Page 11 of Tumbling the Cornerback

Heat flared in my belly. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, but it did things to my blood flow and sent my thoughts careening back on that earlier track. Imagining him in bed for just a minute.

Lucky for me—maybe—one of the circling sharks finally got close enough to fake surprise at seeing Cooper. “Holy shit, Cooper Howard! Hey, I’m a huge fan!”

Cooper’s expression flickered from relaxed and amused to irritated. Before the guy could even notice, Cooper plastered a big, game-winning grin on his face and stood up to shake hands with him. The rest of the guys swarmed over, shaking hands and talking about his performance last season, asking about pre-season whatevers, inserting themselves between Cooper and the table.

With all the chickenhearted gumption I could muster, I saw my chance and took it. Slipping to my feet, I dropped some bills on the table for a tip and headed out of the bar. I could feel Cooper’s eyes on the back of my neck as I left, but I didn’t look back.

Caitlin was still in her office when I arrived. Cass had lingered, too. “Lucas,” Caitlin said with a slight edge to her voice. “I do have a phone, you know. And email. You didn’t have to march yourself back in here.”

“I know,” I muttered. I hadn’t remembered until I was halfway back, when my buzz started wearing off, but I pressed on. “I thought this would be better in person.”

“You left pretty quick, before we hammered out details. Cass here’s been going over your squad’s schedule with me, but we need your input on your personal schedule as well.”

Cass smiled, a touch cool but mostly kind. She’d known what my endgame was, and she’d known how the sudden pivot hurt me. Or at least I thought she had. “Lucas, hon, I know this isn’t what you’d dreamed of, but you need to focus on the charity. It’s for them, not you.”

Neck prickling with shame, my face heated, but I jerked my chin up and stared back at them both, daring them to call me anything but committed. “I'm not upset because I wanted all the credit or because I was jealous that Cooper’s suddenly getting a ton of media attention when I wanted it or some crap. I am nothing but thrilled for the sudden spike in attention for the organization. What I’m not is excited for turning this into a non-sustainable dog-and-pony show to capitalize on a flash in the pan interest by Troopers fans.”

“I think you’re letting your past experiences color your perception of the fans,” Cass remarked drily.

I flinched—she knew about my past experiences with pro players. She knew better than anyone. She’d been there to help me pick up the pieces.

“And you’re doing a real disservice to Cooper and the other guys on the team who’ve recently expressed interest in taking part with Queering Sports.” Caitlin added, her tone far sterner and more displeased.

“Am I, though? Remember when Danny Trent in Tacoma got papped wearing a sticker from that animal shelter fundraiser the Sailor’s cheer squad did, and all of a sudden, fans just inundated the shelter? It was the best thing ever for them, but a few months later, they were back at zero because the fans moved on to the next thing Danny was into. The shelter’s donations were a roller coaster,” I pointed out.

“Er. No?” Cass murmured. “I remember the team having some dogs on the field once at halftime.”

I nodded. “Because of Trent. It was a joke to them—the guys brought their dogs out to tease Danny, give him shit for being known as the puppy guy or something. But the shelter went from barely scraping by to literally a million dollars in just a few months. Then Trent started doing ad campaigns for that travel company, the fans moved on, and the shelter returned to almost nothing. The squad does literal backflips to help them raise money, but the general attitude seems to be that since Danny’s not part of it, what’s the point?”

“Danny Trent never officially attached his name to that fundraiser,” Caitlin pointed out. “I should know—I work closely with other PR firms who deal with league teams, and the Sailors have never paired with animal-related charities.”

“That’s not my point,” I sighed, head throbbing. Maybe that beer on an empty stomach had been a bad idea, but here I was, and backing down wasn’t an option. “Trent’s involvement implied support from the team, which wasn’t an issue in any legal sense since there were no claims made by the shelter when the funds stopped, no attempt at any sort of recourse because no explicit or implicit promises were made. The problem is that leaping on Trent’s interest and apparent involvement created an unsustainable situation, where the influx of support was contingent upon apparent approval by a celebrity. When that approval waned or disappeared entirely, so did the support.” I sniffed, shooting Caitlin a glare. "I should know. I wrote my entire senior thesis on the mess.”

Caitlin and Cass exchanged a look over my head, one I didn’t like. “What?” I demanded.

“Hear me out,” Cass said slowly, some unspoken conversation passing between her and Caitlin. “What if—and this is going to be entirely dependent on the organization’s receptivity to the idea—instead of putting Cooper out there as the face of this event series you helped plan... What if we pivot a bit?”

“Huh?”

Caitlin nodded slowly. “I’ll need to talk with Queering Sports’ legal team, and with Cooper’s agent...”

“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “Cass?”

“Our initial idea was too small,” Cass said, a small smile blooming.

Caitlin shook her head. “Lucas, I’m afraid I was misjudging you. I thought you were passionate about helping the organization because of your ties to the queer sports community. I didn’t understand. It’s bigger, isn’t it?”

“Er, yes?” I glanced at Cass, typing something furiously on her phone. “Y’all?”

“Let me make some calls,” Cass said. “Caitlin, we’ll be in touch.”

Caitlin nodded, not even looking up as Cass shepherded me out of the office and to the bank of elevators.

“You want this to be sustainable, right? That’s your buzzword for this?”

My turn to nod. “Yeah, but smiling and nodding and letting Cooper be a talking head isn’t going to help in the long run. Look, what I said about Tate and Tacoma is true. I can give you the sources on it. Shit, I should probably talk to Liesel about it first. She’s the one in charge and, frankly, the one who needs to worry about the outcome. If it goes to hell, the squad and the team won’t really be affected.”

We stepped onto the elevator, and Cass jabbed the button for the ground floor. “How would you manage this for Queering Sports so this blip in interest becomes sustainable?”

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