From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

  Did I want the one thing I’d sacrificed most of my life for?

  Did I want the opportunity to keep going? To have a future? To finally make my family proud?

  Of course I did. I wanted it so bad that my palms were getting sweaty, and I had to sneak them behind my back so that neither one of them could see me wiping them on my work pants. They didn’t need to know how bad my need was.

  But fuck.

  One year for the one thing I wanted more than anything. For a championship. For the thing my mom had nearly gone bankrupt for, for the thing my whole family had always dreamed of for me. What I had always expected of myself but had always failed at.

  And now, for a year, I could team up with this asshole, someone who could give me the best chance I’d ever had at getting what I had started to believe was lost.

  But…

  Reality and facts.

  It wasn’t for sure we would win. There weren’t any promises that, even if we did win something—anything—I would get a partner of my own. There weren’t any assurances things would work out. I had been lucky in my career that I hadn’t been injured regularly, but it had happened, and sometimes those injuries were season-enders.

  Plus, I could only begin to imagine all the work we would have to put in to be ready. Plans that would interfere with other plans I’d made that I couldn’t back out on because I had made promises. And I took my promises seriously.

  “We want it to be an easy transition. It’s business. Mindy likes to keep her private life private. Ivan does as well,” she said, like I didn’t know that. Karina didn’t even have a Picturegram account, and her Facebook was under a fake name.

  “Our focus would be on the sport,” Coach Lee took her time explaining, watching me carefully as I stood there trying to process everything and mostly failing at it. “With you, Jasmine, it would look good that you’ve been training at the same facility as Ivan for years. You’re a friend of the family as well. You’re a known face in this business, and you’re talented. You have the experience under your belt to compete at this level without having to start from the beginning, which we can’t afford to do with this time limit. We can work with what you bring.” She paused, glanced at Ivan, and threw out one last thing. “The age difference between both of you also helps. I feel very strongly that you would make a good partner for Ivan.”

  Ah.

  The age difference. My twenty-six to Ivan’s nearly thirty. She had a point I hadn’t thought about. It would look strange if this grown-ass man paired up with a teenager. That would probably actually hurt him more than it helped.

  Then there was her comment about them being able to “work” with what I could bring to this partnership, but I’d think about that later. Much later. When I wasn’t standing there, the center of attention, feeling like my world had just been kicked out from under me at the same time as it seemed like I’d been given it back.

  It would be a lot of work. There were no promises. I had a life outside of here that I’d slowly built up, even though I hadn’t necessarily wanted to, a life I was still building up and couldn’t just ignore.

  These were all facts.

  But…

  I had to think. Think first, talk later, or something like that, right? I’d already learned the problems that could come with running my mouth before I realized what was coming out of it.

  I took a deep breath through my nose and then asked the first thing that came to mind. “Your sponsors would be okay with me?” Because they could try and recruit me all they wanted, but if the sponsors said no, it would be for nothing. It wasn’t like I’d had more than a handful of sponsors on and off my entire career, if I didn’t include all the dresses my sister made me for me, which was all of them. I still got my skates for free, but I knew how it worked for the people who won, the figure skaters the masses adored. It wasn’t like Ivan needed the help financially, but they were still a real and necessary thing.

  The sponsors and the ASF, the American Skating Federation, could hate us together, and I wasn’t about to let them build up this opportunity for me and then have them rip it out from under me.

  Coach Lee shrugged almost immediately. “It wouldn’t be an issue. People can and have come back from worse, Jasmine.”

  Why did that comment make me feel like a drug addict?

  She kept going before I could think about her word choice any more. “You can fix an image. That wouldn’t be a problem. With the right decisions, it would work out fine. We would just have to have you… on board for the changes we’d need to make.”

  Her last sentence had claws. She was admitting there was something wrong with me, but it wasn’t like I didn’t know that. Still, it was one thing for me to acknowledge I had issues, but it was another thing for her to.

  “Changes like what?” I asked, taking my time with my words as I glanced between her and Ivan for hints. Because if they told me I needed a makeover, or that I’d have to start kissing babies… or becoming some fake-ass that made it seem like she was made out of ice and was up for sainthood… it wasn’t going to happen. Ever. I’d tried being an ice princess once when I’d been too young to know any better. Prim, proper, angelic, and sweet. It had lasted about thirty minutes. Now, I was too old to pretend to be this perfect little beauty queen who didn’t cuss and shitted rainbows for breakfast, all for people to like me.

  Coach Lee tipped her head to the side. “Nothing serious. We can talk about it later.”

  Later? “Let’s talk about it now.” Because I wasn’t going to think about anything before I knew what I was getting myself into.

  The other woman scrunched her nose before making a noise. “I don’t know. I would just be throwing things out—”

  “Okay.”

  Her eyes went to the side for a second before moving back to me. “Okay.” Her shrug almost looked uncomfortable. “Maybe you could smile more.”

  I blinked at her and thought I might have heard Ivan snort, but I wasn’t sure.

  “You could do photo shoots together, a gala or two. Your social media presence needs work, but being more active, even if it’s posting a picture of your life off the ice every once in a while, would make a big difference.”

  She wanted us to do all this when we’d only be paired up for a year? Was she fucking kidding me?

  Then it hit me.

  An almost sickening feeling made the back of my neck itch when I finally processed her social media request. I’d once had different accounts, but I’d ended up deleting all of them once I’d started losing sleep. I should tell her that, I thought, even as my head told me nothing good would come of posting pictures of myself online.

  I should probably also admit to her that I was going to need… extra help. But I couldn’t. Not if it meant I would lose this opportunity, which it might.

  This was my chance. More than likely my last one.

  I could be safe. Couldn’t I? I could watch what I posted. Be more careful. I could be smart about it if things started happening again. Especially if this opportunity was real and mine.

  I could record our sessions so I could practice them more later on by myself. I’d done it before. My mom and siblings would help if I asked. I could be more focused and make Ivan skate everything first once we got to doing choreography. I could figure it out. I could make it work without telling them.

  Anything was possible… wasn’t it? I was strong, smart, and wasn’t scared to work.

  Just fail.

  So, I kept my fucking mouth shut.

  “We’re not going to ask you to change anything major, Jasmine. I swear to you right now, that won’t be the case. I just need to know you’re on board for doing whatever is best for the team. This is going to be a lot of work for all of us, but it’s doable.”

  I’d do anything for the sake of winning. Even start up another social media account if I had to. I’d lie, cheat, and steal… to a certain extent.

  I mean, I wouldn’t beat up a competitor or take steroids o
r give Ivan a blow job, but everything else I’d probably be game for if this chance was real. From the look on Coach Lee’s face and the almost pained expression on Ivan’s… I was starting to think it was.

  Ivan was the most successful and highly decorated pairs skater in the last two decades. I hadn’t even been able to move on to the Major Prix Final the last season I’d competed and nationals had gone terrible. My ex and I had gotten fifth and sixth place in both competitions we’d been in.

  This was a better opportunity than any I had ever hoped for after I’d been left partnerless.

  “Are you interested?” the other woman asked, her expression and tone cool and even, like this wasn’t in a way exactly what I wanted.

  Was I interested? Duh.

  It was just everything else I couldn’t ignore.

  Every pairs skater in the world knew you had to trust your partner completely. A female pairs skater—especially the female—pretty much put her life in the hands of her partner every single day. I didn’t need to tell Coach Lee or Ivan that. Trust was the foundation for every partnership. Whether it was trust that someone might hate you, but they wanted to win badly enough that they wouldn’t jeopardize the chance, or that straight, pure trust that you gave away to people who earned it and could only hope it didn’t backfire on you.

  But I wanted to win. I wanted this. I’d always wanted it. I’d bled for it, cried for it, bruised for it, had broken bones, had concussions, pulled just about every muscle in my body, never made friends, never went to a single school anything, never loved anyone, ignored my family, all for this. For this love that was greater than just about everything and anything I had ever known. For this sport that had given me the confidence to know I could get up after every fall I’d ever take.

  A year ago… six months ago… this would have been the answer to every prayer in my life.

  I glanced between both of them, torn between getting excited at this chance, even if it was with the reincarnated version of Lucifer—that’s how bad I wanted it, that I was willing not to factor that in. But like my mom said when we were kids and didn’t want to eat whatever she’d made for dinner, beggars can’t be choosers—and still, still I couldn’t help but worry that this was some kind of fucked-up ploy that they were playing. It wouldn’t be unheard of. It really wouldn’t. Some people in this world didn’t care what or who they hurt to get what they wanted.

  I couldn’t handle being used. Not again. I wouldn’t say it, but I’d give them everything in me if they gave me this chance. Everything.

  But…

  I’d made commitments. Compromises and promises I didn’t want to go back on. As much as I wanted to say yes! Yes! Yes! I needed to think about it. Not everything was about me, and it had taken me a long, long time to come to terms with that.

  I still was.

  “If this is some kind of trick, or if you’re going to try and use me to make a point with another skater you’re interested in”—I wasn’t going to get excited. I didn’t trust these two people to not be playing with me, regardless that they were saying otherwise—“don’t even think about it.” Ivan should already know I’d kill him. Hell, his sister would kill him if he did this to me.

  There was a pause in the room, and I didn’t know what it meant. Guilt? Or acknowledgment that it was a shitty thing that I even had to bring it up?

  “No,” Coach Lee said after a moment so full, it left the room with this heavy sensation I couldn’t pick apart. “That isn’t it. This isn’t a trick. We want you to do it, Jasmine.”

  If my heart gave a little pinch at her saying they wanted me to do something, I wasn’t going to focus on it.

  I looked at the man sitting in front of the desk, quiet, so freaking quiet and watchful… and I wondered what had made his other partner decide to take a year off. Maybe she was getting married. Maybe someone was sick. Maybe she couldn’t stand his ass and needed a break. I wished I had her phone number so I could just text her and ask. She had always been nice.

  “You can take a picture if you’re going to stare,” Ivan said dryly, leaning back against his chair.

  I rolled my eyes and glanced over at Coach Lee to hopefully keep me from saying anything to the shitface before I ruined this opportunity. I could save it up for later.

  Luckily, Coach Lee rolled her eyes too, like she wasn’t surprised by his dumbass comment and focused on me, the strain on her face saying she was trying to keep this professional. “You don’t have to give us an answer right now. You can have some time to think about it, but we do need one sooner than later. Time is ticking, and if you’re both going to compete next season, we need every minute we can get to get ready.”

  “What’s up your ass?” my brother Jonathan asked, not even five minutes after I’d sat down beside him with a plate of our mom’s chicken parmesan. It was something that a year ago I wouldn’t have been able to eat unless it’d been my once a week cheat meal. Now, almost every day had a cheat meal. All of my pants—and bras and underwear and shirts—showed that reality. My damn boobs had gone up a full cup size, not that that meant much. My mom had cursed all of her girls with mosquito bites for tits; the greatest ass-et—literally—passed down through our genes were our butts. My slightly larger boobs and even bigger ass were one of the only benefits of toning down my training in competitive figure skating. Going from skating six or seven hours a day to two was a giant difference.

  And now… well, now I might be getting back to that point.

  Maybe.

  It had almost been twelve hours since my meeting, and I hadn’t reached a decision.

  If, and that was a big if, I said yes to Coach Lee and Ivan’s proposal, I’d be saying goodbye to the bag of M&Ms I’d been eating three times a week. It was a sacrifice I’d willingly make though. If I did it.

  But I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe I’d sleep on it like I’d promised Coach Lee and decide I didn’t want to risk everything again for just a possibility. I needed to consider and weigh every option. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not during work, not afterward during my second workout session, and not during the Pilates class I still took once a week.

  I hadn’t been surprised when I’d pulled into the driveway to find a familiar car parked on the street half an hour ago. My family came over whenever they wanted; it wasn’t limited to just weekends or holidays. With two older brothers and two older sisters, someone was always over. My brothers and sisters randomly showed up for dinner, even though they had all moved out years ago, leaving me alone with my roommates… AKA my mom and her husband.

  My mom, my brother Jonathan, and his husband, James, were all in the living room when I walked in.

  The first thing any of them said to me was, “Go shower!”

  I gave my brother the middle finger because he’d been the one to yell about the shower, and kept my words to myself as I jogged up the stairs and headed toward my room. It didn’t take me long to gather clothes, shower, and get dressed—all the while thinking about the conversation I’d had in the office before the most distracted day of work I’d had since I’d found out my last partner had ditched me.

  I made it back downstairs to find my family in the kitchen, filling plates with whatever Mom had made for dinner. I gave each of them a kiss on the cheek, and in return got an annoying wet kiss from my brother, a peck from his husband, and a slap on the butt from my mom, before I started scooping food onto a plate.

  Trying my best not to constantly think about Satan and his coach, I had loaded my plate up with a portion of noodles and chicken parm before I took a stool around the kitchen island we were all eating at. The only time the dining room was ever used was if it was a holiday. I’d only gotten about three bites in, chewing slowly, when my brother asked the question I should have seen coming. I’d been too quiet, and that didn’t happen often.

  Before I could think of what the hell to tell them, my mom made a noise as she made her way around the island, one hand holding a plate, h
er other hand holding a glass of wine so big, she had to have poured at least half a bottle inside of it.

  “Damn, Mom. You should have just brought the bottle over instead of dirtying a glass.” I snickered as she set the glass down more carefully than she’d probably ever set me down as a baby.

  She rolled her eyes as she put her plate down beside it. “Mind your own business. I’ve had a long day, and it’s good for the heart.”

  I snorted and raised my eyebrows as I finally got a chance to take in her clothes: skinny jeans I’m pretty sure were mine and a bright red blouse I thought I could remember my sister wearing before she’d moved out.

  “Anyway, Grumpy. What’s up your butt? Did you get in trouble at the LC?” she asked as she took a seat, oblivious to the looks I was giving her for “borrowing” my clothes.

  She had sent me a message halfway through the day asking how the meeting had gone. I hadn’t responded. I hadn’t even given myself a chance to think about whether I wanted to tell them anything about my offer or not. It wasn’t like I lied regularly. I didn’t. But… what if it didn’t work out? What if I got them excited for no reason? I’d let them down enough over the years.

  Yeah, that thought was a shard of glass right down the windpipe.

  Drawing my gaze away from the woman who got hit on more in a week than I had in my entire life, I focused back down on my plate, twirling the tines of my fork into the noodles with a shrug. “Nothing,” I answered too quickly, immediately aware that I’d screwed up by saying that.

  There were three different scoffs around the island. I didn’t need to look up to know they were all sharing a look with each other like they thought I was full of shit—which I was—but it was my brother that finally snorted. “Damn, Jas, you didn’t even try to pull that lie off.”