Page 34 of The Game

His two colleagues are pinning down a struggling Arty Maroz, and the cameras are going berserk, people shouting questions at him.

“I’ve been instructed to escort you away from the venue.” He fiddles with his headset. “I hear you,” he says.

“What?”

“You can’t attend the event now, Sir. Our security policy is that anyone involved in a fight has to leave.”

“He punched me! I was restraining him, not fighting with him.”

“I can’t make a judgment about who started what, Sir. All guests who are part of an altercation are ejected immediately.”

“But I was restraining him! He tried to attack Anna Talanova!”

“That’s not our concern, Sir. You need to leave.”

A subtle whirring right behind his shoulder catches my attention, and a man with a video camera is recording our whole conversation. Is that a goodor a bad thing? Arty Maroz is now on his feet and surrounded by more security guards, who he’s trying to shove past to get into the venue.

I take a deep breath and pull out my phone, and the guard’s hand shoots out. Presumably to stop me filming anything.

“I need to text Anna to tell her you’re throwing me out!” I gesture around at all the photographers. “I was her plus one. You think this whole incident hasn’t been recorded in great detail? There’ll be a slow-motion replay on the news.” What an asshole.

He doesn’t respond, just stares back at me. I shake my head and drop a message to Anna:

They’re saying they aren’t going to let me in. That I’ve got to leave.

What? Why?

Apparently, anyone who’s involved in an altercation is ejected. No exceptions. No discussion.

Hang on.

“What’s going on?” The voice comes from behind me, a man with a microphone leaning right over the barrier and trying to catch my attention. Maybe this is an opportunity to set the record straight at least.

So, I move his way and gesture at where Arty Maroz is standing now, shouting toward the venue.

“They won’t let me into the building because I tried to stop him attacking Anna Talanova,” I say.

“Don’t worry, Adam, we got it all on video,” the guy says, eyes flicking to the security guard who has followed me as I moved to the railings.

He knows my name? Yes, Adam, of course he does, you’ve been plastered all over the papers.

The journalist, or whoever he is, turns his microphone to the guard. “Adam Miller, Anna Talanova’s boyfriend, was blatantly attacked here. Why are you throwinghimout?”

The security guard completely ignores him.

“Do you know who this man is?” I ask him as I gesture to where Arty is still arguing with a man in a security vest.

His eyes narrow. “Arty Maroz. Belarusian downhill skier. Anna Talanova’s ex.”

This journalist is surely getting the best footage and interview from this whole event!

My phone buzzes in my hand.

Now they won’t let me out!

Anna. I show the security guard my screen.

“Are you going to be responsible for Anna Talanova being imprisoned at your event?”

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