Almost Famous

By Ryan Bartlett

Chapter 8

Wiley parked the car then popped the trunk so he and Benji could grab their bags. No sooner had they started walking towards the club when a girl shouted from the crowd, “Oh my God, there’s Cameron and Wiley!”

“Brace yourselves,” Cameron warned.

Wiley opened his mouth to speak but he was overwhelmed as the crowed enveloped them. They were mostly teenage girls but there were a few boys in the mix, and everyone wanted a hug or an autograph or just to touch Wiley and Cameron. Benji got his fair share of hugs too just for being with them. It was hard to tell what anyone was saying with all of them speaking at once, but Wiley was able to make out a line here and there, things like, “Go Team Coyote,” “We love you,” and “You guys are so cute together.”

Somehow they pushed their way to the front of the crowd and found the club manager standing in front of the door. It was a private club; Wiley and Benji were both members and knew the manager well. The look on the man’s face clearly communicated his displeasure at the mob.

“Good morning, Mr. Grace,” said the manager, testily.

“Morning, Chuck,” said Wiley.

“Would you kindly explain to your…friends that this is a private club and that if they don’t leave the premises I’ll be forced to phone the police.”

“Ah, come on, Chuck, they aren’t hurting anything,” said Wiley.

“Mr. Grace, this is the Beverly Hills Tennis Club, not a rock and or roll concert,” said Chuck, displaying just how out of touch he was. “If they don’t have tickets for today’s tournament then I’m afraid they have to leave.”

Wiley turned toward the crowd who had quieted down so he might speak with the manager. He did a quick head count, there were 32 in total.

“Chuck, all the proceeds from ticket sales are going to charity, right?” asked Wiley.

“Yes, sir, but I fail to see…”

“You guys wanna watch me play?” Wiley shouted to the crowd who responded with hoots and hollers. He then pulled his wallet out of his pocket and withdrew a credit card. “Put it on my Amex please, Chuck. Tell the finance office I want a check sent to the Trevor Project with the rest of the money I raised.”

“I, uh, yes sir,” Chuck spluttered as he stepped aside.

Wiley and Benji led Cameron inside. Chuck the manager directed Wiley’s guests to the registration tables and the boys headed for the locker room.

“Did you see the look on old Chuck’s face?” Benji laughed. “I think he literally shit himself!”

“Well, he was being an asshole.” Wiley giggled.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Cameron exclaimed. “You just blew five grand on them!”

“I didn’t blow it; it’s for a worthy cause,” said Wiley. “Besides, I’ve never in my entire life arrived at a tournament to that kind of reception before. How do you do it?”

“What do you mean?” asked Cameron.

“You said that happens sometimes. Isn’t it overwhelming? It was such a rush. They adore you,” Wiley exclaimed.

“Looks like they adore you too. You saw the signs and t-shirts,” said Cameron.

“Yeah, that was amazing!”

“Yes, humbling too,” said Cameron.

He’d been nervous at first, when he saw the crowd, and unsure how Wiley would react to it. He was glad his boyfriend took it in stride and enjoyed the moment. He stayed with Wiley and Benji as a few other players came up to rib Wiley about his new fan club. Eventually though, Cameron had to take a seat and made sure he was right in the middle of his subscribers. One of them even gave him his own Team Coyote t-shirt.

Cameron loved spending time with his subscribers. It wasn’t an ego trip, he didn’t revel in their adoration; he liked hearing their personal stories, because it made him feel connected to his audience and helped him to produce better videos. He chatted with his fans until Benji’s parents arrived. He’d saved Doc and Jess seats as he’d been asked and was amused by the bewildered expressions on their faces at seeing the sea of blue Team Coyote t-shirts. They chatted for a bit but quieted down as the announcer started introducing the players.

Wiley’s first opponent of the day was a forty-two year old proctologist who advertised his occupation on his car with the personalized license plate “A555man,” Assman. Assman was short and swarthy with a bad comb-over. He wasn’t expected to be much competition against the young professional but that didn’t stop him from being excited at the opportunity. Wiley wasn’t the only pro playing in the charity tournament, but he outranked his fellows considerably, and that painted a target on his back. The amateurs would love the bragging rights that would come with taking down someone who made his living playing tennis.

When Wiley stepped onto the court he was overwhelmed by the cheering of Cameron’s fans. Tennis is one of those sports where the audience typically thought itself too dignified to offer more than polite applause. Wiley smiled from ear to ear as he took his place and the announcer had to ask for quiet so that the match could begin. Wiley’s eyes met Cameron’s as he surveyed the crowd, and he stifled a giggle as his boyfriend smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

To say Wiley beat the Assman would be an understatement; he slaughtered the swarthy proctologist 6-0/6-0. Wiley destroyed his opponent so quickly he even had time to join Cameron and the Wilsons for lunch before advancing to the next round. He was feeling confident. He’d gone into the tournament feeling that way, but having so many people show up to support him was such an overwhelming experience. It was almost like a drug. He felt euphoric, and at the same time he wanted to please them, wanted to play his best in order to be worthy of their support. He made a mental note to ask Cameron about it when they were alone. If Cameron felt the same way after being around his fans it would explain a lot about his level of self-confidence.

While Wiley dispatched his first opponent with ease, the same could not be said of his second. He was pitted against Adam Sawyer, a 19 year old tennis phenomenon who played for Pepperdine University. Adam was a skilled player, in excellent shape, who gave Wiley a serious run for his money. Wiley underestimated the younger player and lost the first set 6-5. He battled back to win the second set 6-4 and then the tiebreaker 6-5. It was a satisfactory victory, but it came at a high cost.

“Dude, are you alright?” asked Benji as he accompanied Wiley into an empty training room after the match.

“My shoulder is killing me,” Wiley winced. He’d aced Adam with his last serve and it’s a good thing. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and if he’d had to return the serve he’d have been in trouble.

“You want me to get dad?”

“Cameron. Get Cameron,” said Wiley as he sat on the trainer’s table.

Benji found Cameron chatting with his parents and some of his fans. He grabbed Cameron’s arm and quickly ushered him downstairs, through the locker room, and into the training area.

“Benji, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I think he hurt himself,” Benji replied.

“Is he ok? Does he need an ambulance? Shouldn’t we get your dad?”

“I think he pulled a muscle or something. I offered to get dad but he asked for you,” Benji explained.

By that time they’d reached the training room. Benji knocked on the door and Wiley told them to come in. Cameron found him sitting on the table with his t-shirt off, a pained expression on his face.

“Baby, are you ok?” asked Cameron, his voice dripping with concern.

“I’m fine,” Wiley winced. “Benji, can you give us a minute?”

“Ok, but the final round starts in half an hour,” Benji reminded him. Wiley nodded his understanding, assured Benji he’d be ready, and then sent him away.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s my shoulder…”

“Damn it, I told you to get it checked out by a doctor,” Cameron scolded.

“Cam, its normal wear and tear, it comes with submitting the muscles to the workout required…”

“But it’s hurting you,” Cameron interrupted.

“Honey, I’m ok, really. I just need one of your massages, please?”

“Of course, do you have any Icy Hot?”

“In my bag,” Wiley nodded to the bag in the corner. “Center pocket.”

Wiley stretched out on the trainer’s table while Cameron rooted through his bag. He found the ointment quickly enough but was momentarily distracted by a book he found with it.

“What’s this?” asked Cameron.

“What’s what?”

“This book, We Are All the Target; A Handbook on Terrorism Avoidance and Hostage Survival?”

“Oh, uh, that’s nothing,” said Wiley.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” said Cameron as he thumbed through the pages. “How to spot and ditch a tail, how to…”

“It’s nothing; it’s just something the Tour sent to all the players a few years ago. I’ve got Dubai next week; it’s the Middle East. I just tossed the book in there so I could review it before I go,” Wiley explained.

“Is it dangerous?”

“No, honey, everything is fine. It’s just a precaution, that’s all. The tournaments on the pro tour are a big deal—they draw a lot of attention. They’re just trying to be safe rather than sorry,” Wiley assured him.

“Ok, if you say so.” Cameron sighed. He wasn’t entirely happy with the situation. Wiley was a tennis player. Cameron never thought there would be any danger in that, but it seemed there was danger everywhere you looked these days.

“Babe, I could really use that massage.”

“Oh, right, duh.” Cameron shook his head to clear it then applied the ointment to Wiley’s shoulder. He worked the ointment into the muscles with his nimble fingers and Wiley purred like a cat.

“God damn, Cam, you have magic fingers,” Wiley moaned.

“Wait till I get you home,” Cameron teased as he gave Wiley a pat on the butt.

Wiley laughed but the moment was ruined when Benji knocked on the door to remind him he had five minutes to get on the court. Wiley sighed his disappointment then sat up and put his t-shirt back on.

“Are you going to be ok?”

“Yeap, good as new,” Wiley assured him as he stretched and rotated his arm to work out any remaining kinks.

“Ok, I better get back to my seat,” said Cameron.

“Kiss for good luck?”

“Brilliant idea!” Cameron smiled, put his arms around Wiley’s neck and brought their lips together. They would have been content to forget the tournament and get lost in each other’s arms but reality, or rather Benji, kept knocking.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” Wiley groused.

“Good luck,” said Cameron.

“See you when it’s over,” Wiley winked and snuck in one last kiss on the cheek before heading out to the court.

Cameron returned to his seat to find Bobby, Tucker and his girlfriend, Nina, chatting with Benji’s parents. Cameron had been so distracted by his fans, watching Wiley play, and then dealing with his injury, that he’d forgotten his roommates were coming until he saw them.

“Hey guys, you finally made it,” said Cameron.

“It’s my fault,” said Nina. “I’ve never been to a tennis tournament before and I didn’t know what to wear.”

That was obvious from the over-the-top dress and jewelry she wore compared to the casual dress of everyone around her. Some people hear the words Beverly Hills and think they need to wear an evening gown, even if all they’re doing is grabbing coffee. Bobby rolled his eyes at Nina’s remark and Cameron had to stifle a laugh. Bobby didn’t like any competition when it came to being a diva; he didn’t want his title threatened.

“So I see you guys met Benji’s parents,” said Cameron.

“Yeah, they were just telling us Benji came and dragged you off,” said Tucker.

“Is everything alright?” asked Jess.

“Yeah, Wiley’s shoulder just stiffened up and he needed me to rub some Icy Hot into it,” Cameron explained.

“Hell of a time to be rubbing one out,” said Bobby.

Cameron rolled his eyes, Jess’s mouth hung open, Doc belly laughed, Nina face-palmed and Tucker smacked Bobby upside the head. Cameron thanked Tucker and took his seat as the final round got ready to start.

Wiley and Benji walked back to the court alone. Wiley kept flexing his arm and swinging it in wide circles but it seemed Cameron’s massage had done the trick. He felt limber and the tenderness was gone. It was time to focus.

Being a charity tournament there were no rankings to go by; opponents were matched at random for the first round and the winners continued to advance. It made it pretty tough on weak players when they went up against seasoned veterans, but no one complained as it was all in fun. Wiley smiled when he walked onto the court and found Preston Clearwater chatting nervously with his coach.

Wiley knew Preston from the pro tour. The 734th seed, Preston was 36 years old and barely hanging on to his tour card. He was out of shape, tired and breaking down like a used car. Wiley felt for him, his career was almost at an end; he’d never broken into the top one hundred and would retire anonymously by the end of the year. Wiley couldn’t imagine how Preston had found his way to the final round but it didn’t matter. His match with Adam Sawyer served as a reminder that he should take every opponent seriously and besides, even the worst players got lucky sometimes. If Cameron hadn’t been there to massage Wiley’s shoulder Preston might have stood a fighting chance.

Wiley walked over and quickly shook hands with his opponent before taking his place. Preston was serving first and Wiley could see him already starting to sweat as he bounced the ball and brought his arm back before sending the ball over the net. Preston’s first serve was a fault and Wiley returned the second serve with a lethal backhand that broke his strings. Wiley changed out his racquet and went on to win the first game and the set 6-0. He felt his shoulder start to stiffen at the start of the next set but still pulled out a 6-2 victory to win the tournament.

Wiley waved his racquet in victory and smiled in satisfaction as he crossed the court to shake Preston’s hand and the crowd cheered. Preston was a good sport; he thanked Wiley for taking it easy on him with a wry smile and made his way to the sidelines as the audience descended onto the court to congratulate the winner. Most of “Team Coyote,” hadn’t realized how long a tennis tournament would last and started leaving when they got bored but a few of the faithful stayed to the end. They mixed in with the other fans and quietly thanked Wiley again for their tickets after congratulating him on his victory.

It took a few minutes for Wiley to find Cameron in the sea of people, but when the crowd parted and their eyes met Wiley reveled in his boyfriend’s warm smile. Cameron was so proud of Wiley he didn’t have words to express the emotion. Sure, he didn’t know what a weak player Preston Clearwater was, but he knew how bad Wiley’s shoulder hurt before the match. To see him standing there, tall, proud and victorious warmed Cameron’s heart.

“I’m so proud of you,” said Cameron when they met on center court and shared a bone crushing hug.

“All in a day’s work.” Wiley grinned from ear to ear.

“Maybe for you, but I was so nervous,” said Cameron. “With your shoulder and everything I didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“It’s fine,” Wiley assured him. “I told you, you’ve got magic fingers.”

Cameron beamed and they shared a moment together before it was broken by a loud “YAHOOOOOOOO,” from Bobby. When he spotted Wiley and Cameron he ran to them, threw his arms around Wiley, swept him off his feet and swung him around like a rag doll.

“Well, that was certainly enthusiastic.” Wiley laughed.

“That was so cool,” said Bobby. “You kicked that dude’s ass!”

“Now Bobby, that’s not good sportsmanship…” Wiley started.

“Better to be a poor sport than a liar, kiddo.” Doc chuckled. He, Jess, Benji and the rest of the gang had only been a step behind Bobby. “And you did kick that guy’s ass.”

Wiley nodded his agreement and then put his arm around Cameron. Having Cameron by his side was almost as sweet as winning the tournament. He’d seen it before, other guys with their girlfriends, and always wished he had someone there for him. Now he did and it was wonderful.

After the tournament there was a BBQ for all the players and fans. It was a casual affair, particularly for Beverly Hills, but it was the perfect close to a great day. Wiley was still riding high from his victory as he ate his chicken. He didn’t say much; he just took in the people around him and thought about how grateful he was to have them in his life. First there was Cameron, the boy he loved, the boy he’d given himself to, the boy he wanted to spend his every waking moment with. Having Cameron at his side made him feel like he could do anything. Then there was Benji, Doc and Jess, they were practically his family and had always been there to support him in everything he did. Lastly there was Bobby, Tucker and Nina. He didn’t know Nina well, but he’d grown very fond of Bobby and Tucker over the last couple of months, and he was honored by their friendship.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Cameron, noticing the contemplative look on Wiley’s face.

“Hmmm?” asked Wiley. He’d been so distracted he hadn’t noticed Cameron was talking to him at first.

“You’re grinning about something. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, Love. I’m just happy,” said Wiley, kissing Cameron on the tip of his nose.

“That’s so cute,” Nina and Jess cooed in unison as the boys blushed beet red.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, could I have your attention please,” said Bill Douglas, President of the Beverly Hills Tennis Club, from the stage.

“Thank God, saved by the bell,” said Cameron.

“I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for attending this year’s charity invitational,” said Bill. “We had a great group of players this year who worked hard both on and off the court. I want to thank everyone who donated to the various charities our competitors played for. Your generosity is truly heartfelt. With that said, it’s now time to hand out some awards. Our first award goes to the winner of today’s tournament, Mr. Wiley Grace!”

The audience applauded and Wiley made his way to the stage to collect the crystal trophy. He shook hands with Bill, accepted the award and started to make his way back when Bill put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not so fast, Wiley,” said Bill. “Ladies and gentlemen I just want to say how proud we should all be of this young man. Today marks Wiley’s fourth victory in this tournament. Hell of a job, son, hell of a job.”

“Thank you.” Wiley blushed as the audience applauded him. He tried to exit the stage again but Bill held fast to his arm.

“Hold on, I’m not done yet,” said Bill, as the crowd giggled. “Normally I‘d announce the award for the most money raised next but I decided to change the order up a bit.”

Wiley stood there wondering why he was still on stage as Bill picked up a second crystal obelisk.

“As you know, usually the award for most individual contributions comes third but I didn’t want to make Wiley march up here twice,” said Bill.

“Uh, what?” asked Wiley with a raised eyebrow.

“With over twenty-two thousand contributors, Mr. Wiley Grace wins this year’s award for most individual contributions, and frankly folks, it wasn’t even close,” said Bill as he placed the second award in Wiley’s hand. “That’s $147,396.03 to the Trevor Project.”

“Holy shit,” Wiley exclaimed. He was completely dumbfounded. He had no idea where all that money had come from, but then he spotted Cameron in the audience. They’d gone on his channel and asked his subscribers to contribute, and it appeared as if they’d done so, in force.

“That was my reaction as well,” said Bill. The crowd laughed again, and Wiley quickly exited the stage to rejoin his friends as the awards presentation continued.

When Wiley got to his table he put the awards down, pulled Cameron to his feet and kissed him hard. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” asked a confused Cameron.

“All that money you raised. It was your idea to mention the tournament on your channel and look what your subscribers did! Thank you!” said Wiley, kissing him again.

“I didn’t do anything, WE did it,” said Cameron. “I told you we make a great team.”

“Damn right we do.” Wiley smiled then picked up the trophy for most contributors and placed it in Cameron’s hands. “But I want you to have that.”

“Thanks.” Cameron smiled then picked up Wiley’s victory trophy. “I’m keeping this one too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want it ending up in that box of yours,” Cameron smirked. “I’ll put it somewhere special.”

When the dinner was over Wiley thanked his friends for coming out, collected his trophies and boyfriend, then headed for his apartment. Cameron was a little surprised considering they didn’t stay there often, but it had been a long day and he figured Wiley was looking forward to an equally long soak in his tub, followed by a good night’s sleep. He didn’t say much on the way home, but that was ok; Cameron chalked it up to exhaustion.

When they got to the apartment, Wiley parked in the parking garage at the back of the building, held Cameron’s hand and led him to the elevator. They left the trophies, and Wiley’s tennis bag, in the car and took the elevator to the proper floor. They were quiet on the ride up then Wiley led him down the hall to his apartment. He opened the door and as soon as it closed behind them he grabbed Cameron and threw him over his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s the deal?” Cameron giggled as Wiley carried him to his room.

“You know what victory and years of training give you?” asked Wiley as he flopped Cameron down on the bed.

“What?”

“Stamina,” said Wiley as he tugged Cameron’s shorts off, dropped his own and jumped on top of his lover.

“Whoa, ride’em cowboy.” Cameron giggled.

“I love you,” said Wiley.

“Back at ya big boy,” said Cameron as he pulled Wiley to him and slipped his tongue in his mouth.

It was the most athletic sexual experience the boys had ever engaged in. Wiley made love to Cameron like a man on fire, and Cameron responded by completely giving himself over to Wiley’s lust. They kissed, nipped and licked at each other. They rolled over and over, wrestling for dominance, each eager to use the physical act to express their deepest passions. When it was over, when the last ounce of strength they had left them, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.