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.Evidently I was convincing, though, at least initially.“Safe? Like—you wear two sets of rubbers when you fuck?”“It’s not about fucking.We don’t wear anything.It’s all pretty much nude, except we wear socks, so we don’t get massage oil on the fl oor and have somebody slip and bust his ass.”Wade looked skeptical.“And you take classes in this stuff ? Man!”“Sure.Tantric massage is a technique you have to learn.So is rhythmic breathing—like I was doing in the steam room before I shot off.When I’m on a massage table, sometimes I go into a trance or fl y away somewhere.The fi rst time I did it—well, hey, I don’t want to tell you too much, or bore you.And it’d spoil the impact if you decide to take the training.We have pretty good teachers, actually.And a guru.He lives in California.”Wade shook his head.“I don’t think so.There’s no way I couldfi nd the time for anything not connected to jumping the horse.And it must cost.”This didn’t sound right.I looked around.“Dues aren’t cheap at Midtown Men’s.”He smiled, not sheepishly but as if this was a small part of a much bigger joke.“It’s a perk, man.One of the sponsors arranged it—UPSheadquarters.They give club memberships to half a dozen GeorgiaOlympians.We have to wear shit-brown, delivery-boy warm-ups during meets in Japan and Korea.”That’s when he told me about the free sportswear, plane tickets and groceries.Which sounded okay for a semi-professional jock.He didn’t mention the Ford pickup until later.What he said next, before I went back to the office, should havemade a diff erence, though.But I stuff ed it.Didn’t think it through.Listened to the words but not the implications.Didn’t see the silent stare as a warning bell.Gave my brand-new, world-class, sex toy-in-training the benefi t of every goddamn doubt in the book.“No way could I ever play around with a bunch of strangers in public,” he said.“One-on-one, sure, like with you.If word got out, I’d be bounced off the USA Gymnastics team faster than Ted Turner makes money.My sponsorships—hell, my career—would be downElliott Mackle82the toilet.Anyhow, I’m in a relationship.See, I want to get married later, and have kids.”I must have blushed with disappointment.My gut felt like an express elevator headed for the basement.He noticed.“Henry, I want to be sexy with you,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes probing mine, hooking me.“Not with a bunch of dicks I don’t know.Didn’t you hear me say I’d had my eye on you.From way back.And then when you—well, what we did, and, you know, how it felt?”My intestinal elevator slowed but didn’t halt its downward plunge.Back off , I thought.He isn’t available.Time to get back to the offi ce.This was a one-time deal, fun while it lasted.Leaning forward, Wade motioned me closer.“Your buddy Skip?He’s white, too, right?”When I nodded, he continued.“Cool.Too many intown guys party in mixed company, am I right? Like, in integrated packs, black and white, you know? Turns me off.Far as Wade Tarpley’s concerned, in those kinds of matters, white is right.”Another warning bell ignored.I was still thinking with my balls.“I take it you aren’t dating Hank Aaron’s daughter?”He winked, smiled and touched my shoulder.“Celeste’s white as they come, a Cobb County girl.And see, she’s a nurse.She’s had medical training, plus had all the psychological angles knocked off in post-grad training at Piedmont Hospital.Me, too, for that matter.Team has a sports psychologist that works with the athletes real close.I learned to visualize my moves years before Barcelona.”He sat back.“Celeste cuts me plenty of slack.Recognizes the pressure on a man.Doesn’t ask what I do when she’s not around.”It all sounded so reasonable.“How does your weekend look?” I said.“I can make time.”“I got training sessions at Tech.What about we hook up on Saturday, say around twelve-thirty or one? Take it from there?”Pulling a business card out of my coat pocket, I printed my home phone number and address on the back.“Would you be driving?Leave the car anywhere on Sixth Street,” I said.“Come around to the back.Don’t bother to knock.”83Hot off the Presses“Sounds good,” he said, jotting a number on a paper napkin.“Why don’t you call me Friday to confi rm.Punch in where you are, I’ll call you right back.”I said I would.And that was that.CHAPTER 8THE OLYMPIC FLAMEWe have a plan,” Ted Brown said when we met for dinner.“Straight from A.D.Frazier, who’s Billy Payne’s right-hand man.But this info is defi nitely not for publication, Henry.I know you can keep your trap shut until you’re on board, right?”I hadn’t actually agreed to take the ACOG press-offi ce position.But my fraternity big brother was doing a hell of a selling job.He was treating me like a trusted insider.He wanted me as a player in Atlanta’s biggest-ever eff ort at international boosterism
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