Time To Wake Up

By E.M. Lindsey

As if working for the ex who cheated on him wasn't bad enough, now his boss wants Shai Zoabi to fly across the ocean to write a puff-piece on a gay former Olympian.

Shai has never been to America. He has never wanted to go to America, and he certainly doesn't want to set foot in the searing hot Arizona desert. But what can he do? After all, this is his job.

 

He expects a lot of things to happen when he gets there too:

 

Like dying by dehydration in the Arizona heat.

Or ending up on the wrong side of someone's gun.

Maybe even getting lost in the vast expanse of that absurdly large country, never to be heard from again.

 

What he doesn't expect is Rafael Flores—the man who could convince mountains to move with a single smile.

 

What he doesn't expect is for fourteen days to change everything he knows about himself, making it feel like he's finally waking up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M. Lindsey
• Release date: Sep 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215709191

Book preview

Chapter 1

The afternoon sun cascaded through the slightly shaded windows in the office on the fourth floor. It brought a sort of cozy warmth, cutting the edge of the slight spring chill which was staying late that season. The view overlooked Hampstead, with people moving below, going about their day, rushing for the bus, or the entrance to the tube station.

In the office, a gentle music cascaded from speakers, something Mozart maybe, or Chopin. It was probably meant to relax the two men, but it did little to cut the tension in the room.

I just don’t see why it needs to be me. I feel the least qualified to even take on this story. The tall man leaning back in the plush leather chair, dragged a hand through his curls. He stopped near his temple, pressing two fingers in gentle circles in a vain attempt to stave off the migraine edging along his forehead. Honestly, Brandon, am I being punished?

The man behind the desk stared, his blue eyes bright behind the gold rims of his glasses. His thin lips quirked up in a half smile, and he crossed his arms. Shai, have I ever used a work assignment to punish you? Do you think I’m petty enough to compromise the integrity of this publication all because I wanted to get back at you for something?

Shai scowled, his large nose wrinkled. Yes, actually. I think that exactly.

Brandon stifled a laugh. Yeah okay, maybe I am that petty. But not today. Really, I just don’t have anyone with the freedom to travel for that long. Stacy and her wife just brought home twins, Cara’s already on assignment in Glasgow, David’s…

Got the travel restriction, Shai finished for him, and Michael’s going to be too busy sucking you off. He knew in that moment he was being rude—crossing a line—but he couldn’t help himself. It had only been a few months, after all, when Brandon had been more than just his boss.

I know I don’t exactly deserve your kindness, but I’m still your boss, Brandon said, his tone far less joking than it had been a moment ago. I wouldn’t put you on this assignment if I didn’t think you could pull it off. And this piece is important, Shai. This guy, he needs his story told.

Shai pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat back and stared at his boss. Brandon, he said, his tone tired and weary, what the hell do I know about the Olympics? Does it look like I’ve ever set foot on a pitch or in a stadium?

He’s a runner, Brandon said, his tone slowly starting to lose patience. He’s not some footie star. He’s a bloody American cowboy who won a bunch of gold medals at the Olympics. I’m not asking you to write in sport statistics. I’m asking you to spend a week with him, get the full scope of his career, his injury, his charities, who he is as a person— I’m asking you to write a proper piece on a man who is doing good for people in our community who need it.

Those were the magic words, and Shai hated that. He hated that Brandon knew him well enough, knew exactly where to poke him to create a bleeding wound in his heart. A wound that would send him jetting off to the bloody Western United States to interview a former Olympian currently dominating the news channels by losing his leg in an accident, and in a morphine induced haze, coming out as gay in a leaked cell phone video.

It was the most absurd, and most modern thing Shai could think of. Of course, working for Pride Magazine in London, Shai had heard worse stories. But this was the first time the publication had been able to get a tell-all contract from someone who’d just done a sit-down on chat shows. Ellen, Good Morning America, and he’d been on ESPN almost daily for months after it happened.

Even Shai, who practically lived under a rock, if you wanted to call his quiet Islington flat a rock—and it did look it, a bit—had heard of Rafael Flores. He’d been hearing the name whispered on the lips of everyone for the last twelve months. He knew Pride had been itching to get an exclusive with the former runner, he just hadn’t thought Brandon was going to be able to pull it off.

And he certainly hadn’t thought it was going to be him who’d have to write it.

He’d never been the most friendly of reporters. His pieces were usually about business owners either trying to ban members of the LGBT+ community from shopping, or business owners trying to create safe spaces for them. His work had never involved week-long sit-downs with celebrity athletes, and he knew absolutely nothing about running, the Olympics, or whatever it was Rafael had going on in his life since his accident.

It didn’t help he barely had the details on that last bit, either, if he was being honest. It just seemed unprofessional, he thought, to commit himself to writing this piece on a man he knew nothing about. Surely they had someone else better suited for the job, even if nearly all their other writers were busy.

Of course, Brandon was smiling at him while holding an information file folder an inch thick, so even that flimsy excuse was burning to ash.

I’m not sure where my passport is, he tried.

Brandon rolled his eyes. Casey told me you two were in Paris last weekend on a little piss-up, so it’s probably in your overnight case still.

I hate him, Shai muttered. He reached across the desk and took the folder, not bothering to flip it open just yet. When is my flight?

Friday. You’ll be checking into a hotel for the weekend, then you’ll spend Monday to Saturday at Mr. Flores’ estate. Finish up with him Sunday, and I’ll see you back here first thing Wednesday morning.

If we weren’t already split up, I’d be leaving you as we speak, Shai grumbled as he pushed himself to a stand. Where am I heading off to again?

Brandon shrugged, his gaze now locked on his computer screen. Tucson, Arizona.

Shai blinked. And where the bloody hell is that?

Brandon peered around his computer and gave Shai a toothy smile. No idea, mate. Good luck. Fly safe.

Chapter 2

Shai spent the long, crowded tube ride back to his flat flicking through the pages Brandon had given him. The guy’s bio was long and more convoluted than he expected. Rafael’s childhood seemed the sort for one of those feel-good movie types. His parents were Mexican immigrants, moving to the States to start a business. His father died young, leaving his mother with a struggling restaurant. She put everything she had into Rafael’s training when his high school coach said he had promise.

At sixteen, he was breaking records all over the state. By eighteen, he was attending University on scholarship, and was privately courted by the US Olympic team coach. His first appearance with the US team was in Beijing in ’08. The US team took a few medals, but he failed to do better than fourth in his single events. He went home, trained harder, and by London ’12, he was breaking so many records, he was a sure-thing for gold.

Of which he won two, and made headlines.

He graduated with honors going into the master’s program for bio engineering, and continued to train. By the ’16 Olympics in Rio, he was the country’s favorite to sweep the events. He brought home two gold, two silvers, and a bronze.

Then, five days after his flight landed in Phoenix, Arizona, his life changed. He’d been out with friends celebrating his wins, waiting on a few press events he was required to do, when a car hit him as he crossed the street. He was in a coma for six days, and when he woke, he found his right leg had been amputated two inches above the knee.

Shai closed the folder when he reached the photo of Flores lying in a bed, tubes attached to his face, and a bandaged stump raised high on a sling. He didn’t really want to imagine what that would be like—his entire world ripped from his fingers all because one person didn’t want to think before they acted. It made his stomach twist.

Obviously, Flores hadn’t faded into oblivion. After his rehab, he’d gone on to work with some of the top designers who created prosthetics for Paralympic athletes, and was currently getting ready to release a new design.

That’s why Pride wanted him.

That, and the fact that someone had hacked the poor man’s iPhone and released a morphine-induced video of him talking about how gay he was. Up to that point, Flores had been in the closet. He’d been a heartthrob of the Olympic team, and had a huge fan-base hoping the eligible bachelor would start settling down.

There was nothing Shai hated more than a story about someone outed against their will. He knew it too well. He’d lived it. He’d grown up terrified about what his mother and step father might think if they ever found out. Then, a well-meaning relative had caught him kissing a boy over the winter holidays, and felt it best to let the family know during Chanukah dinner. His mother had been less than pleased, and the incident had led to some of the worst weeks Shai had ever suffered.

Stories like his own made Shai’s gut twist. He relived that night in his dreams far too often for his own liking—the look of disappointment on his mother’s face, the way she’d said, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you? Shai, how do I make this better? How do I fix you?

He’d always felt like a living disappointment as it was. His own birth was a point of shame in his family, his mother pregnant out of wedlock, fleeing Jerusalem to London in order to have her baby without her family interfering. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of all that on a work assignment.

But it was what it was.

Resigned to his fate, he collected his things, and got out at his stop. He trudged to his flat with aching feet and a headache threatening to go full-blown migraine by the end of the night.

Kicking off his shoes, Shai threw his coat on the back of