Debatable. But I loosen my grip.

Wooster shakes me off and then smirks. “Can’t forget that paycheck, can we?”

Rolondo makes a noise of disdain. “Stop playin’ as if a fine won’t hurt you more than it does either of us, punk ass. And stop disrespecting women. Didn’t your momma teach you better?”

“Pretty sure you’d be singing a different tune if you had any interest in women,” Wooster drawls.

Rolondo is gay. He’s never hidden it, but until now, I haven’t heard anyone give him shit.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I lunge for Wooster again.

Rolondo blocks me, his expression almost serene as he stares down Wooster. “I’d say suck my dick, but I have standards. Now get the fuck out of here and worry about improving your weak-ass game.”

Wooster bristles, as if he’s about to reply, but his gaze cuts between us, and he backs up. “No fucking sense of humor.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s our humor that’s a fail here.” I take a page from Rolondo’s book and make a quick jerk off gesture. “We’re done.”

Without looking back, I head to the free weights. I want to leave, but I’ll be damned if Wooster is chasing me away. Rolondo joins me, as Wooster flips us off and stalks out of the room.

“Man…” Rolondo starts.

“I know,” I say over him. “I shouldn’t let that asshole get to me.”

“Good of you to remember. Now.”

I stare down at the weights, not moving to pick them up. “He give you shit before?”

Rolondo lets out a half laugh. “You worried about me, Manny?”

He sounds amused.

I lift my head. “You’re my teammate.”

I don’t have to say more; Rolondo gets it. But his expression remains passive. “Guys talk smack. Doesn’t matter about what. Either you take their shit or you don’t.” His gaze bores into me with unsettling depth. “I’d lock down whatever it is you have going on with the photographer. Guys will be talking about her for no other reason than she’s taking pictures of them naked.”

The truth irks. I resent that she’s seen any dick on this team but mine, and I resent that the guys view it as some sort of joke they can snicker over. But there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

“Chess is my friend.” I gesture toward the direction Wooster left. “I don’t let people talk shit about my friends.”

Rolondo slowly grins. “I see that.”

I give a short nod.

“Just one question,” Rolondo asks.

“What?”

“Your dick know you’re just friends?”

He laughs as I swipe at him, easy evading the hit. “That the best you got?”

We duck each other’s half-hearted swings for a few, both of us needing to shake off the pall Wooster threw over the room.

Laughing, Rolondo reaches for his pack that he’d left by the leg press. “I’m heading out.”

Strange how his words seem to highlight how damn quiet the place is. In the far distance, a phone rings then cuts off. I’m not creeped out, but I don’t want to linger in a ghost town either.

“What are you doing now?” I ask him.

“My ma’s in town.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, I’m taking her to Commander’s Palace for dinner.” He grins. “The woman’s been after me to go since she got off the damn plane.”

“I know how that goes. My mom was the same. Had to go there and to Galatoire’s.”

Rolondo chuckles. “Went there the other night.”

We both laugh. And suddenly, I miss my mother. Which doesn’t make a bit of sense, since I’m a grown man, she’s been annoying the hell out of me lately, and I’ve been avoiding her.

Rolondo goes to shower, and I’m left staring at the weights without really seeing them. I don’t want to be here. I don’t know where the hell I want to be. But one thing is clear.

I pull out my phone.

BigManny: Can I interest you in a po’boy?

Chess answers almost immediately.

ChesterCopperpot: Do you actually know any poor boys?

BigManny: Cute. Fine, can I interest you in eating a sandwich with this here rich boy?

ChesterCopperpot: I’m actually at a party right now. Dinner in the form of finger foods and cocktails

Disappointment swims in my chest. I swallow past that self-pitying lump and man up.

BigManny: Another night then. Have fun, party girl

I head toward the locker room where I’ve left my keys. I’ll grab a po’boy and watch some basketball. Tired as I am, a night lazing on the couch sounds about right.

I’m almost at my car when my phone buzzes.

ChesterCopperpot: You should come here. There’s plenty of food

I halt, staring down at the screen. Chess texts again.

ChesterCopperpot: I promise no one will grope you unless you ask

I smile at that.

BigManny: Will you grope me, Chester?

ChesterCopperpot: No but James would. He’s a huge fan ;-)

BigManny: I’m happy to give him an autograph. But that’s as far as my call of duty goes

ChesterCopperpot: Fair warning…If he asks you to sign his ball, run away

A laugh breaks free, filling up all the empty spaces in my chest. God, I want to see this girl. But I hesitate; a party isn’t exactly how I want to spend my time with Chess.

The phone rings in my hand.

“Chester,” I say with a smile.

Her husky, sex voice competes with the sound of chatter and music in the background. “So? Are you coming or what?”

“Longing to see me, are you?”

“Yes,” she drawls. “I need to reconfirm that your head truly is that big.”

I’m grinning wide now, even though she can’t see me. “Which head are we talking about?”

“I’m hanging up…”

“All right. I’ll behave.”

“Sure you will.” Someone shouts loud and shrill in the background. Then Chess speaks again. “So?”

“You sure you want me there? I don’t want to disrupt your evening.”

Chess is silent for a second. She speaks again and sounds stiff, reminding me of the first time we met when she thought I was an asshole. “I don’t extend false invites, Finn. But you don’t have to come. Honestly, it’s okay.”