Home Ice (10 page)

It was also depressing. What would it be like after two years? Three? The only way to stay focused and not lose her mind was to compete and keep competing.
I have to go to Nationals.

“You okay, doll?” Jeff waved that enviable manicure in front of her face.

“Hmm? Oh. I’m fine. Sorry. I was just somewhere else.”

“I’ll say. That fella really did a number on you, huh? That cutie pie hockey player. Too bad. He looked sweet enough to rot your teeth.” Jeff shook the foam from his razor, wiped his face with a towel, then popped open his compact and sponged on some primer.

“I actually wasn’t thinking about him.” For the first time all day. But that was a good thing. She wasn’t pining over some guy. She was drowning in self-doubt and fear of disappearing from the Earth if her skating career ended.
He made me forget
.

Just for a little while, it didn’t matter if she took this title or that medal. Being with Dylan, she was just a girl falling for a boy. That’s what it was no matter how much she wanted to deny it. The most normal thing she’d ever done.
You are not destined for normal
. Her mother must have said that 500 times while she was growing up, complaining about early lessons or missing out on birthday parties, sleepovers. It was meant as encouragement, inspiration to keep training, keep pushing. And it worked. Lori had become an Olympian.

“Oh, honey. You got a
lot
going on, don’t you?”

“You could say that.” She’d just never realized how much. The weight of it was almost suffocating.

“Uh-huh. Okay. I know what you need.” Jeff turned up the speakers and skipped through the soundtrack until he found “Lady Marmalade.” He leaned closer to the mirror and used a big brush to powder his face. “Sing with me!”

As Jeff belted out the lyrics, the rest of the performers added their voices and shimmied around her, encouraging her to join. It was so surreal, silly, and joyful that she gave in and sang at the top of her lungs with enough attitude to be right at home with the Divas. Madonna whistled and pointed, clearly impressed with the contribution.

Just like when Lori was on the ice, the music pumped through her veins and pushed all other thoughts out of her head. But unlike her routines, this was wild, sexy, so out-of-bounds with the goody-goody angel image she’d crafted and kept intact her entire life. And it was
fun
. It was freeing. She danced around the room, plucked a feather boa from a coat rack, and worked it like she was on a runway to the eardrum-piercing cheers of her new friends.

Margo poked her head out from around the dressing screen. “Mmm-mmm! Giuchi, giuchi, girl!”

When the song ended, Liza Minelli lowered the volume, and Lori doubled over laughing until she had to sit down, tears rolling over her cheeks.

Jeff tilted her chin up and examined her face. “That was fabulous. Breathe, honey. Are those happy or sad?”

“I … I don’t know.” Both? Wasn’t it important to know that kind of thing? Happy was the headliner, but sadness lingered uncomfortably close. Whatever all the tangled emotions were and wherever they came from, this wasn’t the time or place to explore them.

Jeff watched her for a few more seconds then nodded. “Well I’ll tell you one thing. Your talent is wasted on the ice. Those moves and that voice need to be on a stage.”

“I think I’ll leave that to the Divas.”

“Speaking of which …” Margo stepped out of the dressing area in a one-shoulder, black leotard, strappy heels, and what looked like armor on her left hand. “It’s about showtime. Come on, baby, let’s get you a front row seat. And as soon as the curtain goes down, a drink.”

Lori had barely drunk at all until the move to Nevada and the necessity of Sin City on Ice, but even then, only one drink a weekend. It was Monday. That was a good summation of her life at the moment. Margo directed her to a chair front and center then darted backstage as the lights flickered. The theater was filled to capacity.

When the curtain went up, a Lady Gaga impersonator strutted on stage and lip-synced “Let’s Dance” while nearly naked male backup dancers undulated around her. If she hadn’t been in on the nature of the show, Lori wouldn’t have been able to tell Gaga had a Y chromosome.

After the opening number, the show’s emcee, Frank Marino, walked out as a young Joan Rivers and got the audience laughing with a few bawdy jokes. He returned in a new gown after each act. By the end of the night, Lori saw Madonna perform “Music,” Liza dazzle with “New York, New York,” Margo get everyone dancing in their seats to “Single Ladies,” and a fake Ms. Spears who looked more like Britney than the real one smoke the routine to “Circus.” The whole crowd rose in a standing ovation while the Divas took their bows and curtsies and blew kisses.

When the curtain fell, Lori made her way to the dressing room. “That was
amazing
! The best show I’ve ever seen.”

The ladies circled around her and planted different colored kisses all over her face. “You shoulda been up there with us, Miss Thang. We can dance, but you got the real pipes.” Diana Ross tapped Lori’s nose then headed off to change.

Margo emerged from the sea of feathers and sequins in her “casual” clothes—a denim mini skirt, five-inch heels, and a tank top that said I Heart Vegas in rhinestones. The only tragic thing about it was Margo pulled it off better than any natural born woman ever could. “A’right. Cocktails on me.” She led the way out of the LINQ Hotel and Casino. Just down from the entrance was an outdoor bar called Squeeze. Of course. The glowing menu said it specialized in juice infusions. Margo stood, hands on hips, looking at the list of drinks. “You strike me as a virgin, but tonight I think you could use something with a little zip.”

“Excuse me?”

Margo grinned. “Drinks, honey. Virgin drinks. If you’d like to dish about your love life, I won’t pry, but I’ll gladly listen. As for drinks, I recommend the watermelon margarita.”

Stronger than she usually went, but after one of the longest days of her life, that sounded just about right. “I trust you.”

“Perfect. How ’bout you get us some seats at the bar?”

Lori nodded. The “bar” was one long counter facing the promenade. Two chairs were open at the end, so she climbed onto one and saved the other. In a few minutes, Margo was back with plastic cups filled with pink liquid and mint leaves. It was actually a nice change of pace. So much of Vegas was fancy and flashy. It was good to get some fresh air and sip a fruity cocktail through a straw.

“So.” Margo crossed her legs and bobbed a sandaled foot as she surveyed the street life. “How you doin’?”

That was a loaded question. Hard to know where to start.

“Let me be more specific. Tell me about the boy.”

The boy. Lori smiled. He was so baby faced, he’d be a “boy” until he was fifty. “For so long, I felt like no one understood me. Not really. I could sort of talk to other skaters, but there was always something in the way. Jealousy. Competitiveness. Insecurity. I don’t know. And I sound like I have the biggest ego, but I swear I’m not like that.”

“I know you’re not.”

“My point was I felt so alone for most of my life. I didn’t have anyone to relate to. Anyone who could relate to me. And then I got to know Dylan, and he seemed
just
like me. We went through—I guess are going through—some of the same things. And even though we had the same problems and didn’t know how to fix ourselves, somehow we could make each other feel better. And then …”

“Baby girl, I gotta tell you. I really don’t think he had anything to do with blaming you. Not just from what you said, but from seeing him around, hearing things now and then, it doesn’t sound like his style. And if that don’t work for you, let me try it this way. You’re a guarded person. In fact, I haven’t seen you let
any
people in. I get that. It’s okay. But this guy was different. Your instinct said to trust him. Maybe you should trust that. You have good instincts. Look who you’re hangin’ with, after all.”

Lori smiled and took a long drink. If she looked at Margo, there was a good chance she’d cry. That kind of open compassion was rare in her life; Dylan had only started getting her used to it. So instead, she took in the bright lights, the happy tourists pointing and ohhhing. Her mother had treated “normal” as if it were something to be avoided at all costs, but sometimes it seemed a goal as worthy as a gold medal.

Lori’s instincts had let her down before, but could Margo be right?

“Listen to me. I know what it’s like to feel no one understands you or relates to you. And I know what it’s like to find people who prove you wrong. Hold on to them. They are everything in this life.”

Lori bit her lip hard and blinked fast. Okay, she could at least listen to what Dylan had to say.

Tuesday, October 21st

It can’t get worse than this.
Then again, every time Dylan thought that, fate took it as a personal challenge and threw something else at him. As an athlete, he was no stranger to adversity. It was part of playing a sport, part of life. But enough already. They’d lost Monday night. After losing so many games, you’d think he’d be getting used to it or at least numb to it, but every loss made him feel worse.

It wasn’t just his play on the ice that affected the team. It was his lack of presence in the locker room, and that was just as bad. He was the captain. It was his job to encourage them, motivate them, get them back where they needed to be. Call people out if they were screwing up or underperforming. But how could he do that when
he
was screwing up and underperforming? So there he sat, gaze glued to the floor after practice as Nealy lectured them for the hundredth time. She didn’t sound angry anymore. Somehow that was more terrifying.

And as bad as all of that was, Lori hadn’t been at the rink the day before. On weekdays, he could find her there after every Sinners practice like clockwork. The thought that she’d give up training time just to avoid him was like taking a concussion-level crosscheck into the boards. The symptoms were similar, too. Headache. Nausea. Disorientation. It was hard to tell up or down, knowing what she had to think of him.

Two hockey skates—smaller than this—stepped into view. He followed them up the tracksuit to the clipboard to Nealy’s frowning face. Even though she was standing and he was sitting, she was still only a head above him. The rest of the room had cleared out, and he hadn’t even noticed.

“It’s time to put an end to this, Cole. Your team needs you. In here and out there. If you ever doubted your influence before, you have to see it now. They’re all capable players, but they’ve come to depend on your optimism, your sharp eye, and your input.
You’re
their leader. I’m just the one holding the whip. Or whistle if you prefer. We need you back, pumpkin. So I want you to see Kally again. She’s expecting you.”

Great. A new level of humiliation. So one does exist.
He nodded. There was no arguing with that, not that he’d ever argue with Nealy anyway.

“You’re gonna climb out of this hole, kid. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but slumps don’t last forever. Especially not for someone like you.”

“All due respect, Coach, I don’t think talent—”

“Wasn’t talking about talent. I was talking heart. You’ve got way too much of it to let anything keep you down for long. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. We all do.”

Lately, he’d just been a miserable mute. She was trying to make him feel better—granted, not a Nealy specialty—but she was just adding to the list of things to feel guilty about.

“As for the practical nuts and bolts of putting your ass back together, Humpty Dumpty, I’ll leave that to the professional. Kally’s waiting.”

The path from the locker room down to Kally’s office sort of felt like walking to the electric chair. Okay, Kally’s couch was comfortable, and there was candy, but the dread was still the same. His arm might as well have weighed a hundred pounds as he lifted it to knock.

“It’s open.”

He held his breath and stepped inside … and three women stared at him. Kally looking professional and like she was trying to keep a handle on things. Saralynn looking determined to blow the lid off everything. And Lori looking guarded, unsure, and achingly beautiful in a skating dress, leg warmers, and fuzzy boots. There was a whole lot of estrogen in the air and a good dose of tension. He hesitated by the door. “Is this some kind of intervention?”

Saralynn fielded that one first. “Yes. But not just for you.”

Dylan jammed a hand back through his hair. “Look. Reese said you’d try to fix things, and I appreciate that, but maybe you’ve done enough.”

“Ouch. Okay, I deserve that. But I made this mess, and I can at least own up to it. Before you walked in, I was trying to say this whole thing is my fault. I’m really sorry for how it turned out. This is gonna sound like an excuse, but I mean it as explanation. It’s my job to protect the team’s image. And not just the team as a whole, but also individual players, and especially you, Cole. I saw you going through something and catching a lot of flak for it. I needed to give the public a reason so they’d get off your back and onto your side.”

“So you blamed me.” Lori crossed her arms, her posture ballerina straight. Those green eyes sparked with the don’t-mess-with-me fire he saw on the day they met. At least the stare wasn’t aimed at him. Yet.

“That’s the part I’m sorry for. I’ll never regret defending my team, but sometimes I get carried away and, as you might have caught on, leap before I look. I’m trying to rein that in.”

Kally rolled her eyes as if she were very familiar with Saralynn’s leaping, but then she would be, being her sister-in-law. “Look, I think we have the bones of the story here, and we can flesh out the rest without help.” It couldn’t be easy to give a gentle pointed look, but Kally was a master and shot one Saralynn’s way.

“But—”

“Ah.” Kally held up a hand then swept it toward the door. “I’ll catch up with you later, Sare. I think we could use a refresher definition of ‘boundaries.’”

Saralynn pressed her lips together and sighed but nodded a goodbye and edged around Dylan. He could feel her fighting to hold her tongue, resisting the urge to get the last word. To his surprise, she won the battle and closed the door behind her.