Edge of Glory

by Rachel Spangler

  “I did want to. I’ve worked for over a year. The pain, the sweat, the tears. Every minute had built up to that moment.”

  “No. Every minute had built up to getting through that moment,” Corey said. “You viewed the race as an obstacle to be overcome. Another chance for you to hurt or fail or suffer a setback.”

  Elise didn’t respond, but Corey could hear her breathe, so at least she hadn’t hung up on her. Did she see her point or was she quietly seething?

  “You have to stop seeing your place as precarious,” Corey pleaded softly. “You have to stop focusing on ‘what if’ and what could go wrong or what you stand to lose. You can’t think about losing at all. You have to believe it’s your race to win.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Elise finally said.

  “Then you don’t belong there,” Corey said. The words hurt to deliver, but not as much as it would hurt if Elise accepted them. In this case, poking the bear was a calculated risk.

  “I might not belong there yet, but—”

  “But nothing. If you don’t belong on the top of the mountain, then you don’t belong on the tour. Only professionals skiers belong on those courses.”

  “Stop interrupting me.”

  “Stop being a baby.”

  “I’m not being a baby. I’m a grown woman and world champion, damn it. Don’t tell me about professional skiers. You don’t know half of what I know. This sport has been my whole life since I was prepubescent. I could run these courses in my sleep. I can feel a fall line at seventy miles an hour with my eyes closed. No one on this tour has more knowledge or a better mental makeup than I do.”

  Corey was glad Elise couldn’t see the massive smile spreading across her face, or it might have brought her up short on her little tirade, but Corey couldn’t hide her pleasure at the steely set of Elise’s voice. She could almost envision the glint of her glacial eyes as they narrowed with her don’t-fuck-with-me focus. Watch out skiing world, the ice woman cometh.

  “I’m healthy. I’m fit. I’m the person to beat this season.”

  “Damn right,” Corey said. “There’s your mantra, baby.”

  “My mantra?” Elise asked.

  “Say it again.”

  “I’m healthy, I’m fit. I’m the person to beat this season.”

  “Yes!” Corey shouted.

  “I’ve never had a mantra before,” Elise said, her voice tinted with a bit of wonder.

  “Now you do. And it’s a good one for kicking ass.”

  “First you give me secret code words, now a mantra. What’s next?”

  “Hopefully, you’ll let me give you a really nice Christmas present.”

  Elise sighed. “We’ll see.”

  “As in, we’ll see each other at Lake Henry in seventeen days.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Elise said stoically. “A lot can happen in seventeen days.”

  “Yeah,” Corey said, hope rising like a balloon in her chest. “A lot of awesome.”

  Chapter 12

  December 19, 2017

  Val d’Isere, France

  Elise tightened her glutes, her calves, her core, and flattened her chest against her thighs, rocketing down the final stretch of the course at Val d’Isere. The French crowd went wild as she crossed the finish line, and part of her wanted to share in their jubilation. She’d finished her first race. She’d made it down safely with a technically sound run, but even before she kicked her skis sideways and skidded to stop, she knew she hadn’t done enough to put herself in contention.

  “Elise, Elise.” A woman rushed toward her with a microphone in hand.

  She peeled off her goggles and unhooked the straps of her poles from her wrists, trying to gather herself before the cameraman caught up to the reporter. She met them with what she hoped to be at least a politely neutral expression.

  “Elise, how does it feel to be back across a finish line?” the petite, Asian woman asked, craning her neck and holding the microphone up so Elise could effectively use it.

  “I wish I’d gotten here faster, but I’m getting better with each run.”

  “You weren’t even supposed to be here this year,” the reporter reminded her. “Most of the people who follow the sport said you wouldn’t be back this season, or maybe not at all.”

  “Those people don’t know me very well, now do they?” She tried to flash a smile to soften the defiance in the comment, but the reporter’s raised eyebrows suggested she might not have pulled it off. She added, “My time here today wasn’t what I wanted, but my time in the super G on Sunday will be stronger, and I’m going to keep going up in the standings from here on out.”

  “What do you say to the people who think you’ll never regain your top form?”

  “I guess I’d ask if those are the same people who said I wouldn’t be on skis this year, because they have a track record of being wrong about these things, while I have a track record of winning ski races.”

  The reporter turned to face the camera with an amused expression. “There you have it. Elise Brandeis is back, and if her interviews are any indication, so is her edge.”

  The cameraman nodded and lowered the lens. “Got it.”

  “Thank you, Elise,” the reporter said, extending a hand. “I’m Julie Chen, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Julie.” Elise scanned the crowd for Paolo, who would no doubt be making his way down to her with a myriad of notes.

  “We actually met several years ago.” Julie continued walking beside her. “I went to your alma mater, Experius Academy. You came back to speak to our ski team after you’d been an alternate at the Vancouver Olympics.”

  Elise stopped. “You went to Experius?”

  “I did. I was several years behind you, but we know a few of the same women. You know the alumni network has its backchannels, especially among those of us with more high-profile careers.”

  Elise searched her dark eyes to confirm the hint of innuendo. Julie was attractive. Small, slender, with gorgeous dark hair clipped up at the back of her neck. Even though she wore gray slacks and a heavy black sweater, the touch of femininity couldn’t be hidden even under the bulky clothes. “Then it’s nice to meet you again. I’ll be sure to offer you my first interviews in the future if you’re going to be around more this year.”

  “I’ll be following the tour all season,” Julie said, fishing a business card out of her pocket. “If you ever want to leak something to the press or need a way to release some tension, we can get together for a glass of wine or anything else you’d like. Give me a call.”

  “Elise,” Paolo called from the opposite sideline. “More better, much more better this time.”

  She smiled and shrugged before explaining to Julie. “That’s my coach.”

  “Of course. I know. Go.” Then with a wink, she added, “Keep the card for when you need it.”

  “I will,” Elise said, but as she walked away, a twinge of guilt stuck under her ribs. Julie hadn’t exactly propositioned her, but the undertones were clear. She should have said she was seeing someone. Was she seeing someone? She and Corey hadn’t had the talk. In fact, they’d both worked hard to avoid the talk. She’d assumed that was because they both understood the need to focus on their careers, but what if it also implied an understood freedom. Was Corey exercising her right to roam? The little prick of guilt grew into a hot spot of anger at the thought of other women flirting with Corey the way Julie had flirted with her. The heat continued to spread as she considered the possibility of Corey returning the attention.

  “Come on,” Paulo said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t scowl. You finished a race.”

  “I could’ve done better,” she said absently, still thinking of Julie. Only, in her mind, Julie represented every woman wanting to get their hands on Corey. Would she give them the same speech about respecting them and not wanting to leave them all alone in the morning? Or would she use a little fling to hold her over until Christmas? God, she hadn’t
said she wasn’t going to have sex until then. She’d only said she wasn’t going to have sex with her. The sentiment didn’t seem nearly as sweet when inspected under the harsh light of suspicion.

  “Your time was respectable,” Paolo said. “With a little tweak, you’re in the top ten tomorrow in the Super-G.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Then why the pouty face?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him about Julie and Corey, but as another skier whizzed across the finish line, the crowd let out a massive cheer and drew her from her dark daydreams. She was still at a race. She’d finished her first run of the season. She’d worked hard for this moment, only to have it completely overshadowed by thoughts of Corey.

  Who the hell had she become?

  “What is it?” Paolo asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, quickly wrenching her focus to where it belonged. “Nothing but my time. I want to reconceptualize my start for the Super G. I think I noticed a steeper angle out there today, but I’m going to need some video to double check.”

  “Okay, I can get some various shots lined up. Let’s go out to dinner and celebrate first though.”

  She shook her head. She didn’t need quiet conversation in a fancy restaurant to distract her or give her mind time to wander. “No, order in. We’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

  • • •

  Holly’s phone dinged, and Corey looked up from her snowboard bindings. She watched her sister’s face light up and knew the message had come from Paolo. Did it say something mushy? Were they sexting? Or did the text bring news of Elise’s race? Thanks to the time difference between Canada and France, Elise should be wrapping up her day even as Corey prepared for her quarterfinal heat.

  “Okay. I’m heading to the finish line,” Holly said.

  “Cool,” Corey said, casually. “See you at the bottom.”

  Holly gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Kick some ass.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “See you later,” Nate called, then turned to Corey. “I want to check your wax real quick.”

  “Sure, um, just a minute,” Corey said as she watched Holly pick her way through the crowd.

  “What’s wrong?” Nate asked.

  “Nothing, I wanted . . . oh fuck it,” she muttered before calling out. “Holly, wait.”

  Holly turned, worry filling her dark eyes. “What? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. Geez, it’s no big deal. I was only wondering if Paolo mentioned how Elise did today.”

  Holly and Nate exchanged a look she couldn’t decipher, part smug, part amusement, part concern. “You broke your pre-race concentration for Elise?”

  “I was only wondering. Not a big deal. Didn’t break concentration.”

  “She placed eighteenth in the Super-G,” Holly said.

  “Oh,” Corey’s shoulder sank.

  “She broke the top twenty, Core,” Nate said kindly. “It’s not like here where there’re only twenty racers to begin with. There’re like sixty ski racers per event. She made the top third.”

  “She’s not going to be happy with top third. She wants to win every race.”

  “So does every other racer out there,” Holly said. “It’s going to take time to get back to the top.”

  “She doesn’t have much time to make the Olympic team. She’ll get only one more shot before they announce the teams.”

  “And you have only five minutes to get your head in today’s race.”

  She sighed. “Can you please stop worrying about my head? I’m not superstitious. I don’t have tics or triggers. When I get into the gate, I’ll be there one hundred percent.”

  “I hope so,” Holly said.

  “I know so,” Nate added emphatically. “Beast mode, top to bottom, right?”

  Corey smiled. “Hell yeah.”

  “Okay. Kill it,” Holly said, with more enthusiasm, then turned and left.

  “You drew the top slot,” Nate said. “Beneath you is a rookie Russian you haven’t faced yet, the big Finn, and Tigger.”

  “She’s got the inside going into the first turn?”

  “Yup,” he said, with forced nonchalance. She didn’t know why he felt the need to pretend this wasn’t a concern. The kid continued to improve daily, and with the start being the most technical part of the course, having the opportunity to punch through it ahead of the pack would play to her strengths.

  “Top two advance,” he reminded her.

  She didn’t have to win outright, but she’d never been one to shoot for the qualifying spot. Still, she got the message. If it came down to her and Tigger at the finish line, she could conserve her energy for the next heat.

  “The track is fast this morning,” Nate said.

  Corey squared her shoulders. “Good, ’cause so am I.”

  He laughed and slapped her on the back. “Go get you some.”

  She pulled down her goggles and slid into position.

  “See you at the bottom, Core,” Tigger called as she scooted past her to the far gate.

  “Not if I see you first, kiddo,” Corey said before she crouched down. She assumed her position naturally. She didn’t have to think about it or tick anything off a to-do list, which allowed her to focus on the line she wanted out of the first drop. Tigger had something close to a straight shot, while she’d have to pull the snowboarding equivalent of cutting across three lanes of rush-hour traffic without using her blinker. She wished she had some of Elise’s ski speeds, or perhaps her poles.

  Elise.

  The speed and poles might be a boon here, but they hadn’t been enough to get the job done in France this weekend. Finishing twentieth in the downhill and eighteenth in the Super-G might be enough to get her name back in the conversation, but those results were far from the head-turning dominance she was used to, and when averaged with her DNF from the first race, the combination probably didn’t offer enough to earn her a spot on the Olympic team. She’d have more pressure than ever going into the next race.

  “Racers ready.”

  She went tightly into her start position, head low, back flat, arms tight and tense against the bars. Then, with a clatter, the metal gates dropped, and off they went. Corey tipped her board over the edge, holding a flat line long enough to pick up the speed she needed to push in on the Russian. The rookie gave way quickly after not having gotten a good starting jump, but the big Finn on the other side of her presented herself as a snowboarding brick wall. She held her line with ramrod form and tucked herself tight for the turn before Corey even got a chance to veer into her space.

  To the other side of the Finn, Tigger must not have gotten as good a start as possible, because instead of having the edge, she set up along the higher line into the curve. She and the Finn could run two across if they had enough inertia to pull them through, but there was no way for Corey to push the pack three wide. She had to give way or get pushed out, so she settled for third place right behind the Finn, hoping to catch a little bit of a draft through the turn. They would break hard to the right and double immediately back to the left. If she could hold speed on the switch, she might be able to trade places with Tigger.

  She rode out the curve, with her board as flat as possible for as long as possible, attempting to hold or even gain speed before having to switch to her heel edge, but as she set up to make the transition, she saw Tigger out of the corner on her vision. She hadn’t maintained the speed she’d needed, and veered lower as the Finn pulled ahead. Corey had to make a quick decision to either try to punch through the open hole and steal second place or hang back and let the kid fall in between them. She chose the former and bent low, trying to ride over the top of the first place rider.

  By the time she realized Tigger had lost control of her line, their boards had already collided. The scrape of metal edges jarring into each other grated her nerves like nails on a chalkboard, and the pressure of the friction pinned her down. Elbows rose to defensive
heights, and shoulders brushed heavily. Competitive instincts took hold, and Corey bore down, fighting desperately to maintain her position, but she’d set herself up too far inside. Tigger used her higher line to run down over the top of Corey’s board and into the lead. The pressure from the downward push on the nose of her board caused her tail to kick up slightly. She could’ve stabilized anywhere else on the course, but in a tight turn she had nowhere to regain her speed.

  The rookie Russian blew past on the now-clear upper line and dropped in immediately in front of her. Corey had no choice but to veer even farther out of her line or t-bone her. She ended up off course and at a full stop.

  “Fuck,” she shouted, not even concerned one of the nearby cameras could offer viewers a little exercise in R-rated lip reading. She had to hop over a small ridge in the snow to get back on course, then pumped her legs like a fish trying to flop from a shore back into a pool of water. She slowly regained her speed and rode out the rest of the course as best she could. There was always a chance two racers could collide down-track, but when she heard the cheers go up from the crowd below, she knew her fate had been sealed.

  Crossing the finish line with as much grace as she could muster, she gritted her teeth and gave a little wave to the medical staff to let them know she hadn’t hurt anything but her pride. Then kicking off her board, she trudged over to Holly.

  “You okay?” she asked in full big-sister tone.

  “Yeah, mostly. A little sore, but I guess I’ll have plenty of time to sit in the hot tub tonight since we’re going home early.”

  “Silver linings, I suppose,” Holly said.

  “Hey Corey.” Tigger approached timidly and stood at a distance.

  She forced a smile. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” The kid nodded. “I didn’t get a good start.”

  “You made up for it in turn two,” Holly said, with a hint of judgment in her voice.

  “Which was perfectly legal,” Corey added.

  “I didn’t box you out on purpose.”

  “Why?” Corey asked. “You could have.”