I came up on a crowd just outside the gates and sure enough, when I jumped up on a nearby retaining wall I spotted Ben chatting with a camera operator. It was like he was a zoo animal, with people milling around and watching his every move.
I searched for Business Barbie and was both happy and bummed that she wasn’t nearby. It meant that she was focused on someone more important.
Ben was officially b-team now, although you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. He posed for selfies with his arm around fans, wearing a big smile even though he probably wanted to disappear. My heart splintered for him.
I glanced around looking for a spot where we could have some privacy, because my next move had to have the precision of a military operation: Go into the throng, extract Ben, then take him to a quiet location for a loving beatdown.
The fates were on my side when I spotted Team USA snowboarder Luke Milberg strolling by, a man who knew how to attract attention. He was walking alone and had his signature pink mohawk hidden under a hat, probably going incognito himself. We’d met in the training room and had a long conversation about the benefits of arnica gel, and I’d wound up giving him one of my special tubs of the stuff from Germany since he was nursing a bruise that extended from his knee to his butt cheek.
He owed me.
I explained to him that I needed to cash in on my favor, and he was more than happy to walk into the middle of the crowd aroundBen and remove his hat like it was a striptease. Once he had everyone laughing and focused on him I swooped in and grabbed Ben’s hand.
He turned, smiling his performance smile until he realized that it was me. He glanced around.
“What are you doing here?”
“C’mon,” I insisted, dragging him when he refused to move.
“But I’m working.”
“So am I. Give me four minutes.”
He must’ve just walked out of the gates because the guards waved both of us through without an interrogation. I pulled Ben into the Welcome Experience building with him and startled the young volunteer standing in the lobby with a clipboard.
“Hi folks, I’m so sorry but this area is closed right now—” She paused when she saw Ben, then looked at me. I begrudgingly pulled off my hat and sunglasses, exposing Quinnett like the two of us together equaled an all-access pass.
“Ohmygosh! Hi, you guys! Can I get you anything? Is there a problem with your merch, Quinn?”
“No, everything is wonderful, thank you so much,” I answered. “We just need to find a quiet spot to talk about, uh, ratings fromThe Score. Is that okay with you?”
“Totally! Follow me, I’ll show you where to go.”
The young woman seemed thrilled to be tangentially involved in our mission. She pushed a door open and gestured into the room. “This was our welcome suite for sponsors. No one is here now so please feel free to make yourselves comfortable.”
I glanced around and realized that the organizations that bankrolled the Games got the kid-glove treatment as well. The room was a calming navy and filled with plush velvet couches and chairs that looked 100 percent more comfortable than a cardboard bed.
“I’ll be right out here. Holler if you need me!”
She gave us a little wave then disappeared.
We were finally alone.
“What are you doing, Quinn?” Ben sighed.
Stage-Ben disappeared and was replaced by a version of him I hadn’t encountered. Pale, with bruised-looking half-moons beneath his eyes.
“I’m saving you from you,” I answered, moving closer to him. I grasped him on both arms.
He froze as he processed what I was saying. I watched his shoulders slump.
“It’s literally the day before the biggest competition of your life,” he complained and tried to pull away, but I tightened my grip. “Whatever you want to say to me can wait.”
“It absolutely cannot.” I shook my head. “Now listen to me.”
He frowned even harder.
“I. Am. Here. No matter what color dog winds up sleeping on your chest, I need you to know that I will be right beside you trying to evict it. You decide to bed rot for a week or two? I’ll be sprouting mold one pillow over. You stop showering and brushing your teeth? I’ll plug my nose. You refuse to answer your phone? I’ll become your social secretary. But the one thing Iwon’tdo is leave. Got it? I will be there for all the dark shit that you think is going to drag you under, because guess what?”
