Safe Harbor 2: Hiding in Plain Sight (7 page)

“Monroe ignored the guy at first, but when he kept going, Roney dropped the gloves. He got Vasille’s jersey over his head and pounded the old man. When Roney backed off and Vasille’s head finally popped out of the jersey again, his nose was gushing blood and one eye was closed. I’m thinking people aren’t gonna be as quick to say stuff to him now, considering he’s pummeled both guys who did.”

“Yeah, hopefully not.”

“I don’t get it, man. This stuff has no impact on how the kid plays. What difference does it make who someone loves?” Pat’s gaze turned away.

Vlad shrugged. “I don’t know. People do not like thinking others are different.” He was afraid to say too much, even though it certainly appeared Pat wasn’t one of the homophobes on the team.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Vlad groaned to himself, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Sure.”

“Why’d you call Stephen a fag? I mean, we all hate playing the guy—he’s so freaking good—but why go there? You don’t strike me as the type of guy to care or be prejudiced.”

Vlad swallowed, his throat tightening. “I, um…” He searched desperately for something to say. How did you justify spewing hate?

You don’t.

“I was being a dick. Trash-talking should never go there. We were up against a wall, and the coach was yelling at us to do something, anything to get those guys off their game. I didn’t think. I just did it, and I could not take it back.”

“Fair enough,” Pat responded, glancing at him. “I just really didn’t take you for a homophobe.”

“I’m not. At all.”
If only you knew
. “I knew he gets trash-talked all the time here in the NHL and had heard everything. Gives it right back too. So my brain came up with something I thought might be different, and it came out of my mouth. It was stupid.”

“I can see how you would think that would get to him, especially since it appears he’s straight. And apparently it did. We’re playing Boston next week, you know. Want me to have a talk with him so he leaves you alone?”

“No need. I got it.” They’d played Boston a few times since the Olympics, and Pat always offered to protect Vlad, but the way Vlad looked at it, if Stephen wanted to punch him again, he’d let him. Vlad deserved it.

“Okay, man.”

They finished their workout in silence, Vlad’s mind going a mile a minute. It was getting harder and harder to hide his sexuality. Jason was getting some shit, but Vlad hadn’t heard a ton of chatter about the guy. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

The game was uneventful, thankfully, and Vlad’s team won by two goals. He had one of them, a shot he took right off the faceoff. As he skated back to the bench to receive high fives from his teammates, he smiled. It appeared all the extra practice had been worth it. Vlad showered and changed back into his suit before checking his phone.

He’d been afraid to look before because he didn’t trust his reactions around Joey. Popping a woody in the locker room would be pretty awkward, even if his teammates thought it was because of a woman. Vlad would still get teased mercilessly. It was about ten thirty, so Joey should be getting home soon. There were no messages. Joey was probably still at work. Who knew how much crap could break on those airplanes? Considering the mileage Vlad flew every year, he didn’t want to think about it too closely.

Grinning, Vlad began to type out a text message. He couldn’t help it. Though he might very well end up hard, he was really enjoying this—what did they call it?—oh yes, sexting. It was fun.

We won, and I scored a goal. Wanna suck my cock? That sounds much better than a high-five.

Just the thought of Joey’s mouth around his dick notched his temperature up about twenty degrees, and he pulled at the too-tight collar of his dress shirt. He left the arena and was almost out of the parking ramp when the text notification went off. Vlad was in a long line of cars, so he checked the text.

If I didn’t have to be back on at seven a.m., you know I would. I need to get some sleep. Not a morning person.

Vlad chuckled. Maybe someday soon he’d get to see that in person. He reminded himself to get more coffee. Joey seemed like the type to drink the stuff by the gallon.

Get some sleep. Talk tomorrow.

He pulled out onto the road and attached the phone to the car’s computer. A minute later, the text noise went off again. Vlad pushed a button on the steering wheel to get the disembodied voice of the computer to read it.

I’m on from seven until four.

Vlad pressed another button to record a text back.
We are leaving in the afternoon
. He punched the button once more for it to send.

The reply came quickly.

Travel safe, and keep that hot bod of yours away from other guys.

Vlad barked out a laugh. Joey’s words sounded so freaking strange coming from the car’s computer voice thing.

I will do my best.

At home he drank two glasses of water, even though he knew he’d have to get up to empty his bladder in the middle of the night. If he didn’t hydrate, he definitely felt it, and after a game when lactic acid was building up in his muscles, it was especially important. He crawled into bed, and for the first time ever felt how very alone he was in it. Vlad was falling, and falling hard.

I don’t even know this guy. Not really.

He punched his pillow, trying to get it into the shape he wanted.

But I want him. I really fucking want him. Yeah, want to fuck him.

Vlad groaned. Giving himself the boner from hell was not the way to get any sleep. Finally he got up and popped a couple of those pain relief-sleep combination pills and willed himself to calm down. After two a.m. he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * * *

The next day, Joe grabbed some takeout after he got off his shift and headed home. He considered going down to Bond Street, but besides Vlad, he knew few gay men in the area, and certainly none he could call out of the blue and invite for a drink. Reggie’s was always cool, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back there and endure all the curious stares. Undoubtedly everybody would want to hear how he’d given Vlad a piece of his mind, and Joe hated lying. He’d done so much of it in his life and was sick to death of having to spin every little thing.

After changing out of his greasy clothing, Joe flopped down on the couch and picked up his remote. He surfed, frowning when mushy movie after mushy movie came on. What the hell? He glanced at the display on the television’s channel guide and did a double take. It was Valentine’s Day.

Ick. No wonder.

After finding a sports talk show, he settled down to eat. The hosts were talking about some formal backing thing the NHL and NHL Players’ Association had done with the You Can Play Project, an organization trying to end homophobia in sports. They were the first professional sports league to make a statement supporting what You Can Play was trying to do. Joe loved their slogan.
If you can play, you can play
. A couple of minutes later, his fork made a scraping noise, and he looked down to see he’d eaten every bit of food in the container.

Joe’s heart stuttered as the full implication of what the announcers were saying registered. Maybe there was hope for Vlad yet. If the entire NHL and NHLPA were coming out—so to speak—in support of You Can Play, the culture had to be changing inside the locker room. Maybe Vlad could stop hiding.

He wondered briefly if he should mention Valentine’s Day if he spoke to Vlad anytime soon. To his mind, they were dating, but guys were different than girls. They didn’t usually care if they got flowers and chocolates. In fact, they much preferred steaks and blowjobs, a concept he could support. Joe didn’t want Vlad to be disappointed if he ignored the holiday, but then again, Vlad hadn’t said a thing about it either. In the end, he composed a simple text.

I’m a dumbass. Just realized it’s Valentine’s Day. Hope you had a good day. Miss you.

With a grin, Joe rose and threw away his trash. He turned around in the kitchen doorway and glanced around the apartment. It could use a good cleaning, and since it was only around dinnertime, he’d have plenty of opportunity to spit-shine the place before bed. He took a measure of all the rooms so he could make a priority list. The kitchen was the worst, since he had a bad habit of leaving crumbs on the counters and dishes in the sink. Already the “always neat and tidy” mantra drilled into him in the army was fading.

His phone pinged.

Miss you too. Can’t talk. In locker room with game about to start. Will try to call tomorrow.

With his mind more at ease, Joe cleaned the little cobwebs out of the corners of the kitchen, working from top to bottom—wiping down the cabinets, scrubbing the countertop and sink, and lastly sweeping and mopping the floor. Joe looked up at the clock. Seven thirty. Plenty of time to do more, even though his back was screaming. The line of work he was in didn’t help keep the pain away, since it was so physical with lifting parts and pushing the full carts around, and he’d already put in a full shift at the airport, but Joe wasn’t trained for anything else.

Maybe I should go back to school. But to study what?

Joe sighed and went to work on the bathroom next. The question—what to study—had been bouncing around in his head for months, and he still had no answers. He was grumbling about the gross look of the caulk on the tiles and wondering if the landlord would recaulk the bathroom, or let him do it, when he faintly heard his phone ringing. Throwing the sponge into the middle of the tub, Joe sprinted toward the living room, wiping his hands on his T-shirt as he went. The phone was merrily bumping across the coffee table. He snatched it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Vlad.”

Joe grinned and caught his reflection in the television screen.
Ugh. Get a hold of yourself.

“Hey, you. What’s up?”

“Just got back from dinner with the guys. I am full of steak and potatoes.”

“Is eating so much food at one time good for you?”

“Probably not, but we went to Morton’s. They have fucking good steak.”

Joe laughed. “Never been, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh man, it’s really great stuff. I will take you when I get back into town. There is one in Pittsburgh.”

“Sounds a lot better than the burrito bowl I had for dinner.” Joe’s mouth watered. He loved steak. He bit his lip.
Don’t be a pussy. Ask him
. “So are you asking me out on a formal date?”

Vlad chuckled. “Do I have to wear a tuxedo if it is a formal date?”

“Very funny.”

“To answer your question, yes, I am. You didn’t think I was only going to use you for sex, did you? I mean, if that is what you want…”

“No, it’s not what I want. I’m just a little, um, surprised.”

“Why?”

“Two men eating alone?”

“Many business dinners are at Morton’s.”

“If you say so,” Joe replied. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Shit, I have to go. My roommate is coming. Later.”

Vlad hung up before Joe could even say good-bye. After setting the phone back on the coffee table, he plopped down on the couch and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. When Vlad had said it was a date, Joe’s dick had gone rock hard and was still throbbing. He wished like hell Vlad was there. He closed his eyes, trying to recapture the feel of Vlad’s mouth on him.

Before he knew it, he’d shoved his sweats down and taken his erection in hand, concentrating more fully on the memory. He spit into his hand and used the lubrication to speed up his stroking. The familiar stirrings of an orgasm began in the base of his spine, and he went even faster, adding a little extra pressure on the head each time. He was about to blow when the text notification sounded and broke his reverie.

Joe’s eyes popped open, his dick jumping in his hand. He considered ignoring it, but if it was Vlad, he wanted to see it. With his cock still in hand, he reached with the other one for the phone and was glad he had.

After talking to you, I need to take a shower. I can only hide the boner underneath the covers so long, and I definitely do not want my roommate to think it’s for him. Ick.

He laughed. With his left hand, he fumbled through a reply.

What’s so bad about your roommate?

All the while he’d been idly stroking, and he looked down at himself, sighing. He’d gotten pretty used to jerking off while overseas—whenever there was enough privacy to, anyway, which wasn’t often. Now he had a guy who appeared more than willing to help him scratch the itch, but if their schedules kept clashing, he had no idea when he’d see Vlad next.

Nothing, but he is like a brother.

Joe smiled.

Yeah, a little awkward.

He set the phone down and started jerking again, determined to get release. Even though it had been less than comfortable, the sixty-nine they’d had on the floor the other night had been one of the hottest things Joe had ever done. Thinking about that set him off, and he spilled all over his hand. After grabbing some tissues from the end table, he cleaned himself up and tried to regulate his breathing. Joe went into the bathroom and washed his hands. When he got back to the couch, there was still no reply, and he decided to confess what he’d been doing. Yeah, it was a little sadistic to torture the guy who already had a stiffy, but Joey wanted Vlad to know how much just thinking about him turned Joey on.

I just came. Was thinking about our sixty-nine the other day. Hot stuff.

His cock moved a little again, and Joe groaned. Vlad needed to get back here. Joe would happily give up his ass to the man right now, and he doubted he’d feel differently when Vlad returned. He’d done both in his lifetime, topped and bottomed, and though he preferred topping, bottoming could feel fucking incredible too if the guy knew what he was doing. Joe frowned. He’d have to make sure Vlad took his time and prepared him well. Joe liked rough sex, but there was a difference between rough sex and not-properly-prepared-to-take-a-cock-in-his-ass sex.

Fuck, man. I just had to run into the bathroom.