Page 7 of Role Model

So, maybe a less real one.

He deleted the burner account. Maybe he’d set up another one so he could follow hot men again, but he’d start fresh. When he was ready. For now, he would do his homework and start a professional account.

He was in the process of deciding on a password when he got a text message from his mother.

Mom: Look at where you are!

A photo quickly followed that showed a Funko Pop! figure of Troy—in his Toronto uniform—balanced on a balcony railing. Behind it were beautiful misty mountains blanketed in thick blue-green forest.

Troy: Wow. Where are you?

Mom: Hakone. That’s the view from my hotel room! I took it this afternoon.

Troy’s heart lifted a bit. There was no one he wished were here with him now more than his mom. Unfortunately, she was on the other side of the world.

Troy: Isn’t it the middle of the night in Japan?

Mom: Can’t sleep. Ready for your big debut tomorrow night?

Troy: I want to get it over with.

Mom: Has it been bad?

Troy chewed his lip. Mom only knew a fraction of why his life had been hell lately. Hers had been the first supportive voice he’d heard after the video of him yelling at Dallas had hit the internet, and it had been hard not to break down crying as she’d assured him that he’d done the right thing. That he was a good person.

She didn’t know about Adrian. Not only that Troy had just had his heart broken, but that he’d been dating someone at all. He’d never introduced Adrian even as a friend. He’d been so scared that his parents would see them together and know.

Especially his dad. Troy could almost imagine coming out to his mother, but not his dad. Never.

Finally, Troy wrote, Not too bad. Just different.

Mom: Sometimes bad things happen so better things can happen.

Mom would know that more than most people. After Troy’s father had left her for a much younger woman three years ago, Mom had been devastated. She’d told Troy, one night over a shared bottle of wine, that the worst part was the embarrassment.

“It’s not just that he replaced me with an upgrade,” she’d told him. “It’s that I’m ashamed of having ever been with him in the first place. Do you know how many people have told me that they always thought he was an asshole?” Then she’d apologized for talking about Troy’s father that way in front of him. Troy had waved her apology away. Curtis Barrett was an asshole.

And now, because of Dallas Kent, Troy knew the shame of standing beside someone for years who was, well. A villain.

Troy: You should get some sleep.

Mom: I’ll try. Charlie says hi.

Troy: Charlie’s awake too?

Mom: No, but if he were awake he’d say hi.

Troy chuckled quietly and typed, Good night, Mom. Love you.

Mom: Love you too. Good luck tomorrow.

He fell back on the mattress, letting out a long sigh of exhaustion and frustration. He should probably finish setting up his new Instagram account and maybe post something, but he didn’t feel like it. His last team had barely involved players in their social media outreach, and Troy had been extremely fine with that, but this was a new team with a new vibe, and he should make an effort to fit in.

He opened Instagram again, created a password, and then hit a roadblock when it asked for a profile picture. All he had saved on his phone were promo shots of himself in a Toronto uniform.

He wondered if the team had posted one of the photos Gen had taken today yet. He went to the team’s official account and found his own too-cool-to-smile face staring back at him.

Well, it would have to do.

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