Stick the Landing

by Kate McMurray

  Topher laughed and thought back to their interview. He hadn’t asked any personal questions, but he did wonder a bit about what Jake’s deal was. “Do you know his story? Is he single, married, whatever?”

  Natalie shook her head. “Definitely not married. Brad’s the only guy on the team who is. He’ll also tell you all about it, if you ask.”

  “A smug married, eh?”

  Natalie nodded and took a sip of her sangria. “The smuggest. But Jake, I don’t know. He’s gotta be single. Maybe even celibate. His parents keep him on a pretty short leash.”

  That was bad news. “Just during the season or—?”

  Natalie leveled her gaze at Topher. “Jake doesn’t get time off. Jake is a part of the Mirakovitch gymnastics machine. He trains year-round. He is occasionally blessed with a few days off, but those are rare.”

  “I used to take the summers off.”

  “I trained less during the school year. But Jake… I mean, that guy was bred specifically to be a champion gymnast. Literally. He was never given another choice.”

  “God.”

  “So I can’t imagine his parents allowed him to date much. There have been rumors here or there, but I don’t think he’s with anyone now.”

  Topher was intrigued by these rumors, but not drunk enough to ask about them without shame. “He’s so delicious-looking. I’d kill to interview him again. Preferably with no one else watching while we’re both naked.”

  Natalie laughed. “Bless you, Topher Caldwell. I’ve had that same thought myself.”

  “I hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to be fighting each other for men to bang during this Olympic broadcast.”

  “You really intend to hook up with someone?”

  Topher shrugged. “I’m not ruling it out.”

  “I have a boyfriend back home.” Natalie looked off into the distance and smiled, so Topher inferred it was a real deal. “He’s great,” she said. “I bet he’s ring shopping as we speak.”

  “That’s sweet. How long have you been together?”

  “It will be three years next month. I met him right after I retired, actually. He… he made my retirement bearable. And he’s not a gymnast, which is so goddamn refreshing.”

  “Is he an athlete?” Topher had always theorized it would be hard to relate to someone who hadn’t understood his former slavish devotion to training regimens and his continuing diet and gym habits. Topher still cooked for himself most of the time because he knew how to make a meal do its job to fuel his body. He didn’t skate every day anymore, but he liked to keep himself healthy.

  Natalie grinned. “My boyfriend is a baseball player. Left fielder for the Texas Rangers.”

  “Get out. Really?”

  “No joke.”

  “Do you live in Texas, then?”

  “Yeah. We have a house outside Dallas.”

  “That’s wild. Not that I know anything about baseball. I mean, I know the Rangers are a team. And that the game is played with balls and bats. And that’s it, really. Actually, if you’d said Rangers, I would have assumed you were talking hockey.”

  “Yeah. Well, no. Todd plays baseball in Texas. He made the All-Star Team this year, so he’s pretty good.”

  “Okay.” Topher smiled. “Anyway, I am single. Haven’t even dated much recently. Broke up with the love of my life last year. Or I don’t know, ‘love of my life’ is probably overstating the case. Either way, we ended things in highly dramatic fashion. He took my favorite Prada shoes with him when he left.”

  “That bastard.”

  “I know. I should sue. But it was for the best. We were both too dramatic. It was like an opera in our apartment every night, with all the histrionics. I miss him sometimes, but I know how poorly suited we were for each other. He was my indulgent post-skating fling, I suppose. He did play hockey. Not professionally, though. He was in this hipster hockey league in Brooklyn.”

  Natalie laughed. “New York is so strange.”

  “Don’t I know it, darling. But, I don’t know. I guess a part of me figured I’d be in Madrid, miles from home, and there’d be all these horny athletes around. I’m sure a few of them are on the gay dating apps. I’ve got three on my phone.”

  “You do not.”

  Topher held up his phone. Natalie took it from him and opened one of the apps. “Holy shit. There’s a guy very close by.” She looked around the bar.

  Topher took his phone back. “Oh, that’s Mitch. He’s a PA. He’s staying on the fourth floor. The GPS probably isn’t good enough to tell when people aren’t on the same floor of a building.”

  Natalie shot Topher a cocky smile. “How do you know he’s staying on the fourth floor? Did you hook up with him already?”

  Topher rolled his eyes and fiddled with the app. “No. We flirted a little over the breakfast buffet, though. He’s not really my type, and I could tell he kind of thinks I’m ridiculous. Not a lot of other nibbles tonight, though. Well, one, but his profile info is in Spanish, so I assume he’s local. And my Spanish is not good enough to make that work. But look at his abs.” Topher showed Natalie the photo.

  “The horny athletes are all in the Olympic Village, which we are banned from.”

  “Yeah, but this hotel is but a few hundred feet away. I bet I could coax a fencer or a diver back to my hotel room if I was enterprising enough.”

  “Or Jake Mirakovitch.”

  “God, wouldn’t that be a coup? I would definitely love to lure him back to my boudoir.” It wasn’t a lie. Topher had been thinking about Jake since they’d met, although he’d tried not to. Jake was so remote, so untouchable, a gymnastics god with a grueling schedule who might as well have been wearing a T-shirt that said Straight and unavailable. Or, even if Jake were available, what would he want with a washed-up figure skater who had proved more than once that he’d never be the sort of athlete who’d end up in history books?

  Ugh, Topher needed to get himself out of the shame spiral. He was here to do a job that had nothing to do with his ability to land a quad toe loop. He was stretching out a different skill set. And he wasn’t even really here to flirt with men, but they did make for a pleasant distraction.

  Back on Earth, Natalie grinned at Topher. “Maybe I’ll make some discreet inquiries.”

  “Oh, please.” Topher waved his hand dismissively.

  “Or I won’t. Maybe your one true love plays an entirely different sport. Maybe he’s a swimmer. Or a boxer!”

  Topher laughed. “Sure. And maybe I’ll pull up one of these apps next time we’re near the Olympic Village.”

  “You’re joking, but I know you’re thinking about doing just that.”

  She was right, but Topher only shrugged.

  Chapter Six

  Day 1

  Primetime Broadcast

  Transcript: Men’s Gymnastics Qualifiers

  HENLEY: HERE we are at the beautiful Palacio Vistalegre for the men’s gymnastics team qualifying event. This arena in the Carabanchel District just outside Madrid was once the site of a famous bullring. But there will be no bullfighting here tonight. A different, more graceful sport has taken over. Tell me, Eileen, what do you think of the American men’s team?

  SCHIFFLER: They look strong, Al. They were in good shape during practice yesterday. I’d say this men’s team looks great, but we all know how hard it has been for them to maintain any kind of momentum going into the team final.

  HENLEY: We do. Four years ago, this men’s team was in first place after qualifiers, and then failed to medal in the team final or the All-Around. It was shocking.

  O’CONNOR: Some of that men’s team is back here. Jake Mirakovitch, Corey O’Bannon, and Brad Porter are all returning for their second Olympics. Jake and Corey look good to make the all-around. But they’re competing with their own teammates for all-around spots. Those other teammates include Jordan Weiss, who is Team USA’s best hope for a medal on pommel horse. They you’ve got Hayden Croft, who is a shoo-in for the vault final. And new
comer Paul Petrakis. He has very little international experience, so it remains to be seen what he can do on the world stage.

  SCHIFFLER: Jake and Corey are definitely going after that all-around title. What about Hayden? He’s also planning to perform on all six apparatuses tonight.

  O’CONNOR: He’s got a shot. And Jake told me he’s trying for as many event finals as his body will allow. Pommel horse is a long shot for him; he’s got a solid chance at high bar, parallel bars, and vault. Probably also floor. Corey is their star on rings. His upper body strength is unbelievable.

  HENLEY: In other words, this team has the stuff.

  O’CONNOR: It really does, Al. This is probably the best men’s team the US has put up in two decades. By rights, they should be on the podium after the team final on Monday. What remains to be seen is if nerves or injuries will take them out, as they did four years ago and at every World Championship since. Mirakovitch is the gymnast to watch, but as we all know, he has a habit of coming out of the gates strong and then fading as competition goes on.

  HENLEY: He spoke to TBC’s own Christopher Caldwell a few days ago. Let’s take a look at their interview….

  SIX APPARATUSES. Six routines. Just another meet.

  Jake stood beside his teammates as they looked up at the vault, their first rotation. Jake had been hoping they’d draw pommel horse first so they could get it over with. Instead, the six of them stood in a row wearing matching uniforms, looking up at the vault table. Jake imagined his five teammates were trying to figure out if that table held the secrets of the universe.

  Maybe it did.

  They’d had a good warm-up prior to changing into their official uniforms. Jake felt good, generally. He took a deep breath as the announcer droned on in Spanish, French, and English, announcing which team would compete on each apparatus first. Alexei walked over and slapped Jake on the back, telling him to do well in Russian.

  Jake, Hayden, Corey, and Paul were up on vault. Only Jake and Hayden were doing a second vault to make the event final. When they got the go-ahead to practice, Jake watched Hayden go first. He hopped wildly on the landing but looked good anyway, no problems in the air.

  Paul went next. He wasn’t as strong, not as experienced, but he didn’t look nervous; he probably didn’t have enough experience to understand that he should be nervous yet.

  Jake went third. He thought about Isaac’s advice to put everything he had into this. It was just a meet, but there was no reason not to put everything he had into this. Pretending the judges were paying attention—and maybe they were—he took off down the run-up area, did a round-off onto the springboard, and launched himself off the table. He felt good in the air and he stuck the landing. So he ran back to the other end of the run-up area and did his other vault. He stuck that one too.

  He could fucking do this.

  And a half hour later, he did. Small hop on the first landing. He’d felt that one ripple through his legs and had stepped to the side to steady himself. Still in-bounds, though, so it was just a small deduction. The vault had a total potential score of 17.000; the judges scored it 16.655. He’d take it. He stuck the landing hard on the second vault, similar max score, and the judges liked that better: 16.800.

  Alexei was apoplectic with joy, which bolstered Jake some.

  Hayden’s vault scores were slightly higher, even. Paul’s and Corey’s scores were high enough to put the Americans in first place after the first rotation. Now if they could just keep it up.

  Pommel horse came second, and Jake knew they’d lose a little ground here. He’d been doing his pommel horse routine well in practice, but it was his weakest event, no question. Still, when his turn came, he got up there. He pushed all thought out of his head and just did the routine, counting out rotations as he moved across the horse. He wasn’t perfect, but he got through it with no major errors and a decent score. Jordan killed it, putting in a nearly flawless routine and smiling when he dismounted. He’d earned a 17.100 for his trouble.

  Americans were second going into the third rotation.

  Rings were up next. Jake was glad to do rings early in the meet, because doing them last was sheer torture. By the sixth rotation, each gymnast was tired. His muscles wept as he held those positions. He’d ended up with rings last in a fair number of meets and had come off them feeling like his arms were spaghetti each time. But third was okay. Jake still felt good.

  He counted carefully for each held pose as he moved through his routine. The cross was the worst, and his arms trembled through it, but he held the position and later stuck the dismount. His score reflected the fact that the judges probably saw him struggle through the routine.

  But Corey killed it. Corey held each position with the same casual ease he might use to lean against a wall. He made it look painless and easy, which was how he was one of the best in the world. He stuck the dismount and got a huge score. Team USA was back in first.

  “The rest is cake,” Alexei said as they walked to the high bar.

  Jake assumed Alexei meant “easy as pie,” so he nodded. “Should I do the modified Tkatchev?”

  Alexei hesitated, which meant he was likely weighing Jake’s options: safely qualify or risk falling to get the higher score. He said, “I think no. Simpler release move. Wait for scores to count before pulling it out.”

  Safely qualify, then. Jake nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. “All right.”

  “You look good this meet, Jake. Your father would be proud.”

  Jake bristled. He didn’t know if it was Alexei’s less than perfect English or if he meant that Valentin was proudly watching his son triumph over each apparatus, or if Valentin was off somewhere worrying about the women’s team, not watching his son compete. Jake glanced at the stands, to the section the American delegation had reserved to watch each other. He saw a few of the women’s team members. No Valentin.

  So, yeah, maybe Valentin would be proud, if he was watching, which he wasn’t. Chelsea was the actual world champion. It was more important to watch her practice than to watch Jake actually compete, apparently.

  “Sure,” Jake said, biting back a tired sigh.

  “You got this. Make me proud too.”

  “GOOD LORD, his arms,” Topher blurted out. On live television.

  He sat in the commentary booth with Natalie and retired gymnast Sam Norton, who had finally arrived in Madrid. Topher had fallen into this particular gig at the behest of the network, who thought his approach to explaining things was useful. Topher wasn’t sad about watching more gymnastics, though they made for a motley broadcasting crew. They were doing commentary over the raw feed that would be broadcast on the app, not during the primetime broadcast, but Topher was okay with the stakes being low for now.

  This was it, wasn’t it? This was his big audition. He needed to prove that he could talk about sports without sounding silly or without being, well, too much himself. He understood implicitly that a lot of people couldn’t see past his exterior and didn’t understand that under everything, he was an athlete, and he understood the training, the discipline, the strength, and the inevitable heartbreak of being an elite athlete in the way few others did. He wanted to express himself, after so many years of holding himself back for the sake of others’ sensibilities, but he wanted to be taken seriously too, and he sometimes found that tightrope difficult to walk. Could he do both? He was about to find out.

  This was an actual scored competition, and Natalie was keeping an eye on the app to see how many people were logged in to watch; the numbers were triple what they had been during podium training. So while this wasn’t exactly primetime, it was still a big enough audience that it mattered. And it was still commentating over an actual sport instead of just doing some fluffy piece about the Prado or whatever. He couldn’t fuck this up.

  Topher focused his attention on the monitor, which showed the feed from the camera that was following Team USA around. And there Jake was on the still rings, his arms bulging as he held his position
s.

  “It takes a tremendous amount of upper body strength,” Sam said. “The rings, I mean. Jake is holding an iron cross, which, let me tell you, is one of the hardest positions. It really takes every ounce of strength you have to hold the position, and you have to do it for at least two seconds.”

  Jake swung around a couple of times and then moved into a position in which he propped himself up, his arms straight, his body bent into an L.

  Jake was… sexy, showing off his strength in this way. Topher began to fantasize about all the other things those arms could do.

  Oy, this crush was inconvenient.

  A part of Topher knew he had to see Jake again. When Jake dismounted and stuck the landing, Topher was even more sure of it. Jake probably was straight and married to gymnastics and had no interest in an unabashedly femme former figure skater, but Topher almost didn’t care. He just wanted to be near the man again. To soak up all that strength and talent and skill. To ask him more questions. To be in his presence.

  The American team moved to the high bar shortly thereafter. “The high bar is one of Jake’s best events,” Natalie said. “We watched him in podium training, and he looked amazing.”

  “He’s got some high-flying release moves,” Sam said. “I’m expecting him not to do the real showstoppers until the all-around or the event final, because he’ll want to keep it safe here. He’s been doing a trick in practice that looks amazing when he catches it right, but I don’t think we’ll see it until later. This is just a qualifier. The points go away when everyone moves into the finals.”

  “Doesn’t he want to qualify for the event finals?” Topher asked. “Isn’t the quals where you’d pull out the triple Lutz triple toe or whatever to get the high score?”

  “Yes and no,” said Sam. “Jake’s about fifty-fifty on completing the move in competition. If he does it well, it’ll get him a big score, but if he misses it, it’ll be a big deduction. Better to qualify with a solid routine and a pretty good score and get into the event final than to blow it now.”