Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I’m hesitant to bring this up, but it needs to be said. “Would that be so bad? It’ll be short-term pain with him gone, but then next year, you might make it to the playoffs with a team that isn’t dragging San Jose’s name into the tabloids. His behavior reflects as badly on team management as it does on his image.”
“Trust me, the GM and I have discussed it. The problem is, Voyjik’s contract lasts for another two years, and I can’t even convince Coach Bowman to consider a trade. If it came down to us telling him to, he might, but our only option is letting him go, and then we’d have to pay out the contract, which means less money to offer another player. Which puts us back at square one of not making playoffs.”
“Morality clause.” Every player has one. “It’s an easy out for you, and if anyone’s in breach of that, it’d be him.”
“Yes, but letting a player go in bad faith draws headlines. That’s the kind of thing that sticks around—”
“And threesomes in seedy alleyways don’t?”
Mick takes a long breath, and when he talks again, the conversational tone has been replaced with something harder. “I understand what you’re saying, but we have a delicate balance we need to maintain. With the new arena coming, we need to be profitable in order to fulfill contracts and keep our players happy. To do that, we need playoffs and solid ticket sales. And to do that, we need Oskar Voyjik. I’m only going to say this once because I don’t like saying it at all: keep him under control. If that means living with him, fine, because one more—just one more—indiscretion and I may need to use that morality clause after all. Your only job is to turn Voyjik into a star player off the ice. If you can’t do that and I’m forced to let go of our only hope at that Cup, there will be a domino effect. A PR department who can’t do their jobs is worthless to me.”
With every word, my gut sinks. When Mick’s business side comes out, he’s ruthless, and people become collateral damage.
Anything for the team.
I lie through my goddamn teeth. “I have everything under control.”
TEN
OSKAR
As I sit across from my agent, I pretend I have no idea what this meeting is about or why he came to pick me up and drag me out to a “working lunch.” Considering he got on a plane so he could take me to lunch, I know it’s serious, but really, isn’t this all a bit dramatic?
He didn’t say a word about why he’s here in the car. We exchanged pleasantries, and he talked about how long his flight was, but that’s it. And now he’s sitting opposite me, drinks ordered, and he’s still not saying anything. He’s not looking at his menu but right at me like he’s trying to intimidate me.
And it’s working. I inspect the menu closely so I don’t have to look at Damon.
Considering I’ve been on my best behavior—involuntarily—lately, his sudden appearance in my life is confusing, to say the least. If some other scandal had broken out about me, I’m sure Lane would have torn me a new one before Damon could set foot in the airport.
Our drinks arrive, and thank fuck because my mouth is dry. After I take a large sip, I’m able to compose that cocky demeanor I’m known for.
“Lane needed you to step in as babysitter for a bit, did he?”
Damon King is literally the king of queer athletes. He represents nearly all of the Collective as well as players in the NFL, MLB, and NBA. Every queer athlete wants him as an agent, and his roster has become so big that he’s starting his own agency: King Sports.
And the glare he’s sending my way makes me think he’s on the verge of dropping me as a client. That would explain a sudden business lunch.
My cockiness drops. “It’s not a big deal. You didn’t need to come all the way out here to tell me to be a good boy. I am being a good boy. It’s hard not to when I’m being guarded twenty-four seven.”
His stare doesn’t falter, and he remains silent.
“Why am I getting in trouble for one grainy CCTV sex tape when straight players are photographed in much more scandalous positions with women?”
Still nothing.
I relent. “Okay, okay. I get it. As a gay athlete, I have different expectations than the straight ones because we’re always under a microscope so the homophobes can’t point at our actions and say, ‘See! They’re all sinful sex maniacs. Next, they’ll want to marry animals.’ I still think it’s a double standard, and it’s stupid, but I understand until there’s change, I have to suck it up.”