Page 148 of Shameless Game

Blair mingles with Ruby. Beau is talking to Nick Barinov, the tight end for Carolina. Our host, Zar Rollins, swigs a beer, too, working the crowd. He catches me staring, probably with my jaw hanging open, flies buzzing in and out, so he grins, aiming my way.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks.

“Uh, there ain’t many cats here. It’s the dogs I’m shocked about.”

“They’re good men. Like you.”

Zar has the braun of a fast player, like a running back, but he’s not one. He’s a C-suite executive.

I can’t make sense of it.

“Just how are you involved though?”

“See that man talking to your man?” Zar subtly points his brown bottle toward Nick Barinov. “He’s mine. He’s how I got involved. He’s why I care so damn much.”

He must clock my confusion. How I thought Zar’s with Luca and Scarlett Mercier.

So he cocks a half grin, using that sexy Texas drawl. “Being a sub ain’t the same as being a spouse.” He shrugs. “Not always. I serve Luca, and I’m loyal to his wife. But I belong with Nick. As soon as we can, we’re getting married.”

I nod, letting the dust fall over my logic.

“And you and Bronson?” he asks. “You’re with Ms. Monroe. Equally? Exclusively?”

I don’t waver. “Yes, and yes. We’re not… What does Blair call it… Open? Yeah, we’re not open. We’re closed. It’s just the three of us. Hope that’s okay.”

I don’t know what the expectation is. I don’t know what these guys think of us being here. I’ve heard of swinger parties, and I’ve done several threesomes, me and two women before I found my forever throuple, but this is a whole new world to me.

“That’s quite alright,” Zar answers. “Most here are in closed relationships. That’s why we’re here. We want to protect them. To celebrate them.”

“How? None of us can be out. How can we celebrate that?”

Zar tilts his head toward his lavish living room on the other side of the open accordion glass doors. “I think it’s time we all meet. It may answer your questions.”

He gestures for me to lead the way, then he calls the others to join us.

I find an overstuffed chair. The room is full of them and sofas, all draped in beachy white slipcovers. Blair joins me. She sits on my lap while Beau sits on the wide arm of the chair, draping his hand over my shoulder.

At first, I flinch. We don’t show our affection in public. But here?

I exhale. I try to relax and enjoy it.

Other guests settle into seats while Zar stands beside Nick with the ocean gleaming behind them. They look like a true power couple.

“Thank y’all for joining us,” Zar begins. “We know it’s not easy finding a day off during the season.”

“Fins up!” Shouts Booker Davis, the nose tackle for Miami.

“DUUUVAL!” Carter Smith, Jacksonville’s safety, shouts back, and we laugh.

“Exactly,” says Nick, who plays for Carolina. “And may the best team win, but we’re here to talk about our team.” The room gets quiet. “The one that finally deserves to win, too.”

Eyes dart. Not guilty. Not ashamed. Just understanding. Just feeling the weight of our secret. The injustice of it.

I scan all the players. How their trained muscles are tense. Their steel jaws clenched. I can imagine what they hear in their locker rooms, too. The homo-erotic jokes. The mocking teases. The outright slurs. We have thick skins, but we have hearts.

Hearts we’ve been hiding for too long.

Beau cups my shoulder, asking Nick, “So what’s the play?”

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