Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

22. Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-two

Sandy

Were my feelings hurt? Was I acting like a spoiled brat? Was this what jealousy felt like?

I was a stupid man in many ways, which I’d certainly concede to anyone. I’d never much cared what people thought of me—or so I told myself.

My father had been a huge sports fan, so I started playing football at a young age to try to get his attention and make him proud. I learned that as a member of a team, there were certain rules I needed to follow: be loyal to your team both on and off the field, brag about the girls you bang whether or not you actually do it, and regardless of what you see a teammate do, never rat them out—no matter how bad their actions are or who they’re harming.

I’m sure my old high school teammates were pissed when word got out that I was gay. They probably mentally reviewed all our interactions back in the day and wondered if I had a hard-on for any of them. I hated to tell them, but I hadn’t wanted any of them.

As I sat in the driver’s seat of my SUV, I thought about some of the shit I didn’t learn because I was in that jock mindset for so long. I never tried to put myself in someone else’s shoes to understand their feelings. My feelings were all that mattered to me back then.

All the players on my various teams were spoiled. We got special exceptions to get out of class when we wanted, additional tutoring if we were having trouble in a subject, and nobody fucked with us in the halls, the cafeteria, or in our classes. Jock privilege was alive and well back then. Based on some of the shit I’d seen my professional teammates pull over the years, I’d say it still was.

The jealousy thing, though, was throwing me off. I didn’t have to do much more than show up somewhere to get a girl’s attention in high school and college. I didn’t have girlfriends, though some thought they could claim the title.

In college and then again in the NFL, I snuck around and picked up guys, committing to nothing beyond a blowjob or a quick fuck in a public restroom or a dark hallway. If I needed a date for an event, my agent fixed me up with a nice young woman who wanted to be seen with a professional athlete. Some people lived for that shit, as I’d come to learn.

I couldn’t remember twenty percent of their names if I tried. It was embarrassing as I thought about it as an adult. What a foolish asshole I’d been.

If another guy hit on a young woman I was with, I didn’t give a damn. I’d thank them for going with me to the event, and I’d go home. No care about whether they got home okay or whether I’d been rude by letting them go off with some rando.

Why did Skyler’s conversation with a good-looking guy bother me so much? The guy was smaller than me and not nearly as muscular, so I won on that point. Was that really a win?

Skyler had smiled at this Cruz guy the way I wanted him to smile at me, and the two of them seemed to be getting awfully cozy by the portable toilets, which pissed me off. I’d sent Marsh over to investigate, knowing he’d break it up and fill me in later. Here I was, trying to make some headway with Skyler, and now, suddenly, I had to worry about other guys drawing his attention from me.

I made the left onto South Las Vegas Drive. “I reserved three suites.”

“I’m guessing Marshall will want to room with Goldie again.” Arlo and River high-fived while JD chuckled in the third-row seat.

“I thought Marshall was interested in Goldie, but when we were talking to Mr. Cruz, I saw something in Marshall’s eyes that had me wondering if I’d misjudged.” Skyler shrugged.

“Marshall? Really?”

I’d noticed my brother staring at Goldie a lot, but it hadn’t occurred to me he might be interested. I hadn’t bothered to inquire about my brother’s personal life because I’d been wallowing in my own self-pity for the last year. Was my brother walking on the queer side of life now? Mom and Dad would have a shit fit I’d like to witness.

River sat forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t get out much, do you?” That brought a laugh from all my passengers.

I glanced to my right to see Skyler grinning at me, and I was a little relieved. Maybe I needed to work on trusting him?

I pulled up to the valet and hopped out to give the guy the keys. Goldie stopped the van behind the Yukon and got out too. “What about the equipment?”

“Got it.”

The valet stopped in front of me. “Welcome to the Intercontinental. Checking in?”

“Yes, and that one too.” I pointed to the rented panel van behind me. “The van has music equipment, so can you park it somewhere safe?” I handed the guy a hundred-dollar bill, and he nodded.

I gave the Yukon keys to the valet, and we walked back to the van. Goldie already had the back open for us, so we all grabbed our bags and headed inside to check-in.

Marsh caught up with me pretty quickly. “You’re supposed to meet Dallas St. Michael at his husband’s restaurant tomorrow at ten. He’s a bounty hunter, but he’s worked as a bodyguard before, and I want him to give you some tips about watching out for the band while we’re at venues.”

“He’s been security for bands?” Why did I ask?

“Begging for Trouble, who I was working with back then, was the opening band for Black Wing a couple of years ago at a charity event in Long Island. I met some guys there who’ve provided security for bands before, and I got their information for future reference. I called Gabe Torrente, the guy I met at the event, and he gave me the name of a colleague, Dallas St. Michael. Dallas has agreed to meet us for breakfast in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes. Just what I fucking needed—my brother tagging along to annoy the fuck out of me when I was supposed to be getting tips on keeping these guys safe. Maybe I was worrying unnecessarily? Nobody had heard of them, so they should be fine. I could tackle anybody who tried to get close. That was what I did.

I went to the casino floor alone because Skyler wanted to take River to see some attractions and ride the High Roller just off The Strip. I hadn’t been invited to go with them, which put me in a shitty mood.

The first bar I found had a few open stools, so I ordered a bourbon on the rocks, took a seat, and shoved a hundred bucks into a video poker machine. Five games and the money was toast, so I decided to take a walk. The casino was busy, what with it being early summer.

I slowly meandered through the ornately decorated gambling floor and sat on a couch in a cocktail lounge where a woman played piano. Many happy couples and groups were around, laughing and having a good time. I, most certainly, was not among them.

A cocktail server came by, so I ordered another drink. It seemed like a good night to get drunk.

I had a second bourbon and quickly asked for a third. It was delivered, along with a glass dish of warm nuts, which didn’t hurt my feelings. I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, as I scrolled through my phone.

“Is this seat taken?” I looked up to see a beautiful woman standing in front of me. She was pointing to the couch next to me.

I glanced around the lounge to see a lot of empty seating groups, and then I took in the sight of her. She wanted more than just a seat, it seemed. “I, uh, I’m waiting for someone.”

She smirked and sat anyway. “I doubt it. If you were waiting for someone, you’d be looking around for their arrival, not studying...” she leaned over to look at my phone, finding an ad for a heating wrap, “alternatives to seeing a chiropractor. How’ve you been since you quit football, Sandy Kensington?”

Oh shit! Did I take this woman out when I was here with the team for a game or some kind of event?

I coughed, nearly swallowing the whiskey down the wrong pipe. “Excuse me. Do we know each other?”

My unwanted guest smirked. “You don’t know me, but I know you. You cost me a hundred grand in 2022 when you sacked Tanner Robertson in the last game of Denver’s regular season.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Sorry.”

She put her purse on the couch between us and pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, using the elastic she had around her wrist before reaching into her bag and retrieving a pair of glasses. She popped out contacts and put them into a napkin as she held her hand up for a server and slid on the glasses.

I sat forward and stared at her. “So, you bet against the Breeze? You were cheering for the Mustangs?”

My guest chuckled. “I’m a Mile High girl all the way. I’m being rude. I’m Mary Ellen Gaye.” No idea who that was, but she looked as though I should.

The server stopped at our table and smiled. “Hi, love. I’ll take a very dirty martini and give Mr. Kensington another of whatever he’s having, please.”

“Certainly, Ms. Gaye.” The young woman damn near curtsied before she returned to the bar.

“I’m sorry, but I’m at a disadvantage. Should I know you?” I felt like a moron.

Ms. Gaye chuckled. “Oh, you should, but it’s okay that you don’t. I run Gaye Realty in Denver. My father was Ansel Gaye.”

Nope. No idea. I shrugged.

“No matter. So, what’s got you sitting here alone? You look like someone kicked your puppy.” The server returned with our drinks, and Ms. Gaye quickly signed the check before I could object.

I wasn’t tackling that one. “What brings you to Vegas, Ms. Gaye?” She was definitely glamorous. She was older than me, maybe late forties or early fifties, but the woman was gorgeous.

“I’m here for a business meeting. I just sat through an abhorrently boring pitch over dinner, and as I was returning to my room, I saw a handsome, albeit sad, man sitting alone. Once I figured out who you were, I couldn’t resist bending your ear.”

I chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Gaye. I’m here with a band who played at Mountain Fest earlier today.”

“And they played poorly? Are you in the band?”

That made me laugh. “No. They played very well, and no, I’m not in the band. I have absolutely no musical talent except to turn on the radio. I’m the alleged security for the band because my brother manages them.”

“So, why aren’t you with them if you’re providing alleged security?” That thought hadn’t even occurred to me.

“They’re not very famous yet. After their set at the festival, they were followed around by a group of young women who wanted autographs. I was there to see that nobody got handsy. This was their first professional gig.” I remembered recording Skyler as he played and sang. Based on the videos I shot, one would get the impression he was a one-man band.

“Darling, I’m of the opinion that everyone is just one step from fame. It’s a matter of them realizing it themselves. Now, as I recall, you got roasted for being gay, so I’m going to guess the reason for that long face has everything to do with a man. On that, we can certainly relate.”

Mary Ellen Gaye told me her heartbreaking tale of falling in love with a young man while she was attending NYU, only to lose him in a street racing accident, tearing up a few times as she told me the story.

“I lost our baby after I found out he’d been killed, and I was completely wrecked. A few years later, I married an older man—one of my father’s longtime friends—who thought I would be his perfect trophy wife. Ansel discovered the guy was embezzling money from his own company, so he reported Daniel to the SEC. Daniel went to jail after taking a plea deal and giving me a nice divorce settlement. He was released on parole recently, and now I feel as though I’m being followed, but I’m sure I’m not.”

We both glanced around, which was weird. I saw a few guys staring at the two of us, but neither looked like they were the kind of guys who would stalk someone.

“Anyway, what’s your story?” She signaled to the server for another round, and I knew I’d have a hell of a headache in the morning. The beauty was I didn’t know her, and she didn’t really know me, other than I’d cost her money, so why not spill my guts?

“I’m in love with a guy unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I could go on and on about how great he is, but you don’t care about that. The thing that’s got me wrapped around the axle is that I don’t think he trusts me, and I don’t know how to fix that. I mean, we haven’t known each other very long, but I would give up everything I have to be with him.” I meant every word, though I was pretty sure I sounded like a drunken fool.

Ms. Gayle smiled. “Be careful about that. Daniel thought I felt the same way, but as I began seeing his true colors, I knew what he was after—my father’s money.”

I nodded. “If you met him, you’d see Skyler’s not like that at all. He’s a band teacher in a Midwestern town. He teaches choir and jazz band too, and he’s a musician. He doesn’t want to quit his teaching job to play music professionally, though I’m sure he could succeed. I just…I love him and want to be with him, but we have a few stumbling blocks. We don’t know each other very well, and we live a thousand miles apart. It feels insurmountable from where I sit.”

Ms. Gaye laughed loudly. “If you love him and it turns out he loves you, none of that shit matters. I need something to soak up these martinis. Would you care to escort me?”

We went to a celebrity chef’s burger place, stuffing ourselves with burgers and fries while swapping stories from our lives. I walked Mary Ellen, as she told me to call her, to her room because we were both drunk, and then I staggered to the front desk and got a room so I didn’t wake River and Sky when I drunkenly stumbled into our suite. I let myself into a room one floor below our suite and fell asleep fully dressed. Welcome to Vegas …