I sigh.As I feared.A perfect answer from a perfect role model.
"But I guess I could throw a party and let someone film it for a tabloid, if that's what you want," he adds dryly.
He is smug about it, but I can see the idea appeals to him.Like he could escape all this by getting drunk with friends.
"Do that if you want.But that's not what I need.One scandal doesn't make you human.Not unless it becomes your habit.And you can't afford that."
"You're the communication wizard.You tell me."
"I'm trying.But I need to know your weakness.So I can shape it to your advantage."
He thinks hard.I almost pity him.He's really trying.It's endearing.
"I don't know shit about skis," he says finally."Is that good enough?"
I try not to smile, because even his flaws come wrapped in that maddening charm.
"What do you mean?"I ask.
"Well, most of the good guys know how to recognize a good ski, pick the right one for the terrain, and tell the difference between waxes.I don't.I go down to the workshop, talk to Roman and his guys, bring them beer and coffee to show I appreciate them, but I don't pretend to care about their job.
Lukas is always there, discussing wax with his techs.Niko likes to relax by helping them.They wouldn't let me touch anything.I'd screw it up."
"That's interesting," I say, frowning.But not quite helpful.Not yet.
"The marketing guy from Vektor was furious with me," he laughs suddenly."We were shooting a commercial in the workshop.I was supposed to inspect a ski, act like I gave a damn.And I didn't even know how to look at it.I mean…how does one tell if a ski is any good?"
"That's a good story," I sigh."We'll use it in an interview.Maybe make a reel.Introduce your tech crew, and you'll tell this story to show how dumb you are.And how competent they are.We'll shoot it with Roman beside you."
"Great," he grins.
"But it's not enough."
I hate to disappoint him, but it's just another perfect trait.A superstar athlete who praises his technicians and admits he'd be lost without them.So very him.So very perfect.
"How about my right knee?It hurts," he offers.
"You scared it could become a problem?"
"Every time I feel a hint of that pain, I panic."
Finally, something I can use.My fingers tighten on the keyboard before I realize it.
"Amazing," I say, already typing notes on my laptop, ideas spinning.
He watches me closely.I stop and look up.
"I've never told anyone, you know," he says, frowning."Show at least some… emotion."
I blink, suddenly ashamed.I nod, letting the concern creep into my expression, slowly overtaking the professional detachment.I have to act a little.But only a little.Because he's opening up, and I respect that.
"I've never had a serious injury before,” he continues.“No operations.No long recoveries.But I've watched Lukas go through it.Others too.It wouldn't be that easy for me if the knee gave out."
"Thomas, I—"
"See?"he blinks, shaking off the thought."This kind of talk messes with me.And tell me, is it good for a focused racer to think about his weakness while getting ready for a race?"
"I get it," I nod."It's my job to work with these ideas.Not yours."
