Remi beams, taking a step forward to pull himself out from the group. “It’s a true honor. I worked hard and I’m so excited to bring the newest silver medal home for the American team. Where we can enjoy itand celebrate together.”
More bullshit. The man has a room full of his trophies and medals. He’ll take that sucker home and put it on the wall so he can stare at it for hours at a time for the next year. Every time anyone walks past the doorway to the room, they’ll be expected to stop, look at it, and give it reverence. Sure, he’s proud to be an American and all that jazz, but Remi did not wina medal for Americans. He won a medal for Remi.
The next reporter asks Cyrus, a parallel giant slalom athlete about how his practices have gone. He gives the standard, they’re great. Everything is wonderful. It wouldn’t matter if this guy tumbled down the mountain six times yesterday. He could be hiding a half broken leg under his track suit right now. He’s always going to say everything is perfect.
Boring. Boring. Boring.
“My question is for Mr. Knox Keaton.” The reporter, a short brunette asks, her hand in the air. Knox steps forward, and even though the question will be silly like his pre-event rituals or what he ate this morning for breakfast, my stomach still flip flops, and I hold my breath. “Jenna Fortune has been spotted many times over the last week watching various events. Manyof us are curious about the rumors circulating that she is here to see you. Do you have any comments on this?”
The reporter steps back and Marley slaps me in the arm. “What the hell?”
Well would you look at that. The first half-exciting question and it’s about my new boyfriend. If that’s what we’re calling ourselves.
Well, the first half-exciting question and it involves my maybe new boyfriend.
Knox clears his throat. “I didn’t know Ms. Fortune was attending the events. I have not seen her. I am however very much attached to Ms. Jonsson. And she will be cheering me on at my race this afternoon. Thank you.”
For a few moments while we wait for the next reporter to step up, the room fills with the constant undertone of chatter. More than likely reporters are trying to figure out who Mrs.Jonsson is. Eventually someone will probably put two and two together. But by then they’ll be on to the next event and the next athletes.
“Hell yeah! It’s about time!” my brother yells and then follows it up with a horrible whistle from his side of the line. He and Knox share an in the air fists five, both of them smiling.
I guess the reporters may figure it out a little bit sooner than planned.The crowd laughs, and I sink into the seat as far as possible, my cheeks turning a little pink. I try to look at a speck of dust on the floor so no one figures out who I am. At least not while I’m in this room.
Marley hits my arm again. “Well this should be interesting.”
I nod my head slightly. “McKenna is not gonna like this.”
“Okay, we’ll take one more question from the audience.” The spokespersonraises high on his toes and picks someone in the middle of the crowd.
“Is there an update on the fire that happened at the American based hotel here yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes,” the gentleman steps further up. “I’ll answer that one. The fire department did a thorough inspection of the hotel and no immediate threats were found. At this time it is the officials and the US team’s belief that thefire was a false alarm and not a terrorist or other threat. More than likely it was an innocent prank gone wrong and not something done with malicious intent. Security footage is continuously being reviewed and when we determine the exact cause and time, I will have further updates.”
He turns, giving the signal for the snowboarders to walk off the stage. This is only the first of many press releasesto happen today. One for each team.
“Thank you for your questions. That is all the time we have for the snowboarding team. In forty-five minutes we will be back with our ski program and take questions at that time. I hope to see you then. Thank you.”
The lights dim a fraction as they did earlier, letting us all know he’s serious. We don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here.
“Well thatwas an interesting press conference.” Marley stands for a minute. There’s no way we’ll await around forty-five minutes to hear what the skiers have to say. Not that we’d care anyway.
I follow, dusting off invisible fuzz from the front of my pants. “Why doesn’t anyone ever ask something good?”
