“Liam! Mr. Martel!” a man in the front row calls. Alex recognizes him. He’s the Washington Post reporter who usually manages to come across as not completely incompetent. Martel leans forward, expectant. “You’ve been very quiet up until this point,” Washington Post guy says. “Is there a reason you’ve joined your teammates and coach at the table? Is there anything you’d like to say?” “Oh, me?” Martel throws his thumb, cavalier, toward Okezie. “I’m just here as moral support for my boyfriend.”
