Down by Contact (The Barons 2)

“This is a great place,” Simeon said, looking around. “I didn’t even know they could tuck a penthouse this big into these cramped blocks.”

“I know, right? New York real estate is incredible.” I kicked off my sneakers and socks, sighing at the cool tiles on my bare feet. “The complex used to be a warehouse, but now it’s this luxury monster built like a giant rectangle with a huge courtyard in the middle. I bought this penthouse before the building was finished because I didn’t want to live in some snotty-ass town in Jersey or Long Island.”

“I feel you on that. I share a place with Hendricks on the Island, and we’re surrounded by stuck-up rich people with old money.”

I gave a thumbs-down. “Want a tour?”

“Yeah. Can I use your bathroom first? I’ve had to piss for two hours. Signing autographs was a nightmare.”

Laughing, I nodded in the direction of the hall bathroom, waited for him to go inside, and then hurried to the kitchen. A quick scan of my cabinets and fridge showed fruit, eggs, Italian bread, and two big plastic boxes of besitos de coco.

Simeon entered the kitchen and found me scowling into my fridge. I slammed it shut with an irritated sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t actually have anything to eat.”

He snorted. “Tell the truth, Bravo. You were just trying to get me alone.”

“You got me. I was dying to spend my Friday night with the NFL’s golden boy.”

I did the pose Simeon had done on the Wheaties box—arm raised as if ready to launch a football across the field. Simeon just smirked. He had an I-know-something-you-don’t-know look on his face, and I didn’t even give a damn. I was just happy he was here, and that he wasn’t pissed at me. His little speech to the kids had bulldozed my last bits of resentment about him ghosting on me all those years ago. Our closeness hadn’t just been in my mind. It had mattered to him. I’d mattered to him. And I knew I should have been analyzing why the hell that was so important to me, but I’d never done well with rejection.

“Why don’t you go out and party instead of wasting your time with me? It’s Friday night. I bet you can even catch some of your boys out and about in Jersey.”

The idea had occurred to me more than once. Rocky had pressed the issue while teasing me about “switching teams.” My dumb ass hadn’t even caught on to the gay joke at first. I’d thought he’d been talking about leaving the Predators for the Barons. After a couple of weeks of hanging with Simeon, why were my teammates’ more obnoxious traits so much more obvious?

“Probably. They jet as soon as practice ends on Fridays and sprint to the nearest club, but Casey told me to stay low-profile. Wants me to look all contrite and solemn, not shaking my ass at the club.”

“You’d rather stay home and hang out with the homo people are already pairing you up with?”

“Yup. Maybe I wanted to up the stakes on our competition.” I gave him a little wink-wink-nudge-nudge. “Get that adrenaline rush of crushing someone with a stunning victory.”

“You could have gotten an adrenaline rush from going out partying and dodging cameras since you’re supposed to be keeping it low,” Simeon said. “That’s what always did it for me.”

“That’s not as exciting.”

“Why not?”

“Because people expect that shit. They don’t expect me to be trying my best to make Simeon Boudreaux sweat.”

“Then you must be partying wrong.” Simeon gave one of his famous grins and combed a hand through his hair, scratching the auburn curls. “Although I guess not everyone likes to fuck in the bathroom to get that rush.”

“Ha. Is that why you’d do something so stupid?”

“Kinda.” Simeon backed out of the kitchen and towards the living room, taking a tour of his own since I’d failed to make a move. “As much as it sucked, I can’t say I didn’t get a rush from playing the game, you know? Putting on one face in public—this nice boy from New Orleans who was living the dream on the cereal box and would someday be somebody’s straight-laced, Church-going husband, and then in private . . .” Simeon threw himself onto the couch, slumped down with his thighs spread. “I like to deepthroat random dudes with big dicks before getting dug out.”

I tossed my hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the cushion beside him. He was going for maximum man spread, and our thighs brushed together.

“You never worried about someone snitching to a tabloid before that night when Gavin wilded out?”

“Nah, I did. But I always figured I could just deny it, and I didn’t care a lot about rumors people couldn’t prove. I was more worried about getting it in, know what I’m saying?”