Page 103 of Full Split
Ms. Worth smiles blankly. “Yes, but in the days since the publication, neither the USAG nor its representatives have made a formal statement supporting your athlete. Instead, your response has been to distance USAG from him, which we find unacceptable.”
“We have done no such thing,” the president says cooly. “We’ve merely remained quiet while we conduct our own internal investigations.”
“Is that so?” Ms. Worth replies, just as cooly. “In that case, you’ll be able to explain why Mr. Pruitt and Mr. Lincoln were both absent from the most recent media conferences, especially considering they were some of your best-performing gymnasts at the World Championships last week.”
“We didn’t want rumors to overshadow the accomplishments of the national team.”
“I see,” Ms. Worth replies. “And how did that go for you?”
The president doesn’t answer, only purses her lips. From what Rina, Shane, and the others have told us, the media were more concerned why Niles and Weston weren’t there than they were about asking questions relating to the competition. To the point where the public relations director had to step in and tell the journalists they were to keep their questions relevant to the competition and athletes present or the press meeting would be finished.
“Could you also then please explain the most recent filming of promotional material, in which Mr. Pruitt and Mr. Weston were also not present?”
One of the legal reps leans forward. “Ms. Worth, you must understand that our silence was not intended as judgment, but public relations is a complicated balance. Sometimes diplomacy demands neutrality until the facts are clear.”
Mik lets out a quiet snort beside me and leans forward slightly.
“If I may?” he asks quietly, voice calm but cutting.
Ms. Worth doesn’t even glance at him, just tilts her head and nods curtly. Permission granted.
Mik leans his forearms on the table and folds his hands. “As a public relations expert myself, I can assure you that you’d come out looking a hell of a lot better by standing behind your athlete, rather than bowing to a smear campaign orchestrated by a known liar, rule breaker, and predator.”
The PR man shifts. “I’m assuming you are referring to Peter Trenton?”
“I am.”
“And you’re suggesting this campaign can be traced back to him?”
Mik raises an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that your internal investigations haven’t figured this out? Because most of the public already has.”
Ms. Worth cuts in. She slides a document folder across the table. “Here’s the proof that our team has dug up in a matter of days. Mr. Trenton didn’t seem to think it necessary to cover his paper trail. It seems that, while Mr. Trenton has made some arguably disastrously stupid decisions, he assumed correctly that the USAG and the powers that be wouldn’t look too far into it and would instead place the blame on the most marginalized member of their team.”
Several members of the USAG team start talking at once, but Ms. Worth continues, talking over the lot of them as if they don’t exist. “We have emails, financial trails, anonymized submissions linked to Peter’s phone. Multiple outlets are involved, especially as the story grows and becomes more sensationalized, but the origin is clear.”
The board members exchange glances, but no one outright denies it.
“We are in no way suggesting that we believe Mr. Trenton over Mr. Pruitt,” one of the older board members says carefully. “But perception matters. The media frenzy has drawn significant public attention. Sponsors are watching closely. Our job is to protect the organization.”
“Then maybe you should protect it by doing the other part of your jobs and supporting your athletes. Because what you’re actually doing is causing more damage, not only to thereputation of an innocent athlete under your care, but to your organization as a whole,” Mik says scathingly. “Right now, the perception is that you’re allowing baseless claims to undermine your integrity. You look weak and cowardly. And you’ll only look worse when the truth comes out.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, sir. It’s a fact. And a promise.”
The silence is heavy. Mik lets it hang, then leans back in his chair like he’s getting comfortable.
“I’m not here with an agenda to blackmail, extort, or ruin anyone’s day,” he says. “I am here to shine a spotlight. It’smyjob to cover LGBTQ+ athletes in mainstream sports. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back while one of the most promising gymnasts this organization has ever seen is vilified for existing.”
Mik lifts his hands slightly. “I’ve seen this story before. Different names, same ending. But this time, with the hate and bigotry being poured down from the White House, you bet your ass I’m going to make damn sure it ends differently. He doesn’t deserve this, and you know it. The reason you’re remaining silent is because you’re ashamed of yourself, and nothing more.”
No one speaks for several long moments. Even our lawyer pauses to let it breathe.
Then she clears her throat, and the air shifts again.
“Now, let’s discuss the terms of our agreement,” she says, calmly laying a stack of stapled documents on the table, which the USAG team passes amongst themselves. “Here is what we expect.”
She begins to list our terms.
