that is true.
"You know what the new script should be? Well, I'll tell you even if you don't want to hear it. The new story should tell the world that Julianna deceived and seduced you, and Colt accosted you in that locker room."
“But that’s not true,” I say, standing up. “She didn’t do anything like that. In fact…”
But Larry doesn’t let me finish. “I know that, but who cares?” he asks me. When I don’t answer, he looks at me. “Listen to me, Ethan, AJ Ledoux has his sights set on only one person – Julianna Heaton. None of this shit would have blown up if he hadn’t been stoking the fires this entire time. Now you can stay on the burning bus that he’s pushing into a ditch, or you can get out. But if you get out, you gotta help him push. Now what’s it gonna be – your career, or your cock?”
That night, I can't sleep. It doesn't feel right. How can I throw Julianna and Colt under the bus? The media would have a field day with that kind of story. I am pacing from one room to another. The entire place makes me feel claustrophobic, like a caged animal. I have to get out of my apartment. It is 9 pm and I know my favorite pub, Black and Bull, down the street is still serving food. I grab my jacket, keys, and wallet and head out the door.
The place seems a little more crowded than usual for a weeknight, and just as I am about to turn around and head back home, thinking it may have been a bad idea to come, I find an open booth in a far back corner of the room. This place is great for a number of reasons, but my favorites are that the seating offers a lot of privacy, the number of different beers on tap are staggering, and the burger, well—you might as well ask for a bib with that burger. Take one bite and melted bleu cheese gushes out and offsets the crunchy slabs of bacon placed on top of the patty. If I was to have sex with a burger, and I realize that's a strange thought—this burger would be it.
I settle into the dark wood and red vinyl booth and the waitress hands me a menu. I immediately look at the beer listing. I need something to mellow me out. There are ales, wheat beers, lagers, IPAs—why are IPAs so popular these days? I can't understand it. And then I see the darker beers—stouts and porters. Yes, that is what I am in the mood for, something substantial, like a meal in a pint. I am buried in the beer menu when someone approaches my table. I think it is the waitress, so I begin to order. "I think I'll have the dark—"
"Do I look like one of the servers to you, asshole?" The question comes from a familiar voice. I look up and see him. He seems taller and stronger than usual, if that is even possible. His brown eyes hang warmly above me and he is smiling. It is like staring up at a strong oak tree.
"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?"
"I've been looking all over for you. You haven't been answering my recent calls or texts. Hell, you even dodge me on the field. I knew I'd have to find you."
I watch as Colt approaches the table. I feel almost embarrassed being caught off guard like this. What's the point of him meeting me here like this?
"Have a seat." I find myself inviting him into my booth even though I feel like being as far away as possible from him right now. I still need time to gather my thoughts. He thanks me and eagerly scoots in.
"So you came all the way to Black and Bull to find me? How did you know I was here?"
"Just a hunch," Colt says. Damn it. Colt has known me longer than most people. His ability to read my mind is uncanny. If anyone can find me in this city, it is definitely him. I notice that he seems more subdued. Not the gregarious loud mouth I had grown accustomed to. The way he silently looks into my eyes is making me uncomfortable, and I don't know what to say. Since it is a small booth, we are sitting in close proximity to each other. I can feel his broad, muscular shoulder brushing up against mine, and my cock twitches.
Great, not now, I think to myself. I hear the deep, harsh words of my father repeat themselves in my mind, What are you, a faggot? I feel so confused. There is no doubt that I am attracted to Colt. All these years of intense rivalry and hatred are starting to make sense to me. The opposite of love is not hate; it's indifference. I never hated Colt. I can see now that the identity I am so scared to embrace is true. I have desired him all along. I've been attracted to him all these years and was too afraid to admit it, and he must have felt the same thing. But that's not the whole picture. The other side of this perfect equation is Julianna. I love her, but now I know that I love them both.
"Let me guess, you were going to order the Bleu Cheese Burger," he chides.
"Fuck off, you always think you have me pegged," I say jokingly.
He gives me a playful punch on my arm and I laugh, brushing the hair back from my forehead. Now this is the Colt I know, which is a comforting feeling. I feel like I am treading back on familiar territory.
"It's because I do. Just admit it. When have I ever been wrong?" He laughs, and opens the menu from the table.
"Plenty of times! In fact, remember when you—"
"Now fucking stop right there. I'm going to have to tell you to go fuck yourself," Colt laughs.
Despite everything, I laugh back.
For a moment, I forget everything and look at Colt. I’m supposed to hate this man. But that hatred seems to be a mask - hiding something greater.
He reaches over and I take his hand. I lean over the table in the booth before I realize what I’m doing. Is his face coming closer?
Our faces are inches apart.
I could kiss him right now.