Page 74 of Mean Machine

“Are you gay, Mr Marshall?”

Brooklyn’s face grew cold, and this time at least, Joseph moved and reached for the microphone, but the line they’d all decided to feed the press—that Brooklyn’s private life was going to stay private—no longer felt like it had any strength to protect him. It seemed dishonest, and if anything, it exposed Nathaniel further. Denying it only meant the bloodhounds of the press would go out of their way to find proof of the “boyfriend,” and that would unleash the furies from hell—and then howls of triumph splashed across the front pages once they’d uncovered the truth, as they undoubtedly would.

Brooklyn pulled the microphone closer. “I’m bisexual, and yes, I’m seeing somebody.”

This triggered a storm of camera flashes, and Brooklyn did his damned best to look anywhere but at Nathaniel.

“Are you seeing a man or woman?”

Brooklyn raised his hand and shook his head. “Can we get back to the boxing?”

“Do you think you’ll be a target of homophobia as an out gay man?”

Oh, Christ—people heard “bi” and turned it into whatever the fuck they wanted to hear.

“I’d say I can defend myself.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Did you meet him in prison?”

“Did your ex-wife know?”

“When did you know you were gay?”

Finally, Joseph tapped the microphone hard enough to interrupt the questions. “We’ll only answer questions about the fight. Any more of this and the press conference is over.”

Heavy-handed tactics, but they worked. Joseph’s stern attitude at least kept the journalists in the room and restored some order and discipline. The questions finally returned to the training, preparation, and timeline of the upcoming fight. Brooklyn breathed a sigh of relief, especially when Nathaniel managed to leave the room with Hazel, the nanny, and Eric, and nobody paid him any attention or a second glance—the child was a perfect reason to leave. Brooklyn made sure he only followed Nathaniel’s exit from the corner of his eyes, and found he could concentrate better on the questions.

He must have been doing all right, because questions kept coming and the journalists seemed happy. Nobody rushed for the exit, so Cash timed it all really well by telling people that “time was up” and “Brook had to head off for his gym session,” the latter of which was true. Better get out now before anybody grew bored, so Brooklyn stood again and left through the exit behind the podium, while the moderator and Cash stayed behind to wrap up the event.

Once in a quiet corridor of the hotel, he dialled Nathaniel’s number. Thankfully, the man picked up immediately.

“Brooklyn. Sorry. I had to get out of there.”

“No problem. You all right?”

Nathaniel seemed to have to think before he answered. “I guess I wasn’t quite prepared for your outing.”

“Yeah, that one was… weird.”

“You okay with it?”

“There’s nothing I’m ashamed of.”

“From what I understand, boxing isn’t the most gay-friendly sport….”

“There are bisexual and gay boxers. I mean, Emile Griffith was one of the all-time greats, hall of fame and everything. Nicola Adams—Olympian. I’m hardly the only one.”

Nathaniel sighed audibly. “Good. Good. I just don’t want to see you being made a target because of me.”

“Or you because of me.”

Nathaniel paused, seemingly taken aback. “They can’t hurt me, Brook. I have friends in high places.”

“They can still pull you into the whole ‘why is this rich lawyer dating a boxer?’ stuff.”

“I fail to see the problem.”

---