Page 114 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“That was weird, right?” Tyson asked in the locker room. “Rosemount just bouncing like that?”
“Very weird,” I agreed.
That night,Artie and I were on the couch watching film from her rugby match when someone knocked on our door. Not rang the doorbell, knocked, quiet and urgent.
Vincent and Holly immediately went into guard-goat mode, which involved a lot of bleating and very little actual guarding.
I opened the door to find Xander standing there, and for a second, I thought I was seeing things. His eyes were red-rimmed, his usually perfect hair was a mess, and his hands were shaking.
“Xan? What?—“
“Can I come in? Please?”
“Yeah, of course.” I stepped aside, and he practically fell through the doorway.
Artie stood up from the couch, taking in his appearance. “I'll make tea,” she said simply, heading to the kitchen.
Xander laughed, but it came out cracked. “Tea. Very British of you.”
“Technically Scottish,” Artie called back. “But sit down before you fall down.”
He collapsed onto our couch, and Holly immediately tried to eat his shoelaces, which at least made him smile weakly.
“Xander, what's going on?” I asked, sitting across from him.
He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. “She has video. The kind that’s going to ruin my life.”
“Who has… wait, Sloane?”
He nodded, his jaw clenched.
Artie returned with three mugs of tea, setting them down carefully. “What does she want?”
“She wants me to come out. On the show. She wants to make it this big dramatic reveal about the closeted football player finding his truth.” He laughed bitterly. “She said either I give her the story or she makes me the story.”
“That's blackmail,” Artie said flatly.
“She calls it 'authentic storytelling.'” Xander's hands were shaking as he picked up his mug. “She has stuff on other people too. Not just me. The other rookies on the show, the linebacker at Seattle. The center on the Beagles.”
“All queer players?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Yeah. She's specifically targeting us. She said...” He paused, took a shaky breath. “She said America loves a coming out story. That we're being selfish by hiding who we are. That we owe it to young queer athletes to be visible.”
“That's not her call to make,” Artie said fiercely.
“I know. But she has the footage. And if it gets out...” Xander looked at me. “She’s got something on all of us and… well, fuck, I owe you, Gryff. I’m sure she’s got something on you too.”
The weight of that settled over us. I was already out and open about it. But those questions she’d been asking about Artie and me being straight now had my blood building up a slow, hot simmer.
What Sloane was doing in the name of good television was a violation of the worst kind. I hated that athletes thought they had to hide themselves, but nobody had the right to make anyone come out before they were ready.
“When?” I asked.
“She wants an answer by Friday. Either I agree to her terms, or she leaks everything.”
“We're not letting that happen,” Artie said.
Xander looked at her with something like hope. “We?”
