Isolation Play (Dev and Lee) Read Free Page A

obvious about it.
    So I lean over and say, “Hal, was it?”
    He looks up without a start, and smiles. “That’s right, miss.”
    “ I didn’t mean it,” I say.
    His ears flick in curiosity. I go on. “About seeing him on the field. I love to watch him play. And he loves it so much. It’d kill him to leave. I hope he’s a Firebird for a long time.”
    His smile broadens. His voice is buttery smooth. “Long as he keeps pickin’ off passes, I’m with you,” he says.
    “ Do you really know Corcoran?”
    The smile dims. He shrugs. “In a manner of speakin’.”
    I sit back and sigh. I don’t want to see Dev lose the friends he’s made on the Firebirds, especially now. But if I let on how important it is to me, Hal might clam up about it. “I see.”
    “ Hey,” he says. “It’s okay. I know when you go through somethin’ like this, you just wanna talk about anything else.”
    “ You don’t know what this is like.” I’m sure he feels the raw scorn there, even if he doesn’t understand all the levels on which I mean it. I just know it, though. If he had someone as special as Dev, he’d be running home to her. Or him.
    “ Sweetheart,” he says. “Maybe my ex didn’t call a press conference to dump me. But that’s only ’cause she didn’t think of it.”
    “ I’m not your sweetheart,” I say.
    “ Whoa, whoa.” He holds up a paw. “I’m just bein’ friendly.”
    I look down at my phone, to hide my little grin. He’s friendly, he’s interested. I ignore the blinking alert of new messages and drop the phone into my purse. “I do appreciate that. And I’m sorry about your ex.” I get up, putting on my sad smile to give him, ears down: a cast-off vixen putting on a brave face. He’d only be able to resist it if he’s gay.
    “ Hey.” His ears are down, but he’s trying his best to smile. “Don’t s’pose you’d let me buy you a cup of coffee?”
    Guess he’s not gay. I look down at his notepad. “Don’t you need to write up your story?”
    He shrugs. “All the big guys have theirs already going out. I don’t have a deadline that can’t wait for a lovely lady who needs an ear.”
    “ What paper extends deadlines for their reporters to flirt?”
    His ears fold back. “I’m freelance,” he says. “As of two weeks ago.”
    I sit back in the chair. “Sorry to hear that.”
    “ Yeah,” he says, “real kick in the teeth. First the wife, then the job. Banner fu—friggin’ year.”
    “ Just you, or did the whole paper go under?” I say.
    “ Whole paper. The Chevali Standard,” he says. “Guess you ain’t from here.”
    He’s sharp. I change the subject, risk another nudge at his relationship with the owner. “So Corcoran lets you come in here? Can’t he get you a regular job?”
    His ears droop another inch. “Lots of guys outta work. You know how he made his money? Furniture stores. I don’t wanna sell couches.” He makes a visible effort to be cheerful. “So how about that coffee?”
    I sigh. A little more reluctance. Give him some play. “I’m not sure I’m up for it, honestly.”
    “ If it makes you feel better,” he says, “whoever he’s with, it won’t last.”
    I tilt my head. “What?”
    He gestures toward the podium with his thin muzzle. “That spotted skunk out there was going on about the truth. Musta had something on him—pictures, e-mail logs, something like that—and threatened to out him, only Miski one-upped him. Did you know?”
    The spotted skunk is Brian. I remember him sitting in a restaurant, telling me how good it’ll be for gay rights when he outs my boyfriend. I see him snarling at Fisher to give back his camcorder with the picture of me and Dev kissing, when he caught us in the Firebirds’ locker room. I don’t look at my phone, where his final message to me is still stored in memory. “No,” I say. “Not really.”
    “ Well, you don’t just decide to come out, just like that. So you gotta figure this boyfriend of