“Of course they do!” Topher sat next to him. “Do you know how many athletes would have quit after getting injured? You did something really brave, and probably a little stupid, but you won a gold medal anyway. Of course they want you to be the flag bearer.”
“Chelsea is, of course, also in the running, so she’s taunting me over text.”
“Gives new meaning to sibling rivalry.”
“I’m not even sure I can walk far enough to do it. The ankle feels better, but it still hurts a lot. On the other hand, I’ll never have this opportunity again. I just… wow.”
“If you feel well enough when the day arrives, I think you should do it.”
“It’s not mine yet. The other athletes still have to vote.”
“Still, if you do get it? Go for it. Show all the doubters that they were wrong. Show how good and how strong you really are.”
Jake ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s just the flag.”
“I know, but it’s still a big deal. Just think about it, all right?”
“I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Day 13
THE BUZZ around the International Broadcast Center was mostly focused on track and field. An American sprinter with a doping charge in his past was suddenly among the favorites to win the 200-meter final. Topher knew even less about track than he did about gymnastics prior to the Games, but this sprinter, Jason Jones Jr., was a handsome guy who liked to bling up his uniforms on the track, and Topher was intrigued enough to ask about the possibility of interviewing him. Joanna seemed delighted by the idea.
Others had already focused their attention on the Closing Ceremony. Apparently the contest for the flag bearer position had gotten quite contentious. There were a half-dozen finalists. In the past Topher hadn’t cared much about the Closing Ceremony. Mostly he’d wanted to hide his face. But he was excited for Jake.
In the meantime, the competition was still on. Topher’s schedule for the day put him at the Olympic Stadium to talk about some track events. As he headed for the elevators, Joanna stopped him. “I know you’re kind of in your head about how the media has been talking about you, but honestly, please just be yourself. Go do social media from the track like you’ve been doing. Make it fun and positive. Draw a little attention to yourself. Yeah?”
“I’m on it,” Topher said with more confidence than he felt.
He got a cab at the broadcast center and then promptly got stuck in traffic. So he let his mind wander.
He would take Joanna’s advice and act like he didn’t know a conservative group was gunning for him. He knew he couldn’t change anything. He drew attention to himself, both deliberately and accidentally sometimes, so he supposed he should have expected some pushback. He was loud, brash, flamboyant—he put himself out there. Figure skating fans wrote blog posts about his post-Olympic life full of speculation about who he was dating, and it had never occurred to him to mind until Jake walked into his life. Because Jake was special, because they had something real, and Jake didn’t want this spotlight.
Jake, who just that morning had kissed Topher sweetly before heading off with his sister and her friends for some sightseeing in Madrid. Topher probably had hearts in his eyes whenever they looked at each other.
Topher had once been a champion figure skater, and he supposed his inner flame shone bright enough that no one was really surprised when he came out publicly. He’d often demurred in interviews before that, afraid that the figure skating establishment would condemn him for upholding those old stereotypes. Not to mention, he’d had enough male skaters over the years tell him to tone it down, to wear fewer sequins and ostrich feathers, to not be so fey. Once in a locker room before the World Championships, a Russian skater had cornered Topher in a locker room and called him a fag before putting him in a headlock tight enough to leave a bruise on Topher’s chin. He’d had to get out the heavy makeup to cover it up, which hadn’t helped his cause much.
But skating was such a beautiful sport, and Topher had always wanted to honor its artistic origins. He’d wanted to express himself with music choice and costumes. It wasn’t just about landing quad jumps or completing all the required skills in a program. It was about artistry and beauty and grace. And that was something men’s figure skating had been losing lately as it became a contest to see who could land the most quad jumps. Topher and Jake had talked a lot about gymnastics moving away from the artistic and more toward the athletic, and that was all well and good, but Topher missed the artistic. Skating was less for it, in his opinion.
Topher sighed. He’d been so tired of getting harassed in locker rooms and on figure skating social media that when he’d retired, he’d vowed to live his best life, to express himself however he saw fit, to be himself and nothing else. And he’d lived up to that all week, which of course now meant that people on the internet were making fun of him and calling him ridiculous. But Jake hadn’t seemed to mind any of that. Jake seemed to like everything about him, in fact. He wasn’t judgmental and wouldn’t ask Topher to change; he liked Topher for who he was, and was attracted to the parts of Topher that others found outrageous.
Just the night before, Jake had spent a few minutes looking at all the clothes hanging in the closet. Why had Topher packed a little faux fur jacket for summer in Madrid? Why not? It was cold in the broadcast center. And Jake had held up some garments to Topher and asked to see them modeled, and that had led to some sexy fun. Jake wasn’t afraid of any of this. Hell, he’d even draped the hot pink feather boa around his shoulders as he’d examined things, which had spurred Topher into imagining how Jake would look with some eyeliner and some more gender ambiguous clothing. The image didn’t quite work—Jake’s body was remarkably different from Topher’s and he wore Topher’s accessories differently—but that was okay.
Because Jake had strong arms and was easygoing and he liked Topher. Jake understood what the weight of expectations and the pressure to succeed felt like. He knew what it felt like to fuck up on the world’s stage. And he’d figured out how to conquer his past failures, and Topher remained incredibly proud of him. They understood each other.
Topher’s last boyfriend had been like, “You went to the Olympics. So few people will ever do that. You’re still special.”
But that wasn’t the point. And Jake got that.
The traffic finally broke, and Topher soon found himself in front of the Olympic Stadium. He felt newly determined to show everyone exactly what he could do and exactly why he should have this job.
JAKE AND Chelsea had broken off from the rest of the girls to take a closer look at an exhibit at the Prado while everyone else went to find a restaurant. When Chelsea asked how things were going with Topher, Jake had tried to put her off, but she was persistent. Well, she let it drop at the museum, but once they’d gotten the text with directions to their lunch spot, she started again.
“How have you handled this with guys you’ve dated in the past?”
“I don’t date. Who has time?”
Chelsea’s face softened. “I bet you’ve figured out how to make time, but you don’t want to tell me about it, and that’s fine. I don’t want to know. Although, and don’t tell a soul about this, but I’m kind of seeing a guy who plays for the Rockets.”
Jake balked. “You are not.”
“It’s not serious. But we go out if we both have a night off. Also, I’m nineteen.”
“Nope. You’re my little sister.” God, when had Chelsea grown up? This was unreal. “For the Rockets? Which player?”
“Would you know him if I told you?”
“Nope. I know next to nothing about basketball. But is he, like, three feet taller than you?”
“Yes. Well, a foot and a half. He’s six five.”
“Wow. I’m really strong, though. I bet I could take him if I had to.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you.”
Jake sighed. He did not want t
o talk about himself. He wanted to be able to spend time with Topher in Madrid without anyone caring. He wanted the anonymity of being a failure back. He let out a wheezy breath.
“All right, let’s back up,” said Chelsea. “Topher. You like him, right?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“In an ‘I’d like to get to know him better after the Olympics way’ or in—and trust me, as your sister, it pains me to say this—a ‘the sex is super smoking hot’ kind of way?”
“Honestly? Both.”
Chelsea laughed. “All right. Well, that’s something. And you’re nervous about going public.”
“I just… I don’t want to invite the whole world into my private life, and I’m worried people will give me a hard time.”
“That’s fair. I can’t even say that won’t happen, because it probably will.”
“It’s not even getting outed. I can take care of myself. I can face whatever happens with that. It’s more about me and Topher. Will we last or not? Who knows? I’d like to be able to figure that out before I say anything to anyone outside of the circle of people I trust.”
“I hear you.”
“I just… I need more time.”
“I don’t know him, obviously,” Chelsea said, “but he is very cute, and he seems like a good guy.”
“He is.”
“You don’t have to take this from me, because I totally get that I’m younger than you and you’re more worldly or whatever, but I’ve figured out that you and I—we do not have normal lives.”
Jake scoffed. As if that wasn’t obvious.
“And because we don’t have normal lives, we don’t get to have normal love lives. How many times in your life has a guy you like as much as Topher even shown interest in you?”
Jake closed his eyes. He’d made eyes at guys in gay bars, he’d had one-night stands without getting to know the man beyond the surface, and he’d met plenty of guys he’d liked over the years who were straight or not into short guys or who really just did not understand Jake’s life. Had he ever met someone who he clicked with, the way he did with Topher?
“Never. This is pretty much the only time it’s happened.”
Chelsea nodded. “After the Olympics, all of this will blow over and most of the American public will go back to not knowing who you are. They’ll show that clip of you sticking the landing in your high bar routine in Olympics clip shows for a few decades to come, probably, but that still means people will only remember you for two weeks every four years. That means that once we get back to the States, none of this will matter.” Chelsea gestured to her phone. “You know what does matter? Finding someone to spend the rest of your life with. Because I heard what Dad said—you’re planning to retire soon, and you have to build a life for yourself outside of gymnastics. And I’m guessing that could get pretty lonely… although Mom will probably still make you come over for dinner.”
Jake laughed. She was right. The only time the media even showed up at the Mirakovitch compound just outside Houston was if there was some gymnastics-related story in the news. The doctor who’d been arrested for molesting his patients while employed by USA Gymnastics had been a huge story. Valentin had never trusted that doctor or let him near his own gymnasts, and the doctor had been let go when Valentin took over as head coach of the national team, but a bunch of reporters had shown up at the gym to ask questions anyway. But that was a rare situation. Chelsea was right; most Americans probably couldn’t pick Jake out of a lineup.
“So what you’re saying is,” Jake said, “that I should be with Topher and not worry about what the fallout might be.”
“Basically, yeah.”
Jake looked at his sister. Hadn’t she just been a little girl five minutes ago? He shook his head. “How did you get so wise?”
Chelsea grinned. “The magic of gymnastics.” She patted Jake’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay, you know. The whole family, all of your teammates, we support you.”
“I know. Thanks, Chels.”
“I mean, Dad will totally have a coronary the first time he meets Topher, but he’ll recover. He loves you and wants you to be happy.”
After seeing the way Valentin had worried over him the last week, Jake believed that more strongly than he ever had before. “I know.”
“And it’s totally going to be me bearing the flag.”
“Sure. We’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Day 15
TOPHER LOST the lottery to get a Closing Ceremony ticket, which was a bummer considering Jake and Chelsea both planned to go regardless of who was chosen to be flag bearer. Topher and Jake had spent every available moment together over the past week—a lot of them in Topher’s room, which felt safe. The good news was that they hadn’t tired of each other or run out of things to talk about. It had been a fantastic week. And now Topher’s flight home was two days away, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
He browsed the craft services area of the TBC floor of the broadcast center, snagging a slice of cheese and a handful of crackers.
Joanna appeared at his side. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.” Topher kept his tone light, although Joanna’s serious expression was worrisome. She was probably about to tell him that this had been fun and all, but TBC would not be needing his services anymore. There’d be no commentary gig at the Winter Olympics or even at the US regional figure skating championship on an upper-dial cable network. Topher had pushed it too far, he was too flamboyant, too gay, too—
“I’m passing along that this Olympics broadcast has been a great success, and the powers that be have decided it’s because they hired personalities that appeal more to younger viewers. Our ratings with eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-olds have gone way up over the last Olympics, and we think it’s because of people like you.”
Topher’s heart pounded. That sounded like… good news. “Well, that’s good to know. Glad I could help.”
“Here’s the deal. The network wants to hire you to do commentary at the next US Figure Skating Championships, in January.”
Topher’s heart rate sped up. “Are you serious?”
Joanna nodded. “Yes. And if that goes well, then other figure skating competitions that we air are yours too. TBC Sports usually covers the European Championships and World Championships in between Olympics. And if you do well on all those, well, Tim Preston plans to retire. So that job’s yours.”
Topher felt faint suddenly. Tim Preston was a retired figure skater whose heyday had been in the eighties. He’d been calling figure skating for TBC since the early nineties. Topher found Tim highly irritating—his approximate level of enthusiasm was that of college football cheerleader—but recently there had been some rumors about Tim trying to assert his heterosexuality by feeling up women without their consent. Topher wondered if Tim wasn’t retiring so much as being pushed out by the network because of the rumors. Either way, Topher was happy to take his job.
“You’re serious. That is so amazing. I can’t even….” Then Topher took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m thrilled for the opportunity.”
“The network liked the work you did here. You made gymnastics accessible for the regular person who only tunes in every four years. Bring that energy to calling figure skating, and you’ll do just fine.”
“I swear, you and TBC will not regret it.” It started to sink in that Topher was getting exactly what he’d wanted. He’d passed the test. That job was his. “Thank you, thank you.”
His various retirement projects had been fun. Participating on that cooking show had been a blast. And having so many designers now wanting to give him red-carpet outfits or have him wear their clothes at Fashion Week felt like a coup, and some of the modeling work he’d done had been fun. But he missed figure skating. Not even the skating itself; he still had access to a rink in New Jersey any time he wanted to get back on the ice. He still got asked to do easy routines at exhibition shows
once in a blue moon, although he usually turned those down. But more than that, he missed talking about skating, he missed the community, he missed the energy in an arena during competition.
This was his ticket back in. And he wouldn’t risk bruises or broken bones if he did this.
He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Thank you so much, Joanna. This will be amazing. I’ll totally be going to the next Olympics.”
“You’ll have to call pairs and ice dancing and everything. Not just men’s and women’s.”
“Not a problem.”
Joanna winked. “I mean, we have Tana Barber for ice dancing. Do you know her?”
Tana Barber was half of a silver-medal ice dancing pair. “Of course, darling. Tana and I vacation together. She’s one of my skating besties.”
“And we’re thinking about having you call with Marilyn Chen.”
Topher knew Marilyn well from their years traveling to competitions together. “She’s a goddess.”
Joanna smiled. “This will all work out just fine, then.” She glanced at a plate of pastries on the craft services table as if it were calling to her. “Seriously, congratulations, Topher. I know I am not always the easiest person to work with, but you made these last two weeks a lot more fun than I imagined it would be.”
Topher couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “I will admit, I kept wondering for the last two weeks if my getting sacked was imminent. I know I can be a lot.”
“We like you because you’re a lot.” Joanna winked. “If I still have this job in two years, it will be a lot of fun to work together again.” She patted his shoulder. “Seriously, good luck with everything. Someone from TBC will be in touch with your agent when we’re all back in New York, and we’ll set up meetings to deal with the details. But in the meantime, welcome to the TBC family, Toph.”
Stick the Landing Page 25