Page 9 of Bro Code

“We don’t have a day,” said the GM.

Riley scoffed. “Come on.”

The PR director cut in. “The media pressure we’re facing since your Vanity Fair article came out is enormous–”

“The media pressure you’re facing!” Riley surprised himself with a bitter laugh.

“And as I was explaining to Rick,” the PR guy continued patiently, “it’s not something we can continue to manage for an asset in a two-week performance slump with no apparent cause and no solution.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time to assess Riley’s performance,” Rick countered, taking the tablet from the GM. He shook open a pair of wireframe glasses and put them on and started scrolling through the contract.

“Montreal is confident they can turn him around. They’re offering a top-line spot and a more insulated press environment. You know what a shitstorm New York is. He’d have significantly more protection from the media in Montreal.”

“I don’t need protection from the media,” Riley growled.

The room fell quiet while Rick finished skimming the contract. Eventually, the GM said, “If he doesn’t take this deal, we’ll have no choice but to bench him until his performance improves.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

Rick put a hand on Riley’s arm. He removed his glasses and handed the tablet back to the GM. “Can you give us a minute?”

Riley stood with the blood pounding in his ears as the GM and PR director went briskly around him and out of the room. As the door closed behind them, he turned to Rick, “They can’t–”

“Legally, they can’t make you do anything, no. But they can make your life very difficult.” Rick indicated the tablet. “This deal Montreal is offering is stupid good. New York would be insane not to take it. And if you stop it from going through… Look, they already said the word ‘bench’ and we’re less than ten minutes into the conversation.”

Riley couldn’t believe it. “So they’re blackmailing me? I thought this was ‘tire-kicking’.”

“Rye, I got completely flat-footed here. The GM bypassed me. They have a gun to our heads. If you don't sign this waiver and go to Montreal, my guess is New York is going to bury you.”

Riley glared. The hot fury he usually only felt scrolling through TikTok comments was climbing up his insides. “This is because I’m gay. Right? They’re pushing me out.”

Rick sighed and passed a hand down his face. “That could be part of it. They may just not want the media attention. But you’ll never be able to prove that. We can try, though, if that’s what you want. We can lawyer up and come back at them with all guns blazing.”

“Okay. Do that.”

“Okay…” Rick nodded carefully. “Sure. If that’s really what you want to do, then we can absolutely do that. But…” He scrubbed his face again, then turned and paced the tiny room, flicking his suit jacket back to put his hands on his hips. He stood facing the wall a moment, then turned to Riley. “Listen. If that’s the route, then it is going to be hell for you this year. If you come at them with lawyers, they could bench you indefinitely out of pure spite. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. But you won’t be playing this season. You’ll be dealing with the media and appearing in court. It’ll be a huge case. Maybe even a landmark case. But…like I said. You won’t be playing hockey. Maybe ever again. You’ll be taking on the NHL. And the NHL is…a very well-oiled machine. They’ll point to your metrics and your declining performance and that’s a rock-solid defense that you being gay has nothing to do with them trading you. You won’t have a leg to stand on. They will tear you apart in court. I’m talking subpoenas of your texts, medical records, mental health evaluations. They will want to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re ‘unfit’ to play and that’s why they have to trade you. And no team is gonna touch you after that.”

Riley stood there blinking at him, letting that sink in and feeling like he was sinking somewhere with it.

“I don’t want to discourage you from taking a stand,” Rick said, then sighed and added, “I know it sounds like that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I just – I’m trying to look out for you. You need to put yourself first. I told Harris the same thing about the Vanity Fair article.”

Riley frowned and looked at him. Harris was Rick’s client too? Was that why he didn’t do the coming out interview in June? Rick talked him out of it?

“The bottom line is, New York is threatening to bench you, while Montreal is offering to play you on the first line,” said Rick. “It’s a gut-punch, bud, and I am so sorry I didn’t see it coming, but I think you should take the escape hatch. If you fight New York, you’ll be fighting for a spot on a team that blindsided you and tried to push you out. Is that the team you wanna risk your whole career to play for?” He searched Riley’s face. “Montreal wants you, kid.”

Riley stared at him. He could feel the room getting tinier. As though the air was closing in. He realized he was gripping something in his left hand and looked down at it. Helmet. He looked around for somewhere to put it. There wasn’t anywhere.

“I need to put my helmet down,” he said, numbly.

Rick held out his hand. “Give it to me, kid. You won’t – agh.” He scrubbed his hair. “No matter what you decide, you probably won’t need it anymore.”

Louis

A notification lit up his phone at eleven-forty-seven, and Louis realized the office was empty and completely dark. He blinked and looked around as the phone illuminated the walls and ceiling.

He’d been hunched over his laptop so long he’d lost track of time. His eyes were bone dry and his neck was screaming. He pushed himself back from the desk, ignoring the phone as it lit up again. A Grindr hookup he’d tried to end things with after the summer wasn’t getting the message. The last text Louis sent had politely but firmly explained that he wasn’t interested in bottoming for a guy that used him like a Fleshlight.

Alright, to be fair, sometimes he was interested in bottoming for a guy that used him like a Fleshlight. But not all the time.