Crack In The Ice - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

I don't really know what to do with myself.
I don't come to the administrative building often. It's on a different part of the town and my job requires me to be on the rink, not in the offices.
Zoey told me to meet her here at eight-thirty AM. Which means I came straight here, after Liam and I landed. But I'm early and now I'm just standing awkwardly in the lobby, trying not to spontaneously combust.
My stomach ties itself into a knot when I see her come in. Her golden-highlighted hair is tied back into a low pony tail, there are shadows under her eyes, and the usual glow is lacking on her brown skin. She looks tired. And I'm probably the reason.
She stops in front of me and her jaw sets into a hard look. She once told me she had a problem with stress-induced teeth-grinding. She also told me and Dean to make sure we were never the reason she ground through her mouth-guard. At the time I thought she was joking. Now I'm not so sure.
"How bad is it?" I ask.
The deadpan look gives way to a fake sweet smile. "You mean the kiss in front of the press or you being unreachable through any means of communication for twenty-four hours after?"
"I'm sorry."
She rolls her eyes. "No point in that now. Come on."
I follow her to an elevator. She never told me who we were supposed to meet, but I don't want to break the silence just yet.
When I see her step out, I follow. I recognize this level from previous meetings with the PR department. Makes sense.
"Zoey."
My voice is weak, but she stops to give me a cocked-eyebrow look.
I bite my lip. "Should I, uh, prepare myself for... something before going in?"
"Definitely," she says. "What that something might be exactly, they haven't told me yet."
I nod.
Zoey groans. Then huffs. Then rolls her eyes. "Eli," she speaks firmly. "Whatever happens, when we go in, I'm still your agent. My job in there is still to defend your interests. Got it?"
It's not a soft reassurance spoken in gentle tones. It's actually very business-like in tone. But it still makes something tug at the tight knot in my stomach, loosening it up a bit.
"Got it," I say.
"Now get in there. We shouldn't make them wait." She gestures to the door in front of which we stopped.
I look at the name on the door. Yeah. Right. Rick. The Head of PR.
We knock and a male voice tells us to come in.
Rick is sitting behind his desk. I have met him a few times over the course of the five seasons I've played in this team. But usually he doesn't handle the players directly.
The person who usually handles mine and Dean's PR stuff is the younger woman in the black-rimmed glasses and the blonde pony tail sitting next to him, clutching an iPad in her hands. Hillary.
Rick tells us to take a seat and we do. Zoey crosses her legs and leans back on her chair, looking much more at ease than I feel. I can't even get myself to lean back against on the chair. Hillary raises her eyes from her iPad and takes the time to smile at me. I can't bring myself to return it, though.
Rick's eyes swing between me and my agent. "So." He shoots me a curt, tight-lipped smile.
"Sir," I say curtly.
"That was certainly a surprise, huh?" Rick says, leaning back in his big black leather office chair. "Guess that was something you didn't think was relevant when we asked you if there was anything you wanted to disclose before signing with us."
"I'm sorry."
Rick raises a hand to stop me. I didn't have anything else to follow that, though, so he's not quite cutting me off.
"What you do or do not deem relevant to disclose is at your discretion. That's why we run thorough background checks on every potential player before we sign them. Can't be blindsided with a hidden criminal record or a secret pill problem." Rick sighs. "But. You would think if you were so reserved as to not disclose your sexuality, or even to make that completely slip by our background check, that you wouldn't make such a public display of it. And right during the fucking playoffs."
I gulp. Shit.
"Am I off the team?"
It's all I can bring myself to say. I don't have anything else on my mind at the moment.
Out the corner of my eye, I see Zoey's eyebrows arch up and Hillary's eyes bulge out as she looks from me to Rick.
Rick frowns. "Why would you be off the team? We invested money in you. We have a contract. You and Miller helped us get to the playoffs three times in the past five years. Your coach loves you."
Hesitantly, the knot in my stomach relaxes.
"Plus," Rick adds. "In the spirit of full transparency. Just between us in this room. In today's day and age? Kicking out a good player because he's gay? That's PR death. We'd be eaten alive by the media."
Zoey snorts, giving into a little smirk. When I look at her, she shrugs one shoulder. "The agency said exactly the same thing."
"Don't get me wrong, Blake," Rick says, leaning forward to support his elbows on the table. "What you did on Saturday and how you did it was not exactly a PR dream. It was in fsct very stupid. I've been genuinely scared that Hillary here is going to get an ulcer in her ulcer. But that's all it is. PR. Your value to the team on the ice is not in question."
I can finally sit back in my chair.
Rick smiles a little. "Breathe, Blake. No one's off the team."
I run a hand down my face. Even though I spent Sunday afternoon slipping in and out of sleep with Liam in that hotel room, I was too nervous in the plane to sleep. And I'm tired.
Also relieved.
Not quite free of the knot in my stomach, but I don't feel like I might explode off my own skin anymore.
"We do need a strategy to handle this, though," Rick says. "Call us unprepared or behind the times or whatever you want, but we never actually planned for the eventuality of a player coming out as part of the LGBT community. Maybe we should have had some template statement with all the right buzzwords on the go, but it never even crossed my mind. Thought the background checks had it covered. Joke's on me, I guess."
I almost want to laugh now. Guess every moment I spent putting so much energy into hiding the truth paid off. Sort of. Depends on the perspective.
Hillary clears her throat. And now that I'm not sweating over my fate on the team, I can see she looks pale and under-slept too. I remember what Rick said about an ulcer and I feel bad. I actually like Hillary. She's had her hands full trying to get me to do press stuff over the years, but this is another level of stress.
"The reactions on social media have been mixed but within expected," she says. She clicks on something on her iPad. "There's exactly the kind of negative reaction you'd expect from some hockey fans. There's a significant fraction of LGBTQIA+ friendly fans that are very supportive and extremely vocal in their support. And then there's a statistically significant minority that simply did not engage and doesn't seem to care.
She looks up at us. "Earlier this year everyone was talking about the prostitute scandal with that left wingman. But even that story was dying out before Eli's broke out. So we believe it could actually blow over. The season's almost over, so this is the best time to let something cool off. Summer always shifts the focus and dilutes attention.
"We've prepared a written statement for the team to issue through all official channels, and we'd like Eli to okay that for us. It's very generic. Supportive, while trying not to alienate anyone. We believe the best strategy would be to issue the statement while removing the mediatic spotlight from Eli and then give it time," she finishes.
I look at Rick, who's looking at me. Then at Zoey, who's looking at Rick.
"So you're saying you're taking Eli off the limelight, let the cup come to an end, and give it the summer to cool off?" She asks.
"Yes," Rick says.
'Taking Eli off the limelight' in and of itself sounds great to me. But the shrewd look in Zoey's eye keeps me from celebrating internally just yet.
"And then what?" Zoey asks. "We put him back on the ice next season and people will forget about it?"
"'Forget about it' is a little too optimistic," Rick says. "But we can see it cooling down."
She nods, but my brain is stuck turning her words over and over in my head. 'We put him back on the ice'... And that's when I actually what they're proposing.
"We'd advice Eli to stay off his social media entirely during the summer," Hillary says. "Then maybe we can build a narrative reporting how immensely focused he is on training when it resumes, closer to the beginning of the season. Test out the air with pre-season games."
"So," I speak. "I'd be off the ice until next season?"
"Could be for the best," Rick says. "I heard reports you're having some issues with your shoulder."
"My shoulder's fine," I say, but my hand touches it instinctively.
"May I just ask what happens if you don't like quote-unquote, 'the air' during the pre-season games?" Zoey muses.
"I know what you're asking. That's not on the table," Rick says.
"Isn't it?" Zoey asks.
"We're not discarding Blake. We just need him off the spotlight for now," Rick says. "We have no interest in losing him as a player. If maybe we'd had some heads up and prepared this as an announcement, we could have played this differently. Get ahead of the narrative. More discreetly. But this is the situation we have. A kiss in a room full of sports reporters out of the blue brought in all the sharks. Especially because apparently Blake's partner is an Olympic athlete. And Olympic medalist. The press are loving this. We need to create some space to smuggle in our narrative."
Zoey looks at me, and I can see it in her face that she doesn't disagree.
Which means I have no choice but to agree.
Which means this is the end of this year's Stanley Cup for me.
"Okay," I say.
Rick nods. "Okay. All we need to do then is make sure we keep you off any media attention until next season."
"Ha," Zoey cackles. "Luckily for us, his hometown is where paparazzi careers go to die."
Rick looks at me.
I nod.
Then the door opens abruptly.
"If Eli's off the team, I'm out too," Dean declares as he barges into the room. "We're a package deal."
Three pairs of eyebrows shoot up, and Hillary nearly drops her iPad.
"Dean, that's not what's happening," I say.
He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not?"
I bite back a smile. "No. They're just asking me to lay low for the rest of the playoffs. And the summer."
"Oh." His stance relaxes.
For a second, I wonder how he even knew where I was. But then I remember I sent Liam home with my key.
Dean frowns again after a while. "Wait. Lay low?"
I nod. "I'm sitting the rest of the playoffs out."
Dean's eyes widen. "If Eli doesn't play in the next game, I'm out too. We're a package deal."
My lips part and I look over at Zoey, who's doing a shit job of hiding her amusement.
"Miller," Rick says.
"No. Package deal," he says.
"Dean, it's fine," I say. "Don't make a scene."
He left the door to Rick's office wide open. There's no one outside. But still.
"Package deal," Dean repeats.
"Blake will be back next season and you'll play together again," Rick says. "He's just going home for now."
"Package deal."
Rick's mouth opens but no sound comes out now. He looks at me, then to Zoey.
Zoey shrugs. Even though seconds before she was giving me her silent encouragement to play along.
I swear she's always had a soft spot for Dean.
Rick sighs. "What do you think?" He asks Hillary.
Hillary's eyes look suddenly shiny. Like she might actually start stress crying.
"It would be easier if we could let the dust settle first," she says in a tone that reminds me of Rick's ulcer comment. "But. I guess there's no guarantee that people won't talk even if he's off the ice. Removing him could actually make us lose some of the support from the LGBT-friendly faction. It could potentially undermine our statement in support of a diverse team, that is."
She looks at me and Dean. I remember how excited she was to work with us the first time she met us. I feel kind of guilty at the exhausted look on her face now.
"And we did sign them together for the PR narrative. The friendly small town wonder duo." Her eyes land on Dean. "A package deal."
"Yes," Rick sighs. "The golden sports bromance. Felt really fucking proud of myself when I pitched you. PR dream, I told my team. Couldn't wait to prove me wrong, could you, Blake?"
I press my lips together. I'm not sure what's happening.
"You understand we're asking you to sit out the rest of the playoffs for safety reasons too, right?" Rick says. "The fact you sprung this on us in the way you did means we lost control. It's not just a matter of convenience for my team. We can't guarantee your safety. Not completely."
"I understand."
"And this break from public attention would in no way compromise your future on this team," Rick adds. "Everyone in the top levels of this building is adamant about that. It would be bad for all of us."
"I know."
"And what are your thoughts on this then?" Rick asks.
That's the first time in this conversation anyone's asked me for my opinion.
"I came to Calgary to play hockey," I say. "If that's alright with everyone, I'd like to play hockey."
Rick looks at Hillary. I see her tap away at her iPad. I don't think she looks happy, but she doesn't seem annoyed either.
"Very well," Rick says.
"I would still advise you to refrain from mediatic attention. Stay off social media. Don't engage with press without our strict recommendation. Present a work-focused front. Send the message that your private life is not up for scrutiny," Hillary says.
I smile. "I can do that."
Zoey snorts. "So you give everyone the headache of the decade and you get a reward. How's that for karma?"
I don't know about karma, but when I walk out of the administrative building with Dean I feel like I crossed an active war zone without getting hit by a single bullet. When we get home, Liam's sitting on the couch, but he springs onto his feet as soon as he sees me.
"So?" He asks.
I smile at him. "Gotta get ready for today's game."