His Last Race

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “We should go shopping,” Reagan says closing the cover on her Kindle with dramatics and flopping it on the couch next to her.

  “There’s only a few days until Remi competes and then we will do all the sightseeing and shopping you want.”

  “Yes, but when he’s done I want to watch Knox compete in his event.”

  That finally gets my head to turn as I peer at her from the corner of my eye. “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have big plans to watch Knox do you?” It’s really not a big deal at all because Remi will be here to cheer on his best friend with the other guys in the American team, but it is the first time I’ve heard Reagan admit she may have a vested interest in Knox as well.

  “Well,” her answer comes slow and flustered. “We need to support the team and all that.”

  I laugh a small amount. “Yes, all that.”

  She shakes her head and opens up her Kindle. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” I say with a smile, but leave it at that. Unlike Reagan I’ll wait until she comes to me and asks for advice before I start dishing it out.

  A shadow and then a large body steps into my view of the window a few moments later, and I raise my head to the distraction. McKenna stands with her feet braced apart holding the clipboard to her chest as she scans some papers clipped to the board.

  “Can I help you?” The question comes off a little snooty, but she did step right into my line of sight. Still the poor girl looks absolutely terrified. Like she’s waiting for Reagan and me to accost her in some way.

  “Are you two with Remi Jonsson?” she asks never taking her eyes from the clipboard.

  Reagan and I both jump up from the couch. My heart races with worry. There is absolutely no way anything bad has happened. I just saw Remi pass by the window ten minutes ago. All the non-life-threatening reasons we would have an official public relations person asking our status race in my head. Regardless of the reassurances I make, it doesn’t stop me from picturing the worst.

  “Yes, did something happen?” Reagan, thankfully pulls it together quickly.

  McKenna’s eyes get huge and she takes a step back, her long brown hair falling behind the shoulder. “Oh no. Sorry. I’m checking with all the players to find out which ones are going to participate in the opening ceremony tonight.”

  I blow out the breath I’d sucked in and sit back on the couch. “Yes, he plans to.”

  “Great.” McKenna perks up. “Here’s a flyer with all the information. It lists the uniform he needs to wear and where to meet.”

  She continues to rattle off a lot of facts about the Golds that we are supposed to know. At this point we’re pros at opening ceremonies even though this will be Remi’s first time participating in one. The halfpipe normally takes place very early in the Olympics and rather than stand around all day waiting for the opening ceremonies Remi would rather spend the time practicing or sleeping.

  It takes a lot of coordination to make those really fancy events everyone sees on TV. When there are this many teams involved with this many people, it’s a logistics nightmare. Athletes that participate in the opening are there hours in advance, dressed, and ready to go. They stand in the back more than two hours before the actual ceremony starts. Then there’s the three-hour-long performance. It’s maddening.

  Every four years the show is a little different, the sponsor city puts their own flair on things, but rest assured you’ll definitely see a few key components. Ice and snow, lights, pyro, and a whole lot of flags. Whether it’s giant polar bears rising up from the ground or cracks in the ice dividing the people, it’s always awesome.

  The opening ceremonies are one of my favorite parts. All the people who come together to support their team and the teams in general. Some are small, some like the American team are big, but when you see a group of people all dressed alike standing together in their individual countries here for one purpose it chokes me up.

  It’s a special place. There can be all kinds of horrible things happening around the globe, but for two weeks during the winter games (and sometimes in those less popular summer games) we all come together. It’s a wonderful demonstration of showmanship.

  But because of time zones, the opening ceremonies are always at some random time of the day, normally really late at night. That and the standing around for hours during the ceremony and before the ceremony and after the ceremony, it’s not always in Remi’s best interest to participate. But with an extra day between the opening ceremonies and his first event this time, it provided him the opportunity.

  And even though he acts like it’s no big deal, he’s super excited to be with his team this year.

  “Is Knox participating this year?” I ask Reagan when McKenna is out of earshot.

  Her mouth opens slightly and rather than give me a quick answer she immediately shuts her mouth, narrows her eyes and pops a shoulder up in a half shrug. “How should I know?”

  “I assumed.”

  “You assumed what?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I draw the words out so she realizes I absolutely do assume something. I said I wouldn’t give her my words of wisdom. I didn’t say I wouldn’t try and draw a confession out of her.

  **

  The crowd crushes and pushes me further against the wall I’ve taken refuge in front of. On my tiptoes I search the crowd for Remi. He’s normally the tallest person in the room, but I’m surrounded by athletes. They are all really tall.

  “Wasn’t that the best ceremony ever?” Reagan jumps on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Did you see the pyro?”

  The pyrotechnics were pretty spectacular this year. It’s like having fireworks, in a building, and close up.

  Knox stops beside us, his big body blocking parts of the crowd. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Have you seen Remi?”

  “Yeah, he was tapped for a quick interview,” he answers while his eyes stay on Reagan. If she wasn’t doing her absolute best to ignore him, I’d swear they were having some kind of secret conversation.

  “Great after party right?” Reagan asks, but I’m not sure who she’s talking to since her eyes flit around the room never landing on Knox or me.

  Calling this an after party is a little optimistic. I call it the after ceremony crunch. All the families and the athletes gather in a big open area where they originally lined up before they made their way out on the arena.

  But as it’s opening night of the Gold Medal ceremony. It’s a pretty big party. The air is hot and stuffy, a slight body odor smell settling on everyone.

  Our group expands as a blonde-haired person enters the little circle making it more of a square. Not the blonde I am looking for.

  “It’s two a.m. Everyone needs to go back to the dorms if you’re sleeping there,” McKenna says searching for Knox’s name on her clipboard and making a large check next to it.

  Any other time the guys would absolutely bristle over having a babysitter tell them when to go to bed. Yet, this is the Golds and she’s only reminding Knox of what he already knows. He won’t be a dick about it…the rest of the guys on the team might not be as nice. The fact McKenna looks absolutely terrified may help her get through the night without too many emotional scars. The last thing I’d want to do is tell a bunch of a testosterone-high-on-life pro athletes to go to bed.

  Tonight could be easier to get their agreement on the curfew, but she’ll fare worse and worse as each of the athletes finishes their competitions. There aren’t parties before competitions, but they definitely happen after. And they only grow in size each evening as more events get checked off the list. Then these guys will party harder than a frat from Animal House.

  “You two want me to walk you back?” Knox asks.

  I shake my head and scan the crowd. “No thanks. I’m going to wait for Remi.”

  “Okay, tell him I walked Reagan back,” Knox says now doing his b
est not to actually look at Remi’s sister while still moving her in the right direction.

  “Uh-huh.” I don’t know what these two are playing at, but I hope they figure it out soon — before Remi notices the whole song and dance that goes on between them whenever we’re together for practices or events.

  Knox and Reagan pick their way through the crowd and I keep my eye on the backs of their heads until someone blocks my line of vision.

  An annoying, irritating, full of themselves someone. “Marley, imagine running into you here.”

  “I’m really busy, Isaac. Can we do this some other time?” I lean to the side to see around him.

  He slides closer. “Remi might be a while. I passed him on the way over here signing a bunch of autographs.”

  If he’s trying to annoy me he needs to work harder. Signing autographs is part of the job.

  “If he doesn’t take one of the cute little snow bunnies back to your room, I’ll gladly take them off his hands.”

  My face scrunches up in disgust at his implication Remi and I would have a threesome with a snow bunny. What kind of shit goes on with the other athletes around here? I’ve heard stories, but that’s extra weird shit.

  Maybe I will wait for Remi in the room after all. It’s late…or early, and I’m exhausted. It’s the only excuse I have for why a little of Reagan’s attitude seeps out in my response.

  “Isaac,” I sigh his name. “I doubt anyone is drunk enough to find their way to your room yet.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth I have a twinge of guilt. I try to be a nice person, but he brings it out of me.

  “Oh, don’t be that way, Marley,” he says sliding up even closer so less than an inch separates us.

  In what feels like slow motion he hovers his hand next to my face, almost touching the surface of my chin like we’re lovers in an embrace. I cock an eyebrow at him and lean back, daring him to see what he’ll do next. I’ve traveled to enough foreign countries alone I know enough to protect myself. And while I would normally never do anything to jeopardize any athlete with a chance at Gold, but if he touches me he’s got something coming.

  “Don’t fight us,” Isaac says, his head moving closer to my face as mine leans further and further back keep distance between us.

  Before his gnarly lips make contact with my cheek, Isaac’s body is ripped away, his back hitting the stone wall behind us.

  “What the fuck?” Remi practically bellows the question centimeters from Isaac’s face as he holds him up against the wall.

  Isaac pushes between them to try and dislodge Remi. “Get the fuck off me, dude.”

  Remi pushes him harder against the wall. “Remi, don’t.” I step closer to the two guys trying to get between them.

  While I was perfectly ready to take out Isaac, I can’t allow Remi to do the same thing. Not only could he hurt himself, but fighting between athletes is an immediate dismissal from the games. He’s worked way too hard to throw this opportunity away for someone like Isaac.

  “Yeah, Remi, stop,” Isaac says mimicking a girl’s voice. “I can’t help it if your girlfriend is attracted to me.”

  Isaac has to be on steroids. But rather than shrink his balls they’ve ruined his brain. Remi releases his hold a fraction only to shove him up against the wall again.

  “Remi!” My voice raises in panic and I look around to see if we’re drawing a crowd. We are. If I don’t do something fast the media will blow this event out of proportion with proof and “eye witness” accounts all over the Internet within an hour. “He’s not worth it.”

  Remi’s head whips to mine making the first eye contact and he walked up. “He kissed you?”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. Of all the things going on right now that’s what he’s worried about. “No, and you’d know if he did because I would have kneed him.”

  Isaac and Remi both scoff at my answer like neither of them believe I know how to knee someone in the balls.

  I’m a little perturbed at their responses to my awesomeness, but my answer has the intended effect and Remi loosens his hold on Isaac. He takes a step back pretending like everything is fine with a fake laugh while patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t touch my girlfriend again. Don’t even look in her direction.”

  Isaac laughs… because as I said he’s a moron. “Don’t worry, the next time I touch her she’ll be begging for it.”

  Remi steps forward, but I jump in front of him and push on his chest. My small hand doesn’t have a hope of being able to stop him physically, but my presence seems to do the trick.

  I successfully move him to one side and get his body to turn. His shoulder and arms uncoil when he’s no longer facing Isaac and I wrap my arm through his walking us into the crowd.

  “If he touches you I will take him out.” Remi snarls the words, using one of his shoulders to part the sea of people.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  An abnormally loud chirping sound irritates me enough that I finally roll over and crack open an eye. Except it’s not the alarm clock or a phone, but an actual real live bird. Five stories up we’re too high to have a tree right outside the window, but there must be one nearby because it sounds like the bird is right in my room.

  Why so early in the morning? It’s obviously a species thing considering birds are annoying no matter what part of the world they wake me up in. Don’t they hibernate or something in the winter here? Fly south? What bird would choose to live in the snow?

  What’s even more surprising than birds not evolving and moving to warmer climates is the fact I slept late enough a bird was able to wake me up. Most mornings during competitive events Remi has me up before the birds. Literally.

  The curtains are closed across the large window in my hotel room, but a sliver of bright sunlight sneaks its way past the edge letting me know it’s at least midmorning. I consider throwing back the covers and getting out of bed to find out where Remi is and why he let me sleep in, but then his voice breaks through the closed bathroom door. I lay as still as possible and strain my ear to hear what he’s saying.

  There’s laughter and then Remi is quiet for a few moments. “Of course I’m going to win, Chuck, but if I don’t let’s try again in four more years.” Remi laughs and each chuckle causes a piece of my heart to break away. “Of course thirty-five isn’t too old, right?”

  There is absolutely no way he’s discussing the possibility of doing another Gold Medal event with his agent, Chuck, is there? He wouldn’t do that to me, would he?

  Remi has been snowboarding since he could run. Even though his family didn’t have any pro athletes before him, snowboarding is in Remi’s blood and they recognized it early.

  I don’t think he’ll ever be done.

  The media and most of his management team don’t know Remi still has pain in his injured knee. He’s worked hard to keep the fact private, but I know. And he knows. If he continues there’s a chance the damage will be permanent. If it isn’t already.

  I’ve understood his love for the sport. I’ve understood his competitive force and need to compete. But I’ve never understood his willingness to sacrifice his body for a gold-plated round circle. One that he has to pay taxes on since in the US they’re taxed on all medals and cash prices once they file taxes.

  There’s not that same competitive drive inside me. Probably why my skis sit unused for most of the year unless I’m on a slope with Remi.

  I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling contemplating where I went wrong. I tried to be the best girlfriend possible. I did everything I thought I should. I’ve supported him for years always doing my best to be supportive, but not crowd his style.

  When he told me Mammoth Mountain in California had the best snow in the last twenty years and he wanted to head off with some friends to board the mountain, I smiled and agreed. Even though it meant missing my family Christmas and our anniversary.

  When one of his sponsors wanted him to film a commercial where he’d be surrounded by
half naked women in a hot tub, I was okay with it. Any sane girlfriend would ask how a hot tub full naked girls sells gym socks. But not me. I helped him pack a bag.

  Cheating has never been a concern because I’ve always trusted Remi one hundred percent. And I still do, at least when it comes to girls. But lying in bed and listening to him laugh with his agent for another five minutes while my hearts continues to beat but is no longer living, I come to a lot of conclusions. I can trust Remi, but not when it comes to the Golds. Then he’s a boldfaced liar.

  There are a few more “I agrees” and “of courses” before Remi says his goodbyes to Chuck. The bathroom door opens and his eyes fall to me not having left my spot on the bed.

  “That was Chuck. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  I hear all his words, but they’re slow and foggy like they’re coming to me through the fish aquarium. I lay there dazed for another few seconds until Remi’s face pinches together and he takes a few steps toward the bed.

  “Are you feeling okay, Marley?” he asks.

  “No.” My words are also slow and foggy. I sit up and wrap a bedsheet around me. “I heard what you said to Chuck.”

  Remi takes a seat on the bed. “Yeah…”

  “About the next Golds.” I stare him dead in the eyes and ask, “Is it true? Are you going to try again in four years?”

  Remi’s eyes widen. “Of course not.”

  “The why would you tell him that?”

  Remi leans closer but I bat him away with a hand. “Marley, calm down.” He chuckles, but it’s a nervous laughter. “I’m not going to tell Chuck that I’m done until after we finish here. I’d lose all my sponsors.”

  “You’ll lose a lot of your sponsors anyway.”

  “Yes, but why not hold on to them for three more years while I can. Then they can dump me after I don’t participate in the next trials.”