Golden

Chapter 6

February 2017- Beaverton, OR /in route to Beaverton

I was finally cleared for some more intense workouts. I wouldn’t be cleared to ski again until April, but I wasn’t stuck just doing PT anymore either. And my agent had cashed in on that almost immediately. Yesterday, I had been cleared in the morning and by 11, all of my previous plans for this week were put on hold. I had been put on a private plane to Nike headquarters with my manager, Jennifer. The whole flight was spent discussing media strategies to get my name and brand built back up as I made my way back to competition. I spaced out for most of it, preferring to surf through my Instagram and Twitter accounts. My twitter was completely public, and I hardly did anything other than like and retweet other people’s tweets. My Instagram, on the other hand, was completely private. Only people I actually knew were granted their follow requests.

Once Jennifer realized what I was doing, she grabbed my phone. “So let’s talk about your social media. It’s the best way to get fan interaction and give them glimpses into your recovery. Will you agree to tweet more to followers? Some original content instead of just retweeting skiing and puppy tweets?”

I agreed and put my beats noise canceling headphones on in hopes that she would stop talking and let me scroll in silence for the rest of the flight.

But, she clearly had other plans. The headphones were removed and her squeaky voice asked, “Any chance that you will agree to make your Instagram public?”

Just by the glare I sent her, she knew that the answer would be no. So she tried again

“How about snapchat?”

I didn’t even bother to respond to that attempt. The headphones went back on and rap began flowing, instantly calming me down. Bratty? Maybe. But when Jennifer was hired I gave her two rules. Snapchat stays private and my IG won’t be used for my brand or the general public. Most of my hesitation came from a few years ago when I was a bit more reckless. The nights out clubbing and partying (all done while I was underage) were all over my Snapchat and Instagram. So, while my friends knew what trouble I was getting into, only people I allowed to follow me saw the real trouble I got into. If it wasn’t for those precautions, the whole world would have seen me during my craziest days. Back then, my days were spent skiing and partying. There was little outside training, nutrition or rest.

Since being taken under Lindsey’s wing, I hadn’t partied the same and had grown up quite a bit. That was when the big name sponsorships began to come in. Nike was the sponsorship I was most proud of. Lindsey was sponsored by Under Armour, so it was yet another category we were competitors in. Jennifer was handpicked by my agent after I signed my Nike contract. I’m pretty sure she only stayed with me in hopes of my agent giving her a higher level client. She seemed to see me as a kid that couldn’t make the right decisions on her own and had taken to lecturing me on any of the choices I made.

My stream of thoughts was broken by the vibrating of my phone. Nate’s latest picture popped up on my screen along with his name, requesting a facetime call. Perks of flying private was the much-improved Wi-Fi connection compared to what most airlines provided or offered. I answered the call with a smile on my face. Nate and I had continued spending time together when he wasn’t on the road over the past month. Last week, he was at the all-star game. It was definitely a highlight of a season that hadn’t had many for him or his team. We were supposed to be going out for dinner tonight at The Capital Grille, but Nike was too important to pass up. He and I talked for a few minutes before Jennifer realized that I was not talking to Lindsey, a coach, or any of the members on my training team. She switched seats so she was directly across from me and stared at me until it became uncomfortable. I told Nate I would call him when I was in my hotel room in Oregon and alone.

“Yes, Jennifer…”

“I need you to tell me if you are spending time with strange men, Myers. We have gone over this. I can’t cover up stories if I don’t know about them.”

“What makes you think I only hang around with strange men. He’s a friend, and if he officially becomes more than that, I’ll let you know if I feel like you should know. End of story.” We had maybe 30 minutes left on our flight, and I was hoping she would let it go. The last thing I needed was to explain that I was kind of, maybe, dating an NHL player. Especially to Jennifer. I could see her overreaction already.

She rolled her eyes at me before the next part of the lecture began “Mark hired me to look after your image and I can’t do that if you don’t cooperate…”

I decided to put an end to this. Maybe my agent, Mark, wouldn’t be happy with my sudden decision but he seemed to be over Jennifer bugging him about his “bigger clients” just as much as I was over her looking down on me. I had told him the last few times we talked that the next time Jennifer crossed the line I would be moving on. He assured me that he would have someone else lined up whenever I decided to let her go. Apparently, I lasted longer with Jennifer than he expected me to. That was going to have to end today. Would it make me a total brat to fire her while in the air and have the plane take her back to Denver as soon as I landed? Maybe, but I was over her snide comments. I took a deep breath and cut her off.

“I have cooperated plenty with you, Jennifer. Maybe even over cooperated seeing as you have yet to show me any actual respect. You are working for me. My image is perfectly fine, but you keep trying to play it off like any interaction I have with the other gender makes me a whore. I think it’s time we go our separate ways. Maybe you can finally move on to a client you actually want to be working for. Thanks for your time Jennifer. The plane can take you to back to Denver once we land in Beaverton.”

Her jaw was slack and for the first time since she began working for me, she was silent. I shot Mark a heads up text, which he replied with a thumbs up emoji. So turns out I’m not in trouble. A second text came through with the name of a media specialist/ PR expert that Mark was sent out to meet with me before I head to Nike headquarters that afternoon. Apparently, my new media specialist was already in Eugene for something and would meet with me at the airport. Fifteen minutes later, the plane finally touched down. I grabbed my backpack and duffel, thanked my pilot and flight attendant, and headed outside to the tarmac. A car was waiting for me that Nike had sent and I was introduced to Jackson, the man Mark had sent. We were in the car and off to Beaverton.

It didn’t matter how many times I came to Nike’s headquarters, the architecture and design around the campus always caught my breath. Both Jackson and I were escorted to meeting rooms by an intern and handed water while we waited for our meetings to begin. An ad campaign was being planned that I would be involved in. The first part of our afternoon was to listen to their pitches and agree or shoot down ideas. Then, I would head down the “lab” where new designs were being worked on to get a tour. Tomorrow morning, we would begin photoshoots for the ad and both Jackson and I would leave by tomorrow evening.

The Nike staff mostly wanted me to do pictures both working out and casual pictures for the ad. For the spring season, I would only be in photo ads, not in any commercials. That was honestly how I preferred it. Something about acting in videos made me uncomfortable. It was one thing to work out or stand there and have people take pictures, but acting for commercials was completely outside of my comfort zone.

It was nearly 7 pm when we left Nike headquarters to head to the hotel. Both Jackson and I agreed that room service sounded better than stopping anywhere. I lugged multiple Nike bags up to our hotel room that were stuffed with new shoes and clothes that were provided for me. Part of my sponsorship contract was that I would only wear Nike and not any other competitors for workouts and just out and about. That agreement didn’t apply to skiing, as they didn’t make any suits, helmets, or skis.

Jackson and I spent the evening discussing which areas I would be comfortable growing my presence in on social media. He was more than happy to work with me on Twitter and leave the rest of my accounts private. I agreed to avoid posting anything out of line on Instagram regardless of privacy levels since anyone could screenshot and share a post.

My phone had been stuffed in my jacket pocket for most of the meeting. I remembered my promise to Nate to call him back. He accepted my facetime request pretty quickly. It was 9:30 in Denver. Nate was already in bed, propped up against the headboard when his picture came into focus. We talked about making up the dinner we had planned for tonight, my day at Nike, Nate’s dog Duke, concerts we both were considering getting tickets to and my rehab schedule. I fell asleep with Nate’s voice still on my phone.