Page 2 of The Poster Boy (Love The Game #3)

I hadn’t heard the buzzer for the building or the knock on the door, but suddenly a familiar face was in my kitchen.

Faye Andrews, the publicist for the team.

I’d not had many direct interactions with her, but from everything I could tell, she was good at her job, and she seemed to care about the guys .

Faye’s red hair was piled on the top of her head in one of those messy buns that Kelsey had tried for years in high school to perfect. She had her signature oversized glasses on; today the frames were green. She set her bag on the table and pulled her tablet out of it.

“Okay, Marek, what’s the plan?”

I looked at Faye and blinked. “Plan?”

“Well, if you want this to go away, we can work with you to make the story disappear. It won’t. But we can be tight-lipped about it, and eventually people will get bored. Maybe.”

“I don’t want to hide. I want to be out.

Other players have come out.” Even saying the words calmed me.

Yeah, it was scary as hell to think about the reactions of the other guys, the other teams, the fans.

But the story had already exploded all over the internet.

The only way out of this mess was to come out and let people get bored of the whole thing.

“Okay, we can work with that, but you do know that the other players who came out weren’t linked to a celebrity. You’re hot gossip right now.” Faye was already tapping away on her tablet. She was like a wizard with that thing.

“I don’t want it to be a big deal.”

She looked up from her tablet, then set it down and crossed the room to where I was. I’d somehow paced myself into a corner without realizing it, and it was Faye who took my hand and tugged me toward my couch. I dropped onto one of the cushions as she sat at the other end.

“It’s already a big deal, Marek.” Faye gave me a sympathetic look.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat this and pretend this is the easiest option.

There’s going to be a lot of media attention.

Not all of it will be good, but I’ve done some digging into your life, Mr. Myers.

I know that whenever you can, you join the floor hockey games down at the youth center.

I know you donate a not insignificant amount of money to that place.

I know you personally sponsored one of the kids who couldn’t afford hockey but has potential. ”

“Jesus, do you know what kind of underwear I buy too?” I asked, not offended but impressed, and a little terrified that Faye knew all of that. “Should I ask how you know so much about me? It’s not like I run around advertising these things.”

“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Faye grinned at me, then added, “Your sister is a snitch.”

I turned to look at Kelsey, who just shrugged. “What? It’s not like I lied about you. All of that is true.”

“When did you two even have time to discuss this? Kelsey’s been here all morning.” I watched the two of them exchange a look and then Kelsey let out a sigh.

“I was with Faye when the news broke.”

“It was first thing in the morn—oh. Oh! Kelsey, you never told me.”

“To be fair, I didn’t really know. Until I met Faye, but we can talk about that later. Right now we have more important things to deal with beyond my bisexual awakening.” Kelsey turned to Faye. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, because Marek wants to be out, I think we run with it. We address the way he was outed, which was despicable. I’ve prepared a statement to release to the press. Pass me my tablet please, Kelsey.”

Kelsey grabbed the tablet from the table and brought it to Faye, who swiped at the screen a couple times and handed it to me.

I shook my head. It wasn’t that reading was hard, or comprehending, but when I was stressed, retaining enough focus to get through a whole-ass document wasn’t something I wanted to waste my energy on.

I got frustrated easily when I was under pressure.

Faye rolled with it and read it to me, then gave me a summary. “Basically, it expresses your sadness for the way you were outed. You make a moving statement on how everyone deserves to come out in their own time. We make you look like a puppy, and people don’t kick puppies.”

Come out. Use the way I was outed to gain the sympathy and support of the general public. Leak my good deeds to the press to highlight what a nice guy I was. Play hockey. Move on with my life when all of this went away.

It sounded so simple. Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

Spring rolled around and my team was out in the first round of the playoffs.

Not that I saw a lot of ice time anyway.

Our starting goaltender was on fire, leaving my ass parked solidly on the bench.

Now that our season was over, I thought maybe the whole gay hockey player story would go away, but the first time I showed up at the youth center to play hockey with the kids, there were pictures on the news the next day. Calls for talk shows came in.

Suddenly, I was a gay icon. A poster boy for gay hockey players.

For gay people in professional sports. And only a small part of me hated it.

The rest of me liked the attention, and I didn’t ever stop to ask why.

Instead I threw myself into the role. Giving interviews and playing floor hockey with local youths all summer.

It continued into the fall…right up until I arrived at the rink for the last practice before a three-game road trip. I’d barely walked into the locker room when Coach Sweeney appeared out of nowhere.

“Keep your shoes on, kid, and come to my office.”

Puzzled, I frowned but followed him down the hall. Waiting inside Coach’s office was the GM. I’d met him once, only briefly. Mostly he dealt with Coach and left us players alone.

“Take a seat, Myers.” His voice was gravelly and deep, authoritative, like a principal.

Suddenly, the back of my neck was damp with nervous sweat. I very much felt the rock of doom in my stomach.

“We recognize the energy you’ve put into making it on the team.

We value the hard work you’ve put in, on and off the ice, but the distraction of your personal life has put strain on the other players.

It’s taken focus off the game, son. We’re sorry to lose you, but for the sake of the rest of the players, we’ve traded you. ”

“Traded me?”

“To the Vancouver Vikings.”

I dropped into a chair as the bottom dropped out of my world. The GM didn’t even stick around after that, striding out of the room and leaving me alone with Coach.

“Traded?” I repeated dumbly.

“Sorry, kid. I argued like hell to keep you, but it’s out of my hands.”

Fuck.