“You’re already screwed. You can get a bunch of money and have a nice career, and lose a game here or there. Or you can fuck Mr. Smith over now, and pay the price. Those are your only two choices.” Wayne got in Callum’s face. “If you think the only thing you risk is your career, you’re a moron. Mr. Smith has ways of getting cooperation. Think about Dad, if nothing else. Don’t make him pay for your mistake.”
Callum barked a bitter laugh. “Oh, that’s rich, since we’re paying for your mistakes. Since when do you care about Grandpa?”
“Well, why should I? The moment you arrived, you were all he talked about.Poor little Callumandlet’s give the brat everything. Do you have any idea how much ofmymoney he spent on you?”
“What do you mean, your money? You were a grown-ass adult.”
“I’m his heir. Fifty percent, anyhow, but he was spending it on you left and right. Hockey gear and special camps and brand name sneakers and therapists and trips to Disneyland.”
“One. One fucking trip.”
“Still. He never took me there as a kid, you know?”
“So you were jealous.”
Wayne’s lip curved in a sneer. “I was disgusted. You were this sniveling brat, violent, breaking things, and he was all ‘we have to make allowances.’I never got away with half what you did. The old man was probably getting senile already, letting you wrap him around your little finger.”
“Don’t you talk shit about Grandpa.”
“Or what? You’ll make me regret it?” Wayne grinned. “Let’s see. Queer goalie who’s fucking the neighbour assaults elderly uncle. Great headline, don’t you think?”
My stomach twisted at his words. We’d obviously been too careless, too caught up in each other, around someone who traded in secrets. I hated that Callum might pay heavily for kissing me.
Wayne said, “Got a picture through the window. I can make your life miserable, Cal.”
Callum’s face went deep red, and he slammed his hand against the cabinet door beside Wayne’s head. I saw Wayne flinch. Callum bellowed, “Get out! I don’t want you in this fucking house. Truck keys, hand them over, now, and get out!”
I thought Wayne might resist, but there must have been something in Callum’s expression that convinced him, because he threw the keys across the kitchen and slammed his way out the front door.
Callum put his back to the cabinets and slid to sit on the floor. “Shit.”
Once I was sure Wayne wasn’t coming back, I stepped out of the basement, closing the door behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Fucking peachy.” He didn’t look at me.
I settled on the floor beside him, our shoulders inches apart. “I’m so sorry he saw something between you and me.”
“My fault. You’re not in the closet. It was my job to be careful.” He sounded miserable.
“We were careful. I bet he was spying on purpose.”
“Probably. Shit, I don’t know what to do.”
“About coming out?”
“About any of it. Fuck!” He hit his thigh with a closed fist.
I said, “I think I got half of what’s going on, but it might help if you explained what he’s threatening.”
“Or not.” Callum shuddered.
I sat there, not pushing or asking anything, willing him to trust me.
After a couple of silent minutes, he said, “Okay. But remember how you promised not to tell?”
Other than threats to out him, some of what Wayne had said veered right into the criminal category, but legal or not, I wanted to protect Callum. I couldn’t do that if I didn’t know what the hell was going on. “I promise. Not without your permission.”
“Okay. Right. So, you remember the game against the Cardinals on the ninth? We lost because I let in a couple of soft goals.”
