Текст книги "Triple Play"
Автор книги: Sloan Johnson
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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Triple Play
© 2015 Sloan Johnson
Cover Art: Cover Me, Darling
Cover Photography: Bryant Wood by Eric Battershell Photography
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Sloan Johnson, [email protected] http://authorsloanj.com
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Two words: Bill Buckner. Four years before I was born, Mookie Wilson hit a ball up the first base line right between Buckner’s legs, causing the Red Sox to lose the World Series. Today, people still know his name, all because of that one play. As I stood beneath the spray of water following game five of the Divisional Championship, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d sealed a similar fate for myself in the bottom of the ninth.
“You’re going to turn into a prune if you stay in there any longer,” Jason hollered from outside the shower. While that wasn’t my intention, it seemed like a better outcome than turning off the water and having to face my teammates. I’d let them down today. My screw up ended the season for everyone. I wasn’t ready to deal with the looks of disappointment on their faces just yet. “I know you can hear me, Jackson. Now, quit jerking around and get dressed. There’s a bar with entirely too much alcohol on-hand, and it’s up to us to help them fix that problem.”
I didn’t want to drink. What I wanted to do was go home and sit in the dark for a few days. Before, I would have called Cam to have him give me a pep talk, but even that wasn’t possible. He was down in Chicago, hopefully getting ready to make his big break in the world.
“Thanks Jason, but I think I’m going to skip tonight,” I informed him as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. “Not really in the mood to party.”
Proving he had zero respect for personal space, Jason stepped into the shower and turned off the water. My head whipped to the side as I looked around to see if anyone noticed. I snagged my towel off the hook and wrapped it around my waist as I tried to sneak past Jason. He made that impossible as he clamped his hands around my biceps.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, looking me square in the eyes. The words were nice to hear, even if they were a lie.
I jerked away from him, not wanting to rehash the single biggest mistake I’d made in the nearly twenty years I’d been playing baseball. Even when I played on our community tee ball league, I always worked hard to make sure I played by the rules. Today, I’d gotten too wrapped up in the fact that we were one run away from heading to the League Championship series. All I could think about was getting on base, and I lost sight of the ball and the baseman.
“Fucking fairies.” Mark Butler sneered as he shoulder checked me on the way to his locker. I bit my tongue because the man had every right to be pissed. Still, I wished Stu had been in the locker room to hear him spouting his homophobic bullshit. “...get the fuck out of here so I don’t have to worry about some fudge packer checking out my shit...”
I grabbed a fistful of Jason’s wet T-shirt to keep him from going after Butler. The last thing we needed was someone claiming Jason started the brawl that’d inevitably happen if he went after the asshole. The two of them had barely tolerated one another in the time since I’d been traded to Milwaukee, and that relationship had morphed into loathing after Mark started talking shit about Cam. I was glad my best friend had someone like Jason to take care of him, but I did worry Jason would snap if something didn’t give. Maybe everyone heading home for the winter was the best thing that could happen. Not being around one another every day would give tempers a chance to cool.
“Jason, you need to learn to ignore him,” I advised, pushing him down onto the bench. “Assholes like Mark will always be out there, but it’s up to you to choose how you react to it. If you ignore him, he’ll eventually get bored and move on.”
“Look, I know you mean well, but he’s an ignorant fucker, and I should have knocked him on his ass when I had the chance.” Jason was fuming mad. He curled his fingers around the edge of the bench so tightly I was sure he’d leave fingernail marks in the wood.
I slammed my locker closed. “No, you shouldn’t have. You might have felt better in that moment, but I don’t believe for a minute you wouldn’t have been upset with yourself after the fact. Plus, knowing Cam the way I do, that could have been a deal breaker for him. He doesn’t deal well with people beating the crap out of one another.”
My little plan to remind Jason how much he had to lose if he let his anger get the best of him backfired. When I looked over at him as I buttoned my shirt, he was clutching at his chest. I’d seen him do it many times before, but this time, something was different. The thin ball chain he always wore was missing.
“Have you heard from him yet?” I asked, sitting down next to him. If anyone had told me a few months ago that Jason would become one of my best friends and that he’d be in love with the man I’d dreamed about for much of my life, I’d have told them they were insane. However, there we were, both worried about how things were going for Cam in Chicago.
Jason shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m sure he’ll call when he can. Now, finish getting dressed. You’re going to drink so much tonight that you’ll eventually believe me when I tell you no one’s pissed off at you.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the state for that,” I bemoaned. “Face it, I fucked up out there tonight. If I’d been paying attention, I wouldn’t have run into him.”
“And if fucking Butler hadn’t gotten greedy, he’d have still been safe at first,” Jason countered. “First and second were empty. The only reason he tried to head home was because he’s a self-centered son of a bitch who’s trying to prove himself. He wanted to be the hero of the game and he failed.”
“And he would have been the hero if I hadn’t run into Montoya,” I argued.
“He’s the one who stepped in your path,” Jason responded. I got the feeling we could go on like that all night, so I stood and started gathering the shit I wanted to take home with me. “I’m going to call Eric and tell him to meet us at the bar. If you’re not there, I will send someone after you.”
As much as I claimed I wanted to be alone, going home didn’t seem as appealing if Eric wasn’t going to be there. And I knew he’d be in his car driving to the bar before he and Jason even got off the phone. He’d been miserable since the end of the regular season, bored because most of his circle of friends played for the Mavericks. That meant he sat at home watching every game because he didn’t want to deal with people asking him what it was like to watch the game, knowing he used to wear the blue and gray jersey.
“Fine, I’ll be there,” I promised him. Jason gave me a disbelieving glare. “I will! I’m just going to pack up a few more things, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Okay, but remember what I said. I’ll have no problem sending Eric and Mason over to the house if you try to ditch us,” Jason warned me as he slung his bag over his shoulder. I dawdled as long as possible after he left, hoping that the autograph hounds would give up before I walked outside. It wouldn’t be my signature or pictures they’d want from me, it’d be a piece of my ass since I’d let them down as well.
The lights in the parking lot turned off when I was only about halfway to my car. I quickened my pace, uneasy in the pitch black night. I knew it was nothing more than my overactive imagination getting away from me, but that didn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder and fumbling in my pocket for my keys.
It was nearly midnight, which wasn’t late by some standards, but it was considered obscenely late in the Jackson household. Still, I knew my dad would be sitting in the worn out recliner he refused to let me replace for him, waiting for my call. We talked after almost every game. He was never overly harsh on me, but he was the one man I knew I could trust to tell me exactly where I screwed up. I didn’t need that tonight. What I needed was to hear a friendly voice. Maybe once we were done with meetings and released for the winter, I’d head to the opposite corner of the state to the small farm my family had lived on for generations.
“I was wondering if you’d call tonight.” Dad answered before the phone even rang on my end of the line. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, waiting for him to lay into me about my screw up. He’d been my coach from the time he signed me up for tee ball until I made the varsity baseball team as a freshman in high school. Even though he wasn’t in charge of the teams I played on after that, he still took his job as a coach very seriously. “You played a hell of a game out there tonight.”
That statement surprised me. I figured he’d jump right into telling me how irresponsible it was of me to run into Montoya. The old man seemed to be getting soft in his old age. If he wasn’t berating me for that play, maybe Jason was right and I was being too hard on myself. “Thanks Dad. You might be the only person who thinks that. If it wasn’t for me, we’d be heading to the league championships. I’ll probably have to hide out all winter, hoping the fans will forget about how I fucked up by the time we leave for spring training—”
“Would you quit being so melodramatic?” Dad interrupted. “Yes, you screwed up tonight. You’re a smart player. You know better than to let someone like him get away with stepping in front of you the way he did. That being said, Butler had no place trying to get home on that play. He could have easily stood there biding his time and he still would have been the first man home.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I responded sarcastically. I’d have never been so bold if Dad had been standing in front of me, but with the safety of miles between us, I didn’t hold back. Dad had zero tolerance for mouthiness or disrespect, and it didn’t matter to him that I was twenty-five and a professional athlete, he wouldn’t hesitate to knock me on my ass. I couldn’t ask for better parents than the ones I had, but they were stern for a reason.
“Don’t get smart with me,” he warned. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can sit down and watch every play of the game when you come home. You are still coming home for a while, right?”
Of course I was. No matter how many zeroes in my bank account or how many reporters wanted to talk to me, it wouldn’t change the fact that Dad expected me to come home and help him get the farm ready for winter. I’d never admit it to them, but I loved my parents for treating me as if I was nothing more than the only son they expected to do his part for the family. It made me feel normal. My sisters’ husbands helped out when they could, but only because they volunteered to help. It wasn’t expected of them.
“Yeah, Dad, I’m hoping to get there early next week,” I told him. “I’m sure the rest of this week will be filled with meetings and all that fun stuff, but as soon as we’re set free for the winter, I’ll be there.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll let your mother know to get your room ready.” There was a lingering silence across the line, and I knew what Dad was trying to keep from asking. Everyone in my family knew I was gay, but I was pretty sure Dad struggled with the reality that I might someday bring a guy home to meet them.
For a long time, I’d allowed myself to think about how easy it’d be if that someone was Cam. They knew him. They’d never batted an eye when he’d shown up at the front door late at night after having a fight with his uncle. My mom was the one who made sure he had school supplies at the beginning of every school year and that he wouldn’t be going to school in pants that were two inches too short and falling apart. It would have taken a miracle for that to ever become reality, but since he was head over heels in love with Jason, I knew that ship had sailed.
“Will you be alone?”
“Yes,” I assured him. “As wonderful as it’d be to bring home someone for you and Mom to interrogate, I’m afraid my schedule doesn’t really allow much time for domestic life.”
“Boy, you keep that up and I’ll whip the sass out of you when you get here.” The teasing lilt in his voice told me he wasn’t being serious. “Well, it’s getting late. You be safe and I’ll see you next week.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too.” He hung up without another word and I sat there staring at the display of my phone until it went dark. The conversation hadn’t gone as expected, but it was exactly what I needed.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I started thinking about whether or not I’d go insane if I went home for the entire winter. If Cam made it onto the show, he’d be gone for at least a month, maybe longer, while they were filming. If he did well, and I had faith he would, he’d be busy with public appearances and whatever other shit went along with being a reality TV star. Mason and Sean had talked about spending the winter in Indiana with Mason’s family, but that was still up in the air. Jason would likely be wherever Cam was. That pretty much just left Eric, and I was sure he’d be glad to not have me in his space.
By the time I pulled into a parking spot down the street from Bar 42, I’d made up my mind that I was going to stay home until my parents got tired of me and begged me to get out of their space. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as I walked up the dark sidewalk. My mind was on what equipment I wanted to put in the barn, the routes I could run through the countryside near my parents’ farm, and how to convince my mom that not every meal needed to be drowned in fresh butter.
Everything that seemed important became meaningless as I felt a hand clamp over my mouth. I clawed at the thick fingers, kicked at the shins of the man dragging me into the alley beside the bar. I tried to scream, but I knew no one heard me. “Try anything, you fucking fairy, and I’ll shove your bat so far up your ass it’ll choke you.”
I’d heard that voice somewhere, but I was more concerned with trying to get out of there alive than figuring out who belonged to the hand covering my mouth while the other squeezed tighter on my neck. I clawed at the larger man’s hand so I could draw in a breath. He didn’t budge and my reaction seemed to fuel his anger. My feet were lifted off the ground and I kicked him in the shins again, this time causing him to howl in pain as my heel made contact with bone. No matter how I fought, he didn’t let go. The world faded as I struggled to breathe. Skin ripped open as my head slammed into the pavement. I could hear bones cracking as a heavy work boot repeatedly made contact with my chest.
“You’re a fucking disgrace,” my attacker sneered. “The world will be a better place once there’s one less fag in it.” As the blows continued, I wished I’d passed out when he was choking me, just so I wouldn’t have to feel the spikes of pain every time he made contact. I tried to scream, but was stopped by the tread of the boot stomping on the side of my face. Mercifully, my world went black after that.
Chapter 2
I felt bad for the guys. I knew how much it sucked to go home at the end of the regular season, but I could only imagine what it felt like to have such a strong start to the post season, only to lose it due to one play. I’d tried calling Drew a few times after Jason called and asked me to come down to Bar 42 but he wasn’t answering his phone. That wasn’t unusual. I figured he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone and was probably off driving around somewhere, trying to settle down a bit before facing anyone. That’s what I would’ve done in his position.
Had the Mavericks won their division, the scene on Brady Street would have looked much different than it did when I pulled up. There were still plenty of people out having a good time, but many seemed to have cleared out after the game ended. After all, it was a weeknight and most people had to work in the morning. Rather than park in front of the building, I found a space a couple blocks away. I missed Milwaukee when I was out in Seattle, so I often found myself doing little things like parking further away than I needed to, just so I could walk around and enjoy my hometown a bit. Someday, I hoped to get back here, although I wasn’t certain if that’d happen as long as I was still playing baseball. It wasn’t unheard of, but it also wasn’t common for a team to pick up a player they’d dumped off to another city. It’d take a perfect storm of events for the Mavericks to take me back in another trade deal. And I was all too aware of the fact my season’s stats weren’t anything teams would be gushing over as they tried to find a way to acquire me.
The night was cool and clear, not a cloud in sight. A few people nodded in my direction as I walked down the sidewalk, but no one seemed to truly notice me. That was fine because if anyone did, it’d mean they were a baseball fan and chances were good they’d start asking stupid questions. The few times I’d left the house since coming home and had been recognized, Mavericks fans had wanted me to weigh in on the team’s odds of going all the way this year. When it wasn’t that, they were asking how it felt to know that my former team was in the post season while I was sitting on my ass at home. I usually refrained from telling them the truth. It felt shitty. I hated sitting alone in the living room watching the game because my buddies were playing. I toyed with the idea of buying a ticket in the cheap seats, but that would have been asking for drunk idiots to interrogate me. I didn’t need that type of shit in my life.
My good luck ran out as I got to the end of the first block. A group of college age kids stumbled out of one of the bars. They were all decked out in their Mavs jerseys. Rather than hang around to see if they’d recognize me, I ducked into the alley that dumped out next to Bar 42. It wasn’t the scenic walk I’d been hoping for, but it was dark and isolated enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about other people.
I heard something in the distance as I got closer to Bar 42. It sounded like an argument, but I could only make out one voice. I quickened my pace, clueless as to what I thought I’d be able to do if there was a fight taking place. I sure as hell wasn’t about to stick my nose in where it didn’t belong. I’d had a decent year in Seattle, but that didn’t mean my place on the roster was secure for next season.
I knew the score. Teams weren’t too eager to sign a fresh contract on a thirty-five-year-old player. My prime had long since passed and I was biding my time until I faced the reality that no one plays forever. I could only hope I’d proven myself to be a solid enough player that they’d be willing to send a contract to my agent. That wouldn’t happen if I got into any sort of trouble because the head office of the Seattle Storm had a zero bullshit policy for drama.
I stopped in my tracks as I rounded the corner. It was a moment of truth. Three buildings up, I saw a man curled in the fetal position on the ground, trying to protect himself from the kicks to his stomach and ribs. The aggressor spat at him as he continued using the other guy as a human soccer ball. My previous worries about my fate in baseball flew out the window. When faced with a person who seemed in desperate need of help, I couldn’t just stand there or walk away.
“Hey, what they fuck is your problem?” I screamed as I sprinted down the dark alley. That startled the asshole and he took a step back and looked in my direction. With him facing me, I could see how big he was. I didn’t consider myself to be small, but it was apparent that he had both height and weight on me. I charged toward him, thinking only about the unmoving form on the ground. “You’ve made your fucking point, asshole! Knock it the fuck off!”
“Fucking fag had it coming!” the assailant bellowed. “Unless you want to be next, I suggest you turn the fuck around and forget you saw anything.”
The guy took a step toward me, but almost as quickly, he turned and ran the other direction. I debated chasing after him, but there was little chance I’d be able to take him down and restrain him until the cops arrived, so I made a mental note of what details I had been able to catch and turned my focus to the man bleeding onto the pavement. I kneeled down beside him as I pulled out my cell phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the female dispatcher answered.
“There’s been an assault in the alley beside Bar 42,” I informed her, trying to keep my tone level. “The victim appears to be unconscious.”
“Police and paramedics have been dispatched to the scene,” she responded. I could hear her tapping away at her keyboard.
I put the phone on speaker and set it on the ground next to me. Blood coated the man’s faded blue jeans and white button-down shirt. I knew it was a bad idea to move him, but I couldn’t leave him lying with his face pressed into the ground. I cradled his neck and slowly rolled him to his back. My stomach churned as I stared at his battered face. This had to be some sort of hallucination. If I looked past the cuts, bruises, and swelling, I could make out Drew’s strong jaw and high cheek bones. But that was impossible. Drew was inside with the guys, probably half in the bag by this point.
“Sir, did you hear me? Sir?” The dispatcher’s voice sounded muffled. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they were too far away. They needed to hurry, to get Drew to the hospital and help him.
“Please, you have to make them hurry! He won’t open his eyes.” I slid around so Drew’s head rested in my lap, stroking the matted hair away from his face. “Drew, wake up... Come on, you can do it...”
Drew moaned, but still didn’t open his eyes. I fought the urge to either cry or puke as I listened to the dispatcher ramble soothing words that did shit to calm my nerves. I knew I should hang up and call Jason, but the last thing the cops and paramedics needed was a swarm of concerned and pissed off ball players trying to find out what happened to their teammate. There’d be time to call him after Drew was taken care of.
I shielded my eyes as the bright lights of a squad car bounced off the buildings in the alley, adding a headache to my list of discomforts. One officer rushed to my side while the other jogged down to the end of the alley to stop anyone from gawking. An ambulance soon followed and the officer instructed me to leave Drew in their hands while he asked me a few questions.
I felt utterly helpless as he interrogated me about the attack. I’d come in near the end and couldn’t give him any details about the fucker who’d done this to Drew, other than he was tall and wide, wore a ski mask to conceal his identity, and that he was wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and boots you’d expect to see on a construction site. When they loaded Drew into the ambulance, I insisted on going with him. No way in hell was Drew going to be alone.
“Are you family, sir?” the paramedic asked as he continued taking note of Drew’s vital signs. He called out a bunch of stats which didn’t mean shit to me, but I still tried to remember them.
“No, he’s my roommate,” I responded, wishing I could reach out to hold Drew’s hand and make sure he knew I was there with him.
“According to his driver’s license he’s from Belmont,” the paramedic pointed out. “Are you guys in town visiting?”
I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or annoyed by the question. It was apparent this guy wasn’t a baseball fan. Drew wasn’t the star of the show or anything, but he’d put up the best numbers of his career this year. “Um, no. He still has his parents’ address listed as his permanent residence. He works and lives here now.”
“Oh, okay.”
The ambulance pulled into the emergency bay and I jumped out of the way so they could get Drew inside. A nurse stopped me from entering the room with him and I nearly lost my temper. “I have to stay with him,” I demanded, trying to push past the guy who looked like he’d be more at home in a football uniform than scrubs.
“Sir, I know you want to be with him, but the doctors have to have room to do their job,” he responded calmly. I imagined calming down upset family and friends was part of his typical job duties. “I’ll take you to the waiting area and someone will be with you shortly.”
“Is there anywhere private to wait?” I asked as I followed him down the hall. As much as I didn’t want to leave Drew, I knew the nurse was right. Still, the last thing I wanted was to sit in the waiting area in my blood soaked clothes. The nurse stopped by a closet, looked me up and down, and then pushed a clean shirt and pants against my chest. He motioned toward the restroom and told me he’d wait for me. “Thank you.”
When I stepped out of the room, I caught a glimpse of the nurse’s phone display. Unlike the paramedics, it seemed the nurse knew exactly who Drew was. “You’re Eric Sapp, aren’t you?” he asked as we walked down the dim hallway.
“I am, but I’d appreciate if you kept that quiet,” I pleaded. I knew better than to assume word of what’d happened wouldn’t become public knowledge, but it felt imperative that I ask the nurse to show some discretion. While they were technically forbidden from talking to anyone about their patients, we’d all learned over the past year and a half that anyone’s juicy gossip could be purchased for the right price and the promise of remaining an anonymous source.
“Of course, sir,” the nurse assured me. He opened a door at the end of the hall and flipped on the lights to reveal an empty conference table. “This isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’s all I can offer you. Should I assume there may be others joining you later?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a safe assumption.” Fuck, I really didn’t want to call the guys, but I had to. They needed to know where we were and what was going on.
“Okay, tell them to call me at this number and I’ll sneak them back here.” The nurse offered me a scrap of paper with his phone number on it. This might all blow up in my face, but I didn’t get the impression he was being devious.
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
“I might, but you let me deal with that.” The nurse, Devon according the scrawled name above his phone number, plugged in the single serving coffee maker and filled the water reservoir. “I know what it’s like when a teammate is hurt, and I can only imagine what something like this is going to do to those guys after tonight’s loss. I’m here until eight tomorrow morning, so until then, feel free to text me if you need anything.”
“Thanks. I will.” I slumped back into one of the high backed leather chairs, suddenly exhausted. Devon brewed a cup of coffee and set it in front of me, telling me he’d check on Drew and let me know if he heard anything.
The click of the door closing behind him echoed in the sterile room. I flipped my phone around in my hands, trying to work up the strength to call Jason. In the end, I chickened out and sent him a text asking him to go outside and then call me. Yes, it’d raise red flags in his mind, but I’d rather that than deliver this news while he was around everyone.
It took less than thirty seconds for my phone to ring. “Hey, that was fast.” My greeting sounded lame, but I was trying to come across as calm and unaffected.
“Cut the shit, Sapp,” Jason growled. “Where the fuck are you and why aren’t you here?”
I sucked in a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. I really didn’t want to give him the gory details over the phone. “There’s been an incident. Can you meet me at Aurora?”
“What happened? Are you okay?” Jason’s voice drifted in and out and then became nearly inaudible over the music in the background.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. I wanted to tell him to get his ass down here and then I’d let him know what was going on, but knowing Jason, that’d lead to a speeding ticket at the very least. “Look, I’ll tell you what’s going on when you get here. Something happened to Drew and the doctors are looking at him now.”
“What the fuck?” Jason bellowed. I heard him relaying what I’d told him to someone else, and then trying to convince whoever it was to stay put. “I figured he’d punked out and headed home after the game. Fuck!”
“Hey, I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you talk to Cam, could you not mention this to him right now?” Jason’s boyfriend, Drew’s best friend, was at the audition of a lifetime, but there was no doubt in my mind he’d jump in the first cab he could hail to get back to Milwaukee if he knew Drew was hurt. Luckily, I didn’t have to explain that to Jason.
“Yeah, there’s no point until you tell me what happened.” Jason sounded pissed off, but at least he wasn’t arguing. “Be warned, Mason and Sean are coming with me because Mason’s the only one sober enough to drive.”
“Okay. I’m going to text you a phone number. When you get here, call it and let the guy who answers know you’re here,” I told him. That led to more questions, but he seemed relieved to hear that we weren’t going to be congregating in the main waiting room. The last time that’d happened for this group of guys was when Mason got hurt, and that turned into a nasty media shitstorm.
