Page 39 of The Hot Shot

“He’sfine.Like I said...” he gives Wooster another nasty look “...it’s just some dumb bullshit.”

I doubt Dex is as okay as Rolondo claims. Dex covets his privacy like a miser hoards gold. Not that I blame him; none of us exactly relishes his private life being exposed. I make a note to call Dex as soon as I’m alone.

“I heard the photographer is a woman,” Wooster says, cutting into my thoughts.

My head snaps up, my gaze narrowing as something hot surges in my gut. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

Rolondo starts shaking his head. “Man,” he mutters under his breath.

Wooster, however, clearly sees blood in the water and is just that stupid. “Guess it doesn’t. Just heard that she was hot in aThe Fast and the Furiouskind of way.”

I take a step in his direction. Blood pounds in my head. “Fast and the Furious?”

“Yeah, you know, a lowrider hood ornament that you fuck fast and furi—”

My hand is wrapped around his throat before he can finish. I don’t remember moving, but I’m not letting go. “You want to keep that tongue,” I grit out, “I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

Wooster claws at my arm, but he can’t get free. But then herelaxes with a smile. “I get it. You’re fucking her. Nice, man. Bet she’s getting around with a job like that.”

Two steps forward, and I’m slamming him into the wall. “You need to shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Rolondo steps between us, but he’s looking at me. “He’s not worth the fines, Manny.”

Debatable. But I loosen my grip.

Wooster shakes me off and then smirks. “Can’t forget that paycheck, can we?”

Rolondo makes a noise of disdain. “Stop playin’ as if a fine won’t hurt you more than it does either of us, punk ass. And stop disrespecting women. Didn’t your momma teach you better?”

“Pretty sure you’d be singing a different tune if you had any interest in women,” Wooster drawls.

Rolondo is gay. He’s never hidden it, but until now, I haven’t heard anyone give him shit.

“What the fuck did you just say?” I lunge for Wooster again.

Rolondo blocks me, his expression almost serene as he stares down Wooster. “I’d say suck my dick, but I have standards. Now get the fuck out of here and worry about improving your weak-ass game.”

Wooster bristles, as if he’s about to reply, but his gaze cuts between us, and he backs up. “No fucking sense of humor.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s our humor that’s a fail here.” I take a page from Rolondo’s book and make a quick jerk off gesture. “We’re done.”

Without looking back, I head to the free weights. I want to leave, but I’ll be damned if I let Wooster chase me away. Rolondo joins me, as Wooster flips us off and stalks out of the room.

“Man...” Rolondo starts.

“I know,” I say over him. “I shouldn’t let that asshole get to me.”

“Good of you to remember. Now.”

I stare down at the weights, not moving to pick them up. “He give you shit before?”

Rolondo lets out a half laugh. “You worried about me, Manny?”

He sounds amused.

I lift my head. “You’re my teammate.”

I don’t have to say more; Rolondo gets it. But his expression remains passive. “Guys talk smack. Doesn’t matter about what. Either you take their shit or you don’t.” His gaze bores into me with unsettling depth. “I’d lock down whatever it is you have going on with the photographer. Guys will be talking about her for no other reason than she’s taking pictures of them naked.”