Page 12 of The Road to Home Base
“Yeah,” I said.
“Handsome fella,” Brett said. “Hey isn’t that Devin’s brother? The photographer that the assholes in media didn’t like?” He punched my shoulder. “You devil.”
Alex’s eyes roamed the landscape. They tracked along the house, windowed walls, inching toward me. I strained my spine and put my hand on the handle to the door leading outside. Then, his eyes found mine.
Oh, that smile. I could get used to that.
I waved him toward me.
“I’ll leave ya to it. And remember, don’t be a fool, wrap your tool.” Brett left the room before I could bark out a response. He disappeared somewhere in the house. By the time I turned back to the door leading outside, Alex was there.
Chapter Four
Alex
IFOUNDAspot at the end of the line of what I assumed was a long driveway. I had never punched a “guest code” into a gatehouse box before, but it had been a week of firsts for me. I parked my Honda Accord behind a suped up gold Land Rover and stepped from crisp air conditioning into a wave of summer heat. I adjusted my shorts, worried I had worn the too-short ones but wanted to show off my legs. I fanned my back with my shirt to help evaporate some of the sweat that had formed despite the A/C. Shutting the door, I hoofed it along a wide curving driveway lined with enough luxury vehicles to fill a dealer’s lot.
I considered texting Rome to let him know I had arrived but thought better of it. Starting out whatever was happening between us as needy wouldn’t do either of us any good. I could meander and schmooze with the best of ’em if I had to and I could do that until I bumped into Number Sixteen.
Adding him as “Sixteen” in my phone had briefly crossed my mind the day I received that email. His name defaulted to “Rome M” in my email app and I immediately assumed it had to be some kind of scam. The message had appeared authentic enough but I didn’t hold out hope when I sent the texts.
And he called me! Withvideo!That I did not expect, nor the moment his half naked body came across my screen. I was rock hard only seconds into the call which, thankfully, only shot me from the waist up. I couldn’t stop staring at his form, his musculature. Not overly bulky like a football player but certainly toned and bumped out in all the right places.
I viewed the pictures I had taken of him with fresh eyes, as if the subject in every shot was a different person. Romo then, Rome now. I had set up the e-share site the moment we ended the call. I scrambled through granting him access, using my default password I used foreverything. I could hear the ghostly whisper of my college professor warning us against plagiarism and copyright infringement. “Change your passwords!” he would shout at us. But all I could do was sift through all my photos of Rome to upload, picture after picture of his incredible, athletic frame reaching, stretching. Power behind every muscle movement…
Easy there, killer, I told myself as the house came into view. I slowed my pace. I had grown hard again and in these shorts, everyone would notice.Take a breath. Look at the pretty cars. Oo, is that a Maserati?
A minute or so of focusing on vehicles did the trick. I put a pep in my step, confident in myself, as a three-story house constructed from white walls and glass came into view. I let out a low whistle. The driveway came to a circle around the front and a smattering of people to the side clued me into the direction I needed to go. A cluster of screaming children shot across the driveway, each giggling as hard as the next, followed by a little dog yapping after them. I stuck my hands into my pockets and smiled, then circled around the house along a stone walkway bordered by waist-high hedges.
Someone dressed in black and white was handing out flutes of champagne at the entrance to the patio. I thanked the woman,but paused. The pool was enormous, Olympic size almost, with a stone waterslide and waterfall feature. A raised portion behind it was home to a grilling system larger than my kitchen with high end cushioned patio furniture bordering the area. A heavy throng of people clustered around the pool as a DJ bobbing his head worked at his mixer board. Servers moved about, holding trays of hors d’oeuvres.
At first I thought everything appeared too swanky, given the cars lining the driveway. But the more I peered at the crowd, the more… normal they seemed. Or regular? I couldn’t put my thumb on it, but given the way everyone smiled and laughed… it was like they enjoyed each other’s company. For some reason, I expected the mega rich to hate one another.
Sports. One hell of a different world.
“Alex? The hell you doing here?” I turned and recognized the voice before I saw my brother.
“Hey, Dev. Trust me, I’m just as surprised to be here.”
He stood with another one of the coaches, both cradling beers. “Did… did you get invited?” He shook his head. “Shit, I’m sorry, that sounded rude. It’s just that I didn’t think you’d be here. Do you know Hiroshi?”
“Um, not really.” I looked from my brother to the other coach. A pang of indecision shot through me, followed immediately by frustrated resignation.
It’s already started, I thought. It was clear to me Rome was gay. He was interested in me. I was interested in him. But I most certainly was not interested in dealing with someone’s closeted issues. As a gay man, I felt an obligation to hold onto Rome’s secret until he was ready to share. I had no idea if my brother or this other coach knew. Devin, obviously, knew I was gay, and would make the connection as fast as lightning the moment I told him it was Rome.
I let the moment draw on too long and must have made aface. My brother excused himself from his coworker and pulled me toward the corner where the house metthe fence. “Hey, what’s up? You all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” I told Devin. I looked over my shoulder. “It’s Rome.Heinvited me. I didn’t know you’d be here. I would have said something if I did.”
Devin’s eyebrows slowly crept to the top of his head. “Romoinvited you? How… how did he…?”
“Look, can you keep this between us?”
“Of course I will. Wow. I didn’t…”
I patted my big brother on his shoulder. “Neither did I. I’m gonna go find him.” I took a sip from my flute of champagne and weeded my way through the crowd. I kept my head on a swivel to look for the tallest one in the bunch. He’d be easy to spot. Although baseball, apparently, had a lot of tall players. Like basketball.
Hey, look at you. Sports references.
