The Locker Room (32 page)

his shoulder. “You did it to teach them a lesson?” he asked, his voice

tinged with a sort of happy awe.

Xander shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with how Machiavellian

that sounded. “I just got tired of it, you know? He keeps yelling at me

like I don"t matter, but I"m sort of important to the damned team. We"re

still in first place in the west coast conference, Chicago"s still in last in

the east. I just thought I"d maybe show that fucker what this team could

be like if I didn"t pitch in.”

Chris"s sleepy grin was all of the affirmation he needed. “That"s

good, Xan. It"s about time you stood up for yourself.”

Xander sighed, the ache of missing him—even for just these last

two weeks—suddenly assaulting his chest all over again, except this time

in one big wave, instead of in little tiny pieces.

“Maybe I should have stood up for us sooner,” he whispered,

thinking of all of those horrible third home game of the months.

The Locker Room 181

“Maybe I should have too,” Chris confessed into his chest, and

Xander sighed.

“I think we"re both… you know. Learning how to grow up. It"s

weird when we only have ourselves to look at, you know?”

Chris laughed and yawned and said, “I"ll tell you what I know. I

know my ass is
still
being kicked by San Antonio, and it"s time for me to

sleep before I fuel up for more sex.
That"s
what I know.”

Xander laughed quietly too. God, he missed the way Chris could do

that to him—make him laugh, even when shit really sucked. “I love you,

Christian.”

“I love you too, Xander. Go to sleep, baby. We"ve got four days

together. It"ll be good.”

And it was.

Xander had to drag him down to breakfast the next morning, where

the two of them were met with assorted hoots and hollers from the

assembled women. (Lucia too. She"d started taking her coffee with their

roommates instead of
People
magazine, and Xander told her that he was

glad her taste had improved.)

She got up to make a place for Chris, though, and dished him up

some scrambled eggs and sausage, which he dug into with a satisfied

groan.

“Lucia, darling, you are an angel of light,” he murmured, giving

her a buss on the cheek and a little squeeze around the waist.

Lucia blushed and waved him off, and Chris continued to eat, but

Xander could tell he was getting a little glassy-eyed from the

conversation around them.

“So how long you here for?” Mandy was asking, picking her way

through grapefruit and coffee, like she always did.

“Four days,” Chris mumbled, and he was met with that adorable,

full-lipped moue of disappointment.

“That"s too bad,” she mumbled, slurping her grapefruit. “Xander

misses the shit out of you.”

Xander watched Chris blush. “Um….”

182 Amy Lane

“Nice,” said Penny caustically. “By all means bring up „shit" at the

breakfast table.”

“Hey, she"s not the one who just chewed out the gardener for not

cleaning up the dog shit,” Audrey defended, and Xander choked on his

juice.

“You chewed out the gardener? He"s a nice guy!”

“He"s a leech, Xander. I could do a better job on the rose bushes

with nail scissors and a steak knife. You just go and let people take

advantage of you—”

“I don"t even know if dog shit is in his contract!” Xander

complained again, and Chris interrupted him.

“It is,” Chris told him, through a full mouth. “I wrote it in. Dammit,

Xan, Penny"s right. I could see it in the dark, the grounds look like shit.”

“Well, his wife just had a baby, and he"s not getting a lot of sleep.

He wants to bring in his nephew to help, but I don"t know. I don"t know

if he knows… or you know. I didn"t want to have him sign the contract

without Chris or Leo to look it over, and I"ve sort of been out on the

road, right?”

Xander paused, in the middle of bringing a bite of scrambled eggs

up to his mouth. “What?”

“Xander,” Audrey said quietly into the silence, “you don"t talk that

much to
us.”

Xander flushed. “Well, he did all the talking. It… you know. It"s

nice to hear about someone else. Except, we can"t fire him, right?”

He turned to Chris in supplication, and Chris was blinking at him,

hard.

“Yeah, Xan. Right. No firing the gardener. I"ll draw up papers for

his nephew this afternoon, "kay?”

Xander brightened, unsure of why the world had stopped because

he knew the gardener"s backstory, but willing to take Chris on faith.

Then Chris wiped his mouth carefully, grabbed Xander"s face in both

hands, and kissed him soundly, scrambled eggs and all. There was a

collective “Awwwww…” from around the table, but Xander didn"t really

hear that. All he knew was that Chris was there, and something about

him had pleased his lover, and all of that desire, as hot and bright as it

The Locker Room 183

had been in high school was there, exposed on his skin, for the world to

see.

As he fell into the kiss, became stupid and hazy with it, tasted,

smelled, touched, heard
only
Chris, saw
only
Chris behind his closed

eyes, he had the dim thought that it was wonderful that a small part of

the world seemed to approve.

The kiss ended, and Xander carefully didn"t look around the table.

Conversation resumed again around him, but this time with Chris as an

integral part of it. Xander liked hearing him fitting in with the little table

of women. As foolish as it sounded, he was hoping that however this was

settled, whatever they decided to do at the end of the season, they could

keep the girls around until the girls themselves needed to go. He was

charmed by them—Mandy"s vivacity, Audrey"s quiet humor, even

Penny"s biting sarcasm—they made him remember the first wonder he"d

felt when he woke up at the Edwards"s home, and heard Andi up and

making breakfast.

Leo came by the next day, just to hang out and watch the college

games and bitch about the new roster. (He was mostly bitching to hear

his own voice. Chris and Xander were watching a promising bunch of

rookies-to-be, and enjoying their grace and their power, and, according

to Chris, “their goddamned indestructible youth!”)

They went running with the dogs every morning, although

“stumbling” might have been a more accurate term. Neither of the dogs

were particularly willing to let Chris out of their sight, and Chris had to

fight falling over for most of the run. Xander literally had a stomach

cramp from laughing while listening to him whine at them.

“C"mon, Max… man, just… just move! Dammit, just fucking…

get out of the way. Merc… Merc…
aw, fuck it all, Mercury, would you

get down?”

“Well!” Xander giggled as they were coming inside the third

morning. “They miss you! You"ve babied them their whole life! Do you

think you just disappear and they"re not going to be all over you?”

Xander punctuated that with hands on Chris"s hips and a pull back

into what felt like his perma-hard-on, since Chris had come back into

their bed.

184 Amy Lane

Chris groaned, leaning into Xander"s bigger body, into his

encompassing shoulders and his long, long arms. “I like it that you"re all

over me,” he moaned softly, and he and Xander went up into the

bedroom and didn"t come down until their run early the next morning.

Chris had a ten o"clock flight out.

He had his first shot of vodka in his orange juice with breakfast. He

had his second (when Xander wasn"t looking) after the girls had all gone

about their day and they lingered over their croissants. Xander got up to

go let the dogs in, and he came back to see Chris"s glass taller, and the

orange juice thinner, and the tell-tale smell stronger than ever.

Suddenly, everything that had been warm under his skin ran cold.

“Chris…,” he said, softly, and Chris turned to him, his goofy smile

askew, his pale face flushed with the second drink, and his eyes

unfocused and wandering.

“I… I hadn"t had any. I promised you I wouldn"t, right?” he said

back. “But… but last time, I got on the plane, and it hurt so bad… it hurt

so bad… and I asked for some Scotch, and it didn"t hurt quite so bad

anymore.” That skewed smile twisted, grew bitter. “So I kept drinking.

Cliff had to peel me off the floor when the car got me home. I

figured….” He looked away, and Xander saw two boozy tears trickling

down the side of his nose, and his entire stomach cramped, but not with

laughter.

“I figured I"d start early this time. Maybe… maybe I"d be walk-

able by the time the plane got there, you know?”

Xander held out his arms, and Chris burrowed into them, weeping

softly. Xander clutched him to his chest and wept, too, without even the

alcohol as an excuse.

Chris was a little better in the car, but he reached automatically for

his hip flask as they pulled off of Highway 5 onto the airport loop.

Xander snatched it from his hand, rolled the window down and threw it

out of the car onto the farmland that flanked the road. He grabbed

Chris"s hand then, and didn"t yell, and didn"t nag, but he held that hand

while it trembled in his, then sweated, then clutched.

They pulled up to the curb, and Tim got out to get the bags, and

Xander finally had words.

The Locker Room 185

“I forget,” he said softly. “You"re so… you put on such a good

face. I"m the weak one; you"re the one who holds me together. You can"t

let me forget again, Chris. You"ve got to let me hold you together.

Please?”

Chris nodded, turning his face away, and Xander seized his chin

and pulled him back, kissing him soundly, and without reservations,

tasting salt and a little bit of vodka.

“Anything. Do you hear me? We can survive anything.”

Chris passed his hand over his face and Xander pulled it away.

“I can"t believe you thought I was the strong one,” Chris said

quietly, his voice broken. “I can"t believe you didn"t know it was you. I

always had someone, Xan. You? You picked someone to be with when

you were fourteen, and you made us family. You"ve got the strongest

heart I"ve ever known. I"m just—” A small sob, and Xander knew it was

shame and didn"t know how to make his forgiveness, his complete

acceptance any clearer. “I"m just so proud you picked me to be in it.”

Xander nodded, and kissed him again, and said, “Just… drink soda

on the plane, okay? They don"t carry anything decent in first class

anyway.”

Chris choked on a laugh and nodded his head. One more kiss, and

he was out of the car, and gone.

XANDER understood the drinking. He did. Chris went back to Denver,

and Xander"s heart became a well-oiled machine with one function. The

only function.

Get the fucking ball down the fucking court and into the fucking

net.

It became his watchword, his mantra. The team would scream it as

he minded a series of ball-picks that would do a chess grandmaster proud

in terms of strategy. Every now and then he would get the ball and just

run
with it, and the chant would follow him as he charged for the basket,

and, yes, usually made the goal.

He had a shooting percentage of fifty-nine percent. And even

Coach had to bow before that, and even Coach joined in the mantra.

186 Amy Lane

Karcek had the ball? There was a play in motion? Then the

cameras would be whirring and the newscasters would smirk and all of

Sacramento was alight with glee as Karcek was told to:

Get the fucking ball down the fucking court!!!
(Xander usually

added the “and into the fucking net” part himself.)

The audience didn"t get sound, but there wasn"t a sports fan out

there who couldn"t read lips, who hadn"t been looking for that particular

power word since sports had first made it to television.

It made the emotion human, and real, and Xander made it his own.

Get the fucking ball down the fucking court and into the fucking

net!

Xander stopped giving away all of his shots; he started taking a few

for himself. He never played selfishly—not once was he accused of

that—but… but… Chris wasn"t there. Chris wasn"t there to take the ball

from him. Chris wasn"t there to follow him through. He trusted the team,

because they"d been doing what he told them to, but with Chris not

there….

It just wasn"t any fun to share the shot, if Chris couldn"t take it