by Shawn Keys
“It’s what a coach does.”
Irène wasn’t buying it. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t make light of what you’ve done. Just… let us say thanks, each in our own way.” She came into him in a rush and wrapped her arms around him in a lasting embrace.
He returned it, struggling not to let his emotions get the best of him. His gaze swept over to the stands in time to see Cadence nudge MK, entreating her to look at him and Irène making a scene in the middle of the field. The two of them grinned and then started a slow clap.
Laughing at himself, Daniel let out a long exhale and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Even at the height of my career, I never felt like I belonged as much as right now. You can thank me, but I owe you my gratitude as well. All of you. We are a family. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good.” With a final sniffle, she pulled back. “Now, I’m going to go throw a spear like a cavewoman and get this done. Sound good?” She had returned to her usual perky self.
Daniel laughed. “Don’t kill anything.”
“I’ll do what I can.” She gave a grin and trotted off toward the launching run.
He watched her go, then glanced over to see the other two beckoning from the stands. They pointed at the scoreboard, probably talking over odds and doing the same math that he had done. They showed concern for her. Hope for her. Faith in her. Everything a family would.
A buzzing in his pocket summoned his attention. He checked it quickly.
Evelyn || Landed in Bordeaux. Messaged Cadence as well. Looking forward to seeing you both tonight. Got a suite at Chez Mourdrier. Only five-star hotel in town.
There it was. The missing element. He couldn’t contain his smile as he tapped out his reply.
Daniel || Be there at seven?
Evelyn || Sounds wonderful. Room service will be on me. Literally.
Savoring the mental image that conjured, Daniel sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Once she was there, all would be right with the world. For a little while, anyway.
It was more than he had any right to hope for. Maybe it wouldn’t last. The turmoil and trials of the coming years were impossible to predict. But he had to believe that they could get through anything together.
Chapter 21
The parking garage for the Ville Bleu hotel was only a couple minutes’ walk from the front door. Matteo strolled patiently while his companion drifted along on an absolute high.
It wasn’t that Melodie was drunk. Far from it. They were returning from her last compulsory drug test following her placement on the podium for the solo artistic swimming event. Testing wasn’t done for cause anymore; these days, all successful athletes were put under the microscope. Some performance-enhancing substances dissipated quickly, so tests were carried out immediately after events.
Matteo didn’t think Melodie was light-headed from the blood they had drawn or anything dangerous like that. The normally shy girl was simply high on victory. Even now, she wasn’t giggling or laughing or carrying on. She simply wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere. She walked as if she was strolling in a garden, breathing in the night air deeply and taking in all the colors and vistas around her like everything had become more amazing than she had noticed before. As if she appreciated the whole world in a different, deeper way.
Her lovely face was made even more angelic as she beamed with joy, and Matteo didn’t want to dampen her excitement. He didn’t have anywhere to be. All the team’s events were over. He had already given his congratulations to Irène for placing 9th in her new event, sending her off to celebrate with Daniel, Cadence, MK and Evelyn. He missed her a little, considering they had drifted apart ever since she had begun living with them. But he knew it wasn’t her forsaking him on purpose. She had found a new family, and he was happy for her. In a way, he had found a new type of family as well in the artistic swimming team and their coach.
Tonight, Flora was going to dinner with some of Portesara’s other swimming and diving coaches. It was a good chance for her to bond with them, especially considering what she and Matteo had already talked about. Whether some of their own team started to cross over into the other events or they needed leads on other competent swimmers who might be willing to join the artistic team, good relations with the other coaches were imperative.
It was also a good time to do it. Portesara’s swimming and diving team had done reasonably well, but none of them had produced any medals or made it into the top five in any event. The artistic swimming team had gone from being outsiders who didn’t have a firm place on the national team to being honest contenders and the only ones who had produced a medal in any of the aquatic events. It might not even be necessary for Laura or Hélène to chase after doing any speed events. They were the stars, and it was their team which might be the only path to the Olympics for some of the other aquatic competitors.
The reversal made Matteo shake his head. You never know what the world is gonna throw at you, that’s for sure. Hunting down a few new team members might not be so hard after all. Training up total newcomers to the pool might be the way to go. But there might be some on the university swim teams who would be interested. And now, the possibility of converts from the other aquatic events. Exciting times.
They still hadn’t brought it up with the team. He’d wait until they were back in Portesara to discuss it more with Flora and consider their next steps. Instead, he had given them the good news that the commission was expanding the national team deliberately to make room for them. It was a victory for the whole team, beyond their individual placements in Bordeaux.
Melodie had tugged her medal from under her jacket, admiring it in under the street lamps that were coming on in the dusk before sunset. It was the fake; the one they gave to athletes to wear around town. A thief would be burned alive if they were caught stealing the precious items from the athletes during the Games, but that wouldn’t stop all of them from daring to do it. Walking around town with a sizable disk of silver that the FLG committee claimed was 99.9% pure wasn’t a good idea. The real one was stored neatly in a safety deposit box pending their flights home. But this one, she could display to mark her achievement, and it would probably result in free drinks in any bar she entered.
Holding it as if it was the real thing, Melodie glowed. “Still can’t believe it.”
“I take it as a testament to how good you really are,” Matteo admitted.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s an ongoing controversy in most judged events that it’s hard for new talent to get fairly evaluated. Rumors among everything from figure skating, gymnastics, diving to… well, artistic swimming. Most of those rumors tend to seem like conspiracy theories more than fact. But it can be hard to shake the trend that well-established teams get higher scores because they have ‘paid their dues’.” He had never liked that idea, and his gravelly tone carried the lingering irritation over what some people would argue was the proper way to honor the seasoned royalty in each sport.
His mild anger faded as the results of the past week mellowed him. “The fact that a team like yours could show up and make a splash implies that if that was a problem, it’s being overcome. Maybe it hasn’t been defeated in all sports, but… you beat several, better-known athletes to get that medal. Means they were really judging you instead of your history.”
“Or lack thereof,” Melodie said with a lightly amused tinge to her words. “I see what you mean, though. As proud as I am of this, we weren’t competing against some of the best in the world. The Americans. Russians. Chinese. Australians. Japanese. Germans. They all have amazing teams. Once we go against them, their reputations alone might crush us.”
Matteo nodded, accepting that possibility without really believing it. “Perhaps. You stood up to a lot of them at the Tirkaheizer event. There are a few more you haven’t faced yet, but you’ve proven yourselves. You’re not outsiders or pretenders.” He reached over and tapped the medal in her hands. “You didn’t win that
against rank amateurs. France’s national team was here. Belgium’s. Canada’s. Teams with serious budgets and a huge pool of talent to choose from. A few of those African teams who were hungry to make their own marks. This wasn’t a cake-walk, Melodie. Even better, we have the Pan Am Games and the World Championships to build that reputation before you’re swimming in front of IOC judges. When it comes time, even if there are reputational advantages being given… I’m not sure you will be left out in the cold.”
“You really think that, don’t you?” Melodie asked with quiet charm, peering up at him warmly.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Not sure how I got dragged this deep into your team’s business, but now that I’m here… well, I’m going to do everything I can to give you your shot.”
“Will you let us show you our appreciation?” Melodie asked.
“You’ve said thanks often enough,” Matteo said with a deep chuckle. “Often enough to make me embarrassed about it all. I mean, you’re the ones who did all the real work.” Before Melodie could protest, he noticed Flora emerging from the front doors of the hotel ahead of them. “Hey, there’s your Coach.”
Flora caught sight of them in turn, immediately diverting toward them.
Melodie waved, then turned to him. “You two go ahead and talk. I’m heading up to see the others.” She fixed him with a stern look. “We have a bottle of champagne on ice and we’re not popping it until you get there! So, don’t be long. We’re going to celebrate.” Her eyelashes gave a strangely enticing and utterly adorable flutter.
Matteo wasn’t sure what to say as she drifted away, still caught on that cloud of hers. His wise father had once told him that when you can’t think of anything clever to say, best to keep your mouth shut and wait till your brain starts working again. So, that’s what he did.
Melodie vanished into their hotel before Flora was close enough to talk without needing to raise her voice. The Coach glanced back at the doors that had swallowed Melodie, gave a soft sigh as if accepting some inevitability, then turned back to face Matteo. “Everything go well?”
He nodded back. “No hiccups.” He smirked at the very idea that Melodie would be using some sort of substance or doping technique. “You could see it on the faces of the nurses around her. They felt ridiculous for even testing someone like her.”
Flora didn’t object. She knew as well as he did that some people could be brilliant actors and hide all sorts of nefarious intent. But Melodie? She was as convinced of the young woman’s pure heart as the rest of the world.
Flora veered away from that topic. She looked like she wanted to say one thing, but shied away from it to say, “Have any plans tonight?”
He shook his head. “Nothing except meeting the team for a drink. Melodie seemed insistent about that.”
“Yes, she would be.” Flora seemed to resign herself to something. “Promise me something?”
It was an odd request, but not a difficult one. “Guess it depends on what it is, but unless you’re talking about helping you bury a body somewhere, probably yes.”
“You wouldn’t help me bury a body?”
Matteo shrugged, rumbling a dark laugh to match the shadowy humor. “Depends on who.”
Allowing the joke to fade, Flora chose her words carefully. “Be good to them, ok?”
The non-sequitur caught him off-guard. “Hmm?”
“The team. They’re all I have. Well, I guess that’s not true. Azélie’s great to have around, and I have a little family back home. But this team is my future. I want it to be. I care about them a lot.”
“It shows,” Matteo affirmed. “You’d have to be blind not to see how they respond to you. They care about you right back.”
The sentiment drew out a lovely smile from the coach. “Thanks for saying that.” She turned her gaze up to meet his. “Treat them well. OK?”
Still a little confused, Matteo didn’t understand why she felt it was necessary to tell him that. Twice. Haven’t I already? Not quite getting it, he found it awfully easy to promise, “Always, Flora. Never fear about that.”
“Good.” She reached up and squeezed his arm, then slipped past. “Late for dinner. I’ll see you on the flight home.”
Matteo half-turned to keep sight of her. “Umm, sure. I mean, I’m thinking I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Flight isn’t until the day after, remember? Maybe we can share breakfast?”
Flora pivoted, walking backwards for a few steps, grinning. “We’ll see. But… well, I’m thinking you might be otherwise occupied.” She waved one last time, spun around and walked off into the night.
That left Matteo standing there puzzled. What the hell was that about? Flora had never been one for dramatics or keeping secrets. Either that, or she keeps secrets really well. Deciding that standing on the sidewalk wasn’t going to bring him any more clarity, he pushed through the hotel’s front doors and took the elevator to the top floor.
The team had gotten lucky. They had been upgraded to the VIP suite, which suited the ladies just fine. Some people might be irritated at having their separate rooms exchanged for a suite with four beds, but the women enjoyed each other’s company. Hanging out in a large apartment with each other was exactly the way they liked it. It made them feel like a family.
It also gave them an element of privacy. The VIP suite was in a corner turret of the old building, giving them two stories and no real neighbors except for the slightly less opulent corner suite on the floor below.
Matteo arrived to find the door resting on the deadbolt. There wasn’t any reason for foot-traffic to be down this corridor, but he didn’t see any reason for them to have left the door open. They had always come to let him in when he knocked in the past. Considering what he had seen the last time that he had went through an open door, he had made a point of announcing his presence.
Despite it being open, he still knocked. “Hello?”
“Come in! Door’s open! We left it open for you, so you can close it behind you.”
The voice was Daphne’s. Taking her invitation, he went into the entry hall and slipped off his jacket. Finding a hook to hang it on, he walked into the suite’s first level. There was a dining room and kitchen which branched off into two of the four bedrooms and powder room. A spiral staircase connected to the next level, where Matteo knew from experience there was a sitting area with the television, the main bathroom and the last two bedrooms.
At first, he figured the team would have been gathered down on the first floor, enjoying a snack along with the bottle of champagne Melodie had mentioned. They weren’t, which meant they were upstairs. Kicking off his shoes, he ascended the stairs to the sitting room. The stairs creaked under his six-and-a-half foot height. He was about to crack a self-deprecating joke about making an old guy like him walk up all those steps when the spiral deposited him into the full view of the scene waiting for him.
And it was a scene. Crafted with a loving, meticulous attention to detail intended to level him completely.
The team had shifted the furniture around, pushing any of it that they didn’t need or want up against walls. In the center, there were three, plush chairs. On each, one of the women had perched herself on the edge. Laura on one side, Daphne on the other with Melodie in the center. All of them were delightfully naked, sitting with their backs straight and shoulders proudly squared like they were sitting on a panel waiting to answer questions.
None of them were making any effort to conceal their lovely breasts so well suited to their athletic, swimmer’s bodies: firm handfuls with nipples already hard from sensual anticipation. Their legs were crossed, which served to preserve a small fraction of their modesty. Yet, he had the distinct impression that modesty wasn’t the point. Their legs were folded elegantly… artfully… knowingly emphasizing the gorgeous lines of their slender limbs. Daphne, ever the least passive among them, slid her upper leg up and down, caressing the skin of one leg against the other as she eyed him with fiery intensity.
The
one element of clothing they wore were their matching, black, high heels that adorned their feet. Hardly a natural choice. The sexy heels were one more indication that this was a deliberate seduction intended to hit all the right notes for his appreciation.
Behind the three chairs stood Hélène. She was dressed in an equally sinful way; that is to say, not at all except for the shoes that added to her already being the tallest of them. It put her eyes at around five feet ten inches from the floor, still far shy of being at eye-level with Matteo. But her stature allowed her pert breasts to be as visible as the others over the back of the seat while serving him a sensual smile and holding a champagne bottle.
Matteo took a step forward. He didn’t mean to, but it was like gravity. Irresistible. A fact of the universe that he would be pulled in toward these beautiful women who had placed themselves on display. Why is breathing so hard? He tried to suck in enough air to say something… anything… but the overt sexuality of the arrayed beauty had done what it intended. His sanity hung by a thread. All that issued from his mouth was a whisper, “Sweet Lord have mercy…”
That seemed to please them, affirming the effect they had clearly been trying to achieve was working. Laura purred softly, “That’s a good start.”
Matteo struggled to think. “Ahhh –”
They didn’t have to guess what he was going to say. There was no doubt the four of them had thought this through and they knew his nature.
It was Melodie who slipped in before he could continue. Not shy, but her earnest voice was almost begging. More than any of the others, she sounded like she had gathered every scrap of her self-esteem to put herself in this situation. “Don’t… don’t say ‘no’.”
