Page 33 of The Poster Boy
“I’m keeping you out of the media for a while, son.”
Marek shook his head. “If I don’t talk to them after games and practices, they just hound me outside the rink.”
“It’s not your call, Myers. As for the rest, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
The media loved talking to Myers whether or not he played, but he’d been in net after the first when Church tweaked a muscle. It wasn’t a serious injury, thankfully, and Myers stepped up in net, securing our win.
For the first time, it dawned on me that maybe Myers didn’t like the media attention. Maybe he was making the best of a situation that had been thrust upon him by some snoopy paparazzi.
The bad thing about road games was that I had to share a hotel room most of the time. The last time, I’d had a room to myself because Andrew had been sick and stayed home to battle his flu. This time I wasn’t so lucky, meaning if I wanted to meet up with Myers, strictly to see if he was okay, we’d have to sneak around.
Stretched out on my bed after the game, Andrew did the same on his side of the room. He had his earbuds in, and he was absorbed in something on his phone. All in all, he wasn’t a bad guy to share a room with. Boone had wanted toshare with me, but I told him that his codependency wasn’t cute. He called me a jackass, but he saw my point. We lived together, trained together, played together. There wasn’t a reason to room with him too.
I pulled my phone out and opened the app where I’d first stumbled on Myers. His icon told me that he was currently online.
Hey. Good game.
The little grey dots bounced up and down for a minute before a response came through
Thanks.
He didn’t send anything after that. I let out a sigh, knowing that he was going to make me work for it.
You okay?
I’ve been better.
What’s up?
*eyeroll* because you suddenly care.
Well, that was a low blow, but it wasn’t unfair of him to say.
What if I did? Would you tell me?
Dude… did you not see the shit they pulled post-game?
Uh… no? Should I have. Never mind, going to watch now.
I pulled up the browser on my phone and searched for the post-game interview that Marek did. He was sweaty and smiling, the way he always was after a game. I glanced over at Andrew and turned the volume up a little so I could hear what was going on.
“We’ve recently learned that your parents disowned you when you came out. The fact that you managed to succeed without their support is inspiring. How did you do it?”
My guts clenched. I hadn’t known about Marek’sparents. Clearly, no one had. It was actually a fucking miracle that this wasn’t the second thing that was leaked after his brief fling with the Hollywood guy.
Marek’s expression turned to stone. The look in his eyes was colder than the ice he’d just left. “No comment.”
And then he turned his back on the cameras and stomped away, leaving the reporter there gaping like a fish at his less-than-friendly reaction.
Holy fuck. I’m sorry
It was the only thing I could think to say.
How did they even find out?
Marek answered with a shrug emoji.
Are you okay?
