Page 52 of His Hungry Wolf

It was intimate and warm. It made me think that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe it was just the beginning.

“Shit!” I heard someone behind me say.

I quickly let Claude go and turned around. It was the team’s owner, and he looked disgusted. Turning to the general manager, he said, “He’s another fuckin’ Mary, isn’t he? Get him out of here,” he ordered before walking away.

Panic hit me. “What?”

“Thanks for coming in,” the general manager said, approaching Claude.

“What just happened?” I asked, knowing something had changed. Everyone wouldn’t have come down to meet Claude if they didn’t think he had done well. Not letting this go, I ran past Papa and got in front of the owner.

“What’s going on? You know he was good.”

The owner looked at me with bitter, bloodshot, old man’s eyes and said, “This team doesn’t need another Mary,” and then pushed past me.

“What does that mean?” I asked before it hit me.

It was the hug. It was my non-bro hug.

“You aren’t considering him because you think he’s gay. You think because I’m gay, and I hugged him, he’s gay too… you bigot.”

The owner froze and stared at me, shocked. There was an unwritten rule with bigots. It’s that they can insinuate things all day long. But as long as they don’t say it directly, they can’t be held accountable for it. Well, fuck that! I continued.

“Because I’m gay and you saw us hugging,” I said, emphasizing how ridiculous it was, “you think he’s gay too. And that’s why you don’t want him on the team, you fucking bigot!”

Dumbstruck, the owner looked back at Papa, Vincent, and the manager and then back at me. For a second I thought he was going to back down. I had trapped him. What I had said was true, and he knew it.

But when wounded animals are cornered, they don’t give up. They attack.

Stiffening his spine, he gathered himself. As if I had never said it, he replied, “I’m dismissing him because your friend there can’t pass, is as slow as molasses, and can’t do a split to save his life.”

“He can. He just needs more time to get ready. Before I went up there, he hadn’t touched a football in two years.”

“What?” The old man said, suddenly on the defensive.

“That’s right. That’s how good he is with time off. Imagine how good he’ll be once someone works with him.”

I thought I had him. His fangs had retracted. His venom was gone. Turning to me calmly, he said,

“Then I guess you should have thought about that before scheduling the workout, shouldn’t you?” He told me, making everything that was happening my fault.

Having rocked me back onto my heels, the old man walked off. I didn’t know what else to say. Turning to Papa, I headed towards him.

“You had asked me to bring him as soon as I could.”

In front of Claude, he said, “But you didn’t tell me that he hadn’t touched a ball in two years. What were you thinking bringing him here? You knew that bastard was looking for any excuse to make our lives harder. You didn’t have to help him.”

“But you told me to bring him as soon as I could,” I repeated, feeling my resistance slip away.

“I did. But sometimes you gotta think, Son,” he said as if I were the biggest idiot in the world.

Papa turned to Claude and offered him his hand.

“Thanks for coming down, Claude. It was truly good to see you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” he said with genuine disappointment in his smile.

“You too, Coach,” Claude replied as if to him, none of this was a big deal.

Once everyone had offered Claude their tight-lipped smiles and had left, I turned to my once best friend. With tears pooling in my eyes, I said, “I’m sorry.”

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