Kickoff Blues: A Gay Sports Romance (Last Chances Academy Book 3) by Parker Avrile

Author:Parker Avrile [Avrile, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance, Sports Romance, academy romance, college romance, gay college relationships
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2022-01-10T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gray

As I drove back, I talked some things over with my phone. Mr. Sparks shouldn't have been able to find us. Nobody should have been able to find us. I had questions.

My voice assistant read me an article. Then another. And another. The privately held electronics company kept good news at the top of the search engines by making frequent donations to uncontroversial causes.

Harder to do than you'd think. Even saving endangered species was a fraught issue in Tennessee. The rare plant or vanishing fish was inevitably in the way of some construction project or another. They mostly donated to kid's lunch programs or St. Jude's Children's Hospital. Nobody could get hot under the collar about helping kids.

I knew how it worked from my mom. She'd always had an uphill battle getting donations to the arts. Even in Asheville, an arty town.

None of this was telling me what I really wanted to know. I asked my phone about my own name. Nothing came up. Which was as it should be, of course. My father had hired a service to scrub my old Amber Alerts off the internet long ago. My juvenile record was sealed. I played no sport and won no scholarships, so my high school career was of interest to nobody.

Sparks had figured out in record time who I was and how to track me. How?

I pitched some different search terms at the voice assistant. Got back some more puff pieces. More donations. An interview or two about how an astute Tennessee businessman managed to compete with the big, public-owned companies.

The phone's robot voice read on and on. Some of the articles were only a line or two before they vanished behind a paywall, forcing me to move on to the next.

“Wait,” I said. “Go back.”

“You want me to go back and read the article from the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“...Dothan Sparks, a five-year veteran of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, was instrumental in cracking the Night Wingman serial robbery case...”

“Go back. Read that again.”

“...a five-year veteran of the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation...”

Sparky's father was an ex-cop. And not just any cop. TBI. A long time ago. Hell, almost two decades.

He'd kept those contacts. He had resources other people didn't. I knew that because otherwise he found us in that field by FM, and I for one didn't happen to believe in Fucking Magic.

A sickly yellow sign promised waffles at the next exit. If not, why not. Ten minutes later, and I was sitting alone in a booth, the untouched plate pushed a little away from me. I bought the platter to rent the space in the booth, not because I had any appetite after the pizza.

“More coffee, hon?” The woman's voice was too bright.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Call her, hon.” She nodded at the phone clutched in my left hand.

I faked a bright smile of my own. “Thanks.”

After she went away, I did call—a him, not a her. Maybe he'd be busy. Maybe I could get away with leaving a voicemail. Maybe.

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