Life on the Edge

by Jennifer Comeaux

  Members of the audience whistled when the acoustic strains of “Hotel California” began. I put on a flirty smile and moved like liquid to the music. With the dangerous triple twist out of the way in the first thirty seconds, we set up for the side by side jumps. Chris matched my swooping crossovers down the rink. In perfect unison, we switched to the outside edges of our blades and stabbed our toepicks into the ice.

  I immediately sensed a problem. My toepick had slipped, preventing me from attaining the necessary height on the jump. I landed cross-footed and lost all balance. My backside crashed to the ice, stunning me and the crowd, too, judging from the hush that fell over the building. I hadn’t missed the triple Lutz in months. But I’d just missed it in one of the most critical programs of my life.

  I scrambled to get back in step with Chris, and he whispered, “Fight.”

  We regained momentum with our star lift that covered the length of the ice. The audience cheered us on, and I received a boost of adrenaline. We couldn’t afford any more mistakes in the program. One was damaging; two would be lethal.

  With a clean performance the rest of the way, I believed we’d kept ourselves in the mix, but I didn’t know how the teams before us had skated or how the teams after us would fare.

  Chris and I quietly waited for our scores, clutching each other’s hand. Inside, I cursed the ice and my toepick. What if my slip-up put us out of contention? A fraction of an inch of my blade could be the difference between achieving a lifelong dream and watching the Olympics from my couch.

  I dropped my head when I saw our names in third place. Four pairs still had to skate, so we could potentially fall further in the standings. We had to stay in the top three to be within striking distance of the gold medal, and more importantly, a spot on the Olympic team.

  Television reporters grabbed us for interviews as soon as we walked backstage, not giving Chris and I a moment to ourselves. When we were finally alone and discovered we’d remained in third, I hugged Chris, but he was stiff in my arms.

  “You were thinking about Sergei not being here, weren’t you? That’s why you missed the jump?” he asked in a biting tone.

  “What?” I pulled away and gaped at him. “It was a fluke thing. My toepick slipped. I wasn’t thinking about anything except landing the jump.”

  “You’ve been stressing about him all week, making mistakes in practice . . .”

  “I was ready tonight. Don’t make this into something bigger than it was.”

  I left him and changed out of my costume. At the hotel, I searched for my parents in the lobby. Skaters clad in Team USA jackets were everywhere–perched on the posh chairs, crowding the event schedule board, and lined up in front of the coffee cart. Dad caught my eye from the edge of the room, and I rushed into his waiting arms.

  He kissed the side of my head. “You did great, Em.”

  “The Lutz was so dumb.” I sighed, exhausted from analyzing my missed jump with every member of the media.

  Mom stroked my back. “You really sold the program. The crowd was totally into it.”

  “Sergei would’ve been proud,” Dad said.

  My face crumpled, and Dad put his arms around me.

  “I miss him . . . so . . . much.” I choked on the words.

  “He’ll be here soon,” Dad said in his soothing manner that had dried many of my tears over the years.

  Mom returned her hand to my back. “Why don’t we get dinner? You’ll feel better after you’ve had something to eat.”

  I nodded and wiped my eyes with the tissue she offered me. A few of the young skaters lounging nearby gave me looks of pity, and I bowed my head. Having a public breakdown was an appropriate way to top off the night.

  “Let me take my stuff upstairs.” I picked up my skate bag and the hefty sack of stuffed animals I’d received from the audience. “I’ll meet you back down here.”

  After a long wait for the slow elevator, I climbed aboard and leaned against the far wall. As the doors were about to close, Viktor slithered inside. I straightened up and stepped further into the corner.

  He came toward me with a half-smile, one that spoke of trouble more than kindness. I folded my arms across my chest and held an internal conversation with the elevator, pleading it to move faster.

  “You’ll do better in the free skate,” he said.

  I pressed my back to the wall and kept my eyes focused on the floor numbers flashing above the door. Viktor slinked nearer, his ominous presence smothering me. I felt as if the elevator was shrinking.

  “You can’t always be perfect,” he said in a throaty voice.

  He caressed my arm, and I threw out my elbow. “Don’t touch me!” I glared at him.

  He returned my steely gaze. “I’ll bet you wouldn’t say that if I was Sergei.”

  My stomach dropped into my shoes. He knows something. I quickly collected myself and raised my chin. “I’d say it to anyone who tried to grope me.”

  “Right.” He smirked.

  My floor chimed, and I dashed into the hallway, dragging my bags behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, afraid Viktor had tailed me. The hall was clear, but my heart still thumped hard in my chest.

  How could Viktor know about Sergei and me? We’d been so careful, and neither of us saw Viktor much outside of the rink. My friends at the rink didn’t even suspect I was involved with Sergei. I didn’t know what kind of game Viktor was playing, but I had a terrible feeling in my bones Sergei and I would be the losers.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Two days after the short program, Sergei finally found a flight out of snow-covered New York City, scheduled to arrive in Los Angeles shortly before the free skate. I was standing in the locker room at Staples Center, checking my makeup in the mirror, when Sergei called my cell.

  “I’m in the cab, on my way to the hotel.” He sounded out of breath. “I’ll pick up my credentials and leave my bag with the bellman.”

  I suppressed a shout of joy, aware of the girls dressing around me. Holding the phone close to my mouth, I said in a hushed voice, “How am I going to refrain from giving you the longest kiss ever when I see you?”

  He laughed. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing. We’ll have to find a way to be alone tonight.”

  “I have a plan,” I said mysteriously. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  He let me go so I could start my pre-competition routine. I jogged with an extra bounce in my step, feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks. With my muscles loose, Chris and I walked through our program, not leaving any detail unattended.

  After I donned my costume, I left the dressing room, bursting with anticipation. I expected to see Sergei with Chris, but there was no sign of him. The trip downtown from the airport shouldn’t have taken that long, and the arena was less than a mile from the hotel. I ran back to the locker room and called him.

  “Where are you?”

  “Traffic on the freeway was horrible. We just got to the Biltmore.”

  Panic overtook my feeling of relaxation. I walked in circles around the huge Lakers logo on the carpet. “Our warm-up starts in a few minutes.”

  “I won’t make the warm-up, but I’ll be there for your skate. You guys are last, right?”

  “Yes,” I answered shakily.

  “I’ll run from the hotel to the arena if I have to. I’m not missing it.”

  Chris saw me twisting my hands as I rejoined him in the corridor. His eyes widened with alarm. “Don’t tell me he’s not going to make it.”

  “He’s running late, but he’ll be here when we skate.” If I made it sound definite, then it would have to come true. I couldn’t entertain the thought of Sergei not showing up in time. Not after I’d gotten my hopes up so high.

  During the six minute warm-up on the ice, my nervous energy caused shaky exits on my jumps, but what rattled me more was seeing Chris over-rotate the triple toe loop and the triple Lutz. He was trying too hard. My rock of a partner, who normally laughed in the face of pre
ssure, had suddenly become human.

  We found a quiet spot backstage to wait for our turn to skate. Chris untied and retied his laces four times, while I stared down the long hallway, hoping to see Sergei’s face any second. My knees jiggled up and down, and I patted my thighs over and over. I waited for Chris to tease me about not being able to sit still, but his own legs were shaking.

  With ten minutes left until we had to report to the ice, I bent my head, folded my hands and resorted to prayer. So many bigger problems than mine needed God’s help, but I had to ask. Three Our Fathers and three Hail Marys later, I looked up and inhaled sharply.

  My prayers had been answered.

  Sergei rushed toward us, straightening his sky blue tie, the lucky one he’d worn at all our competitions that season. I held my ground, gathering my self-control. A few officials and event volunteers stood nearby, so I had to stay cool.

  Sergei didn’t take his eyes off mine. With every step he took, my heart rate soared higher. He reached us and swallowed me in an embrace, one I’d craved so deeply for so long. Surrounded by his love, I felt a surge of confidence and power. I didn’t want to leave his arms, but the people around us were watching our reunion.

  Chris jumped up and hugged Sergei. His wide smile revealed his relief.

  “So glad you could make it,” he joked.

  I laughed, high pitched and giddy. Chris cracking jokes was a sure sign normalcy had returned.

  Sergei rested his hands on our shoulders and waited before he spoke. “I’m not going to ask you how the warm-up went because it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the program you’re about to skate. You are strong and you are special. No one else can do the things you do. I want you to show everyone tonight why you are the best team in the world.”

  ****

  That we did.

  Chris slung his arm around my neck as perfect score after perfect score glowed on the scoreboard. The crowd roared, knowing they were witnessing history. No pair had ever earned so many 6.0’s. We’d won our second national title with our best performance of the year.

  I let my eyes sweep around the bright arena. People were still on their feet from the standing ovation they’d given us. Fans held up colorful banners printed with our names and messages like “Go for Gold” and “Always Dream.” Beside me, Sergei smacked his hands together in vigorous applause. He beamed at us, his face red from excitement. I wanted to remember every detail of the moment forever, the moment we punched our ticket to the Olympics.

  A television reporter tried to accost Chris and me for an interview, but Sergei intervened. “Can you give them a minute?”

  Chris and I hugged, and the realization of what we’d accomplished seemed to hit us simultaneously. We both sniffled, unable to speak.

  I kissed his cheek, stamping his freckles with lipstick. As I removed the mark with my thumb, I said, “Thank you for putting up with my craziness.”

  “You keep things interesting, that’s for sure.” He smiled and dried the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  “Seriously.” I squeezed his hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

  The next two hours were a blur of interviews, congratulatory hugs, and lots of happy tears. It was almost midnight when Chris and I arrived at the hotel with Sergei and our parents. Our joyous laughter echoed off the walls of the empty lobby.

  Mom pointed to the shuttered doors of the restaurant. “Guess our celebration will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  I feigned a yawn. “I’m beat anyway.” I couldn’t put “Operation Alone Time with Sergei” into motion until the group dispersed.

  The parents walked ahead, and Chris pulled me into a spontaneous hug. “We’re almost there, Em. One more step.”

  The emotion of the earlier medal ceremony hit me again. Standing atop the podium, I’d been overwhelmed with pride and felt so blessed to share the achievement with such an amazing partner.

  “Don’t you dare make me cry again,” I said.

  “No more crying.” Chris ruffled my hair. “Only celebrating allowed now. Trevor’s party tomorrow night will be epic.”

  “Oh, yeah. After the week I’ve had, after the month I’ve had, I might need to have a drink. Or five.” I laughed.

  Sergei hung back with me as the rest of the group waited for the elevator. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Ah, yes, my brilliant plan.” I smiled. “My parents rented a car for the week, so I thought we could use it to drive to the beach. I got directions from the front desk for the best spot to park near the ocean.”

  “That sounds perfect.” He lowered his voice even more. “Are we leaving now because I’m going to go crazy if I don’t kiss you soon.”

  I licked my lips, anticipating the tingle of his on mine. “Fifteen minutes. Meet me at the silver Malibu on the third floor of the garage.”

  In my room, I tiptoed around to avoid waking Aubrey, asleep in advance of her competition the next day. I grabbed a light sweater, the keys to the rental car, and the map the desk clerk had given me before scurrying to the parking garage.

  I wasn’t in the car more than two minutes when Sergei slid into the passenger seat. He’d done a quick change from his suit into jeans and a black sweater, and did he ever look good. I wanted to leap over the gear stick and into his lap.

  Sergei reached out and tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. The silky movement of his long fingers further stirred my longing to be in his arms. I tenderly kissed his palm and let my cheek rub against its warmth. He leaned toward me across the console, but I halted him mere centimeters from my mouth.

  “Let’s get out of here first,” I said.

  “You’re killing me.” He pressed my hand to his chest. “My heart has literally stopped.”

  “I’ll bring you back to life very soon.” I winked and turned the key in the ignition.

  The oceanside parking lot in Santa Monica was deserted, just as I’d hoped. We climbed out of the car, and the wind whipping off the ocean blew my hair across my face.

  I pulled my thin cardigan tighter around me. “It’s kinda cold out here.”

  We looked at each other over the top of the car and both had the same idea as we jumped into the back seat.

  Sergei wrapped his arms around me. “This is much cozier.”

  “Much,” I murmured, curling my fingers around his neck and winding them through his hair.

  Not able to hold back any longer, our lips came together in perfect harmony. The whole world faded away except for the two of us. I was totally lost under the spell of Sergei’s kiss and the tender journey of his hands all over me. How had I survived a month without his touch?

  Sergei continued to shower me with kisses. He nestled me to him, and I delighted in just staring at his face and seeing my love reflected in his eyes.

  “Why don’t we stay here the rest of the weekend?” he whispered in my ear.

  I giggled at the tickle of his breath. “That would be heavenly, but I have to be there for my friends tomorrow. Aubrey and Nick are so close to making the team.”

  Mentioning Aubrey brought the unpleasant thought of Viktor and his disgusting smoky smell to mind. I wrinkled my nose and pressed my face to Sergei’s neck, breathing in his clean, spicy scent. I wanted to forget about Viktor but knew I had to let Sergei know my suspicions.

  “I need to tell you something that happened while you were gone.”

  “What is it?” He stroked my cheek.

  “I think Viktor might know about you and me.”

  Sergei’s hand froze on my face. “How?”

  “I don’t know, but he said something . . .”

  “What did he say?” The softness in his eyes sharpened into concern.

  “He got a little too . . . close to me, so I told him to back off, and he said ‘You wouldn’t say that to Sergei.’” I shuddered at the memory of Viktor’s scary knowing smile.

  Sergei’s body became rigid and his jaw clenched. “What do you mea
n, he got too close to you? Did he touch you?”

  “Just my arm.”

  “If he touches you again, I’m going to break every one of his fingers.” His eyes burned with anger, and I feared what might happen the next time he saw Viktor.

  “You can’t confront him. That’s probably exactly what he wants, to bait you into doing something crazy.”

  “If he knows about us, why hasn’t he exposed us already?”

  “I don’t know, but I got some bad vibes from him,” I said.

  “I never should’ve let him go with you to the Final.”

  “You had no idea he was going to act this way.” I grasped his hand and intertwined our fingers.

  “We only have a few weeks until the Olympics. We need to be extra careful when we’re together.”

  “He can’t mess this up for us.” My voice wavered and I shook my head. “Not after everything we’ve gone through to get here.”

  Sergei locked his eyes on mine. “I’m not going to let him.” His arms tensed around me, and he repeated with even more firmness, “I’m not going to let him.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I linked my arm through Aubrey’s, and we followed the signs to the smallest of the Biltmore Hotel’s numerous ballrooms. We passed the Grand Salon, site of the big closing bash for all competitors, where music thumped inside. Headed in that direction were Courtney and three friends, giggling and talking in the hyper way young girls do.

  “You guys look hot!” Courtney exclaimed.

  Aubrey and I laughed. “Don’t you love Em’s gold dress?” Aubrey asked and showed me off like I was a prize on a game show display.

  The halter neckline and slim-fitting skirt hugged the slight curves of my petite figure. I’d hesitated on buying the dress because of its color, but Aubrey had convinced me to be confident rather than superstitious.

  “It’s awesome, but you’re a little overdressed for the party,” Courtney said.