It didn’t stay in the forefront of his mind because nothing seemed to have come of it. Danny had been expecting advertising deals and team sponsorships from companies eager to show how gay-friendly their products were, but as far as Eliot knew, that hadn’t happened at all.
Some of the conversations he’d had last night had made him wonder about the team’s finances, too. He had no idea what it cost to run a hockey team, but it was hard to imagine that with all the people throwing money at it they couldn’t keep their head above water. People had paid a thousand dollars a ticket to talk to Danny and his teammates for a few minutes each last night.
Maybe he was being stupid about it—maybe even that kind of money didn’t go very far in professional sport—but something about the whole situation was setting off Eliot’s instincts. The instincts that told him when something wasoff, the same ones that made him the exact kind of curious, suspicious person who was perfect for journalism.
At least, that was what he believed. He’d never really had the chance to prove himself.
This could be that chance. If there was something going on, and he figured it out and took the story to Ben… it could be his ticket to bigger and better things.
Not that writing about men’s grooming wasn’t a perfectly reasonable, noble pursuit, but Eliot had always wanted more. Danny had made vague promises of giving him the opportunity to make connections, and he had—though possibly not in the way he’d intended.
It couldn’t hurt to do a little digging. No one would ever have to know if he didn’t find anything.
If he did, though, it might make his career.
