Page 78 of Two for Roughing

The phone went silent for so long Kilian wondered if it had turned itself off again.

“Kilian,” Derek said finally, very slowly. “I’m going to repeat myself. All you have to be sorry for is not picking up the phone. I’ve been worried sick, and I’m not the only one.”

It was Kilian’s turn not to speak, trying to process what Derek had just said.

“Actually, I owe you an apology.”

“What?”

“You’re my client. Your dad and I may go way back, but it was bad practice of me to get so caught up in what he’d let me know that I forgot to check in with you more. We never got to a point where you trusted me, so I couldn’t help you when you needed it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Kilian had never registered Derek as someone he could talk to when he struggled with hockey, let alone his sexuality. “So, you don’t want to…I don’t know, cancel our contract?”

“No, I do not want to terminate our contract.”

Right, that was the serious, professional word.

“Even though I’m gay?”

“Especially because you’re gay.” Derek’s firm voice brooked no argument. “I’m not going to lie and tell you it will be easy. You’re going to need someone on your side, someone experienced with contract negotiations and PR work.”

Kilian picked at a loose thread in the hem of his top. He should start buying real clothes for clubbing instead of cutting them up himself. “Why would you want to be the person to negotiate for me? It’s gonna suck.”

Derek chuckled. “I happen to think it’s the right thing to do. But if you want a more mercenary answer, I also think it will be good for me and my firm. As much as some people want to turn the clock back, we’re living in the twenty-first century. There are other gay athletes out there, or bi, or lesbian, or whatever else. Gaining a reputation as the guys who’ll support the community will give our firm a new niche, which we need right now. And to be very honest, it might also keep us away from the real headaches—the athletes who keep getting spotted at alt-right rallies or who want us to cover up actual crimes.”

That sounded reasonable. Rational, even. Derek’s firm was based in Vancouver, a by-and-large liberal city. It made sense they wanted a clientele to match.

Kilian took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, thanks. Um, have the Firecrackers gotten in touch about trading me yet?”

“Are you kidding?”

Kilian frowned. He’d hoped it would be a trade, since the other option meant he would be sent down. “So I have to go to the AHL?”

“No, of course not! Kilian, you were more than a point per game for the last three weeks. They’d be nuts to trade you or send you down right now. If you don’t keep it up, we’ll see, but you’re in a good position with the team.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve had Brianna from their PR department nagging me to death about a strategy for your online presence and lining up interviews and making sure the whole world knows how proud the Firecrackers are to have the first out gay player.”

“Oh.” When Brianna called him into her office the other day, Kilian thought she wanted to talk about burying the story, about hiding the truth, or possibly about hiding him. He’d tuned out most of her talk as industry-standard lip service and waited for the actual demand to appear. Then Damir had saved him from the meeting. Was it possible she hadn’t just been doing damage control but wanted to work with him?

“So?” Derek asked. “Thoughts?”

“It’s going to be a lot of pressure,” Kilian blurted out. “Being the first.”

“It is. But you might not be the last.”

Remembering Tom telling him over sushi that he’d always longed for a role model as well, Kilian had to laugh. “Maybe so.”

“So how do you want to play it? Are we confirming the article? We’re kind of late to deny it at this point, but I guess we could try. Or would you rather do an interview? Or let talk die down on its own? I’m telling you now, Brianna won’t like doing nothing—”

“Actually, um.” Kilian drew in a deep breath. “I…I wrote something. I’m not a journalist or a writer or anything, but I thought I could post it on Insta, or if the team wants to post something on their site, they could…I don’t know. It’s probably bad.”

“I doubt that very much. Why don’t you send it over to me? Not to change it or make it less than what you want to say or anything, just so I can give you my take.”

“Sure. Don’t be nice to me though. If it sucks, let me know before the whole world reads it.”

Derek laughed. “Noted. And, um, kid?”