by Julie Cannon
On the back side of the mountain Caroline practically floated over the steep terrain. She mastered each turn, one after the other, almost effortlessly, but the fatigue in Shannon’s arms and legs told her that even though Caroline made it look easy, it was anything but. Shannon held her breath as Caroline maneuvered through each turn, knowing that any minor slip and Caroline could go down as hard as she had the week before.
Finally, Caroline was through the last turn and Shannon dragged her eyes away from the screen to watch her speed to the finish. Caroline flashed by the banners on either side of the straightaway as she came closer and closer to the checkered flag. Twenty yards, fifteen yards, ten, five. With a flash and a roar Caroline crossed the line.
The crowd erupted and Shannon had no indication if she had won or lost this race. She was afraid to look at the scoreboard where the time of all three races was displayed. She wanted to win. She wanted to show Caroline that she knew what was best for her, that she could still compete even with a few bumps and bruises. But a piece of her also wanted Caroline to have some of the glory as well. Caroline had worked hard, had trained diligently for this, and a small part of Shannon wanted it for her.
She had won dozens and dozens of races. Big ones, big-name races, races that had catapulted her to the top of the heap, and her skill kept her there for years. Caroline had also won her share of races, some larger and more important than others. But what came naturally to Shannon she knew Caroline had to work and struggle and sacrifice to achieve. And Shannon admired her for that. It was one thing to win something that comes easily, but another to struggle and work and put your heart and soul into something that you may or may not win.
All these thoughts crashed through Shannon’s head in the span of the second it took her to look up from Caroline crossing the line to the scoreboard. She had beaten Caroline by three tenths of a second.
The crowd swarmed her slapping her on the back, the top of her helmet, her ass, with quite a few idiots slapping her on her injured arm. She was grateful for the protective gear. She had learned early on, albeit the hard way, that race fans had a tendency to be overexuberant in their congratulatory wishes.
Shannon fought to look through the crowd to catch a glimpse of Caroline. She saw her. She had not yet dismounted, her forearms dangling over the handlebars, her head down in defeat. It was late in the afternoon on Sunday and Caroline was silhouetted in the sun making her disappointment more poignant. Shannon watched Fran approach Caroline and give her a very conciliatory, sympathetic hug. Shannon’s mind went down an ugly trail that Fran would find a way later tonight to boost Caroline’s spirits.
A sick feeling in the pit of her stomach came with the knowledge that Caroline was the type of woman who would sleep with one woman one night and a different one the next. She didn’t know why she was upset with that; she had done it many times herself. But it was different with Caroline. Or at least her gut told her it should be. Caroline hadn’t said anything about a girlfriend, but then again, it wasn’t as if they had stopped fucking long enough to have a conversation. The only things they said to each other last night were words like “yes,” “right there,” “faster,” “harder,” “again,” and several others that two people having sex would share. A flash of anger shot through her limbs, her arms flailing and almost knocking a few fans to the ground. She mumbled something akin to an apology and used her bike to clear a path through the crowd.
She knew she would be seeing Caroline on the winner’s platform, Shannon on the top step, Caroline on the step reserved for the second place finisher. Caroline would remove the blue leader jersey before stepping on her box, and after receiving her own medal, Shannon, now ahead in the standing by a mere three points, would receive her own blue jersey that she would be wearing in next week’s race. Shannon despised baby blue; it made her look pale and washed out. She thought it a sissy color, but she would accept it nonetheless.
As Shannon removed her helmet, strong female hands grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, and pinned her in a lip lock. She had no idea who it was other than a woman who was trying to stick her tongue down her throat. As respectfully and calmly as she could, Shannon pushed her away. When she saw who it was she wanted to gag.
Forcing herself not to spit out the evidence of Nikki Striker’s kiss, Shannon plastered a fake smile on her face and waved at the crowd who were cheering as if she had just kissed the most beautiful woman in the world. She kept her grip on Nikki, squeezing her arm tight, conveying her disapproval of her actions. She was furious with Nikki for taking advantage of her and putting her in this position. But she knew the role she had to play and at this very moment in her biking career, she was sick of it. Frank approached from her right slapping her on the back so hard it was all she could do not to gasp for air to refill her lungs.
“That’s my girl. I knew you could beat her. I knew. There was never any doubt. You got the brains and the look and the skill. You’re gonna take this whole goddamn thing. You’re going to clean fucking up. Nobody has what you have. And you’re mine, all mine.”
Shannon broke away from Frank more roughly than she had his wife. She wasn’t going to put up with his shit. Not today. She was tired, she hurt everywhere, her arm was killing her, and it felt like her stitches on her leg had pulled out. To top it all off, his sleazy wife had blindsided her with probably the most disgusting kiss in her life. The last two minutes had spoiled her win. To the winners go the spoils, and if Nikki and Frank Striker were the spoils, she had to rethink her goals in life.
Chapter Nineteen
Caroline watched in dismay as Shannon was surrounded by her sponsor and a woman who could only be Nikki Striker. There were rumors on the circuit about Nikki, and she chose not to believe them. She didn’t believe the chatter on the circuit because half the rumors were false, and it was often only a matter of time before the other half became true. And quite frankly, she didn’t care if they were about her and she certainly didn’t care if they were about the woman who had snatched the victory right out from under her tires. No, that wasn’t fair. She didn’t slip, didn’t make any errors. She had run this course perfectly. Shannon had beaten her fair and square and she gave her her due. In this race, Shannon was the more skilled rider. She had won this race, not stolen it from her, and Caroline had not given it to her. Shannon had beaten her. Caroline’s head knew that, but her heart and stomach felt just the opposite.
“You all right?” Fran’s familiar voice calmed her jittery nerves.
She was in the Bellow trailer alone, shooing everyone out. She needed her privacy, she needed a moment, she needed to regroup, she needed to prepare herself to remove the blue jersey and hand it over to Shannon Roberts. Fran was one of the few people she was willing to see in these moments. She knew what to say and, most importantly, what not to say. There were no empty words of platitude. No you’ll get it next time. She didn’t say anything to her. Fran knew her. Knew what Caroline needed probably better than she knew herself. She needed just a friendly face, a calming smile, and the presence of her very best friend.
Caroline shed the jersey, folding it neatly before setting it on the table beside her. Clad only in her T-shirt, sports bra, and body armor, she loosened the laces on the hard plastic chest protector. Without thinking, she peeled off her T-shirt and her sports bra, unconcerned of her nakedness in front of Fran. They had seen each other naked before, either in the gym, skinny-dipping, or in situations just like this. They were friends, nothing more. She didn’t think twice about it and neither did Fran.
“What in the hell is that?” Fran asked in her not-so-subtle way.
“What?” It took a moment for Caroline to register what Fran was talking about. When it dawned on her that she was staring at her breast she remembered that there was a vivid reminder of the passionate sex she had shared with Shannon the night before. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. Wasn’t it she who made a disparaging comment about Shannon’s hickey that night weeks ago?
“I know what it is. Where did you get it?”
“Right here on my left breast,” Caroline countered in an attempt to joke her way out of an awkward situation.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Give.” Fran waved her fingers at Caroline.
“Fran, I don’t want to—”
“Details, Davis. What happened last night after we left?” She held up her hand, palm facing Caroline. “Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want a smart-ass answer. Who gave that to you?” She pointed at the red bruise for effect.
Caroline didn’t want to share the night she had spent with Shannon with anyone. She was still processing exactly what had happened, or more specifically how she had let it happen. Again and again, as a matter of fact. The butterflies in her stomach started up again. She had felt jittery ever since waking up this morning to find Shannon and her father in the doorway. But she also knew Fran would not let up until she had all the answers.
“Shannon.” Caroline braced herself for the onslaught that would come. Fran didn’t disappoint her.
“Shannon? As in my red hot high school lover that my dad caught me with Shannon?” Fran always did have a way with words.
“Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She grabbed the clothes Fran had removed from the locker at the far end of the trailer. Caroline went to the basin, drew some water and a washcloth, and quickly washed her face, arms, and neck, splashing some of the cool liquid over her head.
“Too bad. You’re not getting away that easily.”
Caroline pulled on a fresh T-shirt with Bellow broadcast across her chest in bright yellow letters against the black background. “Fran, please. I can’t.” Her voice cracked on the last two words. Caroline took another quick look at herself in the mirror, checking to make sure she didn’t have any dirt on her face. She grabbed another full bottle of Gatorade and stepped out the door.
Shannon watched Caroline approach the winner’s stand holding her head high. She was proud of her accomplishment, and Shannon was proud of her. Caroline received several congratulatory hugs, handshakes, and even a few kisses. As her name was called, she stepped onto the platform, a smile on her face that Shannon thought didn’t quite reach her eyes. But anyone that didn’t know her as well as she did wouldn’t know the difference. She lifted her arms in the air and waved at the crowd showing her appreciation for their cheers. She stepped up onto the box and the crowd roared again. Caroline acknowledged them with another wave and a dip of her head, which was true Caroline Davis style. She was a gracious winner and a more gracious loser. She never said anything negative about her fellow racers; she recognized their skill and their accomplishments and simply moved on to the next competition.
The mayor of Schladming presented Caroline with a bouquet of flowers and draped the second place medal over her head and it bounced lightly against her chest. He shook her hand and kissed both checks in the European way and stepped aside.
Shannon knew she was next. She wanted to let Caroline savor this moment, but this was her race. She had won, damn it. Against all odds, she had shown them, all of them. Especially Caroline. As she approached the winner’s platform her eyes never left Caroline’s. She tried desperately to read what was in those dark eyes but she couldn’t. One second they said, “great race,” the next, “you could have goddamned killed yourself.” It didn’t really matter. It was over. It was done. And as she stepped up on the highest position on the platform, the only thing she cared about was how good it felt to be on top.
She turned to her left, shaking the hand of the third place winner. She turned to her right and when her hand touched Caroline’s it was as if a jolt of electricity went from her fingertips to her feet, practically gluing her to the platform. For a few seconds she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but look into the smoldering eyes looking up at her. There was a connection between them. There always had been and even after ten years it was still there. Shannon didn’t know whether to be thrilled or scared to death.
The festivities over, the photographs began. Snap after snap, flash after flash, all vying to get the perfect shot. One persistent writer followed Shannon back to the TKS trailer. He bombarded her with questions the entire way.
“So, Shannon, how do you feel? Did your injuries slow you down at all? Did your injury compromise your chance to win the race? Did you feel any different out there? Were you afraid to go down the mountain? Were you afraid you were going to fall again? What was going through your mind at the top of the hill? Do you have any kind of post-
traumatic stress syndrome from your fall?”
The reporter and his asinine questions dogged her the hundred yards to her trailer. Shannon kept her temper, knowing that he could easily paint a very ugly picture of her in his article with the simple tap of the keys.
She was polite but clearly brushed him off when she got to the door. She stepped inside and the coolness of the air conditioner chilled the sweat on her skin. Unfortunately, she wasn’t alone.
“Well, the champion has finally arrived,” a not so sultry voice greeted her. Shannon thought for a moment to step outside into the clutches of the idiot reporter.
“Nikki.” Shannon knew Nikki expected her to cross the trailer to her locker, but there was no way that was going to happen. It was too far away from the door and too close to Nikki.
“I just wanted to offer my congratulations.”
Nikki’s tone immediately told Shannon that she was after more than a simple acknowledgment of a job well done.
“Thanks,” Shannon replied, trying to keep it light while at the same time surveying her options—they were few.
Nikki walked across the floor, her eyes pinning Shannon with a look that said this time she was going to get what she wanted. Shannon’s mouth went dry but it was not due to desire.
“Nikki,” she said.
“Shannon, you look a little tense. You were awesome out there. The way you handled that bike gave me the shivers. You were one with it. It was as if it was an extension of you. The way you handled that mountain was how you would make love to a woman. Strong, demanding, unrelenting.”
Shannon almost choked at the absolute ridiculousness of what she was hearing. How could anyone equate what she had just done, what she had to do, what she put her body through, to making love to a woman? She never conquered a woman; she never needed to.
“I’ve never heard it phrased quite that way.”
“You’ve never had anyone watch you like I’ve been watching you.”
“I’m sure Frank appreciates you keeping an eye on me.” She had no idea why she injected his name into the conversation. Nikki was immune to it; it meant nothing to her. Nothing was going to stop her. She wasn’t getting the hint. Subtlety was not working with this woman. And that was exactly what Shannon was afraid of.
“Frank has no idea how I’ve been watching you.”
Before Shannon had a chance to respond Nikki had her in a second unwanted lip lock pushing her against the lockers. She had her tongue in her mouth and her hands up her shirt before Shannon even realized it. Shannon tried to squirm away from her, but Nikki was stronger than she looked. Shannon had to use more force than she thought she would. She was breathing heavily from anger but not nearly as heavily as Nikki was from desire.
“Nikki.” Shannon seemed to be repeating herself and getting nowhere.
“You want this as much as I do. Frank doesn’t know and if he did he wouldn’t care. All he’s interested in is your body for the money it can make him.” She moved closer to Shannon again. “I, on the other hand, am also interested in your body but for what it can do for me, and what I can do for you. I know your type, what you want. Quick, fast, anonymous. Let’s celebrate your victory.”
“That’s very flattering, Nikki, but I’ve told you, and at the risk of pissing you off, I’m going to r
epeat myself. I don’t do this. I don’t do married women. I don’t do straight women, and I certainly don’t do the boss’s wife.”
The look in Nikki’s eyes told Shannon that she was trying to decide if she was going to get angry or let it pass and try again. She chose the former.
“Who do you think you are?” she spat. “Where in the hell do you think you’d be without my Frank and his company? Who gives you money, buys your first class tickets, your hotel suites? You ride a bike, a silly little bike. One that happens to cost eight thousand dollars. For a bicycle, for God’s sake. How stupid is that? You would have nothing if not for my husband. And you are very close to having nothing again.”
Nikki was not known for her subtlety, and she didn’t disappoint Shannon now. There was no mistaking the innuendo in her words. With one word to her husband, she could have Shannon’s contract canceled. She would do it.
“Nikki, I’m sorry if I offended you. You’re a very attractive woman. Another place, another time, another situation.” Shannon let the words hang in the air letting Nikki draw her own conclusions. “But I don’t do this. I’m sorry if it upset you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Nikki snapped. “I can have any women here I want. As a matter of fact, I have. And your main competitor, I’ve seen the way she looks at me. I think I’ll go over to her trailer and see how she’s doing. See if she needs any consoling from her loss.” Without another word she spun and left with a parting, “Ta ta.”
*
Caroline felt it was only right to congratulate Shannon. She had run a good race. She looked around the expo grounds and the vendors packing up their wares. With no sign of Shannon, she headed to the TKS trailer. It would be the last place she’d look before going back to her hotel room.
