Page 38 of Go Deep

A deep green haze clouds my vision. My lips twist.

Must be Vince Castro’s elusive girlfriend.

My blood floods with envy that it’s her body plastered against his every night.

Not mine.

I narrow my eyes at her as she scrolls through screens on her phone. She’s a stunner with long, dark hair and sparkling green eyes. My fingers wrap tight around the water glass.

She’s real after all.

Dammit.

It took every ounce of restraint not to stare at Vince when he stalked away from their table after that homophobic asshole from the other night said or did something to piss him off.

But what was it that got him into such a twist?

I take a long sip of water.

And why the hell do I care, anyway?

“So, Gabe, we heard about the sportscasting gig this weekend at Ohio State.” Bruce Hayes folds his hands together and leans toward me. “Do you really want to expose yourself to people like Vince Castro and his father? It sends a bad message to your fans, accepting such hate. And I’m sure there will be demonstrators there, Castro’s supporters. It’s not safe.”

I drag my eyes away from the doorway that Vince walked out of a few minutes earlier. “I was asked to co-host the event because I’m an alumnus. I want to support my former team and coach.”

“But so many people have spoken out because of your public announcement. Do you really want to cast a shadow on your career?” One of the other men whose name I didn’t care to catch joins in the conversation.

“I really don’t think my sexuality should cast a shadow on my ability to win football games.”

“Of course not. But people are narrow-minded, and we want to make sure you’re protected.”

“I appreciate it.” My voice is tight. “But I can handle myself just fine.”

These guys don’t give a damn about my well-being. They only care that I can write big checks. They’re the ones who approached me after my announcement after last season, thinking they’d have a famous poster boy to help battle Castro and his crew here in Ohio when the time came.

“You have a lot of clout. Why wouldn’t you want to use it? To stop the hate and silence the people spewing it?” The no-name guy furrows his brows, obviously annoyed that I’m blowing off their “concerns” about my well-being.

I don’t give a damn about politics, but I also don’t want to use my fame as a platform for my beliefs about being able tolive the life I want. I’ve always hated when celebrities use their influence to sway voters in an election.

“Listen, guys, I’m an NFL quarterback. You want me to speak? That’s what I’d talk about. Football. My job. I’m not a politician and have no desire to be one. People come to watch me play because I hustle my ass off and win games. That’s what they want from me, not a whole lot of rhetoric about why they should support gay marriage.”

“By not speaking up, you’re deserting your community.” Bruce folds his hands in front of him, steepling his fingers.

I swallow a snort.My community.

“I like to think of it as me being true to my fans. They support me for being who I am on the field. My personal life shouldn’t factor into that.”

I stand up from my chair and smooth the lapels of my jacket. “Sorry to do this, but I have a dinner to get to. Bruce, I think you’re doing great things for California and have no doubt you’ll do the same for the country if elected, but I’m not changing my mind about this weekend. If anything, maybe it’ll be a message to my fans that I’m a team player and that supporting my alma mater is the important thing, not anyone’s political agenda.”

I toss my napkin onto the table and turn away from the table before heading for the men’s room. I should have known better than to take this meeting. These guys are relentless, and when they look at me they see dollar signs — not just mine, but the ones that other supporters will gladly throw in their direction if they can sign me up for political party appearances.

I’ve lost plenty because of my recent announcement. I don’t intend to risk anything else. If people believe in something, they can take a stand for it. They don’t need me to convince them.

My lips twist as I pass Vince’s girlfriend. I try to ignore her,keeping my eyes straight in front of me as much as possible, not that she bothers to look up from her phone as I pass.

Blood rushes between my temples, my insides flooded with heat. I ball my fingers into tight fists as I stalk toward the men’s room. I don’t know why the hell I’m so twisted over this guy…a straight guy with a homophobe for a father, for Christ’s sake. He’s never given me any reason to believe the sick fantasies that loop through my mind can ever become a reality for us.

That’s all they are…fantasies.

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