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============================ First Pitch by K. Moreno Chapters 6-7-8-9 ============================
Chapter 6
Furious, Lance drove down the interstate in the twilight. The verbal blow out with his mother was an hour behind him but his blood still boiled. Her words kept ringing through his head. "You're just confused." And "You're not one of those people."
"Those people." As if being gay made him something out of this world. And his father just sat there.
His mind raced. What it was going to take to get past this battle? Getting gang banged on the front lawn? Prancing around the house with glitter and fairy dust shooting out his ass? A rainbow tattoo? Bringing a different guy home every night and going at it as loud as possible? Video of him with one guy pounding his ass while another fucks his throat? Dragging her kicking and screaming to a PFLAG meeting or the gay pride festival?
"Dammit, I'm gay! What's so hard about that in 2013?" He screamed at the windshield. "I'm a homo fucking sexual!" The fact he hadn't had sex at all lately didn't make him any less gay, he thought.
The white pickup raced down the interstate at close to 80 miles per hour. Both hands clutched the wheel as if he were trying to squeeze life out of it.
Another two hours passed as Lance's eyes glared straight ahead with his jaw clenched until the rage and hurt fueled stream of consciousness was interrupted by the low fuel chime.
In the distance, he could see city lights. Now what? He'd blazed a trail more than 200 miles for nothing. The tension in his neck and shoulders started to relax as he became more aware of his surroundings. His pulse slowed as his breathing got deeper.
Another 10 miles ahead, Lance pulled off the interstate at an enormous truck stop. Amid all the tractor-trailer trucks, his pickup seemed like a toy. He swiped his credit card and pumped nearly $90 worth of gas into the tank. That done, he walked into the sprawling building to find the restroom.
The place was busy with truckers getting off the road for the night. Lance made his way through the convenience store, past the food court and around the corner by the sit down restaurant to a long hallway with a bank of pay phones. A lot of people just seemed to be milling around which was unnerving. This isn't Afghanistan, he reminded himself. At the same time he instinctively scanned those around him for possible threats, he felt the slightest twitch in his groin. This place had a real cruisy feel.
Lance entered the restroom. Several guys were at the row of urinals, so he entered an empty stall. As he let his stream flow, something caught his attention. His back had been to the obvious glory hole in the wall when he turned to lock the door. Now someone was moving on the other side watching him piss. Lance didn't think whom ever it was could get much of a look at his cock based on the angle. It was more of a look at his hip.
His bladder empty, Lance shook his soft dick and on an uncharacteristic whim, turned toward the glory hole to give whom ever it was a quick peek if they were watching. He started to button the fly of his jeans when a finger came through the hole, suggesting that the person on the other side was ready and willing. As he fastened the belt he heard the person whisper in a low, raspy voice, "Just stick it through. I'll blow you good."
Lance opened the door to the stall, quickly washed his hands and exited the restroom. Many of the same guys that had been milling about the hallway were still there as Lance made his way back toward the front.
The hallway was awkward. It triggered a sense of awareness that took him back to the middle east. Where were the threats? He again sized the men for threats as he walked, trying to avoid eye contact. There was one guy younger than most of the rest, latino and maybe 21 or 22. His eyes caught Lance's for a split second both coming and going. Lance walked into the convenience store.
Given that he had a three hour drive to get back to his home town, Lance decided a snack and a cup of coffee was in order. As he stood in front of the jerky and nuts, someone stepped along side him. Lance moved aside so he wasn't blocking any of the products and took a quick glance. It was the latino guy from the hallway. He stepped in and picked up a package of almonds, making a point to look over his shoulder at Lance.
"You need your cock sucked, man?" The guy said under his breath.
Lance was kind of shocked the guy was being so forward.
"The scene back there. It's pretty creepy. Clean cut guy like you. Man that's some prime meat for those trolls. Give me a wave when you go outside if you want your cock sucked."
The guy walked to the register with his almonds. Lance grabbed a package of jerky and ordered a large coffee. He could see the guy that had propositioned him standing by the front door. Lance felt like the guy working the register knew exactly what was going on.
Then he realized why. He was hard and it was pretty obvious.
Lance wasn't thinking with his head. He was suddenly being led by his cock. He walked out the front door and approached the guy. "How's this work?"
"You unzip your pants, I suck your dick, you drive on happy."
"Where?"
"See that car wash across the street? Meet you there."
Lance got in his truck and followed a small imported car across the street. The guy parked his car in one of the bays and Lance pulled his truck into the next. "Am I really doing this?" He wondered. He felt the hardness in his jeans. No turning back now. "Damn. Ever since I woke up hard the other night," Lance mumbled to himself, "this thing's had a mind of its own!"
The guy appeared next to his truck as Lance opened the door and stepped down. "Damn, bro. You're boned good."
"Just lean back right there against the seat," the guy said. Lance unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The guy took over from there, squatting down and fishing Lance's cock out the fly of his boxers. A bead of pre-cum appeared at the tip.
Without words, the guy licked the head of Lance's cock and then wrapped his lips around the head. Lance let out an approving groan. Inch by inch, Lance watched his cock disappear into the guy's mouth until he felt the guy's lips were pressed against him. None of the guys he'd been with had throated his seven inch cock that easily.
The guy pulled back to the head of Lance's cock and flicked it with his tongue. "How's that for you, bro?"
"Aww fuck. Don't stop!"
The guy dove back down on Lance's dick and throated him again, eliciting a groan of pleasure. Lance put his hands on the guy's head and pulled him down on his cock a few times before letting go. The guy pulled off.
"Face fuck me, man. Don't be bashful." He wrapped his lips around Lance's cock again and flicked the head. Lance grabbed the guy and slid his cock all the way in.
He wanted to shout, "Look at me, mom! I'm face fucking a complete stranger at a truck stop car wash!" But instead, he focused on sliding his cock in and out of the dude's hot mouth. If felt so good.
The guy pulled back and focused on the head of Lance's dick. Pre-cum was flowing now. He stroked the base as he sucked the head with increasing intensity.
Lance closed his eyes. In his mind, it wasn't a perfect stranger sucking his cock, it was Colby. The thought of Colby on his knees in front of him made his balls tightened up. He felt his cock surge at the thought. Lance wasn't going to last long now.
"If you're not going to swallow me, you better get ready to get off me," Lance warned. The guy released Lance's cock from his hand and swallowed the thing whole again. Lance threw his head back and hissed "yesssssss! oh yesssss!"
Again the guy stroked Lance's dick as he kissed and sucked the tip. "Feed me your load, bro. I want to taste your seed." A little more sucking and Lance couldn't hold out any longer.
"Oh, fuck!" He shouted again and again as his full load landed in the stranger's mouth. The guy licked Lance's cock clean and stood up with an obvious erection in his shorts. He gave Lance a nod and walked out of the car wash stall.
Lance stood there for a moment, his cock still three quarters hard and out in the open. That wasn't a dream, he assured himself. He tucked his cock back in the boxers and buttoned his jeans.
Almost as quickly as it had happened, Lance had truck out of the car wash and back onto the interstate. The rage burning inside him less than an hour before was gone. The coffee had no appeal. The same drive that had passed without notice now seemed daunting. He couldn't go home, anyway.
Had he really stormed out of his parents house, driven through three hours of nothingness and found himself in a car wash with a complete stranger blowing him? The scenes of the last few hours flashed before him in slow motion. He struggled to focus on the road. A different kind of tension was building inside him as he drove down the highway.
His chest tightened. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He couldn't see straight. At the next exit, Lance pulled off and barely avoided putting his truck in a ditch. At the end of the off ramp, he jammed on the brakes and swerved into a gravel lot before sliding to a stop.
In a flurry, he took the keys out of the ignition and jumped from the truck. His left leg smarted in pain as his full weight landed on it. He tugged at his tightening chest. "Just let me breathe," he cried. "Just let me breathe."
Chapter 7
Colby and his teammates were dressing for the evening's game when Josh, one of the outfielders, came bursting into the locker room. "Look out boys. It's fag night at the ballpark. Got a homo choir out there rehearsing the national anthem now. I wonder if any of them even know about baseball or if they just spend their lives singing and fagging out."
Colby seethed. He scanned the locker room to see what kind of reaction Josh was getting. Most of the guys were letting it go.
"Why do they have to bring that shit out to the ballpark? Gay pride. Rainbow flags and butt fucking." Josh continued as he dressed. "If you want to knob slobber and ass fuck don't do it around me. I don't want to know about that shit. So fucking gross. Two dudes going at it."
The locker room had grown uncomfortably quiet. Colby's blood was boiling and it was becoming clear that Josh was trolling for a reaction.
Josh had picked up a baseball and was attempting to throw it with a limp wrist and talking with a lisp. One of the coaches finally broke the silence. "Josh! Shut your flipping pie hole."
"Hey... it's not like I've got a problem with it. I just don't want it around me. I mean really, if guys want to go shack up, that's cool with me. Just means less competition for the chicks," he continued.
"That's $50 off your check this week, Josh," the coach said. "I have to say anything more and it's $100."
Colby looked around the locker room. His anger had to be visible. His eyes landed on Tyronne who had the locker next to Josh. The look in Tyronne's eyes was even angrier than what Colby was feeling. Their eyes met as Colby was fastening his shin guards and both shook their heads. Josh bounced out of the locker room oblivious to the energy.
Colby fastened his belt and started for the door. Tyronne was pretty quickly behind him. "Man, what an ass hole."
"No kidding," Colby agreed.
Three and a half hours later, the locker room was deathly quiet as the team had just lost its sixth straight game. The other catcher on the roster was nursing a bad knee and Colby had caught eight straight games. He'd been dinged by a couple nasty foul balls and was aching beyond the normal grind. Making matters worse, he had only one hit in the last week and his struggles at the plate were really gnawing at him.
Guys were dressing and packing for the four hour ride to the next stop on the road trip.
Colby untaped the ice bags from his knees and stood up. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the gang shower as a couple of his teammates were finishing. He stood under the hot water and let it wash over him with his eyes closed.
"Tomorrow night. Slump busters. Everybody!" He heard his teammate Dillon proclaim as he walked into the shower. "You're in, LaMontange. You're packing a big ole pussy wrecker there. We're finding a strip club tomorrow night and we're all getting laid!"
Dillon was a six-foot-five, barrel chested, first baseman who made no secrets of his real, or more likely exaggerated, sexual exploits. He was the guy that every team Colby had been part of had: the very straight guy who paraded around the locker room naked at all times as if he had the only dick that mattered on the team. At the same time, he paid far more attention to other guys' equipment than anyone.
Going back to high school, Colby had played competitive baseball for 15 of his 29 years and he'd seen bodies and endowments of every shape and size imaginable. He was numb to the vast majority of what he saw in the locker room or shower at this point.
Dillon took the shower head right next to Colby and playfully slapped his ass. "Keep your head up, man. You'll bust through. We get some chicks, we'll be right back to the win column," Dillon said as he soaped up his cock and balls right in front of Colby. "Fucking studs like us, the ladies aren't going to be able to say no. The ladies are gonna wish we were the home team. We all bust our nut a time our two and everybody will be hitting better. Am I right?"
"Sure, man. Just what I need," Colby played along enough to humor Dillon, "pussy will fix everything." In Colby's mind, the comment had a far more sarcastic tone than anything Dillon's ears would ever hear. As Colby rinsed his hair and finished, Dillon was again soaping his groin. Colby seized the opportunity to take a shot. "So did you come in here to shower or rub one out while I showered? `cause if you're planning on all the slump buster chicks tomorrow, you ought to save the swimmers."
Dillon's face turned a shade of red. While his mind was reveling in the thought of another cheap, meaningless one night stand to add to his self-conceived legend, he'd spent far too long soaping his groin and Colby had just called him on it. On his way out of the showers, Colby smacked Dillon's hefty, pale white ass with the snap of a towel. Colby let out a laugh as Dillon jumped. "I gotta see the love machine that is Dillon Price reeling the chicks in," Colby said loudly, "this I gotta see."
After pulling on a pair of boxer briefs and tossing the towel into the basket, Colby adjusted himself as he thought, "pussy wrecker? Where does that jack ass come up with this stuff? And oh, by the way, I'm an ass man."
Without warning, Tyronne erupted across the room. "What the fuck, Josh? What the hell is your problem?" The entire team's focus was now on Josh and Tyronne. Colby looked up to see Tyronne with Josh pinned against the locker.
"Get your hands off me," Josh screamed back.
"You shut the fuck up. Stop talking about people that way!" Tyronne screamed.
"What's your problem?" Josh demanded as he broke free.
"You!" Tyronne shouted. "You're a fucking asshole. I'm tired of hearing you call people faggot and queer all the time. That ain't cool. It's just like using the n-word."
Colby stepped in front of Tyronne. Dillon stepped in front of Josh to create a buffer.
"Don't do anything stupid," Colby warned under his breath.
"No, man. This stops here. We got kids out there killing themselves because of assholes like Josh."
Colby shook his head. Was he hearing this?
"Killing people? You've lost it, man. coocoo for Cocoa Puffs. Nothing I've said made anyone kill themself," Josh protested. "This is America. I've got free speech."
"No. No you don't. You don't get to talk like that around me."
"Then pick a different locker."
"No. You don't get it. Bullies like you never do."
The coach was standing there watching. "That's enough!" He growled. "How much of your paycheck do you plan on handing over, Josh? You're down $150 and last I checked, you were only getting $800 a month. Tyronne, take it easy.
"I'm embarrassed by the kind of language I heard from a couple of you today," the coach snarled at the entire team. "Now. We're getting our ass handed to us. Get your heads right and your mouths clean and get on the bus."
Tyronne stormed out as Josh went back to gathering his stuff. "
It was becoming normal that Colby was the last one to board the bus. As usual, Josh and Dillon were holding court in the back few rows. Josh apparently hadn't had enough for the day and put Colby as his new target as he put the guitar case in the overhead luggage rack.
"What's with the guitar case we're always waiting for you to pack around, LaMontange?"
"Duh. It's a guitar, Josh."
"Really? I actually don't believe you. We've been at this for what, six or eight weeks now. Every time we get on the bus, you're the last one on, packing that damn case and I've never seen the guitar."
Vince popped his head up from his seat. "Dude. Don't. I can promise you it's a guitar and he can play. Try being his roommate. No offense, Colby, but it's "open mic night" every morning."
"Must not be very good," Josh said dismissively.
Tyronne stood up and glared past Colby to Josh. "Man. I heard enough outta you today. Let our man Colby here get some rest."
Colby gave Tyronne and Vince a nod and put his headphones on. He was hoping to sleep for most of the ride. Tyronne glared toward Josh and Dillon a little longer before sitting down.
Though his eyes were closed, Colby's mind didn't stop going. Guys like Tyronne gave him the idea he could come out. Did he know something?
Colby had read about guys as young as high school coming out to their teams. There were a few college athletes that he'd heard about. Football. Basketball. Track. But he'd never heard of a baseball player, never professionally.
"You don't have the courage for that, LaMontange," he told himself. Even if he did, he wondered what would it mean back in Tennessee where he spent his off seasons picking up gigs and studio work as a musician. He hadn't run across more than one or two openly gay people in the music business there. No, he didn't have to work in Nashville or Memphis. There were states more friendly to gays, but going there would mean starting from blank.
The team could drop him like last week's trash if they wanted. And they might if he didn't start hitting. The last thing he needed, Colby told himself, was to add a layer of complexity things by coming out. He shuddered as he thought of guys like Dillon and Josh on other teams with a free shot at him in a collision at home plate. He replayed some of the collisions he'd experienced in his mind with malicious intent added in.
If someone wanted to hurt him, it was easy. And it was easier to plead that it was "just baseball" and have a lot of people believe you. Colby sighed and told himself, "Just play baseball, and lay off the damn curve balls."
Chapter 8
7:45 a.m. and Lance was sitting in front of the door to his psychologist's office for his normal appointment. He'd caught a little sleep in the awkward driver's seat and he was trying to massage a kink out of his neck. A gigantic cup of coffee had done nothing to cut an enormous headache that was making matters worse.
The sleep deprivation didn't help, but here he was.
The doctor arrived and was surprised to see him there early. Lance didn't have the best attendance record. She quickly let him in to her office. His appearance suggested a long night. The wrinkled t-shirt, messed up hair, bleary eyes and he was unshaven.
Dr. Weston did her best to keep her usual temperament, despite great concern for Lance's apparent condition. As she sat down, Lance was in his usual spot, sitting up at the end of the couch. "Are you ok, Lance? It doesn't look like you got much sleep last night."
"Am I ok?" Lance laughed. "Doc, I don't even know anymore. I walked out of my parents house last night. Blew up and walked out."
"Lance, you're going to have to tell me what happened."
"Pretty simple, doc. My mom started in on her anti-gay bullshit again and I let her have it. Both guns blazing and I walked out." Lance's voice trailed off as he replayed the scene in his mind. "But I should get some sort of bonus points for clearing my plate and glass when I was done."
Dr. Weston had to fight cracking a smile. "You didn't hurt anyone, did you?"
"Hurt? No. I didn't lay a hand on anyone."
"That's important. So where did you spend last night?"
"Well, when I left, I just got behind the wheel and drove. Didn't even realize what I was doing. I just keep hearing her words that made it sound like being gay is something other that human. I kept going until I had to stop for gas."
The doctor scribbled notes.
"Got a few miles toward home and freaked out. My chest got tight. I was sweating. Things were flashing before me in slow motion. Got myself calmed down and here I am. I couldn't go home, not after everything that was said last night."
"Have there been other panic attacks since I last saw you?"
Lance laughed. "Oh yes. So they had me throw out the first pitch at the baseball game a few days ago. I really didn't want to put the uniform on and go do it, but I did. So anyway, this player comes out and he's nice and throws the baseball around with me so I get used to throwing it. Everything was great until the fireworks went off. Then I fucking froze. Made a fool out of myself and just about ran out of there. Took the poor guy's glove, too.
"Right up until the fireworks went off, everything felt good. In fact, I was kind if distracted because the player, he was really good looking. Wow. Ever since that day..." Lance's voice trailed off.
"What, Lance? What happened since that day?" Dr. Weston probed.
"That ball player. Colby. I keep thinking about him. Or at least the things I'd like to do with him in bed."
"Has this brought you to a state of arousal, Lance?"
"Arousal? It's gone way past arousal, doc." Lance put his head in his hands. "We're talking uh... release. Yay, doc, my cock works. And I've got a school girl crush on a baseball player who I may never see again." Lance let out a big sigh.
When his appointment was over, Lance walked into the parking lot and saw his dad standing next to his truck.
"Morning," Lance said glumly.
"Morning? That's all you've got?" Erick said.
"Don't think there's much left to say after last night."
"Morning is what you say when you come downstairs for breakfast," Erick said angrily. "You storm out and don't come home and expect your mother and I to just brush it off? Your mother will be relieved to know you're alright and made it to your appointment."
"Honestly, I don't give a damn what what she's relieved to know," Lance said.
"You're not making this very easy, Lance. I brought your meds. We're both concerned about you. That vicodin bottle was empty when I found it. How many of those things are you taking, son?"
"The vicodin? I flush it down the toilet every time mom refills it. I haven't taken more than advil for pain in months." His dad had a puzzled look on his face. "It isn't worth arguing over which pills I'm taking and which I'm not. The path of least resistance is to let her refill the prescription."
"You're not lying about that, right?"
"Fuck no, I'm not lying. This is why I can't live there any more. She won't give me a square inch of space to be myself..." his voice trailed off.
"It's just stuff from that damn church of hers. She doesn't mean it."
Lance turned in frustration and slammed the hood of his truck.
"You're really going to defend her? You're really going to stand here and ask me to brush it off. That's just mom being mom? No. I'm through. I'll come by the house and get my things on Sunday while she's at church."
"Where are you going to go, son? Who's going to take you in?"
"Take me in? I'm not an invalid. I was a Marine. I know how to survive. I'll rent an apartment."
"With what, son? You got your discharge. The VA might eventually cover your medical bills. But there aren't checks coming."
"I'll get a job. Maybe a dog and a boyfriend. Maybe then she'll understand that I am gay. Maybe you will too. And I have a few bucks in the bank to get started."
"Son, you're not ready for that. You've still got physical therapy. You've still got doctor's appointments. Not many people are going to hire somebody that can't work a regular schedule."
"So I'll pick up day jobs. Work when I can. There's lots of things I can do. I can even make it look pretty good on a resume. Decorated combat veteran is a decent start. I'll leave my key under the mat when I've got what I want on Sunday."
Erick threw his hands up in frustration. "So you're not coming home?"
"No!"
"What would you like me to tell your mother?"
"Nothing. She doesn't get to pick which parts of me live in the house. It's all or nothing and she made her choice. Now I'm making mine."
Chapter 9
Tyronne knocked on the door to Colby and Vince's motel room. After a couple moments, a groggy Vince answered the door. "Hey. I was hoping I could talk to Colby," Tyronne said.
"He went out about an hour ago, I think. Hang on." Vince flipped a light on to see across the room. Even though it was 9:30 a.m., the blackout curtains were pulled so it was still dark in the room. "His duffel bag and guitar case are gone. He might be doing laundry. With the guitar gone, he might not be around for a few hours. I don't know where he disappears with that thing."
"Thanks, man. I'll see if I can find him."
Tyronne walked the lower level of the three-story budget motel. The breakfast room was empty. As was the laundry room. A quick peek in the conference room and that was empty too. He circled through the lobby and paused.
"Can I help you, sir?" The young man behind the desk asked.
Tyronne hadn't even noticed him sitting there and was lost in thought. "Oh. Hi. You didn't see a guy with a guitar case here this morning, did you?"
"Yeah. A guy asked about a laundromat. There's one in the strip mall up at the intersection with Route 6, about four blocks up."
Tyronne thought for a minute. Wander around town and try to find Colby, or just wait. No. He really wanted to talk to Colby about last night. He walked out of the lobby and turned toward the strip mall.
Ten minutes later, he walked in the front door of the Laundromat and looked around. Behind the counter, a plump woman in her mid-50s was folding laundry. "What can I help you with? Need to drop some laundry off, young man?"
She was alone in the laundromat though several machines were in use. "Actually, I was looking for a guy. Would have been through here with a guitar case."
"You mean that hunka-hunka burning love that was doing his laundry in here?" The woman stopped folding clothes and fanned herself. "Seeing him in here might have made my week. I hope he comes around a lot more cause I don't think I'd ever get tired of that eye candy."
He started to speak when the woman continued. "And speaking of eye candy. You're the second good looking man to waltz into my life this morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"My friend. The guy with the guitar, he was here?" Tyronne said with a chuckle.
"Oh yes, love. I think he's out back. There's a little park out there. It's a nice place to wait."
Tyronne nodded appreciatively and walked toward the open back door. Across the parking strip, was a nice shaded area with a few tables and chairs. Colby was playing a song on his guitar and singing with his back to the Laundromat.
He walked closer and watched as Colby played on, unaware of the new audience. Tyronne couldn't name the song, but he knew he's heard it from the radio. It sounded good. Really good. Standing there, Tyronne realized that Colby was more than a guy with a guitar. He was a legitimately talented musician.
As the song came to an end, Tyronne made his presence known. "Dayum, bro! You been holding out on us. You ain't playing around with that thing. You're good!"
Colby's head spun around. "Oh. Hey, Tyronne. Didn't expect to see you here. You need some clean clothes, too?"
"Naw, man. I actually wanted to talk to you before we got to the stadium this afternoon. Vince said he thought you might be gone a while and the dude at the desk pointed me in this direction."
Colby lifted the guitar strap over his shoulder and laid it in the case. "But seriously," Tyronne continued, "you're good with that thing. How come you never let on about that?"
"Most guys aren't interested. My way of passing the time."
"That's more than passing time, Colby. Playing like that just doesn't happen."
"Thanks," Colby said a little bashfully. "So you wanted to talk?"
"Yeah man." Tyronne took one of the plastic deck chairs and sat down. "About last night."
Colby pulled another chair up and sat down.
"Thanks for keeping from doing something completely stupid. I was about to punch Josh. All day he just kept running his mouth, fag this' and queer that'. If there was a slur, he threw it. I thought he was going to bait me with the n-word. It's personal for me. He knew it was pissing me off and so he just kept pushing the button and I popped."
Colby leaned forward. "When you say, `it's personal,' what do you mean?"
"My brother, man. The dude was my hero growing up. He got a scholarship to a big football school. Stud lineman. He's a fucking hoss. First year goes ok, second year gets bouncey, then he tweaks his knee and quits. Transfers to a po-dunk school in the middle of no where and plays out the string. I didn't get it. He kept an eye on me, but it wasn't the same.
"Then I find out that he came out to my mom and sisters but was afraid to come out to me because he didn't want to let me down. He was afraid I wouldn't understand. He didn't transfer football because of his knee. He transferred because somebody outed him to some of the guys and they were relentless in making his life hell.
Colby listened intently. His heart sank. He struggled for words. "Tyronne, that's awful. Awful that they treated him that way and had to hurt that he didn't want to tell you. So are you and your brother ok now?"
"Oh hell yeah," Tyronne said with a broad grin as his demeanor lightened. "He moved to Dallas, got kick ass job, even has a guy he's been dating for quite a while. It's a whole lot easier to be an out black man in a city like Dallas. We talk all the time. He's my brother. He's the same Isaiah that looked out for me when I was a kid. I just hated it that he thought I'd be like those other assholes."
"Not all jocks are homophobic bigots, right?" Colby said with a smile. "I'm glad you're good with him, Tyronne. That's cool." Colby wasn't sure what to say. There was so much he wanted to say. Things he'd never said to a teammate. Things that felt like they'd be so safe with Tyronne.
"Anyway, you seem pretty cool with things. You treat everybody pretty good. I just wanted to explain a little."
"Thanks, Tyronne. You didn't have to say anything, but I bet your brother would be proud that you stood up. Guys like Josh. They're assholes. It says a lot that you challenged him. I was pissed, but I didn't have the guts to do anything more than bite my tongue." Colby rambled a bit. There was so much more he wanted to say. But the words just wouldn't come. He hung his head a bit.
"How long until your laundry is done?" Tyronne asked, feeling as if he needed to change the subject.
"It's probably done. Just need to fold it and walk back."
Tyronne laughed. "Man. The lady running that place probably has your drawers all folded up nice. She has quite the crush on you. Apparently good looking dudes like you and I don't walk in to her laundromat very often."
"Don't know about you, man, but I'm really not down with the whole "cougar" thing. Happy to be somebody's cheap thrill though."
Tyronne howled. Colby laughed and closed up the guitar case.
"You walking back to the hotel? Let me grab my stuff."
They walked back inside the laundromat where the woman was busily pressing a shirt. She looked up. "Well if it isn't two of my future ex-husbands!" She exclaimed. "Don't worry guys. I ain't got rid of the first one in 28 years. And if Channing Tatum is available, well, he goes to the head of the line."
They all laughed. "You're not the only one, lady," Colby thought to himself and smirked.
To be continued...
Thanks for all the positive responses to the first few chapters. I hope you continue to enjoy. As always, constructive thoughts and feedback are welcome. -KM niftysouthpaw@gmail.com