by Lori L. Lake
“Uh oh,” Jaylynn said, still gripping Dez’s forearm. “I think your blood sugar is low. Let’s go get you some salad and chicken.” She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder and towed Dez along behind her. “Where’s your bag, Dez?”
“I put it in the truck.” She let Jaylynn drag her up the aisle. “I can’t go out to a restaurant or anything like that,” she protested.
“I know. You’ve got the next three meals all set up in your fridge, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Desiree Reilly, I know you far too well.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’ll drive. You can just sit and cogitate, okay?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jaylynn and Dez spent a leisurely afternoon hanging around at Dez’s apartment. After Dez ate a meal—cold chicken breast and romaine lettuce—she sat on the couch to watch TV and promptly fell asleep. Jaylynn went out to the kitchen and opened cupboards until she found Dez’s toaster, but despite looking high and low, she found no bread.
She cracked open the apartment door and crept downstairs to tap on Luella’s door. When Luella opened it, Jaylynn put her finger to her lips, squeezed inside, and pushed the door shut. “Dez is actually sleeping, and I don’t want to wake her. Just one little problem—I’m starving.”
“You’ve come to the right place.” Luella beamed at her, her silver hair swept back and bobby-pinned stylishly. Jaylynn took a deep breath. Luella’s house always smelled like freshly baked bread and fruit—maybe strawberries.
“All I need is two or three slices of bread and I’ll be fine.”
In her pink slippers and blue green housedress, Luella shuffled down the hall and into her kitchen. “I’ve got some nutty oat bread. That strike your fancy?”
“Sounds great.”
“You want some jam or some roast beast with it?”
“Nah, I’ll make an omelette upstairs.”
Luella quietly said, “Bet she has no butter either.” When Jaylynn shrugged, Luella shook her head. “What will we do about that girl?” Luella foraged around in her pantry closet and took out a loaf of bread. “She got anything to drink in that godforsaken icebox of hers?”
Jaylynn leaned against the doorway and tried to visualize the contents of the upstairs refrigerator. “I think she has ice tea, but that may be it.”
“An omelette’s no good without a milk in it and a little in a glass to down it with. You agree?”
Kind, brown eyes twinkled at Jaylynn, and it made her smile. Impulsively, Jaylynn blurted out, “Luella, I wish I’d met you years ago. You have to be one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.” Jaylynn saw the flush of happiness suffuse the chestnut-colored skin. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Luella set the loaf of bread down and stepped over to Jaylynn, taking Jaylynn’s chin in both her soft brown hands. “How can she resist you, Jay? That’s what I don’t understand.” The wise old eyes gazed seriously into the now bashful face of her friend. “Don’t give up on that fool. She’ll figure this out sooner or later, you know.” With a final stroke, she released Jaylynn’s face and stretched an arm up into the cupboard to get a plate down. Her back to the blushing woman, Luella said, “Guess you didn’t think I knew about that, huh? These eyes may be old, but they’re not blind.”
She moved over to the refrigerator and opened the door. Over her shoulder, Jaylynn saw the fridge was packed with more food than she’d ever seen there. Luella ducked in and snagged a plastic half-gallon container of milk and a stick of butter. Just before she shut the door, she reached back in and snagged an egg from the indentations in the door.
“Am I so obvious?” Jaylynn choked out.
Luella handed her the milk jug and arranged the bread and stick of butter on the plate so the egg wouldn’t fall off. “No,” Luella said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t say that. But I do know the two of you. That girl is something else, but she’s street savvy and not heart smart. You’ll have to be patient with her.” She handed Jaylynn the plate. “Careful not to drop the egg. It’s no fun cleaning up yolk. Now if you mix it in with one of those little boxes of egg whites she uses, your omelette will have a lot more body. Tastes better, too.”
“Thank you, Luella. I’ll bring this milk right back.”
“You’re always welcome, Jay. No hurry on the milk either. I don’t need it for hours. And hey, hon, I’m rooting for you.”
Momentarily confused, Jaylynn grasped that Luella was referring to her love life—not to Dez’s competition—and she felt her face flushing again. She retreated down the hallway, and Luella followed to open the door for her.
“See you in a bit, Luella.”
Luella gave her a brilliant smile, her teeth flashing bright and her brown eyes sparkling. Once again Jaylynn was struck by how beautiful she was. Gray hair and a few wrinkles didn’t mar the effect.
Jaylynn made her way up the stairs and set everything down on the counter. When she peeked around the corner, Dez continued to sleep on the couch, her face frowning slightly even in her sleep. This brought a smile to Jaylynn’s face. She got out the egg whites, sliced up a tomato and green pepper, added Luella’s egg and milk, and put some chunks of Dez’s baked chicken breast in a fry pan to make the omelette. With a glass of milk and three pieces of toast slathered with the rich butter, her stomach was satisfied.
She went into the living room and sat on the couch near the slumbering woman. She didn’t want to wake Dez, but she got up and put a video in. Truly, Madly, Deeply. She’d wanted to watch it since the first visit to the apartment, and now she had three more hours to kill.
The wind blew in her face and she smelled a musty, verdant odor. As she opened her eyes, Dez thought she was flying in a green tunnel, but as her vision adjusted, she realized she was traveling at high speed through a forest of trees and bushes. Her body was overly warm, and the clothing she wore felt constrictive. Tight leather chafed against her elbows and the inside of her thighs. She looked down and her eyes focused on the gleaming black of a gas tank. Gloved hands held handlebars, and, astride a powerful motorcycle, she sped down a narrow path. Something tightened around her waist and for the first time she noticed a pair of arms, clad in brown leather, around her middle.
“Whooo!” she said, and the motorcycle roared forward even more quickly than before. An irrepressible joy raced through her. Blood coursed in her veins, pumping with excitement. Her legs gripped the cycle tightly, and she knew without a doubt she could outrun every single one of Hell’s Angels. She felt the warmth at her back and knew who it was without looking back.
She guided the bike through a slim opening in the brush and burst out onto a vast plain covered with dust and scraggly wild grass. Kicking up the dust behind them, she slowed the bike to a putter and angled along the treeline. Hearing a protest from the body fastened to her back, she turned and looked over her shoulder. Her breathing quickened and the feeling of glee rushing through her body continued.
Without warning, a flurry of movement caught her eye. Looking sideways to the treeline from which they had just ridden, she saw a line of dark figures on smoking cycles erupt shrieking and screaming. The figure behind her tightened her hold and shouted, and with a gasp she revved the engine and peeled out over the uneven ground.
“Uh oh! Let’s get out of here!” she growled.
Something wasn’t right. Dez inhaled as she struggled to consciousness. One blue eye squinted open blearily. She was curled up on the couch next to one silently sobbing woman. She jolted up, alarmed. “What’s the matter?”
Jaylynn turned to her, tears running down her face. She choked out, “That is the saddest movie I’ve ever seen.”
“What in the hell are you watching?”
“Truly, Madly, Deeply. It just got over.” She picked up the remote and clicked it to rewind.
Dez let out a deep breath and sat back. “I thought I told you it was a three-hanky movie.”
“But you lied. It was a three boxes of hankies m
ovie.”
“Yeah, well, at least it had a happy ending,” she said grouchily.
“But it’s such a sad happy ending.” Jaylynn wiped the tears away. She stood and took the video out of the VCR and returned it to its place on the shelf.
“What time is it?”
Jaylynn looked at her watch and said, “Four-ten.”
Dez rose to her feet and stretched her arms so high she could touch the ceiling. “Guess we’d better get a move on. I need to stop at the store and buy another can of Pam.”
“Pam? Cooking oil Pam? You want to fry something after the show’s over?”
“No, that’s what we use on stage. I have enough, I think, but just in case, I like to be prepared.”
“You use Pam on stage?”
“Yeah. Works better than any other oil. Everybody uses it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“I did wonder how you all got so shiny. Pam, huh?” Jaylynn didn’t say it, but she’d begun to think bodybuilding was a wee bit odd.
The evening program began at half past six to a packed house. Jaylynn sat through the first hour waiting impatiently for Dez’s appearances.
A short break occurred between the middleweight and heavyweight divisions when something went wrong with the PA system. Jaylynn sat in the audience between Luella and Vanita, and the two older women talked across her to one another. She’d offered to switch seats with one of them so they could talk more conveniently, but they both hushed her and said they each wanted the fun of sitting by her. A soft, warm hand patted her arm. Luella gazed at her kindly and went back to giggling with her sister.
Jaylynn was so nervous that she hardly heard what the two sisters were discussing. When Luella finished a statement with, “. . . and don’t you think it’s true?” and looked at her expectantly, all she could do was shrug and say, “I’m sorry, Luella. I can’t concentrate at all.”
“You’re not worrying about Dez now, are you?”
She nodded.
“You can stop fretting. She’s done this before. The girl’s a powerhouse. No need to worry. You said she did good this morning.”
Jaylynn fidgeted with her program. “I know, but this feels different.” Tonight Julie and the kids were there, and pretty much every cop she’d ever met and several dozen she’d never seen before. The morning compulsory posing hadn’t been nearly as well attended, and she had liked sitting right near the front. Tonight she was stuck twelve rows back, and the place was so full it made her feel claustrophobic. “This is more nerve-wracking than the morning was.”
Vanita said, “You haven’t seen nerve-wracking until you hear about what happened to me the time I—”
The announcer interrupted. “Okay folks, we’re back and ready for the women’s heavyweight routines. We’ve got three contestants tonight, all three from the Twin Cities. And here’s a little about our first contestant.”
Jaylynn didn’t pay attention to the rest of it. Dez was scheduled to perform third. She sat through the other two women’s programs and tried to evaluate each fairly. In her estimation, neither of them was anywhere near as good as Dez. The first woman was well-built with incredible biceps. Jaylynn could see every muscle in her back and in her washboard abs. But Jaylynn thought her legs looked weak in comparison. The second contestant had great shoulders, muscular legs with good definition, and actual striations in her pec muscles, but her abs and her upper back didn’t have the kind of cut her competitors had. Jaylynn wasn’t a judge, but she knew she favored the symmetry Dez displayed—not to mention the fact that she felt weak in the knees every time she saw Dez in the very skimpy electric-blue two-piece suit. That didn’t happen when she looked at the other two contestants.
When the second routine was over, Jaylynn’s stomach went crazy, and for a moment she worried she might be sick. She was so relieved when the feeling passed, but it was replaced with a general inability to breathe. She couldn’t catch her breath until the announcer introduced Dez. And then Dez emerged onto stage walking gracefully, her body impossibly long and lean and muscular.
The cops in the audience went wild.
Dez stood in the stage wings with her eyes closed, concentrating on keeping her body loose and yet tight at the same time, a delicate balancing act, staying pumped up and flexed without cramping. She was past the bout of nerves she’d experienced earlier, and now she only had to get through this sixty seconds, just this short routine. And then, unless she won her weight class—which she dearly wished would happen—she would be done with the hard part.
The sixty seconds ended for the second competitor, and the music stopped. From the wings Dez heard appreciative applause. Unlike the morning’s quiet attendees, tonight’s crowd was a rowdy stomping wild bunch—a lot of them cops. She pushed that out of her mind and focused on breathing and on gathering all her energy inward so she could direct it outward as needed. Her main competitor was statuesque and a steady poser, so she knew she needed to be solid in this routine.
She didn’t even hear the brief biographical announcement about herself preceding her performance. Instead she thought of Ryan and knew he would have been out in the front row, watching and cheering for her until it was time for the men’s division to start. And suddenly she felt a crack in her legendary control. She looked about in alarm. There was nothing she could do. The stage monitor tapped her on the shoulder and gestured her out to the stage.
The house erupted into applause as she strode uncertainly to the middle of the stage. She knew she did not want to look at Julie or the kids or at Luella or at any of her brothers in blue. Unlike the morning session, when she concentrated on the judges, tonight she was expected to work the crowd. She didn’t know how she could do it.
She stood at ready, every muscle in her body flexed, arms out a few inches from her sides, and one foot in front of her, toe pointed downward. She knew some would think it cocky, but she’d worked up a completely different routine from her morning program using new music. She had chosen Queen’s old song, “We Are The Champions” because Ryan used it for his bodybuilding theme, and she knew that would matter to Julie. The first strains of the song began. And the crack in her control widened.
She didn’t have time to think. She knew she had to hit every pose to the best of her ability. But as she moved through the poses—front facing abs, twisting double biceps, side chest—she broke. Not physically, but emotionally. On the outside, she continued through the longest sixty seconds of her life, but on the inside, a tidal wave of raging grief welled up and threatened to spill over. She felt a moment of relief as she did a one-eighty away from the audience and moved into the rear lat spread and rear double biceps, but as she hit the right side triceps and looked out at the audience, tears sprang up. Her vision blurred, and she blinked, horrified at what was happening.
Dez didn’t hear the cheering, the loud clapping, the rising crescendo. In her head everything clanged in an indistinct din. In a panic, she jerked into the next pose, a front lat spread, and through the tears she gazed out into the crowd. She blinked again, and when her vision cleared, she saw a shock of short blonde hair and warm hazel eyes. Despite the tears running down her cheeks, Dez held eye contact. She saw Jaylynn’s fist go up in an emphatic movement. Over all the crowd noise, she swore she heard Jaylynn say, “It’s okay, you’re doing fine.”
Dez breathed in and steadied enough to move into the lunging single bicep twist she liked to end with. As she looked away from those hazel eyes and bowed her head in the final pose, the last strains of music sounded. She held the pose, tightened every muscle until it felt like she would fly apart. Looking down she saw one glistening silver pearl of liquid fall and splat on the floor below her.
The song ended. She exhaled in a huff and stood up straight, and the house went wild. Giving a wave she walked off stage. Once more, her eyes sought out Jaylynn, but she couldn’t find her in the confusion.
Once off stage Dez bent over, hands on knees,
and tried to get her breath. Someone handed her a towel, and she daubed at her face. She knew she was returning to the stage right away with the other two heavyweights, and she took the brief moment to steel herself. All she wanted to do was escape. She felt like she had when she was fourteen, when she used to grab her bike and ride miles and miles to get away from everyone and everything. And here I am without a bike, she thought.
Back at the podium the announcer was saying, “I believe the judges have their final decision. It’s time now for the presentation of awards. Let’s bring out our three heavyweight competitors, Cindy, Nancy, and Desiree. Here they are, ladies and gentlemen!”
He gave them a hand as the three women filed out to center stage and stood in their “relaxed” poses. For the first time this evening, the three women stood next to one another on stage, making it clear that Dez, on the far right, was much taller and more powerful looking than either of her rivals.
The announcer went on: “Presenting the trophies is last year’s champion and three-time Ms. Minnesota winner, Sandy Marx!” The crowd applauded with enthusiasm, then grew quiet. “And now ladies and gentlemen, third place in the heavyweight division goes to Nancy Daniels.”
The audience clapped and cheered. Through it all, a stony-faced Dez gazed out into the audience at Jaylynn. She didn’t break eye contact, and Jaylynn returned the gaze. Jaylynn smiled mischievously and blew her a kiss, and for the first time in hours, Dez broke out in a full smile. She almost didn’t hear the announcer call the runner-up, Cindy Schmidt, and was startled when Nancy and Cindy smacked her on the back and gave her admiring hugs.
“Dez Reilly,” the announcer said, “step into the center there.” She moved into the middle position between the two bodybuilders and accepted the gold statuette from the presenter. She looked at it as if amazed, then set it down in front of her like the other two women had. The announcer said, “Okay now, ladies, for the cameras, go ahead and strike a double bicep pose.”
