Winning Ruby Heart

by Jennifer Lohmann

  Ruby was too busy watching the movements of his hands with interest—she’d never seen a hand-driven car in action—to answer with anything less than the truth. “Roxanne, my sister, found it for me. A professor in her department is spending a year in Oxford and their house sitter fell through at the last minute. I guess I’m as perfect a solution for them as they are for me.” She didn’t mention how Roxanne had offered the house with the snide comment that some people have all the luck. Her sister was sensitive to being overshadowed by her younger sister’s flashier talents, and the homeowners had been tickled that a former Olympian with a scandal hanging over her head was their house sitter.

  Some people had a strange sense of pleasure, but Ruby hadn’t been in a position to turn the house down, even if she’d wanted to.

  “So you get to learn all about living on your own without the burdens of paying your own bills.” She must have made a face as horrible as his comment felt, because he held up his hand. “That wasn’t a criticism.”

  “I guess I’m a little sensitive to being twenty-nine and only now moving out of my parents’ house.” She’d had a privileged upbringing, and rather than using the luxury to become a better person and do great things, she’d wasted it. Gas stations and fast-food places rushing by didn’t help reorient her mind to the present, so she took a deep breath.

  “Would you rather people judge you for moving out of your parents’ house at twenty-nine or for hiding away behind those large front doors and high fences for the rest of your life?”

  “I’d rather people didn’t judge me at all.”

  “Not going to happen, Ruby.”

  Letting out all the air she had been holding felt so good that she did it again, pushing every last breath out of her body until her belly button touched her spine. “I know.”

  “How did you survive being famous? Every little slip I made was in the college paper and discussed on NSN by at least five talking heads.”

  “I didn’t play football or basketball or even soccer. People came out to meets, but I was only in the paper when I was successful, which was all the time, but the general public didn’t know me until my first Olympics. I was unbeatable in the five and ten K’s in college. The reason people were surprised that I won the silver in the first Olympics was not because I wasn’t the best in the United States, but because the United States hadn’t been in serious medal contention for middle distance in the Olympics in years.”

  Any discussion of her glory years had always felt as if it was accompanied with a giant weight pushing down on her rib cage and shrinking her heart into nothingness. Now, thinking back to what she’d lost—what it had cost her—still made her sad, but the pressure was gone. She took another deep breath and her chest expanded to its fullest.

  When Micah made a noncommittal noise in response but didn’t say anything, she continued, “And after I graduated from college, I came back to my parents’ house and I trained. If there was criticism, they must have filtered it out because I never saw it. Any talk shows I went on, especially in the lead-up to the second Olympics, were carefully vetted. I listened to my coach and I trained and I raced in meets and my parents told me I was great and that was it.

  “I wasn’t encouraged to socialize with other athletes.” Narcissism, both hers and her parents, had made her world a tiny bubble. “It would interfere with my training, they said. And I agreed because I’d stood on that pedestal and seen the flag of another country raised higher than the Stars and Stripes and I heard the anthem of another country instead of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ and I knew—knew!—that I could be on that higher podium in four years.”

  “And you were,” he said, so softly that she almost didn’t hear him.

  “And I was. And if felt great. If you’ve never done it, you can’t imagine the pride and joy and patriotism and...and, well, I handed over that medal, but they couldn’t take away the memory of that podium.”

  As they waited to turn left at a light, the only sounds were the soft blowing of the air conditioner and the buzz of other cars as they whipped past them.

  “Was it worth it?” Micah finally asked once he’d made the turn and they were going straight again. “Was the doping worth that one memory?”

  “No. I lost more than a medal when the doping was revealed. I lost my integrity, and no wonderful memory is worth that.” She had more to say, more she wanted Micah to know, but the wall of regret was still too high and she wasn’t yet a skilled enough climber to scale it.

  Then Micah pulled to a stop at another light and he put his hand on her knee. The wall crumbled and her fears of admitting the truth—even to herself—fell to the dirt, mixed with the broken clay.

  “And you were right when you said I was something special. That’s what hurts the most. With all that training and dedication, I could have won. I was still America’s Darling, the unbeatable Ruby Heart.” She swallowed, but the lump in her throat didn’t disappear. Water filled her eyes, and if she looked in the mirror she would see the lines down her face where the tears ran through the dust of her life, washing off the shame when nothing else could. “I defeated myself, and I have to face that every time I look in the mirror. No talking head can judge me as harshly as I judge myself.”

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as tears slid down them. Never in the past five years had she admitted to herself that final truth. Like Usain Bolt, she had been as sure a bet as there could be in sports. To this day, she couldn’t understand why her coach and agent had risked the win. At the time, she’d been naive enough to buy their story of “insurance” and “everyone does it.” The court documents revealed that significant amounts of money had changed hands, but it had been a foolish risk for them and plain stupid for her.

  She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand as her youthful and expensive foolishness fogged up the inside of the car. At least, she couldn’t see though the droplets on her eyelashes. And yet, even though Micah didn’t say a word, his solid, strong presence was as palpable as her regret and just as powerful. She didn’t need him to say anything; she only needed to know that he was there.

  They drove the rest of the way in silence. Only when Micah turned into the gym parking lot did Ruby speak again. She wanted to know his secrets. “I still can’t believe you don’t work out at home. Wouldn’t it be easier?”

  He shrugged. “Easier, maybe. But like you said, training as a solitary experience can be dangerous. People help with perspective. And they interact more than a dumbbell rack.”

  She smiled, and the easy way he had let her spill her guts and then condensed her experience into a manageable mouthful warmed her heart as surely as her shame had warmed her cheeks. She watched his profile as he turned into a parking spot. His nose was a little crooked from where it must have been broken, probably playing football. His lips were a pale pink, full and inviting. He was attractive when he was charming the world with his dimples, but she liked him better now, with the slight indent of his cheeks hinting at the magnetism that lit him from within. His strength was on evidence to the entire world, but his lightness was somehow a secret he shared with few.

  She smiled in spite of herself. She wasn’t even sure if she had room in her life right now for an affair, serious or not, and he probably had no room in his life for her. She had been the cheater who couldn’t face her crimes and now she was the poor little rich girl. Sure, he was being kind to her, but she was allowing him unprecedented access into her life so that he could boost his career. Next time she was tempted to spill her guts, she needed to remember that his kindness had a price.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Just that I know how you feel about going to the gym.” She lied. “When I only had my coach for a spotter, lifting weights became less of a game and more of a chore.”

  “Let’s go inside and see if we
can make it fun again.”

  “Okay,” she said, but she didn’t even put her hand on the door, much less open it.

  “You’ve already done the interview and you can’t hide forever. What’s the worst they can do?”

  She still hadn’t gotten her cable or internet hooked up, so she hadn’t seen the online comments after the interview aired. But she was as familiar with their rhythm as she was with the rhythm of her own running. And part of her was still afraid that Micah agreed with them. But she already knew what he thought of her doping and his opinion of her subsequent hiding out from life. And he had picked her up to drive her to his gym anyway. No one else in her life had considered that the exercise was her life and had been her job, so the new gym was almost as significant as the new house and finding a new job.

  Another piece in the new-Ruby plan.

  “Well, I came here with you, so I can’t be that afraid.” Her self-doubt would only be answered if she placed herself in a position of competition. And she’d only have a chance of winning if she threw out her self-doubt. Maybe she could pack it up in a box and store it at her parents’ house.

  “Never show fear. It’s like throwing chum to sharks.” Then Micah opened the car door and she could either follow him or be left behind.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RUBY SAT IN the car thinking about the trip from the parking lot to the door for longer than she should have, and she had to dart to catch up to Micah before he opened the door. Suddenly, they were in the gym, a sprawling single-story building with lots of glass and metal. It wasn’t until she saw the pale wood paneling on the wall behind the front desk that she felt at home. She followed Micah up to the counter where he checked in and she handed over her guest pass. On the guest sign-in sheet, she started to write “Diana,” then stopped and wrote “Ruby Heart.”

  The clerk didn’t even blink. Ruby chuckled at her own hubris as she waved to Micah and headed into the dressing room to change.

  When she came out of the dressing room, Micah was already at the weights. She faltered in the doorway, then remembered who she was and stepped out. First a warm-up on the treadmill, then lifts. She set the program for an easy pace with no incline for twenty minutes and let herself fall into the rhythm of the run.

  Five minutes in, a man got onto the treadmill beside her. Seven minutes in, he broke her rhythm completely—mostly because he had none. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His legs were okay. He wasn’t fully landing with his feet underneath him, but he wasn’t fully heel striking, either. His arms were another story; he might as well be a symphony conductor. She would bet that half of his energy was lost in the way he swung his arms about. If he could control his arms, his run would be more efficient and he wouldn’t have to breathe so hard.

  Ruby forced her eyes forward. This man and his running style was not her business. He was wearing expensive running shoes and clothes, and judging by the definition in his biceps, it looked like he lifted weights—a lot of them. A man used to the gym. He had a shaved head, a full beard and tattoos. This was not a man who would appreciate her interference. She should leave him alone. Plus, running was as much about controlling the mind as controlling the body. If she could block out the pain constricting her hamstrings at mile thirty, she could ignore this man’s poor form.

  But his breaths were starting to come in loud huffs. She eyed him again, this time noticing how long he had set his treadmill run for. He still had thirty minutes left. He’d be here the entire time she ran, huffing and puffing and flailing. A few pointers and some of the flailing at least would be under control. Ten minutes of peace for her. A lifetime of better running for him. A fair trade.

  She slowed her treadmill down until she was at a bare jog. “May I suggest some changes to your running style?”

  “Who the hell are you?” he huffed out.

  She looked around for Micah and his encouraging, supportive smile. Sometime since she’d gotten on the treadmill, he’d started doing dumbbell curls. He was deep in concentration.

  What the hell, she’d already done the interview. “Ruby Heart.”

  He wasted more of his precious and dwindling energy to blink. Then he hit the emergency-stop button and lurched to a halt. She paused her own run.

  “Get out,” he said, gripping the rails of the treadmill. He’d caught a breath or two, but his body was still reeling from the erratic movements of his running form.

  “I’m afraid it’s true. Would you like some pointers?”

  “How do I know you’re not shitting me?”

  For a brief second, Ruby considered backing down. But the only time she hadn’t stood tall against a challenge had turned into five lost and lonely years. She should have stood in front of the cameras and microphones and admitted to the magnitude of what she’d done, then gone on with the remnants of her life. Retreat was no longer a Ruby Heart trait. Regret shouldn’t be, either. “Would you like a race?”

  “On the treadmill?”

  “Sure. We each set the treadmill for a 5K race. The first person to finish their 5K wins.” Her Olympic time—the silver medal time before the doping—had been fourteen minutes, forty-one seconds, and she’d hit that hundredths of a second right on the bull’s-eye. Now she was training for distance over speed, but even if she ran at what she considered an easy pace, she would still beat this guy.

  “How do I know you won’t cheat?”

  She shook off the offense. “Worry more about yourself.”

  He still looked suspicious, but nodded, and they each set their treadmills. Ruby’s breathing was even and calm when the mileage on her treadmill hit 3.1 in seventeen minutes and she began her cooldown. The man next to her was straining hard enough that he had to stare at the screen on her machine several times before he could focus on both her distance and time. He shrugged, then reduced the speed of his treadmill until he was walking next to her, his chest rising and falling in massive, sucking breaths.

  “So Ruby Heart, huh?”

  “Yup. Did you see the interview on SportsDaily?”

  “No. I didn’t want to give you the time of day.” He eyed her to see if she was offended and she shrugged. She’d heard worse. “Did you even struggle at that pace?”

  “Not really.” An exultant high of pushing herself to win—not finish, but win—lifted her chest and relaxed her shoulders. Stretching herself to win felt different from a runner’s high and just as awesome. She knew from experience that when the two highs combined, she was invincible through any amount of fatigue.

  Before she grasped on to the feeling and hugged it tight to her chest as if welcoming home a long lost friend, she reminded herself that all she’d done was beat a man with poor form in a 5K on a treadmill, and that success had led her into a moral desert once. Winning may be an old friend, but it was an old friend with very bad habits.

  He nodded several times, apparently still processing who she was. Or maybe he couldn’t believe that he’d gotten his ass kicked by a girl. “And you offered to give me some pointers?”

  “You look like you need some. You waste a lot of energy in how you move your arms. You’re not running right to left—you’re running forward. Let your arms provide momentum to take you there. Making a fist also takes energy. Loose hands. Not so loose that they flounce, but not so tight that you have to fight your body to keep them closed.”

  “And this will help?” He sounded skeptical.

  “Tell you what—I’m going to go lift weights. Run for ten minutes while thinking about what I said. You’ll have to concentrate, so it will be harder on your mind, but easier on your body. When you realize I’m right, come let me know.” She considered her offer and every person who’d ever coached her in running, and then she said, “If you decide I’m wrong, let me know that, as well.”

  She stopped her machine and headed off to g
et a wipe for the screen and rails. On her way back to the treadmill, she paused to watch the man’s form. Better. Far from perfect, but better. She wiped her machine clean, grabbed her towel and set off for Micah and the weights.

  The scent of him filled her nose, growing more powerful as she approached. Warm, salty and hardworking. His essence came at her in waves as she stepped closer and he worked the weights. Since he was wearing gym shorts, she saw his legs for the first time. They weren’t as atrophied as she’d expected, though they were more bone and skin than muscle. Up close, what she could see of his arms and shoulders through the muscle shirt looked as fantastic as she’d hoped. Those arms would look especially nice wrapped around her. She wished she could see his back muscles as he moved, but he was doing chest flies on the machine. She supposed someone would notice if she crawled behind the machine for a glimpse.

  Curiosity about his body, or attraction? Or both—since she’d be curious about the body of anyone she was attracted to.

  Rather than make a fool of herself, she waited off to the side. When Micah finished counting, he let go of the pulleys and the weights dropped with a crash. Her curiosity warmed into pleasure as his eyes refocused on her standing next to him and his expression turned luxurious.

  * * *

  “LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?” he asked. He had felt her looking at him as he’d finished his set, her gaze adding extra weight to the rope and making each pull harder. Though he probably couldn’t blame that on her gaze but on the dirty thoughts occupying his mind and distracting him from the exercise—much like being near her on the couch in his apartment had meant he had to rewatch the interview after she’d left so he could pay attention.

  Her face flushed, but she didn’t look away. Neither did she stare at his legs. “Yes, yes. I do. In fact, I’d like to see more.”

  Her directness surprised a cough out of him. He hadn’t expected Ruby to return his interest. Realizing that he was sexually attracted to her, despite her doping and their shared history, had been astonishing. But considering that he had once humiliated her on television and then all but told her what a piece of scum he thought she was...well, he figured their past might have more baggage for her than it did for him.