Crazy Blood (19 page)

“Don't underestimate him,” said Cynthia.

“I won't.” Adam watched Bonnie look into Robert's face as she pushed his hand back under the blankets. By the way that Robert was strapped upright in the chair, the way the new cap sat on his head, and the way that you could tell the eyes behind the sunglasses were seeing nothing, Adam realized that what he had hoped might be a dignified program about his family might well become something else. “Thanks to all of you for being here,” Bonnie said. “Sky, special thanks to you for pitching us this story. It's going to be a good one. We're calling it ‘The Carson Curse.'”

Adam's heart dropped.

“That wasn't my pitch at all,” said Sky.

“No worries,” said Bonnie. “It's just a handle for the sponsors.”

“But this show is supposed to be about how we're turning bad fortune
around,
” said Sky. “And me winning the Mammoth Cup for Robert.”

“Exactly. Rialto?”

Bonnie seated herself and Rialto arranged her mike, then got back to his camera and counted down. Adam looked at Robert's serenely empty form, then at Sky's dubious, eyebrows-arched assessment of Bonnie. She looked down, took two deep breaths, then turned to the camera with a smile and introduced the Carson clan.

Bonnie started with the beginning of skiing in the Sierras, when Dave McCoy envisioned the first ski lift here on Mammoth Mountain, and couldn't get a business loan to buy one, so Dave and Adam had built one with their own hands from a car engine.

Adam's mind shot back to the day that Dave had invited him to test-ride the first lift once again, after days and days of it failing—too fast, too slow, the ropes snapping, the cable threatening to decapitate someone—and Adam took hold of the crude handle and let it pull him five hundred feet up the mountain. Sitting here in the Footloose parking lot now, Adam didn't feel the artificial light and the hot August sun, but, rather, the cold breeze in his hair as he gathered himself for that first run off the new lift. He felt the heft of the wooden skis and the cumbersome bindings and the eager thump of his heart. He saw Sandrine and Dave and Roma down the mountain, their small faces turned up to him. And again he felt that sweet drop of stomach as he launched.

“You're best friends with Dave, aren't you?”

“Yes. He was my best man.”

“And together you took Mammoth Mountain from just a mountain with snow on it to the third-most-visited ski resort in America.”

“Dave did that. I just helped.”

“Adam, you helped build a town that a lot of people think is paradise. You had children make the U.S. Olympic ski team. You made a lot of money. You have had a charmed life, haven't you?”

“I always thought so.”

“Until tragedy struck for your son, Olympic downhill skier Richard Carson. Now, our viewers should know that this
Adrenaline
segment is the very first time that Cynthia Carson—Richard's widow—has spoken publicly about that tragic night. Cynthia, welcome to the show. And I know this might be difficult, but can you tell us what happened?”

“Hey!” Sky called out. “Hey, Bonnie Bickle! This is fully uncool.”

“What is?”

“This story was supposed to be about the Gargantua Mammoth Cup and me against my rotten half brother!”

“We'll get there, Sky. I'm backgrounding. Now, Cynthia Carson—tell us about that night here in Mammoth Lakes, in January of 1990. You were married to former U.S. Olympic downhill skier Richard Carson, you were thirty years old, a mother of two, and you were pregnant with Sky. You went to a party. Take us there.…”

“Well. Don't forget that I was an Olympic skier myself. I competed in Sarajevo, as did Richard. The downhill, slalom, giant slalom, and the combined. Neither of us made it to the podium, though I finished higher than he did.”

“Fantastic. Now take us back to that night.”

“Oh my gosh, where to start? There was this rich man's house where all us racers went to have fun? Richard went there early, as he always did. I stayed home with the children, as usual. Andrea was four and Robbie was three. They finally went to sleep.…”

“And you went to the party?”

Adam looked at Sky, flip-flops propped on the footrest of the director's chair. He was looking down and kneading his right thumb into his left palm. “Leave her alone, Bonnie,” Sky said, cutting her a look.

“This is an interview, Sky.”

“The story is not that night!”

“I'm okay, son,” said Cynthia. “But thanks for your concern.”

“I can't believe this shit,” he said.

“Say whatever you want, Sky,” Bonnie said cheerfully. “We'll beep out the too-naughty stuff.”

“Okay, then—I can't believe this fucking shit.”

“You're funny, Sky Carson.”

“Mom, you don't have to talk to this doorknob.”

Adam watched Sky consider Bonnie for a long moment; the boy's coldness surprised him. Adam had never seen
that
look from his grandson. But he recognized it. It was Cynthia's, when you thought she was going to fold up or go to pieces. When you thought she'd been defeated. Then, suddenly, she was absolutely certain and capable. As Sky was now.

“Let your mother continue,” said the host.

“I'm okay, Sky,” she said, but Adam heard the tiredness in her voice.

“Bonnie?” asked Sky. “Are you aware that you're exploiting a family tragedy for entertainment and a paycheck? Can you formulate this concept in your small ornamental brain?”

“I'll work on it,” said Bonnie. “So, Cynthia, Richard was at the party and you were home alone that night, and?”

“Oh, well, of course I got bored. So I called some friends to come sit with the children. I drove over and went in and got myself a diet soda from the fridge. Had some potato chips and pretzels—”

“And was your husband, Richard, there?”

Cynthia's voice sounded thoroughly weary when she spoke again. Adam wondered if she'd be able to continue. “I thought I'd made that clear.”

“Where was he? Where was your husband and what was he doing?”

Adam heard Cynthia clear her throat. She looked at him. At first, he saw the tiredness in her eyes, the worry, and maybe even panic crouching quietly in there. But he watched all of this slowly give way to an expression of wintry calm, forged from something pale and hard. Like a time-lapse film of water freezing, thought Adam.

She turned to Bonnie Bickle. “Richard was down in a basement bedroom with a very young woman named Kathleen Welborn and they were engaged in S.E.X. Under the covers, somewhat. They were so involved, they didn't even know I was there.”

“That must have been awful.”

Sky hissed something incomprehensible.

“It was for me,” said Cynthia. “Not for them. But what happened after was awful for everyone.”

“Which was?”

“I went home and got my gun, then came back to the party and shot him. Five times, up close. He was in the game room by then, playing beer pong. The first shot went through his heart and he was dead not long after he hit the floor, according to the coroner. Of course I didn't know that, so I made sure. Five shots, total. I came
that
close to getting first-degree, because of the leftover bullet and the time between what I saw and what I did. Prosecutor said I was a manipulating wife and a calculating killer. Those lies hurt me more than the truth ever did. It came down to the judge. He felt sorry for me. And by then, he was probably sick of the whole pathetic mess. Wouldn't you be?”

A long silence. Adam listened to the cars and the crows cawing over the trees and the mutterings of the crowd that had gathered.

“Wow,” said Bonnie Bickle. “So. Thirteen years in prison?”

“No, thank you, I've had quite enough,” Cynthia said politely. Adam watched her snug down her hat and slip on her sunglasses. He set a hand on her arm, which was trembling.

“Bonnie,” said Sky. “Maybe we could discuss extreme sports. Like this show is supposedly about.”

“Certainly, Sky. Let's talk about Robert, and how the curse of the Carsons seems to be continuing.”

“Robert's not a curse; he's a blessing.”

“But can you take us back to the last Mammoth Cup ski-cross finals, when Robert—in the lead—lost control? We're going to show that clip now, so you take over and call it for us, will you?”

Adam tried to watch the miserable clip. He'd seen it too many times. What if Robert was aware? Adam looked out at Highway 203 heading out of town, at the cars winding down the mountain, and an eastern sky untouched by smoke.

“You can see for yourself what happened, Bonnie,” said Sky. “What's important is that Robert is a great man and a great brother. He is the finest ski-cross racer I've ever seen. So I'm going to win the Mammoth Cup in January for him. And he's going to stand on that podium and help me accept the trophy. I don't say this as a publicity stunt. It is a fact that you will witness.”

“Does Robert have a chance of recovery?”

“His doctors are, of course, utter fools. But Mom has been getting Robert out into the sun almost every day. We're seeing that the stimulation has started to rebuild the damaged neural pathways in the nerve bundle. He's already using his eyelids to signal certain … recognitions.”

“Really? Can he, like, blink once for yes and two for no?”

“We hope to be there by the fall.”

“Okay, Sky, you don't want to believe in a Carson curse, but tell me about your half brother, Wylie Welborn. Most
Adrenaline
viewers know about Wylie Welborn, but for you people out there who don't, Sky—your father, Richard, was Wylie Welborn's father, too.”

“That's insightful of you, Bonnie.”

“And your mother, Cynthia, as she just told us, killed Richard in a jealous rage—after catching him in the act of, well …
creating
Wylie Welborn. You and Wylie were born one hundred and forty-four days apart. Looks like the beginning of bad blood to me. In fact, you and Wylie have a history. You recently posted serious threats against him on social media. You called him a ‘demon bastard.' That's a quote, Sky. So tell us, is Wylie Welborn part of the Carson curse?”

“He is the curse incarnate. That's why I'm going to beat him in the cup.”

“Wylie Welborn won the cup five years ago on his first attempt. You've won only one time in eight tries.”

“Oh ye of little faith. I'm training well. Eating well. I have a new girlfriend, Megan Brown, and she's totally into me. I've cut way back on the partying. I'll win. You can bet on it in Reno or Vegas if you're so inclined. Robert and I will stand on the podium with our gold. Wylie Welborn will not.”

“What if he runs you off the course, like you claim he did in practice?”

Adam saw Cynthia's look of calm come to her son's face again. It wasn't quite as strong or thorough as hers, but it spoke of the same resolve. Sky leaned forward toward the camera. “Chip, chip, chip, Bonnie—you're part of the curse, too. And we Carsons are out of here.”

Adam stood slowly and readied himself behind Robert's chair. His knees and back were stiff after sitting this long, and his sudden memories of Sandrine and Dave and those early days had left him wistful. Yes, he thought, I want to be young and strong again, but I cannot. So let Sky be young. And Robert. And Andrea. And Wylie. All of them. I have appointments to keep.

Camouflaged Cynthia came over and dug into the book bag hanging from the wheelchair handle. “I could have been an Olympic medalist,” she whispered to Adam. “But I chose to raise a family for your son instead. These half-wits understand nothing.” She got her folder from the book bag, extracted this week's edition of
The Woolly,
and walked it over to Bonnie. The host smiled politely and gazed at Adam with a questioning look.

Maybe there's some truth in the Carson curse after all, he thought. He'd had that idea before. And he'd wondered more than once, Have I made it better or worse?

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Richard had more than his share of women, and this was no secret when I met him. Soon after, I found myself in the same condition that Kathleen would find herself in years later. But Richard wasn't married when he made me pregnant. I lost the child later, but Richard had already committed to me—a late spring wedding here in Mammoth, then a long summer honeymoon in the Andes of Chile—and I wasn't about to let him off the hook. He didn't struggle much. We were happy. And hell-bent, as all good ski racers are. We had mountains to conquer and medals to win. Marriage? Oh, why not? We were young and talented. The Sarajevo games were coming.

So the idea of Richard straying from me was there from the start. I told him once, just once, that if he betrayed me, I would punish him. How, I didn't say. But I was very clear as to degree—it would be serious. Extremely so. But the precise idea of doing what I did was never in my head until that night. And then it seemed like the only thing I could do. I didn't agonize over the decision. I've taken longer deciding on a sweater. I just saw that I needed to do what I'd said I would. It was as if I had one line in a play and now it was time to step out and deliver it. Only then did I know what I was going to say.

Oh, and I was furious.

*   *   *

After Adam and I got Robert home from that difficult
Adrenaline
interview, we bathed Robbie and Adam left. He was very tired. I was buzzing with the energy I am known to have for long periods. Years ago, the meds were useful, but I've outlasted them. I really don't like other people's hands inside my head.

We who live on mountains learn never to waste one second of summer, so I went back out late that afternoon with my green camo still on, hat and all, and headed for the Welborn household, which is less than a mile from my condo.