Golden Girl
Velvet Vaughn
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 VELVET VAUGHN LLC
ISBN: 978-1-7338636-2-9
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Visit Velvet's website at: www.velvetvaughn.com and her Facebook Fanpage HERE.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my former Olympic family.
Acknowledgments
I would like to sincerely thank the members of my Velvet Vaughn Street Team who help spread the word: Cindi R., Debbie M., Gary A., Karen D., Karen J., Lisa B., Tammy T., Lisa B., Sharon W., Paulyn A and Shelley C. I’m so thankful for all of you and truly appreciate your support. I would also like to thank my social media guru, Kristy O.
And as always, a huge thank you to my mom. I couldn’t do this without you!
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Notes
About the Author
Prologue
“And the winner of the gold medal, from the United States of America, Peyton Durant.”
The crowd bellowed as Peyton smiled and waved with both hands, before stepping up on the top level of the three-tiered platform. It was a spot she knew well. She’d just won her record-setting eighth career individual gold medal. Added to the six she’d won in team events, she was the proud owner of fourteen golds, plus one silver and one bronze.
The eight individual golds were an Olympic record for female athletes. She’d won every race she’d entered over the course of four Olympiads. The previous record of six had been held by a gymnast from the Soviet Union. There was no way she’d ever catch the overall leader, Michael Phelps, her teammate on the United States Olympic Swimming Team. She didn’t think his incredible total of thirteen individual golds and twenty-three overall would ever be beat.
She scanned the crowd as the bronze and silver medalists were announced. She found her brother Owen proudly waving an American flag with several of his Navy SEAL teammates surrounding him. Since losing both of her parents when she was in her teens, it’d just been her and Owen. Despite the physical distance between them, he was her best friend and they texted almost daily. She didn’t think he’d be able to attend the Games, but he’d surprised her showing up this morning to watch her final races. Her heart triple-timed it when she spotted Noah Addison waving a flag beside Owen. She’d harbored a serious crush on her brother’s teammate from the first moment she met him. It’d made her nervous to know he was watching her, but as soon as her name was announced and she stepped up onto the blocks, she shut everything out and focused on her goal and achieved it.
She won her first two medals at age fifteen in Athens, Greece, the city where the first modern Olympics were held in 1896. Her proudest moment wasn’t winning her first two golds, it was that her parents had been alive to witness the event in person. They passed away the next year in a car accident. Her training had taken a serious hit, but her longtime coach Kurt Nance stuck with her. He’d given her time to grieve and then he’d encouraged her to continue to pursue her dreams. She was able to win two more at the Games in Beijing, China. Another two had come when she was twenty-three in London, England. Now, at twenty-seven, she had two more individual and two team golds to add to her tally.
If someone asked her right now if she’d come back for the 2020 Games in Japan, she’d tell them an emphatic no. Hell, no. She’d spent most of her life training and while she didn’t regret a moment, she was tired. She wanted to sleep late, drink more than one glass of wine a week. Eat a cheeseburger. She might change her mind a couple of years down the road, but right now, she was done. She’d be an ancient thirty-one. That was positively decrepit for an Olympic swimmer. She was slowing down, and she knew it. She’d set World and Olympic records at the last two Games, but she was slower this time, despite winning both individual events. She’d take a year off, maybe two, and if the drive was there and she could be competitive, then she might decide to attempt one more. But it was hard to compete with girls half her age. Now she knew how Sarah Sanderson, her long-time rival felt. Sarah was ten years older and had never beaten Peyton despite being a former World Champion.
Peyton hugged Stella Smith, the silver-winning swimmer from Australia. They’d competed against each other for years and though she’d never beaten her, Stella was one of the sweetest people she knew. She was always the first to congratulate Peyton, usually from the lane beside her.
She turned and hugged Charlotte Gagnon, the rising star from Canada. Charlotte would be standing in Peyton’s spot in the near future. She was that good.
The president of the International Olympic Committee was presiding over the awards ceremony. He handed each of the medalists a 3-D model of the Games’ logo that replaced the traditional bouquet of flowers. The logo was a depiction of three figures symbolically holding hands and, they were told, could also be used as a medal holder.
Next, he doled out the medals, starting with Charlotte. After placing the silver around Stella’s neck, he moved in front of Peyton and removed the gold from the tray that a young boy held for him. She bent down and he placed the medal around her neck. After shaking her hand and air kisses to both cheeks, she settled the award against her chest and stood. They’d been told that the medals were produced using gold that had been mined utilizing sustainability criteria such as being extracted without the use of mercury. One side featured a wreath, while Nike, the Greek goddess of victory adorned the reverse, as was tradition. She thanked the official when he handed her a wooden storage box.
The IOC president moved to stand beside the podium and the music started. The Star-Spangled Banner. Peyton’s right hand automatically covered her heart as the flags of all three nations were slowly unfurled and raised to the rafters. Canada’s Maple Leaf hung to one side and Australia’s Stars and Crosses the other, surrounding the USA’s Stars and Stripes.
Tears crowded her eyes as she mouthed the words, the pride she felt at this moment was unlike anything she’d experienced before. Despite all the naysayers, she’d done it. She was too old, they’d said. She’d slowed down. No way could she beat the field again. But she did. She’d won the gold medal. Her eyes cut from the flag to her brother and his SEAL teammates. They were all standing and saluting the flag and that caused more tears to fall. Though they weren’t in uniform, you could tell they were a group of highly trained military personnel. Heroes. She might get the glory, but they were the ones who truly deserved it. She just swam, they put their lives on the line on a daily basis for their country.
Her eyes cut back to the flag. Tears w
ere running down her cheeks now. This was very possibly the last time she’d be standing on the medal platform, representing the United States in the Olympics. When the last note played, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then smiled and waved again to the crowd as they roared their applause. Cameras flashed at a rapid pace until all she could see were tiny white spots of light. She called Stella and Charlotte to the top level with her and they posed for the endless photos.
As soon as the cameras snapped the last picture, she was whisked away for a quick drug test. Nothing like peeing in a cup with someone watching you like a hawk to make sure the sample you provided was legit. It was humiliating, but she’d done it so many times, she was used to it by now.
From the bathroom, she was escorted to the Mixed Zone, where athletes met the media for interviews. Before her first Olympics, she’d undergone media training and learned how to speak professionally in front of a camera. She knew not to overuse, uh, or um or ah, and to be confident without being cocky. She also shared the praise with her coaches and the other swimmers. She kept her answers short and she didn’t have to fake the smile, even after answering the same questions dozens of times. Before she headed to the media broadcasting center for interviews with late-night television hosts, she wanted to hug her brother one more time and thank him for coming. It had to have been a special request for him to be able to fly to Brazil. But when she scanned the stands, the spot where he’d been sitting was empty.
Owen and his teammates were gone.
Chapter One
Present Day
Peyton Durant stepped into her signature royal blue racerback Streamline swimsuit and tugged it up her body before sliding the straps up and over her shoulders, adjusting the fit. Months of work went into crafting the design of the suit until it met her very strict standards. After twisting her hair into a knot, she arranged a silicone cap over her hair and tucked errant blond strands beneath the band. Next were her trademark Streamline goggles. Though it was dark outside, the underwater lights would guide her path. This was her favorite time to swim. When no one was around, everything was quiet, and she could become one with the water.
Grabbing a towel, she flipped off the light in the bathroom and stepped outside. Many people questioned why she decided to become a personal coach, especially to one supremely spoiled princess, but the job was perfect for her schedule. She kept in top shape, swimming at least twice daily, and working out at the gym less than three miles away. She usually ran to the facility and then lifted weights focusing on her back muscles, which were important in swimming. She followed a routine sent to her by the strength and conditioning coach at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. She also tried to squeeze in a yoga class each day from her former teammate from the last two Olympic Games, Lotus Geary. After a protein drink from the juice bar inside the gym, she ran home. If she did decide to try for one more Olympics, she’d have to up the intensity of her workouts, but she’d maintained her elite form.
The girl she coached was Aurora Benton, privileged and very spoiled daughter of Henry and Avery Benton. They’d hired Peyton to be Aurora’s personal coach. To them, it’d been a coup to have their daughter learn from the winningest female gold medalist in history. To Peyton, it had been a massive paycheck with the opportunity to train consistently.
Coaching Aurora was trying at the best of times, but the job provided accommodations in the pool house, which was nicer than most apartments. She could walk out her door and dive into the water any time she wanted, day or night, rain or shine since the pool was located inside a climate-controlled glass enclosure. As nice as it was, she’d be leaving as soon as Aurora’s competitive high school season ended next week, assuming the girl was able to make it to the state finals.
Once her contract was up, Peyton would have some tough decisions to make. She had several irons in the fire, including her own swimwear company, Streamline, that she’d launched five years ago. She’d named it for the body position after diving into the pool or pushing off from the wall, when the body maximized swim speed and efficiency. It was hugely successful, and she employed a large staff to run the day-to-day operations. When she finally decided to retire, she would take the helm and run the business full-time. Right now, she was still enjoying swimming, so she kept on training.
She also taught swim lessons at a community center in a disadvantaged area of Chicago. Most of the kids had never even been in a pool before, and she loved seeing the look of wonder on their little faces when they glided through the water on their own for the first time. She imagined she’d had that look her first dip in the water, too. Her volunteer time was the most rewarding hours she spent each week.
Additionally, she served as spokeswoman for several products including Lincoln vehicles, a bank, an investment company, a sneaker manufacturer and other assorted companies, as well as for a few Olympic sponsors. Added to all that, she attended several events throughout the year as a motivational speaker. Her calendar was fully booked, though there was a lull right now while her agent and publicist, Amber, took maternity leave. It was perfect for Peyton since she needed to see Aurora through the finals and then decide her future.
She rounded the corner and jolted to a stop. “Ahh!”
“Ahh!” a voice echoed.
She jumped back and reached for a weapon. “Who the hell are you?”
“Who the hell are you?” the boy parroted.
She brandished her makeshift weapon ominously. “Get out of here, right now.”
“Or what?” the boy mocked, crossing his arms. “You’ll curl my hair?”
She cursed under her breath. The unheated curling iron was the only weapon within reach. Still, she wielded it like a sword and maneuvered around him for the cell phone she’d left charging on the kitchen counter. “No, I’m calling the police.”
The teen stepped back and raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, ho, now wait. There’s no need to get the cops involved.”
“Are you kidding? You’re trespassing in my home!”
His eyes widened as he glanced around the space. “This is your home? I thought this was the pool house.”
“It is the pool house and I live here.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said, not sounding like he meant it. “Aurora said I could use the bathroom.” He pointed behind him. She glanced over his shoulder to see Aurora and two of her friends frolicking in the pool. She cursed under her breath. There went her evening workout.
And what the hell was the girl doing staying up late and entertaining friends? She should be getting much-needed sleep. If she swam well tomorrow night, she’d advance directly to the state finals in a week.
It was just like the spoiled brat to send someone into her house. Aurora was mad at the workout Peyton forced her to endure in the morning before school and then again as soon as she arrived home. Aurora had potential. She was good. She could be great. But she didn’t have the drive, no matter how much her parents pushed her. Without drive, she’d never be a champion. Good enough was never good enough.
“You’ll have to use the bathroom in the house. This one’s private.”
“It’s right there. I’m only going to pee. Not like I’m going to take a—”
“Out. Now.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry,” he drawled, drawing the word out. He turned to leave.
“Hey,” she called after him. “How old are you?”
His lip curled in a sneer. “None of your damn business.”
“It is my business when you’re trespassing.” She jiggled the phone in her hand. “One more number and the cops will be here in about five minutes.”
“What’s it to you?” He raked her with a lecherous look. “You interested, babe? Because I wouldn’t say no.” He wagged his brows.
“I’m not your babe and answer the question.”
He huffed out a sigh. “Eighteen.”
“What are you doing with Aurora?”
He crossed his arms mutinously. �
��We’re friends.”
She’d never seen the boy around before. “She’s fourteen.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, you’re too old for her. Go home before I call the police…or better yet, her father.”
“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he stomped out the door.
Aurora was a beautiful girl from a supremely wealthy family. Her parents were decent, but out of touch with reality. They thought they could mold their only daughter into what they wanted, but she was strong willed and fought them at every turn. There weren’t many families who could afford to hire a multi-gold medalist to train their daughter. Peyton hadn’t even considered coaching when Avery Benton approached her with the offer. She’d been instantly intrigued. Avery offered her the means to train while she decided her future. It’d been the cliched too good to pass up opportunity.
She followed the man—eighteen wasn’t a boy anymore—out of the pool house. He meandered, taking his time as he checked out her living space. She was tempted to grab a knife out of the block on the counter and prod him along. He finally stepped through the door.
“Come-on, Clark, jump in!” Aurora encouraged him with a wave of her arm.
He shook his head. “Can’t. Let’s go, Richie, we’ve gotta roll.”
“Why?” Aurora pouted. “You can’t leave, you just got here.”
Clark jerked a thumb in her direction. “Cause this bitch is making us.”
“What? No,” a girl cried out. Peyton recognized her as Aurora’s friend Julia, who had been around often. These two boys were new.
“You can’t leave, Clark.” Aurora slapped at the water. “Peyton! These are my friends. You can’t kick them out.”
“I can and I did. And you have a curfew.”
“You aren’t my mom,” she spat, sounding very much the spoiled brat.
“No, but I’m your coach and you follow my rules.” And her parents were paying her an exorbitant fee to do the job. She and Aurora had butted heads from day one. She sympathized with the girl—up to a point. She’d been young when she started training seriously, much younger than Aurora. There were times she wanted to blow off practice and spend time with her friends, but the difference was that she had the determination and the focus. She wanted to win. The sacrifices had been worth it the first time she stepped to the top level of the platform and the gold medal was draped over her neck. Aurora didn’t understand what it took to get to that top riser. She wanted things handed to her instead of working for them. She had the raw talent and if she focused, Peyton had no doubt she’d achieve the goal in the future.
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