From the Top

by Dani Collins

  He threw down his towel and turned the satin back of his vest on her, starting to restock the beer fridge, but she could see the bright red in his profile.

  Vivien bit back a laugh, thinking, Fair point.

  Rising, she went over to the main table. “I’m going to turn in. Glory, shall I ask your father to pour another round and let you take care of anything after that?”

  “Sure, Vivien. Thanks. Good night.”

  She went back to the bar and relayed the message, then said, “And why don’t you bring your nightcap to my room?”

  Marvin stood very straight, staring at her. “Are you saying…?” His jaw worked, but no more words came out.

  “I’m telling you where and when, Marvin. Let’s get there before we’re dead.”

  *

  Look who talked a big game and got himself into trouble.

  Marvin smoothed his eyebrows with one finger as he brushed his teeth with the other hand. Then he ran a damp facecloth around his junk, looked at the shower, looked at the clock, and finally looked at the drink he’d poured himself, but was afraid to knock back in case it affected his performance.

  What performance? He knew plain vanilla and not much else. His porn had been the old magazines with the articles. He’d never been comfortable jacking in front of a computer. Too nineteen eighty-four. What if he accidentally had the camera on?

  Did he need a condom? That would be terrific, having to go back to the lounge and ask one of those young men—Trigg, perhaps—if he had a spare sheath so he could get busy with his mother.

  Why hadn’t he bought one in Haven the last time he was at the drugstore, after his doctor’s appointment? Because he’d been embarrassed, that’s why.

  Maybe he was a tiny bit relieved he didn’t have one. They could put this off so he could ruminate a little longer and harder.

  Screw it. He grabbed his whiskey and went up the back stairs, like a football captain sneaking into the head cheerleader’s bedroom. He knocked on Vivien’s door, fully prepared for disappointment.

  She opened the door wearing a negligee, all silky and rosy pink. Her hair was combed out, her makeup still on, but her jewelry off.

  An hour later, weak and naked alongside him, she spoke between pants as their hearts slowed. “Have your business chat with Rolf. I’m not giving that up.”

  *

  Nate tried not to play the denial game, especially since he hadn’t seen the demise of his marriage coming. He tried to be conscious of life-altering things like his grandparents getting on in years. He knew he had to make time for them while they were here, not take for granted that there would be other opportunities. He was hoping to get them here for a visit sooner than later, actually—once the weather was decent, but before the wedding. The lodge was fully booked after that and so was he.

  His own time was already tight. The days were warming and the phone didn’t stop ringing. Plus, they had three new bodies in the office, which annoyed him just a little.

  The new staff were all nice enough and even brought a bit of color to this landscape of otherwise predominantly white. Kimi, the new bookkeeper, was Blackfoot, married to a welder the resort would keep busy for the next few years. They had two school-aged kids and were buying a place in Haven.

  They’d been one of the first hires by Orin, the new HR manager. He was a middle-aged, heavy-set, red-bearded pirate of a man who was openly gay. “If you have something to say about that, let’s get it over with,” had been his opener when he met Nate. He had twice drunk the last of the coffee and forgot to turn off the pot, but it was his first week and everyone was still getting organized.

  Chivonne was trying to help with that. Nate didn’t know what her heritage was with that long, loose, gold-tipped Afro-like hair, lightly tanned skin, big green eyes, and pointed nose over a wide, but thin-lipped mouth. She wasn’t even a certified PA or project coordinator. She had worked in the office of her father’s construction business in Minneapolis “from the time I could alphabetize and file.” Her father sold the business to fund his retirement, gave her a chunk of cash, and told her to buy a house or go to school. She was twenty-two and intended to buy something in Haven if this job worked out. Devon had recommended her and she was already proving her tiny-ass weight in gold.

  “You should buy that old bunny bus they’re selling in town,” Chivonne said on day three, as she hung her coat. “Be a nice job perk if I didn’t have to drive all the way out here, then wait for a lift from the lodge. I could work while I ride.”

  Nate and Rolf had looked at each other, both remembering how efficient things had been this time last year, when the only way into the lodge had been the snowcat. Workers had shown up on time to catch it and got to work right away on arrival, having finished their social hour on the way in.

  “You talked about setting up a shuttle service once the hill is operational,” Nate reminded Rolf. “We’re always sending someone into town to pick up parcels. This way our own driver can put parts on the bus and save us a trip.”

  “We could schedule two runs a day and bring in sandwiches to sell out the back. Then we won’t lose people who run to the lodge for lunch and take forever to come back.” Rolf turned his attention to Chivonne. “Make it happen. Buy the bus, figure out the pick-up location, talk to Orin about hiring a driver—”

  “I have ears,” Orin called from his office, adding in a grumble, “No fucking time, but sure. I’ll get right on that.”

  “Talk to Marvin. Make sure it’s going to work for the lodge schedule,” Rolf added.

  The dining room at the lodge was going to take a hit on their lunch rush, since the snow conditions were deteriorating and the cross-country reservations were drying up.

  Vivien was already stressing about ‘workers traipsing through the lobby in their greasy clothes and muddy boots’ anyway. She had asked Devon’s opinion on whether a pick-up window could be cut out of the wall inside the bar and the patio extended to serve people who lined up outside.

  Devon had provided her stock answer. “I can do anything, if you want to throw enough money at it.”

  A pick-up window was actually a great idea. Nate expected to see a hole smashed into the siding the minute the melt started in earnest.

  There was no constant but change. He knew that and thus tried to make a point of savoring this particular Saturday morning. There might not be another like it, one where he walked downstairs with Ilke’s fingers woven through his, body rested from sleeping in, bones loose from morning lovemaking and skin tingling from their shower.

  This week had passed in a blur of him playing catch-up with Rolf, now back from Germany. Nate hadn’t had much time to spend with Ilke. She was putting in a couple of hours of conditioning on top of the workout they usually did together, fitting things in around whatever Vivien threw at her, so she was keeping busy.

  He had asked her briefly last night if she had any news on the training front. She had said she had hard decisions to make and there were no right answers. A few people were answering her emails, but he could tell by her face she wasn’t impressed by her options.

  “My stepfather heard I’m looking for a new coach,” she said in a tone of disgust. “Mom emailed me, wants me to hire him.”

  “Are you kidding me? No.”

  “That’s what I said.” She didn’t elaborate, not seeming to want to talk about it and, truth was, neither did he.

  Once she found a trainer, she would leave. That meant the end of this and he wasn’t ready.

  At least today felt like old times. Quinn’s crew was gone, Trigg had hit the road, taking Murphy with him, and the dining room was mostly empty with only a handful of guests lingering over their coffee. Aiden had a birthday party this afternoon so Nate was working a full day before running out to fetch him. He expected Rolf would join him at the base and it would be the way it had been all last year: quiet and productive.

  As he and Ilke crossed the lobby, however, squinting at the sunlight streaming in t
he windows from the dining room, Ilke made a noise and pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

  “My mother.” She made a face. “I should probably get it, in case it’s important.”

  That’s it, he thought, knowing in his gut this was the turning point on losing what they had. His hand reflexively tightened on hers.

  She looked at him with surprise and he tried to be a man about it. He didn’t know this was bad. There was no way she would hire her stepfather, but his senses told him this was the end. He had to swallow a lump in his throat.

  “I need to—”

  “Yeah.” The word scraped his windpipe. “I’ll meet you in there.” He made himself release her.

  He tried to talk himself out of this sense of doom as he went to the buffet.

  Rolf and Glory were already here, sitting down with full plates. Glory smiled and said good morning. Rolf asked him about a modification one of the suppliers wanted to make.

  “I meant to forward the full email. I don’t disagree, but we should talk about it.” Nate pulled out his phone and scrolled to send it.

  His mind was on Ilke, though. She was growing anxious to put things in place. He was a tiny bit terrified she would buckle to whatever pressure her mother exerted.

  “Fuck, that’s expensive,” Rolf muttered. “No.”

  “Keep reading,” Nate said, sitting down across from Rolf with his filled plate. “We maybe don’t go with his solution, but some of the points he brings up need discussion.”

  Rolf scrolled as he ate and Glory asked Nate about Aiden.

  He told her about the birthday party while Ilke came in and got herself a fruit cup and yogurt.

  “What are your plans today?” Glory asked Ilke as she joined them. “Because I’m running in to see Eden and—Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Ilke said, slapping her phone face down beside her coffee. Her eyes were bright, her color high.

  “Your mom okay?” Nate asked her.

  “Totally fine. Outstanding,” she added acerbically. “Wants me to come see her.”

  “No,” Nate said.

  “That’s what I said.” She stabbed a chunk of melon with her fork and looked past Glory’s shoulder to the buffet, chin set. She was trying to hide it, but there was something persecuted in her profile. She was losing hope.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Nate said under his breath, reaching his limit. “Glory. Would it bother you if Wikinger sponsored Ilke?”

  She frowned in confusion. “That has nothing to do with me. Why would it bother me?”

  “I don’t know, but Ilke refuses to ask Rolf if he’ll ask them to sponsor her because she thinks it might annoy you.”

  Glory looked from Ilke to Rolf, who was still reading his phone, then back to Ilke. “Fill your ski boots,” she said.

  “Rolf?” Nate prompted.

  “If that’s something Ilke wants, she’ll ask me,” he said with disinterest, keeping his gaze on his phone, thumb sweeping, while he absently chased eggs with his fork.

  Nate looked to Ilke. Her fingers were white where she gripped her dish of fruit. She sent him a baleful glare for interfering, since Glory hadn’t been her only hurdle, but she transferred her stare to Rolf, maybe waiting for him to look at her.

  He didn’t.

  For long seconds, there was only the sound of utensils on plates at other tables. Low conversations between other diners.

  Ilke swallowed. Her expression was stiff with defensiveness. “Rolf, would you be willing to talk to marketing at Wikinger and ask them to consider me?”

  “No,” Rolf stated, flat and unequivocal, still looking at his phone.

  What a fucking dick. Nate had seen this side of Rolf in action before, but had never felt the kickback so personally.

  “Why?” he demanded in a hard enough tone Rolf lifted his gaze to meet the death stare Nate was giving him.

  Ilke’s hand settled on his wrist. “It’s their choice, Nate. They have reasons. Branding, budget… It’s fine.”

  “Do you have a reason?” he asked, holding his boss’s stare. “Because I’d love to hear it.”

  “Nate.” Her hand squeezed.

  “I have two,” Rolf said without flinching. “Ilke knows the main one.”

  Nate turned his head. She was staring at Rolf, kind of pale.

  “If it’s because you two—” Glory started to say.

  Rolf gave her a flat look. “No.” He went back to his phone.

  “Quit being so fucking mysterious,” Nate said.

  “It’s because I’m not good enough,” Ilke said, eyes closed, voice thin as a dried-up onion skin.

  Nate looked from her white lips to Glory’s shocked frown to Rolf’s lack of reaction as he continued reading his phone.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Nate tried to keep his voice low, but he was so furious his gut was cramping. “You know what happened. You know why she tanked in Korea.”

  “Rolf,” Glory admonished. “You don’t really believe that. Do you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. Why would any company sponsor an athlete who is convinced she can’t win?” He was still acting like he was barely part of this conversation.

  Nate wanted to take him by the throat, but at the same time, the table seemed to tilt, sending loaded emotions from one side to the other. Was that what Ilke thought?

  She was staring a hole through Rolf’s head. “Do you think I’m good enough to win?”

  Finally, he set aside his phone and gave her one hundred percent of his attention. “You know what it takes to win, Ilke. Everything. But you couldn’t even work up the courage to ask me to arrange your sponsorship. That tells me you are not all in.”

  She bit her lip. Her chin crinkled and her brow flexed in anguish. Then she sat up, chin coming up with defiance as she stared right back at him, clearly agonized.

  “I’m scared,” she admitted with a slow, pained nod. “Not of skiing, but of putting myself through all of that again and finding out I’m actually not good enough and that’s why I failed, not because of the baby.”

  Nate put his hand on her thigh. She covered it with a cold, clammy palm, fingernails digging into the top of his hand, almost like she was holding him off while holding on.

  “You had a bad fall,” Rolf delivered without inflection, but it wasn’t unkind. “Doubt happens to all of us after that. Fucks with our mental game. You know how to get past it, though. If you had torn your knee or broken your ribs, what would you do once you were healed?”

  “Snap on my skis and get back out there.” She sounded admonished, like a little girl, mouth not quite steady. “I need someone to tell me I’ll get there, though. I know it’s weak, that I should be able to believe in myself, but I need someone to tell me it’s worth the sacrifice.” She closed her grip over Nate’s fingers, crushing them.

  Words crowded Nate’s throat. Don’t.

  “I can’t tell you what’s worth sacrificing. That’s something each athlete decides for themselves,” Rolf said. “But you have to do a lot of it. No one hands you a win. You fight back everything that prevents it. That’s the only way.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  He set his arm on the table, leaning in. “But if you want my opinion, athlete to athlete, you had every right to be on that podium. You have the talent and could stage a hell of a comeback if you wanted to dig deep, conquer that self-doubt, and make it happen. Do you?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation. Her grip on Nate’s hand was likely to leave a bruise, but her voice held so much conviction, it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “I do. I really do.” She flashed a look at Nate. “I have to.” No apology and he didn’t expect one.

  “I know.” He wasn’t nearly as calm as he managed to sound.

  She looked back at Rolf.

  “Okay, then,” Rolf said.

  Nate felt the shock that went through her in the flex of her hand on his. “You’ll ask Wikinger to sponsor me?”

 
“No.”

  “Rolf!” Glory cried and looked like she wanted to kill him. Nate sure as hell did.

  He flashed them a look of irritation. “Am I the only one at this table aware of what I’m building? If the board wants to draw a line between Wikinger and Whiskey Jack, and pretend this facility is my pet project and not something that will benefit them, they can get in line and beg for the privilege of sponsoring the team I build here. The team I mentor, so my athletes don’t get screwed over by lousy agents and sponsors who fail to stick when shit happens. You—” he pointed at Ilke “—had better be up for this because you just became our poster girl. You’re setting the bar at a level that tells the rest of the world I’m not fucking around. Whiskey Jack is where champions are made.”

  The whole room had quieted as he spoke.

  “You sneaky S.O.B. How long have you been planning this?” Glory turned in her seat to face Rolf. “My ovaries just went off like Roman candles.”

  He lifted an irritated brow. “I thought I was pretty clear on what I intended to do here.” He picked up his phone, cutting a glance at Ilke. “Get a new phone. I’m going to send an email and yours is going to explode. Don’t answer anything for a few days. And make a doctor’s appointment. I want a note telling me how hard you can work. Then pack to travel. You’re going to assemble and test drive your support team.”

  Her face fell in shock. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious. Go. You’ve wasted enough time.” He jerked his head, then said to Nate, “We have to get down to the base. Your ovaries will have to wait, schatzi.” He cupped the side of Glory’s head and kissed her crown as he rose.

  Glory was beaming, looking up at him like he’d just rescued her babies from a burning building.

  While Nate’s barely acknowledged dreams were going up in smoke.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nate didn’t say anything on the way to the base. Rolf spoke in German on the phone all the way, mentioning Ilke’s name twice. Nate was still reeling from what this meant for him and her.