Streak - 13. Chapter 13

September 21, 2002

Honolulu

Zach

We’d ended up beating St. Louis High 31 to 21, which should have been a major rush for me, but it wasn’t. My ankle was fucked up again, and I hadn’t been able to play for the rest of the game. It was agonizing to watch the game, this major contest that I’d been looking forward to for damn near my entire life, and not be able to play. Every roar from the crowd, every success or failure, was sheer agony. Gehrlich had come over and tried to cheer me up, telling me that I’d started the momentum, and that I’d set St. Louis back on their heels. We’d ended the half ahead 21 to 0, and Gehrlich told me I was responsible, because I’d started the ball rolling. Whatever. I was polite to him because I needed him, but he was just annoying the fuck out of me. I’d sat on the bench, watching the game, and as frustrated as I was about sitting out the game, I was even more pissed off because Parnell had spotted me gazing at Will. It was really hard to not look back at him, but I had no choice, because I didn’t want to get busted doing that again. Will was probably wondering why I was ignoring him. He’d understand when I explained it to him, but right now it was probably bugging the shit out of him. But the game was finally over, and we’d won. At least the final cheers were something I could appreciate, but it was still pretty hollow.

We hit the showers, and I did my usual deal where I ignored everyone and just cleaned up. I was good at that; I’d been doing it since I’d hit puberty and started getting hard when I thought of being with other dudes. Parnell came up to me and pushed my shoulder to get my attention. “You think your boyfriend wants to blow me too?”

“Dude, no one wants to blow you,” I said dismissively. A couple of the guys heard me and chuckled, while he glared at me.

“You gonna sneak off and let him fuck you up the ass?” he taunted. “I’ll bet you love that.”

I knew his deal, and he was just trying to get a rise out of me, but there wasn’t much I could do about it other than to fight back. If I didn’t go at him, I’d end up being hazed by the team for the rest of the year, and maybe beyond. “Look douchebag,” I said. “You can spill that shit out of your mouth all you want. The only reason you’re doing it is because I got a touchdown, and you didn’t do shit. If you wouldn’t have been here, it wouldn’t have made a difference at all. The only thing you did was weigh down the plane and cost the school money for a hotel room.”

“Fuck you,” he said, going on the defensive.

“How many scholarship offers you got?” I demanded. “And San Jose State doesn’t count.”

“At least I’m not a fucking faggot.”

“I’m not a faggot either,” I said with a sneer. “And I’m not a jealous little bitch like you are.” I turned off the water, grabbed my towel, and walked to the lockers, knowing that I hadn’t solved the problem, but at least I hadn’t let him totally face me.

We had a team meeting, which was boring as fuck, then they let us go see our families and friends who were here, and to watch the next game. There were two games today. Ours had been first, and the second one was Long Beach Poly playing Kahuku, another powerhouse Hawaiian school. Long Beach Poly was good, really good, and we all knew they’d be our biggest challenge of the season. We’d made it past St. Louis High, and extended our streak to 127. We were confident that we’d be able to keep it going for the rest of the season as long as we could take out Long Beach.

I limped out of the locker room and went up into the stands to find everyone. Will was the first one to see me, probably because he’d been looking for me. “You were fucking incredible,” he said, even as he fist bumped me. He was really good about not showing any PDA. It pissed me off that Parnell had seen us looking at each other, because that’s the only thing that would give us away.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You OK?” he asked, sensing that I was upset.

“We’ll talk later,” I told him. He nodded. I greeted the rest of them, and got tons of kudos.

“You did a really good job,” Brent said. It was such a rush to look in his eyes and see the pride he had for me. He’d always been there to support me. “I’m glad I made it out to see you play.”

“I’m glad you did too,” I said. “I wish I could have played for the whole game.”

“You got the first touchdown, and that’s the one that matters the most,” he said, propping me up. It was funny that when Gehrlich said that, I found it annoying, but when Brent said it, it was reassuring.

I smiled and worked my way down, talking to all of them. They were awesome, telling me how good I’d done. “I have seen your brother play hockey; quite a few games, as a matter of fact,” Stef said to me. “I like this better.”

“You do?” I asked.

“It is warmer,” he said with a smile, making me laugh.

“My institutional loyalty makes me hope you don’t decide to go to USC, UCLA, or Cal,” JP said. “We’ll play them next year.”

“You mean you’d be willing to have me play far away, just to help Stanford win a game?” I challenged, pretending to pout.

He acted like he was pondering that. “On second thought, I think we can risk a defeat.” I chuckled, and then moved on to Frank and Isidore, who did what they usually did, and told me what a great job I’d done.

And finally I was standing there in front of my parents. “You did a good job,” my mother said.

“Thanks,” I said, and kissed her on the cheek.

“If you wouldn’t have done that little dance in the end zone, you may not have messed up your ankle,” my father said. “Cost you the rest of the game.”

How like him to find something to bitch at me about. “It wouldn’t have mattered,” I said to him.

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

“Because it’s my body, and it’s my ankle, and I know,” I said, and not very nicely. I turned my back on him and limped back down the row until I got to where Brent was sitting, and sat next to him.

“What?” Brent asked, sensing how pissed off I was.

“Same old shit from Dad,” I grumbled. “No matter how good I do, or how hard I try, he finds something to bitch about.” Brent shook his head, because he understood. I looked at Will, and could see the fire in his eyes. He was about a micron away from blasting my father out of the stadium, but I managed to tell him to chill the fuck out with just my eyes.

We watched Long Beach pulverize Kahuku, which probably scared the shit out of our team, even though Kahuku wasn’t nearly as good as St. Louis. It was a pretty big wake-up call for me. If we’d had any doubts about how awesome Long Beach was, that victory shot them down. After that game, we were free to hang out with our families. Frank and Isidore had gotten us reservations at this really nice Hawaiian restaurant, and had hired limos to take us there. I was so glad to be away from the idiots on my team, and to get away from Parnell and his bullshit.

I’d made sure I got in a different limo than my father, but just having us at the same restaurant had raised the tension in our group. I sat about as far away from him as I could, but every time I glanced at him, he just glared back at me. He was mad at me, and he was being obvious about it, but the people in this group seemed to think he was acting like a fucking idiot. That didn’t make him any happier. After a few minutes, I decided that the best thing to do was just to ignore him.

Brent, Will, and John sat with me, and we had a blast talking about the game, or talking about Hawaii. Even though John was a lot younger than Brent, he was really hot, and the two of them had spent a lot of their time checking out chicks. John had hated me after I’d talked him into fucking me a couple of years ago, and he’d been an asshole to both me and Will at Robbie’s memorial, but he seemed to have worked his way through things, and we were cool now, or at least it seemed that way. John wasn’t the kind of guy to stir up shit unless he was really pissed off, though, so maybe that was it. I didn’t let it bother me. I spent most of the time at dinner laughing and eating. By the time we left, I was stuffed.

The four of us were walking out of the restaurant when my father cornered me. “Don’t you ever turn your back on me, and treat me like you did this afternoon,” he said. He seemed like he might actually be a little drunk, something that was pretty rare for him.

“I’m done listening to you bitch at me,” I told him. “So if that’s your deal, you’ll see my back.” It was a rare day when I defied him like that, but I’d had enough of his bullshit. I’d put up with him in Claremont, and I’d told myself that as a result of that torture, I didn’t have to put up with any more of his crap. I’d made it through that crucible and gotten back to California. Even if he was pissed off at me, there wasn’t much he could do about it. I knew that if he came at me and tried to fuck things up so I couldn’t be at De La Salle, Will would jump in for me, and that meant his whole family would back me up. My parents didn’t have the resources to fight Stefan and Brad Schluter.

“You ungrateful little asshole,” he said, and swung his hand up to slap me across the face, only I was faster than him, and I caught his wrist mid air. He glared at me while I squeezed his wrist, hard enough to hurt, until Brent jumped in and broke us up.

“This is the last one of my games you will ever see, if I have anything to say about it,” I said to him coldly. “And even if you show up, I’m not talking to you.”

“Zachary!” my mother exclaimed. She assumed that she could reel me in like she used to, only she’d lost major respect in my eyes for the way she backed my father up. Our eyes met, and they were hollow. Our connection, the one that had been so strong for most of my life, had been severed. I wasn’t sure that we’d ever be able to be as close as we once were, and it upset me that I really wasn’t all that bothered by it.

I shook my head at her, limped out of the restaurant, and got into one of the limos with Frank, Isidore, John, and Will. Brent stayed back to argue with my parents. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” Frank said. “Especially after you played so well.”

“It is what it is,” I said fatalistically. I should have been on a high after our win, but instead I was pretty depressed. “If it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick around for Thanksgiving and Christmas. No way do I want to go back to Claremont.”

“I don’t blame you,” Will said supportively. “And it will be great to have you with us.”

We got to their hotel and I went with Will back to his room. It seemed wasteful for him to have rooms at both hotels, but it worked out pretty well this time. I needed to talk to him, but I needed to be with him more. As soon as we were in the room, I almost assaulted him I was so horny and desperate. He knew what I wanted, what I needed, just like he usually did, and he fucked me. Usually I liked it when we had really intense, athletic sex, but he read me so well, and this time, he made love to me. It was slow, and it was nice, and it was restorative.

He spooned up behind me when we were done, leaving his dick lodged between my asscheeks even as it got limp. “Are you alright?” His voice was soft, and it wafted into my ear.

I shook my head. “We have a problem.”

“What?”

“One of the dudes on the team, an asshole named Parnell, saw us looking at each other after I came off the field.” I felt him tense up as I said that, and that prompted me to roll over so we could look at each other. “He’s telling everyone who will listen that you’re my boyfriend.”

“Fuck,” he said. “So what do we do?”

“You were planning to fly back with the team,” I said. “Can you get back another way?” I felt like shit, asking him to do that, since his grandfather was paying for it.

“I can,” he said, giving me a weak smile to tell me it was OK. “You want me to skip your next game?”

I thought about that, and almost said no. Our eyes met, and I remembered how important he was to me, but it was even more important for us to cool off any rumors. I nodded. “The next one, but not the other ones.”

“I can do that,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and felt like total shit.

“Dude, it’s fine,” he said. “If you need me to be low-profile, I can do that.” I nodded. “Do you mind if I come up and see you?”

“You mean even after I ask you to skip my game, you’ll still come up and see me?” I asked.

“I love you,” he said. His eyes bored into mine so I could tell how serious he was. “We’re in this together.”

“I want you to come see me,” I said. “This next game will be lame anyway.”

“So who is this dipshit, this Parnell guy?” he asked. I told him about the dude, about what he said, and about how he was pretty much a douchebag. He got up and went over to the desk and jotted some stuff down. Later on, when he went to pee, I went over to look at it, and saw that he’d written down ‘David Louis Parnell’. That was the douchebag’s full name.

September 26, 2002

Boston

JJ

“This is awesome,” I told Alex, as we wandered out to the lobby during intermission. The Boston Symphony Hall was pretty cool. It was a long, rectangular building, but what surprised me was how uncluttered the walls were. There weren’t these really deep tiers of seats on the first and second balconies like some places have. The acoustics were incredible. Alex had gotten us tickets on the first balcony, at the very front, that over looked the stage. The balcony curved there, making it much roomier.

“I am so glad you are enjoying yourself,” he said. I saw our reflection in a mirror, and thought about what a handsome couple we made. We were wearing formal gear, black tie, although the more plebian people would call them tuxedos. The black jackets, trimmed with silk, contrasted starkly with our blond hair, and seemed to accentuate our heads more. Both of us were handsome, so that was a good thing. Alex was taller than me by a good five inches, but I thought that actually made us look cuter as a couple. We had gone to a social function prior to the actual performance, and had hobnobbed with a bunch of Boston Brahmins. They’d been very polite to us, accepting Lord Bridgemont immediately into their ranks, and accepting me because I was with him, and because my family was so incredibly rich.

“I can’t remember when I’ve had more fun,” I said, and stopped to ponder that I was starting to talk a bit like Alex.

“You have provided me with such enjoyable entertainment, I am glad I was able to reciprocate,” he said gallantly. We heard them dinging the triangles to let us know the performance was about to resume, so we went back to our seats. I put my hand on the arm of my chair, but in a way that would make it easy for Alex to hold it if he wanted to. I’d done the same thing during the first part of the performance, but he hadn’t taken the hint. This time, he did. I felt his warm palm against mine, felt his fingers close and intertwine with my fingers, and just the eroticism of that touch gave me a raging erection. I squeezed my hand lightly to tell him I appreciated the gesture, then looked at him and smiled. He smiled back at me, just as broadly.

I almost didn’t hear the music, so focused was I on the physical contact between our hands. Whenever I thought about being intimate with another man or woman, my internal demons rose up, threatening to ruin it. Demons caused by my coach, and by how that bastard had molested me, making me think that he loved me, and making me think that I wanted him to do those things to me. When I’d made out with Evan, it had been nice, but I’d had my shields up, unwilling to go any further than that. When I was with girls, it was the same way, where the thought of doing anything other than kissing terrified me. But when I was with Alex, and when I thought of being with Alex, there were no demons, there was only desire.

The clapping of the audience brought me out of my introspective trance, and forced me to let Alex’s hand go. We clapped enthusiastically for the musicians, and I used that opportunity to think of something else, to try and get my erection to go down. We exited the symphony hall and found our limo, then relaxed into the seats, ignoring the traffic around us.

“That was really wonderful,” I said. “Thank you so much for taking me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “It was only wonderful because I had such good company.”

“You did,” I said playfully. I was getting used to him, and I was relaxing, and that meant I was flirting more. He seemed to like it, but I got the feeling that if I were more brazen, he wouldn’t find it attractive. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do to beat this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I just enjoy spending time with you.”

“Me too,” I said, and looked down. I knew I was blushing. He put his hand on my chin and pulled my face up so I was looking at him. Then he moved forward quickly, so quickly I barely had time to close my eyes before our lips met.

The last time we kissed, it had been soft and gentle, and while it was still like that, now there was more urgency. His lips were stronger and more insistent, and I could feel the lust and desire that seemed to lurk behind them. He worked my mouth, and it occurred to me that he was teaching me how to kiss. I didn’t know if it was because I was bad at it, or if he just wanted me to do it differently, but it didn’t matter. I willingly followed his lead. I felt his tongue flicking against my lips, asking me to welcome it into my mouth, so I did.

I moved my hands up to run them through his silky hair, urging him on as we made out. God, how I wanted him. I wanted to be with him in the worst way. He pushed me backward, so I was lying on the seat, and he lay on top of me. I felt his hard dick pressing against mine, and that made me moan into his mouth. My moan seemed to trigger one from him, and he began thrusting gently against me, rubbing his cock against mine. If we weren’t wearing clothes, I would be able to feel his raw flesh. He broke off our kiss, more so we could catch our breath than anything. “You inflame me,” he whispered into my ear.

“I want you so badly,” I said, almost moaning. “I’ve never felt this way before.” I decided that if he kept grinding against me, I’d probably blow my load in less than a minute, but sadly, that was not to be. The limo stopped abruptly in front of our house, and that was our signal to separate ourselves, and to try to put ourselves back together. We stepped out of the limo and I signed off on the receipt for the car, tipping the driver well, then we strode into the house together.

There was no one on the ground floor, which was a relief to me. We got in the elevator and rode up in silence, even though we smiled at each other. The doors opened, we got out, and once again, we were standing in the small foyer. “I had a wonderful evening,” he said, and kissed me again, only this time, it was like the first kiss we had. It was gentle and soft.

“I think this was one of the best evenings I’ve ever had,” I told him sincerely.

“Perhaps we can do dinner tomorrow night,” he said.

“I’d like that,” I said. Then he smiled and went into his room, while I frowned, went into mine, and spent the rest of the night masturbating as I remembered our passionate kiss.

September 27, 2002

Concord, CA

Zach

“Your boyfriend coming to the game tonight?” Parnell asked, taunting me. He’d been doing this all week. I’d left it alone, wondering if he would calm down, but it had only gotten worse. He’d managed to drag a couple of his cronies into his game, two guys named Arturo and Baldwin. They were linebackers just like him, only they actually had some talent. I could have handled that, but then one of the assistant coaches started in on me, a guy named Jordan Alabach.

Alabach was a typical tool. He had no brains, a lot of brawn, and he was a bully. He’d been a bully when he was a student at De La Salle, at least according to legend, and he was a bully as a coach. “You’re good Hayes,” Alabach chimed in. “Maybe you can be the first gay player in the NFL.”

“Why don’t you suck my dick,” I said to him, and watched his eyes bulge. There was no way I was putting up with any shit from this guy. The other guys were all in awe of him because he had that ‘assistant coach’ title, but I knew he was a major dumbfuck.

“Why don’t you plan to spend your evening running laps,” he countered.

“Bite me,” I said.

“Maybe we should go have a talk with Coach Lad about your attitude,” he said, as he walked over to me and got in my face. But I didn’t back down.

“I think we should talk to him about your attitude, asshole,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Parnell and his boys were watching Alabach, only he was so fucking stupid, he’d taken this conversation where he couldn’t go. He knew as well as I did that if we went in and had a conversation with Coach Lad, and the coach found out that Alabach was giving me shit about Will; he’d string Alabach up by his balls. If he didn’t, I knew Frank would be down here explaining it to all of them. “You’re lucky you’re a decent running back,” he said with a sneer.

“And you’re lucky you’re saying this shit to me, and not to Will,” I said.

He laughed. “Right.”

“Dude, you want to go through life crippled?” I asked, a veiled threat. “You’re going to fuck with one of the richest families in the whole fucking world?”

“I’m not afraid of some faggot,” he said.

“That just goes to show how fucking stupid you really are,” I said with a sneer. He glared at me, and so did Parnell and his band of dipshits, because I’d faced him pretty badly.

“Why don’t you take a couple of laps around the track, asshole,” he snapped at me. I was dressed for the game, and ready to go, and this idiot had played into my hands perfectly. Unless I clipped their wings, these assholes would bother me all fucking year.

“Fine,” I said, pretending like I’d been defeated. I went out onto the field, where most of the guys were warming up for the game tonight, and started to run. I went for half a lap, and then fell to the ground, grabbing my ankle.

A couple of the guys on the team saw me and ran over. “What happened to you?” Schmidt asked.

“Fucked up my ankle,” I said. He helped me up, and then helped me as I hobbled over to the bench. Everyone was paying attention now. I glanced over and saw Alabach, his eyes wide in horror at what had happened.

“What’s wrong with you, Hayes?” Coach Lad asked me.

“Messed up my ankle again,” I said, even as I grimaced.

“How did you do that?”

“Coach Alabach got pissed off at me and told me to run laps,” I said. “I told him my ankle was pretty fragile, and he told me he didn’t give a shit.”

Coach Lad’s eyes bulged, as did Terry Eidson’s. He was Lad’s sidekick, and while Lad was in charge, it was actually more of a partnership. Alabach chose that moment to walk up, looking pretty nervous. “Did you tell Hayes to run laps?” Eidson asked him. As quiet as Ladouceur was, so Eidson was talkative. If he had a voice that would project, he would have been loud as hell, but he didn’t.

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “He was disrespecting me.”

“Were you?” Coach Lad asked me.

“I was,” I admitted. “He was calling my cousin a faggot, and I told him to fuck off. I don’t know about you, but no one gets away with insulting my family.”

“Why were you talking about his cousin like that?” Lad demanded. “The kid’s grandfather paid to fly your ass to Hawaii and back.”

“I was just joking around,” he said.

“That’s a flat out lie,” I said.

“This game starts in an hour,” Eidson said. “Can you play?” That was directed to me.

“No way,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s worse than it was in Hawaii.”

“Lucky it’s only St. Francis we’re playing,” Eidson said to Lad. He said it quietly, but I’d heard him.

“There will be no hazing on my team,” Ladouceur said firmly to everyone, then focused on Alabach. “You and I are going to have a talk.” Everyone looked pretty shocked by this whole thing, even as Alabach followed Ladouceur back to his office.

“Do we have any crutches?” I asked. “I can’t walk on my own.”

“Go get Hayes some crutches,” Eidson snapped at one of the players. I knew we had some, and I knew exactly where they were. They were in the coach’s office. So when the dude went in to get them, he’d have to interrupt Ladouceur’s meeting with Alabach and ask for crutches, and tell him they were for me. These guys were so fucking stupid it was scary.

A few minutes later, the dude came back and gave me the crutches, even as he smiled and rolled his eyes at me, his way of telling me Lad was reaming Alabach a new asshole. Fifteen minutes later, Coach Lad came out and called us all together. I hobbled over to the group using my borrowed crutches.

“Coach Alabach resigned for personal reasons,” the coach said. Before we even had time to think about that, he had already pressed on and was talking about the game and about St. Francis.

They weren’t exactly a powerhouse, but they kept our offense pretty shut down. We ended up winning 14 to nothing. It was close enough to show that the team needed me, and Coach Lad had told the team, in his own way that if they fucked with me, there would be hell to pay. If a member of the coaching staff could get fired for treating me like shit, it would be easy for a player to be tossed for being a douchebag. When we went to hit the showers, I looked at Parnell, taunting him with my eyes. He didn’t say shit. What a total pussy.

After the game, I used the crutches to hobble out to the Durango, got in, and drove home. When I got there, I hopped out and all but ran into the house. My ankle was just fine.