Page 9 of The Poster Boy
Boone accepted my promise and pushed away from the counter. He clapped me on the arm on the way past. “I’m going to call home.”
“Tell everyone I said hello.”
Dropping down onto the couch, he flipped open his laptop. “You can stick around for a few minutes, can’t you? Say hello to the family. Mom wants to have us over for dinner soon.”
“As if she needs to ask. Of course I’ll be there.”
Boone’s family had basically adopted me. Once they found out I was estranged from my parents and didn’t have any other relatives to root for me at the games, they’d taken me under their wing. I was an honorary Weimer, complete with a monogrammed Christmas stocking and the kind of interrogations you only got from parents who gave a shit.
The last time I’d spoken to my parents was when I’d introduced them to a guy I’d been seeing. He was a musician I’d met on Grindr. I hadn’t intended to introduce him to my parents because things weren’t serious between us, and we both knew it. I traveled a lot, and he was aromantic. He liked sex, and he liked having friends to have sex with. He didn’t even mind if I referred to him as my date. It was easier to explain to people being on a date than it was to explain that it wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t not a date. It was two men who liked each other, who understood what the relationship really was, and where the boundaries were.
My parents walked into the restaurant we’d been eating at just in time to see Matt lean over and kiss me. Their words still swam around in my head, so clear that it was almost like they were speaking directly into my ear.
Still doing that, are you? Thought you’d have grown out of it by now.
To his credit, Matt had my back and squeezed my hand under the table as I sat there dumbstruck. I still couldn’t remember what else had been said. I remember Matt asking for the check and paying the bill, then taking me home.
That was the last time I went out with Matt. Not because he wanted to stop seeing me when he could, but because I couldn’t look at him without hearing my parents' voices. Besides, I wanted more than Matt could give me, and we both knew it.
Matt wanted friends, lovers. Not boyfriends. Not romantic attachments. He wasn’t wired to love people. He said he had a great affection for me, and he enjoyed our time together. And when I asked him about not wanting a boyfriend, but wanting to go on dates, he gave me the gentlest smile he could and said that eating alone got boring, and he got tired of getting looks from people who thought he ought to feel sad about enjoying his own company.
The sound of Diane’s voice transported me away from memory lane and back into reality. Boone’s mom looked too young to have four kids. Boone was the oldest at twenty-seven. The youngest was seventeen and would be off to college next year.
“Boone, sweetie. Oh, and Jay. I get to talk to both of my boys today.” Diane turned and spoke to someone off-camera. “I’m on a call with the boys. Come say hello.”
Murphy, Boone’s dad, came into view. I smiled at the way Diane immediately took over the conversation, talking too much for Murphy to get a word in edgewise. He caught my eye in the camera, and we shared a secret smile as Boone and his mom competed for the title of biggest chatterbox.
Being taken in by the Weimers had been a huge change for me. But sometimes, I admitted, change wasn’t all bad.
Chapter 5
Marek
Ifucking hated change. Even when the change had been a good thing, it was still a lot for me to wrap my head around. Did I know I was traded? Obviously. Had I already moved to a new city, unpacked my clothes, and explored a three-block radius from my building? Definitely. But the morning of my first practice with a new team was the moment my brain chose to let the events of the past week catch up to me.
I’d played against the Vikings before. They weren’t an unknown entity to me as opponents. But as teammates they were question marks on skates. Some guys didn’t like the idea of having the league’s poster boy—not my choice of nicknames—on their team. But clearly it was an issue for some guys on my old team, or I wouldn’t have been traded.
Part of me wasn’t sure it really had been the other players because the guys all seemed to be cool with me. A few of them had even dropped a text since I left. Trevor and Jackson had checked in with me several times. Bridges had given me a recap of the friendly, but funny welcome-to-the-team prank they played on the new guy. It made me wonderif that was something the Vikings did. If it was, I’d take it all in stride. I just had to get to practice first.
Getting out the door for practice was the easy part. Both times. The first time I left, I got down to the bottom floor only to realize I’d forgotten to take my medication despite the three alarms on my phone that I’d set. The second time I left, I felt better having my secret weapon on board. It had taken a few tries to get the right kind of medication, one that let me focus without turning me into a zombie or that killed my appetite like the last one had done.
When I got to the rink, of course there were camera crews waiting for me. I didn’t mind talking to the media. I’d gotten used to it since I was outed, but sometimes I wished I could be accepted for who I was without all the fanfare. Maybe one day we could live in a world that realized gay people were everywhere. I was hardly a novelty.
I put my media face on and gave them all what I hoped was a dazzling smile.
A reporter I didn’t recognize stepped in my way. “Mr. Myers. Julie Urman, CKCY News. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, but only one. I’m running a bit late as it is.” It wasn’t a lie. The morning had been a scramble for me. Right from the minute I woke up, it seemed that everything I wanted to accomplish took twelve extra steps.
“What do you think of the trade? Are you aware of why you were traded?”
“Well, I was traded because that’s what happens in professional hockey. And while I wasn’t exactly expecting it, I’m looking forward to getting on the ice with my new team.”
“The rumor is that you were traded because of your sexuality. Is that true?”
In spite of the urge to grab the microphone from her and toss it into the street, I smiled again.
“I was traded because my contract allows for me to be traded. I’m excited about the change of scenery and the new opportunities here in Vancouver, and I’m looking forward to getting on the ice.” I made a show of looking at my watch. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I really am running late.”
