Evening with El Diablo

There are parallels with some of these characters with real life people. Purely for entertainment purposes only.

*****

I believed in God but my faith was not standard, not something that most would expect me to have. With what I did, I really couldn't look to the Good Book for answers and I couldn't now especially when I had thoughts of corrupting His favorite Son. Not actually mind you. Just a side thought. Just a consideration.

People called him the Sander-child as if to say he's Jesus himself made whole in the flesh again. Heavy Roman profile, corded muscled arms that didn't belong on a traditional quarterback but a comic book character, clean cut with a 5 o'clock shadow that said, "I'm not lazy, I was just working so hard and forgot to shave." Always smiling, always happy.

Carey Sander showed up in the world of professional football with a cardboard suitcase, the Good Word, and a work ethic that'd put coal miners to shame. He threw his body on the alter of the field like a lamb to slaughter and some people even said to the media it self by being so naive, so congenial. But on the field? He was a Righteous and Angry Son-Righteous about his ability, Angry at his doubters. Off the gridiron played the "aw schucks" Southern Boy routine better than even my brother and I to the aggravation of most people.

Sometimes I kind of want him to stub his toe and swear so loudly people turn around and wonder, "Was that seriously Carey Sander?" But he wouldn't but he'd probably say, "Ow!" and then mutter something under his breath, keeping his good boy image intact. So with what I was about to do I wasn't expecting anything but it was my duty to let him know about the lion's den that he was going to be staring at this season.

"Carey, what are you doing?" I asked, watching with a raised eyebrow as he cleaned out his locker. He flinched but stood up and shrugged.

"Ah, well Mr. Williams, you're here now so I'm pretty sure I'm going to be traded soon," Carey said sadly. "Jacksonville, Miami, I don't know. I do know that the owner doesn't want me here." He looked so morose, so sad, that I did the only thing I knew I could-I stepped over the bench and hugged him, Carey hugging me back half out of reflex but finally did out of sadness. 'He's only 24, oh hell. This could destroy him, his self esteem...but I doubt it. What did they say he had? 'Faith Based Amnesia'? I wonder if it would work this time.'

"I know it hurts, I didn't really expected to get cut either. Fourteen years of my life, gone. It can happen to anyone," I replied softly. Damn it, he smelled like soap and fabric softener-clean, pure. I wondered if I was truly a horrible person for the thought that flashed across my mind and shook my head to clear it.

As for being cut was true. I was sad, sure but more than anything, quaking mad. 'We'll see how good I am-when I take the team that *I* built and tear it apart pass by fucking pass until I destroy it down until the very foundation,' I mentally snarled.

Carey smiled at my soothing words, pulling back. "Mr. Williams, you're a legend. I understand that I have to go," he said honestly before his features got hard, almost rage filled, just for an instant. Then the look was gone, replaced by something that faintly showed remorse at the reaction and I smiled. That fire was there, just like any other quarterback. Maybe he'd be fine. Maybe.

Probably not though.

"You want to prove the owner wrong, don't you?"

"Not wrong just-I thought I proved I belonged last year but..." he sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. It's always an uphill battle when you're not a normal quarterback. I do know he'll love you more than me, respect you more than me. Good enough to marry his daughter, not good enough to lead his football team-that's what he said right?"

Sitting on the bench next to his box full of his clothes and extra earphones for his iPod, I tried to find a way to say what needed to be said. "Carey, it isn't...you're not a traditional QB. You have a following you didn't ask for but one you don't rightly disdain because they love you and what would be the point? I throw a few bad passes and people will be howling for you which is fine. It wouldn't hurt my ego," I laughed. "I would understand-you're this city's favorite Son, I am the Interloper, your skill set is far different than mine.

"But John, the owner...he's a bit different. He hates quarterback controversy and you bring that. Not your fault, not anything you've done, but you two couldn't co-exist anyway...or rather he couldn't co-exist with you. This was his town. You took it. Now it's his again. See what I'm saying? For the record, if you do go, it won't be because I said you have to. I want you to study, to learn under me, not ship you off to Siberia."

The other quarterback sat next to me heavily. "Jealousy is a sin, one he should know better than anyone. You have to be selfless to run a football team. He did it for years. And I know I'd learn a lot from you-I just hope I have the chance."

"Selfless to run a team as quarterback. Selfish to run it from a business prospective. It's a game, an ugly game, but a game never the less."

Carey went to crack his knuckles and stopped, snorting. "These games people play-like a few other quarterbacks asked me did I play "The Game". When I said, "What's that?" they just laughed and said they figured not because of who I am," he mused. "I guess they meant this. I'm not good at it at all. I don't think I could be."

'I'm going to have to wrangle a few kids by the neck,' I sighed and stood, pulling a small composition book out of my back pocket. "The Game...You got a year reprieve because you didn't start the season off new and well, just like he said you're you. But other quarterbacks are going to ask about "The Game" and there's all you need to know in there. If you're confused and want to talk about it more or...whatever then the front office will tell you where I am." I tossed the book to him and he caught it, confused.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," he blinked.

"Just 'Richard'. My father is 'Mr. Williams'. Happy reading."

-

I pulled at my tie in the hotel room, rubbing the bridge of my nose and kicking off my shoes. I was starting to hate press conferences; the way I had to say the same goddamn thing six different ways got on my nerves after a decade and a half and I was more than happy to let the owner talk out of his ass.

'You've never liked the guy,' I mused. 'Respected, sure. But like? He's a snake and a half and a self centered bastard. But this-I can take this team, run it how I want and have it work because he is a snake and a half and a self centered bastard. He's the only person around willing to sacrifice a probable virgin and risk the ire of a city to win a championship.' When I started to yank off my socks, I heard a knock at the door and stopped, padding over to pull it open.

We both were startled and Carey almost took a step back. "Uh, Mr. Williams, I can come back tomorrow if you're-" he started but I waved him in.

"'Richard' remember? Or Rich. Whatever you'd like," I assured the younger man. "And I was just getting out of this monkey suit. I've never liked them but supposedly they're required for non-post game press conferences." Purposely I turned my back to Carey, letting him know that I trusted him and was willing to be somewhat vulnerable while I untied my tie. "Anything on your mind?"

I could hear him shift as I laid the tie on the bed and pulled off my jacket. "I...well...is this true?" he asked innocently. "Most of you are married and-well-"

"Not everyone has the strength you do, Carey," I shrugged, hanging the blazer next to my bed. "Sometimes we seek solace in our own kind-how many people know the pressure we face?" Finally, I turned to face him. His expression was a riot of fear, confusion, curiosity and I tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"How many people know what it's like to make millions, to be watched by millions, just because we can throw a little inflatable ball around? It's the pressure of a nation and also knowing that half the nation wants you fail while the rest wants you to succeed. There's all of that and then there's just us, your brothers, on the road. Feeling each loss as deeply as you. Feeling each win like it's a drug." As I talked, I walked closer until I was only about six inches away. Carey was 6'3 to my 6'5 but it almost felt like a foot with how frightened he was.

I leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Some of us do this. Most of us are bi-sexual but even some would deny that charge, using the line, "we're not in relationships, it isn't that." We take what this is...and accept it," I whispered. The occasional player did have that moral quandary but I didn't. I was too old for delusions and had been doing this too long to lie to myself. I was GM, the Game Master. It was my job for me to take care of all of the quarterbacks and make sure all of them Played fair. Football was also my job and as most people knew I took my jobs seriously. "It's not a Game I expect you to play. There's a space open for you on the Non-Members column."

The Game was relatively simple-each quarterback from each team declared their intention before a game via coded text message. Win and you dictated the terms of the...extra curricular activities. Lose and well, you were at the respectable mercy of the victor. Some had obligations like religion or family or just had enough pride that they wouldn't play. I figured Carey would be like a few others and put God before any unspoken obligation considering how open he was about his faith. The rest had their own reasons for playing or not, ones that no one questioned but only acknowledged. Rookies and first year quarterbacks were off limits because they very rarely lasted that long. The less people knew about this, the better.

As for my brother and I, well...it was fun. What else could I say? I didn't Bet often though. More often than not, I simply asked for Tribute to be paid to a charity rather than risk my defense shitting the bed. I bottomed for no quarterback in the Game. And if you wanted me...

Come and fine me.

"Who-I mean, this was decided by...has this been around?"

"Since the Merger so 1970. Even your ex-boss knew about it, was the 'Game Master' at some point just like me, making sure everyone played by the Rules. I chew just enough butter that people...listen to me with little protest," I muttered quietly, pulling back. "I felt you should know, felt it would be better coming from someone like me. Someone I feel you can trust. You'll share a city with my brother and he'll help you, protect you when I can't. David's going to adopt you and make sure no one pressures you because he wants to help. And because I told him to. There's benefits to being an older brother. I didn't want you to go but that wasn't my choice."

Carey took a shaky breath but didn't move away and I arched an eyebrow. Maybe he was having a 'come to Jesus moment' or maybe he decided to face his fears like Moses in the desert. Either way, I was impressed with his resolve. "Why?" he asked. It was one word but it was loaded.

"Because," I sighed and almost touched his beard but stopped. "I feel guilty I'm taking this team away from you. I wanted you to be my back up so you could learn, not shipped off. Because people are giving you unrealistic expectations and anytime you meet them, they set the bar even higher. "He won't go in the first round. He won't start. He won't have a winning record. He can't win a playoff game." The list goes on. It's honestly not fair. I had the same done to me when I was a rookie-it's frustrating and even a bit infuriating." I dropped my hand and started to walk away when his voice, barely audible stopped me.

"Are those the only reasons, Richard?"

"Those are ninety nine of the reasons out of one hundred," I admitted, looking over my shoulder. "You wouldn't play this Game. I know it. You're still a virgin apparently. I may be dumb but I'm not stupid."

For the first time, I saw him annoyed and it made me smirk. "Just because I am doesn't mean I've never thought about sex," he scoffed before dropping his head. "I...well...forget it. Thank you Mister-Richard. For letting me know. I appreciate it."

I saw a shot. It was a slim one, it was one I was probably reading wrong but I was going to take it. "You were going to say something else," I probed, turning back around. "You can, nothing leaves this room, you know that. It's in the Rules. 'Silence among all'."

"I...man," Carey whispered, subconsciously substituting the 'Jesus Christ' or the 'fuck' than anyone else would've said. I wondered if he'd swear during sex but the answer was more than likely no, that'd he have far too much control. I had to admire that.

The younger man looked down, embarrassed and took a deep breath. "Perhaps-maybe-" Carey started and then stopped, covering his face with his hands. "What am I doing? I'm not supposed to be doing this. I'm not-this isn't me."

"But you're still standing here," I said gently, tugging on his wrists so he looked at me, eyes slightly bloodshot. "I won't be upset with what you do, I expect nothing from you. You can walk away just as easily as stay. You can talk to me, confide in me or go home." At my touch, he jumped and I let go. "It's alright, you're acting like a skiddish horse."

At the statement, he chuckled, sniffing. "Irony, all things considered," he said, citing team logos before turning completely serious again. "Who...I mean, your first? In this Game?" His curiosity was profound and I thought for a moment.

"The incumbent on my team introduced me to The Game. He was an unforgiving asshole-barely knew the Rules and I had agreed to things I didn't even know I agreed to. We were on the same team but he figured he was better equipped than the current GM at the time."

"But I mean, your first?"

I paused and took a chance. "My brother, then my wife," I said simply and waved a hand. "Before you give me a look, there are somethings, some ways that siblings are connected that can't be duplicated. I love my brother as a brother, not as a lover but we can come together as them. And then separate and be brothers again, with our relationship intact as it should be. As far my wife, I can't get men pregnant so she could care less. If anything, she finds it amusing. So does David's wife. Understand?"

Carey looked back down, big hands making a fist before relaxing again. If pushed to violence, I had height on him, probably was a little faster but considering I was still in rehab for my neck, that was it. He was stronger than a mule on steroids and would beat me bloody if I wasn't careful. But I don't think he wanted to, not right now.

Because the only thing he wanted to beat was himself and his quickly disappearing will.

"I...maybe I do. Not really," he whispered, eyes closed. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. Lord, forgive him and myself for what we should do and won't."

I nodded and started to say, "I've made my peace-" when a kiss cut me off. It was cautious, timid and I only gave what was given, not touching him otherwise so I didn't scare him. 'Hell, maybe our choir boy is a little more bent than he even knew,' I thought, amused.

When I pulled back just a fraction of an inch, I whispered, "Are you sure about this?" If Carey wasn't and left, I was going to have a long and personal session with myself after he was gone but if he was...

"No. No-my whole life has been turned upside down in twenty four hours," he said, almost crying but too proud to. "But Richard, I don't care, I just need something, someone and I don't know what to do-"

"Shhh, it's be ok," I interrupted, putting a finger under his chin. "However, do nothing you won't regret, I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to be a ghost that haunts you the rest of your life."

He snorted, giving me a half smile and looked away. "I'm a Christian, I'll be full of guilt," Carey admitted. "I just need a moment. I'll ask God why later because He'll have an explanation that I can't find for all of this." Carefully, he put his hand on my waist, hesitating and I realized, 'Wait, all that virgin talk isn't just for show. Oh Rich, what are you doing? There is special place for you in hell if you do this. Send him home.'

I didn't respond to him or the voice in my head, I only kissed him again, making my intentions perfectly clear. I had to take this slow. I was going to have to walk him like a horse to water when the horse had never seen water before and only knew the concept of walking towards it much less drinking. To my surprise, even if Carey's hands were unsure, his lips weren't and I realized that even though he was abstinent, that didn't mean celibate which was a point in my favor.

I guided Carey until he hit the wall, not wanting to trap him on the bed and at the very least give him some semblance of control by standing. My hands finally settled on his hips, moving up his sides and under his white t-shirt making him gasp when I hit skin and break our kiss. "I-"

"Want me to stop?" I breathed, frozen. In the name of all that is holy, if you're this big of a tease...

"N-no, I-how are you this calm?" he stammered and I had to smile and push against him to show that sure, I may be calm but I was no where near disinterested. Judging by the hard poke in my hip I figured that he was far from not interested either.

"This is not the first time for me," I reminded him, still stroking his sides. "And I have to block out tens of thousands of screaming people every Sunday for sixteen weeks for almsot half your life. But I don't intend on doing anything to hurt you. Say stop and I will." I tried to give him every out possible so he didn't wake up in the morning and feel that I forced his hand...and maybe giving myself a little morning insurance too so I didn't feel like I possessed an unwilling victim.

Carey looked at me, surprised. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Of course."

"That...didn't seem like you."

I scoffed. "I'm an asshole, not a bastard even though they look the same. There's a fine line I never cross-I'll come close but never cross it and never have. There's a reason I'm in charge."

He blinked, frowned a bit and then gave a half shrug before he started to un-button my shirt from the bottom up. "I'm not sure what to do, only that I'll try my best. It's all I've ever done. It's all I can do. For some people, that's not enough but I hope it is for you," Carey said quietly, focused.

"Whatever you decide is enough for me," I said carefully. 'You worried about this kid but he'll be fine, no matter where he goes,' I thought, kissing his neck, finally hearing him make a noise that wasn't pained or laced with self-loathing.

My hands moved higher up his back, feeling Carey's muscles flex and move. If I was a thoroughbred-carefully created in an almost laboratory way with my father's quarterbacking genetics and teaching, tall and lanky with only just enough muscle to do my job-he was a draft horse; all power, all muscle that could knot into a concentrated force that would plow through just about anything. I would win the race but he'd drag all the people trying to stop him to the finish line even if at the end of it all he would have to be put down on the track.

When I pulled his shirt over his head he seemed to freeze for a moment before kissing me hard enough to make me snort in surprise. Carey pawed at the rest of my dress shirt, hands shaking too hard to finish the rest of the buttons and simply tore at them, sending the last three popping off. "I'll pay for a new one," he whispered, pulling the shirt over my shoulders.

"Don't care," I replied, digging my nails into his ribs, almost growling before stopping. 'Rich, have some control, you jackass,' I scolded myself. 'This isn't one of the normal guys. Careful.' Carey noticed that I froze and he looked at me, eyes glassy, shaking his head.