Chapter 38 I Wasn’t Worth the Truth
I Wasn’t Worth the Truth
Knox
I’m standing in front of the riders’ tent, the place where all the X Games participants hang out.
It’s already dark, but the whole place is ringed with spotlights and lit up.
I can hear the audience’s calls as well as the commentators’ observations through the speakers all the way over here.
My heart is hammering against my chest. But not because I’m nervous.
It’s the steroids I just shot. Pearls of sweat are forming on my neck and running down into my jacket.
Maybe I should’ve taken a lower dose. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken anything.
But I’ve got no choice. Shit, I’ve got to be the best. I’ve got to.
It’s the fifth time ESPN’s invited me to the X Games. Not for one discipline, but two: superpipe and superpipe session because I’m known for landing awesome tricks and coming off as cool and easygoing. That’s my thing.
I nod to security out in front of the tent, and they move to the side.
They know who I am. I pick up my gear in the fore tent at reception and move on to the riders’ tent.
It’s nice in here, warm and full. A buddy of mine is sitting between two skiers with a pair of recovery boots on, which are supposed to massage his calves.
He flashes me a peace sign. The kind of peace dude who goes and gets baked after every contest.
I take a Monster Energy out of the fridge when I realize that Jason Hawk is staring at me.
He’s sitting in front of a mirror while a hairstylist is flitting about him in an attempt to tame his hair.
I open the can and return his stare, expressionless, until he looks away.
We both do superpipe, and last year he just crushed me.
I can’t stand him, really, his big mouth freaks me out, but, shit, can he rock the half-pipe.
I sink down onto one of the couches, drink my energy drink, and look at the livestream on one of the TVs.
A Canadian snowboarder is attempting a double cork but doesn’t manage and takes a pretty bad fall.
“Oh, shit,” someone filling up their plate at the buffet says while another whose hip is being massaged by a physiotherapist says, “Dude, he’s out. ”
I pull out my phone to write Paisley a message.
You here already?
Yep. With your dad and Wyatt in the front row.
Brief pause, then:
A cameraman keeps sticking his finger into his nose. It’s so gross.
I have to laugh, then my name is called, and I’m told to get ready. I polish off my drink, put the can to the side, and stand up.
I’m up next.
She sends me that GIF of the pig in the sequined dress. This is what I look like when I cheer you on. Go, Knox, uh, uh, go, Knox.
God. I love this girl.
My hands are sweaty with nerves. The audience would never notice, of course, but before every ride I get butterflies.
It’s a great form of nerves. I like it. A tingling excitement.
If my life as a star snowboarder weren’t filled with so many uncomfortable things, like the pressure, all the time required, the publicity that digs into every aspect of my private life, I’d never want to change it.
It’s so bright that it feels like I’m going to go blind. Lights are dancing before my eyes and, thanks to the snowmobile, it stinks so bad on gas that I think my lungs are going to give out.
“Knox!” the audience calls as I make my way past them. “You’re going to rock this, Knox!”
“Oh my God, I love you!” a sandy-haired blond yells before breaking out into tears when I walk past. Another guy bellows, “Yo, you’re the best, man!”
I smile at everyone as I make my way to the snowmobile, my board pressed up tight against me.
The snowmobile will take me up the slope to the pipe, where I’ll get out behind the huge blue X Games banner.
From there, everything else looks unspectacular, like working backstage at a festival as a scaffolder or something.
But I can hear the crowd going nuts, and I can hear the speakers egging them on by saying my name and asking everyone whether they’re ready to see me.
Security steps to the side and lets me up the stairs.
There’s a lot of them, like walking up to the third floor of a building, and when I come out at the top, a woman with a headset comes up to me immediately.
Gesticulating wildly with one hand while the other is on her headset, her eyes are narrowed as she listens to all the instructions.
“Just a sec,” she says. “They’re still running a commercial.
We’ve got to wait for the cameras. Okay.
You can go out now, strap in, but wait until I give you the go-ahead. ”
I do what she says and step out in front of the scaffolding and the crowd goes wild.
The spectators are calling out, screaming, and yelling with all their might, but I can’t see a thing due to the glaring lights.
It’s so loud my ears are ringing. Thankfully I know that as soon as I hit the pipe, my head will block everything else out.
Then all that’s left is me, my board, and my jumps that I’ve been perfecting all year long.
All there is is my heart slamming against my chest and this moment.
The woman with the headset gives me a sign with her index finger. “Go!”
I push off, jump, and feel that feeling in my stomach as I hit the pipe. For a few seconds I’m weightless, then I think: What an awesome feeling.
I kick off with a frontside double cork 1260° followed by a double backflip that looks like a corkscrew.
My snowboard lands perfectly, inside I’m cheering even louder than the spectators, then I do a backside 900°.
I shift pressure to the front right, shoot up the right wall, jump off on the edge of my heel and in the first half turn I’m back to the audience.
Then I do a frontside and cab, land flawlessly, and get ready for my last jump: the frontside double cork 1440°.
It’s a tough one, and last year I almost didn’t land it, but I trained all summer long and am praying that it’ll work out this time, praying, praying, praying, and…
I land it. Holy shit. The adrenaline makes me laugh out loud. I ride into the middle of the pipe, push up my goggles, and wave into the cameras with an ear-to-ear grin.
Top that, Hawk.
I snowboard past the front row on my right and see Paisley laughing, cheering, and beaming, and my heart just opens. She is just so beautiful. So beautiful.
Dad looks happier than I’ve ever seen him, and Wyatt is roaring.
There is only a small passageway between the front row and the main area, behind it the spectators are waiting.
I sail between them, there’s not much space, barely three feet, and the crowd reaches out for me.
I give people high fives, stop for photos and autographs, and know that this is what I want forever, even if I decide to take another path.
At this very moment I realize that changing something doesn’t necessarily mean having to give something up. When I think about it, I am happier than I have been in a long time, and I think that in my heart, Mom’s smiling at me.
I grab hold of it and don’t let go.
It’s shortly before three. We were at the riders’ party in some old villa, sponsored by some brewery or other, and everyone was celebrating my having taken first place. Jason Hawk was some kind of pissed, and that made me so happy.
Now, I’m drunk, and Paisley, too, and we’re stumbling into my room.
She falls onto the bed, runs her hand across my bedspread, and giggles.
I kiss her laugh away and take it inside me.
I’ve kissed a lot of women in my life—a lot—but there’s no one like Paisley.
Not a single one kisses like she does. It’s hard work holding back and slowing down every time she touches me.
She just does that to me, makes me so impatient, and I don’t know why, but I love it.
I love every single tension-filled second she explores my body with her lips, with her fingertips.
Paisley is more. She’s enough forever.
Her hands tear at my sweater. I help her pull it over my head and like how she explores my abs, how her lips move along the sides and my penis pulses in reaction.
It takes me three goes to get her jeans open, then everything becomes a whirlwind of kisses, pulling off her pants, and tossing the whole thing into the farthest corner of my room by the dresser.
I push her shoulders down until her back is against the bed, then bend over her, my hands to the left and right.
I scatter kisses, feel her warm skin, hear her panting.
Her hands grab my hips, pull me on top of her while she pushes and rubs against me.
Shit, this is heavy. I have to pull away otherwise the whole thing will be over in two, maybe three seconds.
“Knox.”