by L J K Cross
“Tell me about it,” sighed Amanda. “I only had a few weeks off after the Amazon Classic before I was right back on the diet and the cardio.”
Larissa said something to Tanya in Portuguese.
“I agree,” nodded Tanya. “We think you could win it this year. You really could, especially coming off the back of your win at the Amazon Classic. You’ve got the momentum. It just all depends on what package Gayle brings this year.”
“That is the million dollar question isn’t it,” pondered Amanda. “Is she here yet?”
Like a couple of curious meerkats sensing danger, the three of them raised their heads in unison and swept the room for the threat. As the reigning Ms World Body Builder and winner of the title five times in seven years, the title was Gayle Dominics to lose. When she was on form, she was untouchable. Amanda reminded herself that everyone could have their off days but was loathe to admit that even on her off days, Gayle Dominics was hard to beat.
All three of them saw her enter the room at the same time. In fact everyone had noticed her entrance and a palpable hush breezed in with her. Even the judges, sat at a long table at the front of the room, stopped what they were doing and seemed a little awe struck. The only sound that could be heard was the scraping of chairs as people craned to get their first look at Gayle Dominics. No one had seen her since she had competed in the Worlds last year. She was known for playing her cards close to her chest and giving very little away. Even though Amanda had competed against her on numerous occasions they had barely said more than a polite “hello” to each other. So, whenever Amanda was asked, as she often was, she really couldn’t confirm whether Gayle was shy or whether she was a bit of a stuck up bitch but if she had to hazard a guess...!
True to her reputation it looked like Gayle would keep everyone in the dark until the very last minute. Wearing a baggy New York Knicks jumper and oversized track suit bottoms, that looked bizarre attire to be wearing in the middle of the desert, she gave nothing away. The oversized black shades added to the air of mystique and ensured that she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. Amanda looked at Tanya and rolled her eyes. It was all a bit too over the top and dramatic for her liking.
It seemed that everyone was now here or everyone that mattered anyway. As usual Gayle was playing mind games and making everyone dance to her tune. The more Amanda thought about it, the more of a capricious diva she seemed to be. She needed knocking down a peg or two or at least needed knocking off her World throne.
The athlete’s meeting got under way with the usual welcoming speech given by the President of the BBIF; “welcoming” being the operative word. It was the last place any of the athletes wanted to be on the evening before the show. They all had a million and one more important things to do than listen to the same protracted speech they heard every year. Every year they had to endure the same old spiel about “the growing size of the BBIF family,” and “the history and prestige of the Worlds” and “how they were ambassadors of the sport.” They were all so extremely tired, dieted and dehydrated that no one was paying a blind bit of notice. Amanda licked her lips and tried in vain to moisten her mouth but it felt drier than Gandhi’s flip flop. Yet at the same time she was so desperate for the toilet she could cry. It was so unfair, so torturous. Looking around Amanda could tell that everyone was in the same boat and as the President’s speech droned on and on, it became increasingly hard to hear him over all the desperate fidgeting and squirming.
“And so I wish all the competitors the very best of luck,” concluded the President. As if on cue, most of the room jumped from their seats, half hopping, half sprinting as they raced to the toilet to beat the queue. Being on the farthest side of the room, Amanda wasn’t quick enough and was forced to endure a further ten minutes of excruciating torment. Why did there never seem to be enough women’s toilets?
Fortunately registration was nowhere near as protracted and torturous. There was just the aggravating annoyance of having to stand behind Danni Ashton. Danni was exasperating at the best of times and reveled in causing controversy and animosity but the allegations she had made against Amanda in a recent Flex article were audacious even by her brazen standards. How she could stand there so nonchalantly after inferring that Amanda had only won the Amazon Classic because she knew some of the judges intimately beggared belief. Danni knew just as well as everyone that the judging didn’t work like that and that even the judges didn’t know which classes they were judging until the morning of the show. Not that she could have cared less, even if her antics made her unpopular among the other girls. As far as she was concerned her little publicity stunt had worked a treat, much to the enjoyment of her hugely loyal fan base and ensured that all the talk and attention was focused on her.
Judging by the length of her queue, when the fans were let in, Danni’s antics were extremely successful. Not that Amanda had any reason to be envious. Her queue was just as long. Her fans just as adoring. For the first hour the queue hardly seemed to diminish as more and more people tagged onto the end. Many had brought gifts. Some were wearing T-shirts declaring her as their choice for Ms World Body Builder and she was sure that she had caught sight of someone wearing a T-shirt with her face emblazoned across it. Scary!
As always, without fail, at the front of her queue was Marvin. He was unquestionably her No 1 fan and he told her so in his weekly emails to her. He was a creature of habit. Each time he was impatient to see if Amanda had any new signed photos, although Amanda was pretty sure that he must already have every single photo she had ever had taken. Also each time he brought her the same box of chocolates wrapped in exactly the same way. It always struck Amanda as a pretty weird gift to give a body builder but she always graciously accepted it nevertheless.
A few places down the queue she spotted Derek. Not only was Derek an avid fan but he was also a very talented artist. Over the years he had presented Amanda with such incredible sketches he had done of her that you really couldn’t fail to be flattered at the time and effort fans gave. Gazing down the queue it amazed Amanda how patiently fans would wait just for the chance to meet her. She recognised many of the faces and gave them a quick smile and a wave. It felt reassuring to see so many friendly faces that she had met many times before at various shows and exhibitions around the world. So why then could she not shake this nagging feeling of apprehension and doubt? Why did she have this unsettling feeling that she was being watched? It felt ridiculous. Of course she was being watched – but this was something different, something totally indescribable and surreal that she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She looked around the room, furtively, but futilely, searching all the same.
He had stood watching her for over three hours, safely concealed in his disguise. The timing and conditions were not yet right. Neither did he want her to associate him with these pathetic creatures and their scornful and distasteful offerings. As far as he was concerned they were not even worthy of basking in the presence of someone as magnificent as her. Observing her from afar, luminescent in her white robe, he was reminded of a Greek goddess; a vision of radiance and untold power.
Later that evening, as he stood at the window of his penthouse suite and watched as a freak thunderstorm unleashed havoc on Las Vegas, he was reminded of how electrifying and dazzling she had looked. From his vantage point high above the strip, he purveyed and gloried in the mayhem nature could cause. It amused him to see people desperately run for cover and watched as cars disastrously skidded and lost control. It wasn’t long before the strip was deserted. The storm, in all its violence and ferocity had sought to cleanse Sin City, knowing full well that Sin City would remain and stand the test of time.
A storm of such magnitude was more or less unheard of in the Arizonan desert. To him it was an omen foretelling the imminent alignment of conditions that would bring Amanda to him. Just like the thunderstorm she too was a powerful and awe inspiring force of nature. Her arrival promised refreshing relief and nourishment to the arid
barrenness of his life. She was nothing short of a natural phenomenon capable of lighting up the night sky with her energy and power. She just needed him to help unleash and harness her true potential the likes of which even Sin City had yet to conceive.
Just before the storm erupted Amanda was also standing at her hotel window, enjoying the much less captivating view of the car park of a low-end strip club, several blocks removed from the glamour of the strip. Instead of being inspired, she saw shattered dreams. Instead of glamorous, she saw sleazy and shabby. But her vision was elevated way above the mundanity of what was happening on the streets down below. Staring fixedly at the darkened outline of the mountains in the distance she was oblivious to the swelling potency and burgeoning charge in the atmosphere. As she focused her mind on what tomorrow may bring she felt utter tranquility. Just like the calm before the storm that had now settled and masked the true tumultuousness of events to come. As she stood waiting to brave the storm she felt fearless and full of fortitude, confident that no storm, no matter how great and threatening could halt her. She would stand firm. As the outline of the mountains turned a more foreboding shade of black, she fixed her steely gaze on the summit and knew that it was conquerable, no matter what it took to get to the top.
CHAPTER 7
Stepping backstage was like stepping into Dante’s Inferno with little hope of relief from a Divine Comedy. Amanda felt the same trepidation, stepping through the backstage doors that Dante himself must have felt upon reading the inscription, Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, that hung over the gates of hell. It seemed more than fitting to the scene that greeted her.
First you were blasted by the insufferable heat, which scorched the throat and seared the skin. Carried upon the wave of oppressive heat was the pungently noxious mix of ralgex and tanning solution that tortured the senses. It felt as if the very breath of Satan was heating the room. A naked orgy of frenzied panic appeared to be in full swing. All aspects of modesty and restraint had been abandoned. Everywhere you looked oiled and bronzed naked torsos were being twisted and contorted, poked and prodded. But if you came expecting an orgy of decadent indulgence and delight then you were to be sorely disappointed. The competitor’s faces spoke only of torment and suffering.
Amanda attempted to drown out the hostile atmosphere by turning up the volume on her headphones. Andrea Bocelli’s “Canto della Terra” carried her away from any ominous portents to a world suffused with love and tranquility. His celestial melody didn’t resonate with what was transpiring before her, making it all feel so surreal and far removed. His angelic tones winged her thoughts back to the night before when all had been calm and peaceful, before all hell had broken loose and Amanda had been hurled head first into this flaming pit.
As always Steve went first, to safely guard and guide her through the ensuing panic. With Steve at the helm, she breezed in, radiating calm and confidence and she had every right to. Everything had gone perfectly in prejudging that morning. She had got the call outs she wanted, first and last – but so had Gayle and Danni. She had been required to do the minimum number of compulsory poses in front of the judges – but then again so had Gayle and Danni. It was unwritten code in bodybuilding that the best physiques were on stage the least, inexplicably consigned to the shadows at the back of the stage whilst inferior physiques battled for the lesser placings at the front of the stage. It defied logic but you could argue, and many did, that competing itself didn’t make sense. Countless weeks of intense preparation, for what? Ten minutes on stage, a tin pot trophy and a paltry prize cheque that just about covered the cost of your bikini and that was if you placed high enough. The competition stage was no place for any well balanced and rationally minded person.
What Amanda was able to deduce from the call outs at prejudging was that bar a major disaster occurring, she, Gayle and Danni were guaranteed top three placings. It was just a matter of who got what and that made tonight’s performances all the more crucial. Pre judging seemed like a dress rehearsal. Now it was make or break time. There would be no room for error. There could be no mistakes or second chances. There would be only one winner. One first place. One Ms World Body Builder.
After coming off stage that morning, Amanda found her old friend Siobhan Harris waiting for her backstage with a huge congratulatory hug and kiss. Siobhan had been a top competitor back in her day and had graced the Worlds stage many times over in her bodybuilding career. She had also been Amanda’s idol from the time she had first started working out in her bedroom. In those days the only weights she had was a set of colour-coded dumbbells that she had saved up for. They couldn’t have been heavier than 15lbs but Amanda still vividly recalled the feeling that her tiny sparrow arms were going to snap as she tried to lift them. She also remembered her parents thinking she was crazy. At first they had humoured her but when Amanda had put up a black and white poster of Siobhan provocatively crucified upon a lat pull down machine on her bedroom wall, her parents, especially her mother, nearly had a fit. Their protestations had fallen on deaf ears though. Siobhan was the idol that she worshiped and every day before she ritualistically took up the instruments of her faith, Amanda looked to her effigy and prayed that she would one day have rhomboids of such incredible depth and detail.
Amanda and Siobhan first met about five years ago when, as fans, Amanda and Steve had made the pilgrimage to the bodybuilding mecca to watch the Worlds. Amanda had been completely and utterly awe struck and if the truth be told she still was. Even though now it was Amanda who was the top female bodybuilder the feeling of reverence she felt towards someone she had put on a pedestal for so long was impossible to shake. Siobhan still looked in fantastic shape. She had given up competing nine years ago but old habits obviously died hard. They were ingrained in you. They were part of your DNA. They made you what you were.
Having Siobhan waiting for her backstage had been the perfect ending to a damn near perfect prejudging.
“You were sensational darling,” whooped Siobhan. She withdrew from her bone crushing hug to hold Amanda at arms length so she could get a better look.
“Let me just look at you. You are a vision. I just want to kiss those beautiful, luscious muscles all over,” she salivated.
If Amanda hadn’t been wearing so much tan she would have been the colour of an over ripe raspberry at that very moment. Siobhan was always so overly enthusiastic in her praise of Amanda. It never failed to take Amanda by surprise and she never quite got used to it and it always made her wonder. Was Siobhan this complimentary with all the other female competitors? Was her praise so direct? So loaded? So licentious? But she had not finished.
“You really are in the condition of your life. Just look at the striations in those glutes. The detail in those hams,” she oozed. Twirling Amanda around she fleetingly ran her hand across the pertest point as if to confirm just how hard and pert they were.
“You simply shone up there,” and pulled Amanda back in for another hug.
“I just have to have you right now. I was thinking outside by the pool. You know how I prefer au naturel. I couldn’t care less if everyone is watching,” she added with a mischievous wink.
Amanda quickly looked round to see if anyone had heard. Siobhan hadn’t made the slightest attempt to lower her voice. Discretion had never been her forte. Fortunately everyone around them was too caught up in their own celebrations or commiserations to care and even if they had heard they would probably have realised that Siobhan was referring to a photo shoot.
Since retiring from competing Siobhan had carved out a successful career as a freelance photographer. As a former bodybuilder she had an instinct and appreciation of muscle that shone through in her work. Some of Amanda’s favourite shoots had been with Siobhan. The images she captured were not only breathtakingly beautiful but also revealingly intimate. Only a true admirer of female muscle was capable of capturing it the way she did. Gazing through her lens poolside, Siobhan was enamoured. Her shutter went into overdrive as her p
oolside fantasy revealed itself in front of her. With such a subject, in such a setting as this, the shoot couldn’t be anything less than her best yet.
Backstage again that evening, Amanda scanned the melee but there was no sign of Siobhan. It would have been near impossible to spot her anyway. The room was overflowing with competitors, trainers, photographers and general hangers on all eager for a glimpse of diced quad and maybe more. At the far side of the backstage area, Amanda was able to spy Gayle Dominics, or at least she thought it was Gayle. As usual she remained hidden away by the huge entourage that wrapped around her like a large invisibility cloak wherever she went. It all seemed to be an elaborate conjuring trick devised to shock and amaze when the illusion was finally revealed but it could also have been a necessity to conceal deep-rooted insecurities and paranoia? If that was the case it was easy to understand why Gayle felt the need to have protection, especially when there was girls like Danni Ashton around.
Amanda had no problem spotting Danni. Danni didn’t appear to have a single self-doubting bone in her body. Stood in the centre of the room and wearing nothing but several layers of tan, if Danni had any lingering insecurities then there was nowhere she could have concealed them. Every theatrical flex of her naked muscles sought maximum exposure and certainly had maximum impact on her audience, judging by their rapturous expressions. Upon noticing Amanda, the expression that fleeted across her face was just as revealing. Her eyes pricked with threatening menace and her scathing smile, bared just a little too much to be anything other than treacherous.
Steve steered Amanda away, having managed to find a quiet corner of solitude, away from distraction and danger and any deviousness.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” apologised Amanda, taking off her headphones so she could hear what Steve was trying to say to her.
