Page 44 of Butterfly
“You’ll lose everything, Donovan.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know, you fucking coward,” I snap back as I turn on my heel and head away, leaving Kyle behind. He has the audacity to laugh as I hustle toward the arena doors, the sound echoing off the concrete and churning my stomach.
I make a beeline for my Jeep, opening the doors and throwing myself up onto the seat as fast as I can. I don’t take time to think or breathe or process everything Kyle just said, because my brain is screaming at me to call Oakley, and I know that until I speak with him it’s not going to shut up. Everything feels gray and sour, my earlier happiness turning to dust as I fire up the Jeep’s engine and connect my phone via Bluetooth. I jab my thumb at the screen, smacking Oakley’s number the minute the connection is made.
“What did you do?” I ask, as Oakley picks up the call.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why did I just have Kyle fucking Penton corner me outside the locker room, babbling some shit about you?”
Oakley sighs audibly at the other end of the call. “Kyle was a mistake who clearly does not understand an NDA.”
“Oakley, what the fuck? You fucked the reporter?”
“He’s cute, and in my defense I didn’t know he was a reporter when I picked him up. He found me on Grindr and came over last time I was in town.”
“He’s a leech,” I protest. “Everyone in this city knows it. He’s a self-serving asshole who writes garbage analysis and has trash opinions. All he wants is a ticket up to cover the Boston Copperheads, and apparently he thinks that ticket is attached to your dick.”
“Fuck,” Oakley says. He’s silent for a moment, then sighs again. “I should have known he’d be a problem when he tried to get at me through the PR team after we fucked. I’ll handle it.”
“You better. If he leaks the pictures he took, I’m fucked.”
“Wait. What?”
“I went to Jude’s concert last night with Shiloh and he was there. He snapped a few pics of us cuddled up together, and he’s threatening to take them public if he doesn’t get what he wants.”
“And he wants…”
“You, you fucking bonehead. He wants you, and as much as I don’t want to play into his shit, I don’t want to be outed like this. If I come out, it’ll be because I damn well want to and not because you fucked someone you shouldn’t have.”
“Fuck, Donovan,” Oakley breathes, his voice barely a whisper now. “I’ll handle it. I’m so sorry.”
“You better be.”
“I’ll have my agent reach out and remind him of the terms of the NDA he signed. She’ll throw some threats of legal action his way and he’ll leave you alone.”
“I hope so,” I sigh, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel nervously. “You gotta make better decisions with your dick, dude.”
Oakley snorts a laugh. “Dick-cisions.”
I can’t help but laugh a little bit, tension seeping out of me the tiniest bit. “Make better dick-cisions, then.”
“I will,” he promises. “I swear I didn’t know he’d get all wild. He seemed sweet. Cute. Harmless.”
“Reporters are never harmless. You’re lucky he didn’t snap a pic of your dick and share it online or something.”
“NDA. No phones or devices allowed in the room.”
“Smart,” I comment. “If only the concert had been the same way.”
“How’s Jude?” Oakley asks, his voice quieter now.
“Good. He’s not living in some garage working at a fast food place, dude. They’re touring with Niven right now as their opening act, but they’re really good.”
“Oh.”
A thousand questions flood my mind as silence enters the conversation, but I push them all away and ask the one that burns the brightest. “What happened between you guys?”
