Julia scurried from the pool wearing a teeny crimson bikini that barely contained her budding assets and followed the men while Aurora engaged in a staring battle with Peyton. She’d faced down tougher competitors than Aurora so if the girl thought she’d blink, she was sadly mistaken. It wasn’t long before the girl spun around and marched after her friends. She also wore a bikini, but it wasn’t quite as revealing as Julia’s red number.
One of the men lit a cigarette. Great. If Aurora started puffing, she’d have to lecture her on the effects of reduced lung capacity, not to mention the risk of emphysema, chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder or even cancer.
She watched the group, wondering if Aurora would follow her orders and go inside to bed. As if sensing her gaze, Aurora turned around, shot her a dirty look and urged the group forward. A motor flared to life, the engine revving loudly before speeding away in a squeal of tires. She fought the urge to check if Aurora went with them. She wasn’t the girl’s mother. There was only so much Peyton could do as her coach.
She dropped to the edge of the pool and drug her feet through the water. Now that she’d run Aurora and her friends off, she could get in a workout. She felt more at home in the water than on land. The smell of chlorine was her favorite scent in the world. She’d devoted most of her life to the sport.
It was clear now that she’d made the right decision to not renew her short-term contract. Aurora wasn’t serious and never would be. Her parents had been too lax with her growing up and as hard as she’d tried, Peyton couldn’t corral her. She’d tried for weeks now and if Aurora’s attitude hadn’t changed, it never would.
Suddenly she understood why they’d gone through so many coaches. It should’ve been her first warning sign. But she thought she’d be able to make a difference in the girl’s training. She thought she could impart her wisdom to Aurora and encourage her to become her best self. Instead, on top of being spoiled, surly and entitled, the girl was completely unmotivated. Peyton had put out feelers for a replacement so she wouldn’t leave Aurora’s parents without a coach. It was a sweet gig and it paid nicely. There’d be a long line of interested coaches. The big question was whether Aurora would continue to swim or if she’d finally defy her parents and quit altogether.
Adjusting her goggles over her eyes, she slid into the water, pushed off from the side of the pool and became one with the water.
#
Peyton dashed to her Lincoln Navigator Black Label, praying traffic was light so she’d make it to the meeting with Kat Harris in time. Aurora’s high school swim coach wanted to discuss the upcoming sectionals and state finals. Since Peyton was solely Aurora’s private coach, she wouldn’t be allowed on the deck during the meets. Kat was adding Peyton’s name to the high school coaching roster so she could be closer to the action. In exchange, Peyton offered to assist however she was needed. She didn’t know the other athletes, but she knew the sport so she wouldn’t have any trouble catching up. That meant she’d be down on the deck and could coach Aurora from the sidelines instead of yelling instructions from the bleachers.
Normally she was obsessive about arriving early, but her Navy SEAL brother Owen had called and she completely lost track of time. They usually texted each other when he was on a mission, so actually speaking with him was a rare treat.
She popped the key fob to unlock the doors. She loved her SUV, even though it wasn’t environmentally responsible, and she was extremely climate conscious. The luxury vehicle rode like a dream and practically drove itself. She’d done commercial spots for the company for many years and they surprised her with the vehicle after she won her last medal. They’d even created a color specifically for her—Peyton Gold, they called it. The interior was white leather with every feature imaginable and some she’d never thought of before.
Tossing her purse inside, she started to climb in after it when the back tire caught her attention. She stepped down and bent over to examine it. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, no.” It was flatter than a pancake.
Straightening with a huff, she wondered what she’d hit to make it go flat. A house down the street was in the midst of a major rehab, so maybe a stray nail found its way onto the road. Owen had taught her how to change a tire, and normally she wouldn’t hesitate to jump right in and get busy, but she’d dressed up to meet with Kat. The skirt and silk top weren’t conducive to grease and oil and getting dirty. Still, what choice did she have? She headed to the rear of the SUV to find the jack.
“Looks like you’re having some trouble.”
She glanced over to see one of the men who worked on the Benton’s landscaping crew approach. His hands were covered with dirt and he was wiping them on his equally mud-covered jeans. The name stitched above the pocket indicated his name was Stanley. He flashed her a salacious smile, a gold tooth glinting in the sunlight. She’d noticed him staring at her before, but she’d ignored it, even the time he’d been standing outside the glass enclosure watching her swim. Though she could use help, she was wary of accepting it from him. There was something in his dark gaze that made her supremely uncomfortable.
When she didn’t answer, he stepped closer and said, “Want me to give you a hand?”
Glancing around the area, she hoped to spot someone—anyone—to help but the other crew members were hard at work. She caught Rico Pena’s eye, but he quickly looked away. No help there. Rico had taken over pool maintenance a week ago, cleaning it and keeping tabs on the chlorine level twice a week, but he was painfully shy. They’d exchanged a half-dozen words max, mostly from her.
Looked like it was Stanley or nobody. Forcing her lips to curve, she nodded. “That would be great. Thanks.”
With another sinister grin, he smacked his hands together slowly and guffawed like a donkey. “I’m giving you a hand. Get it?”
Second grade humor. Awesome. “I get it. Good one,” she chuckled, albeit nervously. Stanley made her edgy.
“Just joshing with ya, Ms. Durant.”
She opened her mouth to ask him how he knew who she was, but then closed it. There were very few people in the country who didn’t know her name. Thanks to an aggressive marketing strategy by her publicist, her face had practically saturated the market.
Glancing at her watch, she cursed under her breath. She’d definitely be late for her meeting with Aurora’s high school coach. Popping the lock for the back hatch, she said, “The jack should be in here.”
“I’ve got it.” He brushed by so closely, the pungent stench of mulch—i.e. cow manure—mingling with ripe body odor almost made her lose the protein bar she’d consumed earlier. She jumped back with a startled squeak when he spun around to face her.
“There’s an air compressor in the truck. I’ll just pump this bad boy right back up and you’ll be good to go.”
He sauntered off in the direction of the All-Seasons Landscaping and Pool Maintenance trailer hitched behind a green and white Ford truck with the same logo stenciled on the doors. He was taking his sweet time, acting as if he had all the time in the world. Reaching inside the SUV for her purse, she dug out her cell and phoned Kat, informing her that she’d be late. Kat told her that she had all afternoon free before swim practice, so it wasn’t a problem.
Stanley returned with the air compressor at the same time the gates opened, and a red Lexus convertible motored inside. She’d never been so happy to see Henry Benton, Aurora’s father.
“What happened to your SUV?” he asked as he strolled over with a black briefcase in hand.
“Flat,” she told him. “I must’ve run over a nail.”
Stanley attached the hose to the tire and switched on the air compressor. The tire rapidly began to inflate.
“You better swing by a body shop and have it checked out,” Henry advised. “If there’s a nail embedded in the rubber, it’ll just deflate again.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Stanley unhooked the hose and rose to his feet. “All set.”
“Thank you so much. Can
I pay you for your trouble?”
Before Stanley could answer, Henry waved her offer away. “I pay the company an exorbitant fee. They can handle a flat tire or two.”
“What he said,” Stanley echoed.
“Well then, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, gorgeous.” Stanley winked at her as he moseyed away.
She couldn’t suppress a shiver.
#
Later that afternoon, Peyton rolled her Navigator to a stop beside the five-car garage and turned off the engine. The meeting had gone well, and she’d be officially part of the coaching staff for the races leading up to state finals. After she left Kat’s office, Peyton drove to a chain tire store and they examined the repaired tire along with the other three. She’d been shocked to discover that the flat wasn’t caused by a nail or any foreign object. There was no damage to the rubber at all. The only explanation, she was told, was that someone purposefully deflated it with a sharp object like a screwdriver pushing on the valve to release the air, or even by removing the metal pin inside the valve to deflate it quickly.
Why would someone tamper with her vehicle? It didn’t make sense—unless it was Stanley’s way of making himself look like her savior. It provided him with the opportunity to sweep in and save the day. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. She’d had stalkers before and she didn’t want to have to go through the ordeal again.
Opening the door, she slid outside. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone standing a few feet away. Instinctively she reached for the can of mace she carried on her keychain, her finger poised to depress the button. If it was Stanley, he was getting a shot of phenacyl chloride in his eyes. The tear gas would provide her the opportunity to get away. The man separated from the shadows and she recognized him instantly. With an excited cry, she dropped her keys and ran to greet her long-time coach.
“Kurt! I’m so happy to see you.” She hugged him fiercely. He’d been a part of her life since she was young. She leaned back, still holding onto his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve missed you, chica. Can’t a coach come visit his favorite athlete?”
“Of course, you can. Anytime. And I’ve missed you, too.”
She slid her arm around his. She had a special bond with Kurt. He was more than a coach. He was her mentor, her best friend. She trusted him more than anyone in her life except for her older brother Owen. He’d been with her since she was ten and he’d molded her into the athlete she was today. He’d been an Olympic swimmer and won two gold medals before retiring to coach. He knew what it took to be a champion and he’d instilled the work ethic she needed to achieve her dreams.
He was encouraging her to go for one more Olympics to try for the all-time record of eighteen medals for a female athlete. She’d have to win two more of any color to tie, three to claim the top spot. She’d promised herself she’d quit when swimming was no longer fun, but she still enjoyed it. But she’d kept up with the times of the younger girls and they were killing it, especially Charlotte Gagnon from Canada. Frankly, Peyton wasn’t sure she’d be able to be competitive. Despite adhering to her training schedule, she was slowing down. She didn’t want to be one of those athletes who went to one Games too many and ended up flopping. People would recall that about her and not what happened before. It wouldn’t matter that she had so many wins, it’d be her failure they remembered.
“So, this is where you’re shacking up?” Kurt glanced around the meticulously manicured grounds where a crew including Stanley—ugh, he was staring at her again—was currently mowing and pruning and plucking it to perfection, to the stone and wood mansion that could easily house a family of two dozen, and then the expansive glass-enclosed and temperature-controlled eighty-two foot long pool, half the size of a regulation Olympic pool. “Not bad.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Could be worse, right?” She hitched a thumb towards the entry gate. “How did you get in?”
“The girl. I could’ve been an axe murderer for all she cared. She didn’t even ask my name.”
The girl would be Aurora. Kurt had warned her against taking on the task of coaching her and looking back, he’d been right. He told her that despite the flashes of brilliance, Aurora would never progress to the top. She didn’t have the drive or determination. Peyton had disagreed and maybe it’d been arrogance on her part, but she truly thought she could impart her wisdom on the younger girl and encourage her to be her best. But the past few weeks proved Kurt correct. Aurora was beyond hope. She should’ve bowed to his expertise.
“You know why else I’m here, Pey. It’s almost time for a decision.”
Right. The decision. Whether or not she’d attempt to make the next Olympic team. “I know you need answers so you can make plans, but I still have a few weeks. Let me get through the state championships with Aurora and then I promise I’ll sit down, weigh the pros and cons and make a choice.”
Kurt sighed. “That’s all I can ask.”
After retrieving her dropped keys, she opened the box beside the garage where the Benton’s butler put her mail and tugged out a stack of envelopes. Despite the rather short amount of time she’d been living in the pool house, the catalogue companies had easily found her. She averaged four a day.
“Do you remember Shelly Plimpton?”
She glanced up at Kurt. “Shelly Plimpton? Wasn’t she the official who disqualified Sarah Sanderson from the race at my first Olympic trials?”
“That’s her. I read this morning where she passed away.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s a shame. She was a fair judge.” Her brows scrunched. “They say things happen in threes. Both of my high school swimming coaches passed away days apart, and now Shelly. Do you know what happened?” She flipped through the correspondence, her heart stopping when she spotted an envelope addressed to her in a red marker. Blood red.
“Not sure. I think it was a hit and run…what is it, Peyton,” Kurt asked sharply. “You’re white as a sheet.”
She shook her head and pasted on a fake smile. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” He lifted the envelope from the pile before she could shove it out of sight in her bag. She tried to grab it from his hands, but he held it out of reach. “It’s heavy.”
That was because there was a medal inside.
Kurt narrowed his eyes. “Peyton, what’s going on? What is this?” He shook the envelope.
She sighed, knowing she’d never be able to keep it from him. He was like a dog with a bone when he wanted information. She didn’t stand a chance. She glanced around, noting the landscaping company working into the evening. Stanley was scooping mulch around the flower beds, but he kept staring her way. She turned around. “Not here. Follow me.”
She opened the door to the pool enclosure and rounded the deck, waving at Rico as she passed him. He lifted a hand and smiled shyly before returning to his task cleaning the tiles.
“I see you’ve still got admirers everywhere,” Kurt observed amusedly.
She flapped a hand. Rico was just a nice guy, not a—she snapped around to eye the man. He jerked his gaze away. Could he be the one sending the notes? She spun around and studied the mulch man Stanley. Could it be him?
“Okay, that’s it,” Kurt said. “What’s in that envelope?”
She never could get anything by him. He followed her inside as she placed her bag on the bar and climbed onto one of the stools. Kurt took the one next to her, regarding her intently.
“It’s not a big deal, but I’ve been getting strange packages. The first one was forwarded to me by my public relations firm. The second was sent to the Streamline offices.” She fingered the envelope Kurt had placed on the counter. “This is the first that’s been sent here.”
“What’s in it?”
“Open it and see.”
He ripped open the seal and turned it upside down so the cheap medal clattered to the counter, along with a note taped to the back with a single word. She r
eached for it, but he stopped her with a hand on the arm. “Don’t touch it. The cops might be able to get prints.”
“I’m not calling the cops,” she scoffed. “It’s harmless.”
“Then I will.”
“No, you won’t. I’ve dealt with this before, Kurt. I know the drill. Nothing can be done. It’s just a medal.”
“What about the note? What does medal mean?”
“I’m not sure.” She slid off the stool and rounded the bar to open a drawer. She handed him another envelope.
He lifted a brow. “You don’t watch many crime scene shows, do you?”
She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a crime scene.”
“Still.” He grabbed a tissue from a box before opening the envelope and shaking out the other two medals. “Don’t want my fingerprints in the system,” he explained at her look. “Medal, for and every,” he read. “Makes no sense. What order did the words arrive?”
She arranged the medals with her fingers, ignoring Kurt’s frustrated huff. What was the big deal anyway? She’d already touched them.
“For every medal,” he read the slips in order. “What the hell? Pey, this is creepy. I think you should call the police.”
“And say what? Someone sent me creepy notes. I’m sure they’d send someone right over.”
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “If it escalates, then yes, I’ll call the police. I promise.”
Golden Girl Page 2