Uprising - The Suspense Thriller Part 2

It was true, and perhaps because he'd never married to cover it up, a good number of people on the inside of the sports world knew about him. But as long as he didn't openly admit it and was seen dating women every now and then, the rumors remained just that, and no one ever went public or said much to his face.

After showering and changing, Deon made his way to the players' parking lot, stepping outside the arena in Chicago's inner city and bristling at the crispness of a cool but sunny April morning. Most of the other team personnel had already left and he was glad to be alone heading to his black Range Rover in a lonely corner of the lot.

He had just bought the car not more than a month ago, so it shocked him when each time he turned the key, the engine hissed and wheezed but refused to turnover. Finally, he got out and lifted the hood, just as a yellow cab idled up next to him.

"Trouble, Mr. Anthony?" The driver was a heavyset, unshaven man in his forties, his voice gruff and country.

"I know I got gas in it," Deon said, still looking under the hood.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride? No charge. You don't know how excited my daughter Emily would be to hear I had the world's greatest basketball player in my cab."

"No charge, huh?" Deon said, picturing Charlie, his baby, taking the car out and messing it up like he did everything mechanical. Briefly, he wondered if Charlie had taken the Range Rover out dressed as a boy or a girl; but before he could give it further consideration, Piper Adams, the pint-sized point guard, drove up in his red vintage Mustang convertible.

"Need a lift?"

"Looking that way," Deon said, still poking around the engine even though he knew nothing about cars.

"Hop in, man," Piper said. "Have the dealer come get that piece of junk."

"Mr. Anthony," the cabby hastily interjected, "it'd be a thrill for me and my Emily." Inside the cab, he felt around on the seat next to his thigh, making sure the syringe was well hidden underneath a gray towel.

"Come on, Deon," said Piper. "Ain't got all day. Got me an interview with sweet Lola Rogers from BET."

Giving up on the Range Rover, Deon slammed down the hood and regarded his two options.

"Jump in," Piper said, cranking up Tupac on the stereo.

Not in the mood for Hyper Piper, as his teammates called him, Deon opted for the cab. "You don't want to keep sweet Lola waiting," he said as he locked up the Range Rover.

"Later." Piper sped off and the cab driver breathed a sigh of relief, tucking the syringe farther under the towel as Deon rounded the cab and jumped in the back seat.

"Devonshire View Towers off Lake Sh.o.r.e," Deon said. "Know it?"

"Don't worry about a thing."

They rode in silence through the urban streets of Chicago until, a few blocks away from the United Center, Deon noticed something wrong.

"Devonshire View is north. Where you going?"

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Anthony." Through the rear view mirror, he eyed Deon. "I guess I'm so excited and all, can't wait to tell my wife Emily."

Deon mumbled something that sounded like nothing and stared out the window. Half a minute later, his attention turned back to the cabby.

"I thought you said Emily was your daughter."

The cab pulled to a stop. They were on a deserted street, the buildings lining it vacated and boarded up. The cabby paused, then turned to Deon, who was still waiting for an answer.

"My wife and daughter, they both have the same name," he said with a smile. Deon offered no response. "Matter of fact, before we go any farther, would you mind giving me your autograph for them?"

With a suspicious nod, Deon said "sure," already making plans to have the guy drop him off back at the United Center.

The cabby turned back toward the front to retrieve a pen and paper. "It'll make their day," he said, then swung back around to Deon, reaching at him with his right hand and jamming a pencil in Deon's thigh. At first, Deon thought it was an accident. Then he realized the pencil was a needle. Then he was out cold.

JASPER HOLLINQUEST sat alone in the long rectangular room, fingers tapping incessantly on the big mahogany conference table. Surrounding him and the table were two empty chairs, stark white walls and not much else. A six-foot-high fireplace stood at the far end of the room. At the other end, his end, a metal door was bolted shut. There were no windows, and since he'd been stripped of his watch, he had no idea of the time of day. His brown suit felt tight and wrinkled. He'd been wearing it since the helicopter, however long ago that was.

He'd been in the room maybe half an hour and was about to get up and stretch his legs when the door unbolted and in stumbled a tall black man in red sweats, his eyes blindfolded, his hands restrained behind his back. He was being prodded into the room by two rather large men, the same type of thugs that had escorted Jasper here. "I'm telling you, don't get rough with me, man," said the black man. "I ain't taking no more s.h.i.t."

Paying no attention to his threats, the thugs worked silently to remove the rope around his wrists, then the blindfold. When the black man could see again, he squinted, his eyes adjusting to the white of the room. He then saw Jasper sitting on the other side of the table and recognized the famous tyc.o.o.n just as the famous tyc.o.o.n recognized the famous basketball player. "What now?" Deon asked angrily, but before Jasper could say anything, the metal door slammed shut behind Deon, leaving them alone. "What the h.e.l.l is this, man?" Deon pleaded. "Why am I here? Where are we?"

"Wish I could tell you," Jasper said calmly. "We met once before, at the Garden during that grueling seven game series with the Knicks a few years back."

"We said two words, hi and bye. What's this all about?"

"You just wake up in a bed in an otherwise empty room, then get led down some stairs to this?" Jasper asked, tracing circles on the table.

Deon came toward him. "I don't care who you are; this is kidnapping."

"Just hold your horses, Deon." Jasper stood up. "Anthony." He was taken aback to find himself dwarfed by the basketball giant who was now a foot away. "You're d.a.m.ned right this is kidnapping, but I was kidnapped, too. So don't come after me."

Deon stared him down, trying to discern whether to trust him or beat the h.e.l.l out of him. Then, as if his personality suddenly changed, his face softened and he sat on the conference table. "Then who's after us? What do they want? Or is it how much?"

"I'm in the dark just like you." Relieved he was still in one piece, Jasper walked around the room, searching but not finding any clues. "You get some kind of injection that knocked you out cold?"

"By some strange-a.s.s cab driver."

"I was in my helicopter. Somebody switched pilots."

Deon blew a sarcastic breath. "They probably f.u.c.ked with my car this morning. If it's still morning."

"'No harm will come to you,' they said when I woke up feeling like I had the worst hangover of my life. 'You're going to a meetinga"' "

"'a"you'll be glad you did.' "

"Exactly," said Jasper. "And did they tell you the bit about messages being delivered to cover your whereabouts."

"Till tonight, when they promised I'd be back home. Safely." Deon stood up. "But why, man, why? The two of us, why?"

Jasper remained silent. He knew Deon Anthony was gay, not only from the buzz in the sports department at CNC, but years ago, one of the pretty boys Jasper kept at his homes across the world knew of a black boy who claimed to have been with Deon. But Jasper wasn't about to open up and suggest he shared the athlete's penchant for men.

Deon turned away. He was sure a media man like Jasper had heard the f.a.g rumors about him. But could that have anything to do with whatever brought them here? No way was he gonna come clean and bring up the possibility. "Man, this place gives me the creeps. Like I'm underground or something." His eyes wandered to the high-beamed ceiling. "What the...."

Jasper looked at Deon and understood the shock, having gone through it himself earlier. On the ceiling were little stark white sculptures, a sea of naked bodies wrapped around each other in different poses, each body intertwined with another in some sort of chaotic, ritualistic orgy.

"They're all men," Jasper informed him. "I can't decide if they're in ecstasy or agony or both."

"Like some sort of cathedral," Deon said, still in disbelief.

"More like a temple, wouldn't you say?" observed a man's tenor voice from the far end of the room.

Deon and Jasper turned to find the fireplace revolving. It was disappearing into the wall as one just like it appeared in its place, only this one was holding a short black man standing where a fire would normally rage. He was dressed in a black leather jump suit and as the fireplace came to a halt, Jasper and Deon both recognized the face that was as synonymous with superstar as Michael Jackson or Madonna.

"Sort of like what Michelangelo would have created if he'd been allowed to truly bear his soul," he added.

Oth.e.l.lo stepped off the hearth and felt an instant rush of nostalgia for a room he hadn't visited in years. "Gentlemen, please have a seat," he p.r.o.nounced. "I trust formal introductions aren't necessary."

"Just what in the devil's name is this all about?" Jasper looked ready to come after him.

"Please, I'll explain everya""

"You must be some kind of loony," Jasper said. "Kidnapping isa""

"I'll explain everything if you promise to be a good boy and have a seat." Oth.e.l.lo glanced at Deon, who seemed to be truly stunned to be in Oth.e.l.lo's presence. "Like you were told, you're not going to get hurt. This is a meeting and I guarantee you'll be glad you came. Besides, we're not going to get anything done and get out of here if we all don't settle down and get acquainted." He remained focused on Deon, hoping to get "the brutha" to comply so Jasper would feel outnumbered and follow suit. Deon eyed Oth.e.l.lo, then Jasper, then begrudgingly took a seat at the table. "Thank you," Oth.e.l.lo said. "Monsieur Hollinquest?"

"Get on with it," Jasper commanded, refusing to sit.

"I trust you were treated well." Oth.e.l.lo began strolling around the room, regarding the ceiling wistfully.

"Look, man," Deon said edgily. "I got a gamea""

"Which you'll be back in time for."

"Like Jasper said, this is kidnapping."

"Once you hear me out, you'll realize there was no other way for the three of us to meet without letting the worlda"or at least our families or staff or whoevera"know. This way, it's our little secret."

Jasper scoffed. "What about your thugs who shot us up witha"what the h.e.l.l was that?"

"The drug was harmless, just a convenient way to make your journey here stress-free. And those aren't my thugs. I borrowed them. Call it the collection of a favor from some people I don't want to get in bed with ever again." He shuddered thinking of singing at Johnny No Legs' teenage daughter's birthday party in Vegas years ago, when he had two hits under his belt and was grateful to be wanted by anybody.

"I owe you big for making my b.u.t.terfly's day," the wheelchair-bound, baby-faced mobster had told him afterwards. "Ever need a favor, you name it."

Finally, Oth.e.l.lo collected.

"Don't worry about them," he told Jasper and Deon, "the thugs, I mean. They think you were brought here for a surprise party. Even they have no clue what's about to take place in this little bunker in LAa""

"LA!" shouted Deon.

"You kidnapped us to the freaking West Coast?" said Jasper.

"I got a playoff game tomorrow!" Deon said. "And golf today. I don't miss my golf game for nothing."

"You'll be back tonight on my special red eye," Oth.e.l.lo promised. "Without the benefit of drugs. Gentlemen, pleasea""

"Man, you're more messed up than Bobby Brown," said Deon.

"Why don't you just tell us the reason you committed this felony," said Jasper.

"Forgive me for not being more centered," said Oth.e.l.lo. "This room holds some pretty sacred memories for me, memories I'll never be able to re-create no matter how long I live. I called ita"call ita"The Temple, and I couldn't begin to count how many boys I sucked, f.u.c.ked and got f.u.c.ked by in here, all back in the old days, of course."

Jasper shifted nervously. Deon, who had been staring at the table, looked up in shock.

"It was marvelous. You should have been there. In fact, maybe you were, h.e.l.l, I don't know. What I do know is those were the only times I felt alive as a gay man."

Silence invaded the Temple, all three of them taking turns eyeing one another, daring the other two to speak.

Finally Deon asked: "Why you telling us this?"

"So you can open up, too," said Oth.e.l.lo. "So we can all open up and not be afraid to admit to each other we like to suck d.i.c.k."

"Look, sucka, don't come accusing...."

"If you think you can get one cent...."

Deon leaped up and both he and Jasper started to protest, their fiery words mixing together, forming one violent threat. Standing near the head of the table, Oth.e.l.lo blanched, then quickly collected himself and moved toward Jasper's side of the table. Hollinquest was only an inch taller than Oth.e.l.lo, Deon a whole stratosphere.

"Oh, puh-lease, gentlemen," Oth.e.l.lo cried when he was a foot away from Jasper's red face. "What do you take me for? You think I haven't done my homework? Deon, everybody but the public knows about you. And Jasper." Oth.e.l.lo let out a small laugh and looked toward the ceiling. "In this room, a mess of years ago, I overheard one of the boys saying he was thinking about going to Bora Bora to spend a month with you in your house there. Guys, guys, we're all practicing h.o.m.os, okay? Get over it."

"I've had people hurt for doing a lot less to me," warned Jasper.

"That's the whole point of this," Oth.e.l.lo said sharply. "Look, both of you. I'm not here to do you wrong. Please, hear me out."

They said nothing. Oth.e.l.lo took that as a green light and went over to the fireplace and pushed a b.u.t.ton under the mantle. From the ceiling over the opposite wall, a large television screen descended. To the right, on the wall behind Jasper, a huge map of the United States came down. From underneath protruded a desk full of phones, faxes and computers.

"Please, have a seat." Oth.e.l.lo said, receiving the desired effect of stunning them. Both men sat down. "My brothers, I give you our link to gay America: big screen TV with satellite hook-up and closed-circuit capabilities, the latest computer technologies. And a map." Oth.e.l.lo walked over to the giant Rand McNally, standing in front of Texas. "A map to chart the war."

Jasper shook his head. "I'm beginning to see Jacko isn't the only wacko."

"What war you talking 'bout?" asked Deon.

"The one being waged in this country every day. Between the three of us, we're worth over a billion dollarsa""

"You ain't touching my money," said Deon.

"Oh, we really don't need that so much," said Oth.e.l.lo. "I'm just trying to point out the magnitude of power the three of us hold in our hot little hands." He cradled his palms together as if he could feel the talisman of salvation within them. Jasper started to speak, but Oth.e.l.lo cut him off. "This is not about blackmail, Hollinquest. I'm talking about setting our people free." He walked around the table, speaking to his soul as much as the other two men. "All over America, gays are already at war and what are we doing about it? People are dying of AIDS left and right and everyone talks as if it's all over and there's a cure. Scores of teenagers and grown men are beating up gays like it was sport, killing them even. Politicians and religious leaders are encouraging laws that are eating away at our souls. We've got to fight. It's already war; we just need to decide whether or not we're gonna be in it. Or are we going to sit by in our closeted castles and let our brothers and sisters continue to die?"

Oth.e.l.lo stopped, part of him unsteady, the other part amazed at the feeling of clarity possessing his mind. In the few days since testing positive, he was beginning to feel more and more like himselfa"no, better than himself.

"Why'd you kidnap us to tell us this?" asked Jasper.

"Would you have come any other way, especially without telling anybody?" His question was met with silence. "I hope we can get over how we were brought together and focus on why." He regarded his two guests who both seemed lost in reflection. Would either one of them go for it? Was either one of them single and attracted to him? Yes, he needed them for the war, but he also needed a h.e.l.luva lot more than that. "What matters, gentlemen, is that we're here, together, and this is our chance to do something right by the world."

"I do plenty of charity work," said Deon.

"Telling kids to stay off drugs and hit the books," said Oth.e.l.lo. "But do you ever tell those kids that you also happen to be gay?"