I don’t think he really heard what I said, though; he had gone over to the bike I’d won the UCI World Cup on a few years ago and was inspecting it.
“This thing’s beautiful,” he said, running his hand down the top tube. He looked around. “You have so many bikes!”
I had never really thought about it before, but for a moment, I was able to see things how he saw it—all that unnecessary excess. I didn’t know if that’s exactly what was running through his mind, but it did—it seemed excessive. All these bikes for one person. It’s not like anyone could actually ride more than one bike at a time. Yes, some of them had sentimental value, and we obviously had enough space to keep them all, but... it made me uncomfortable all of a sudden. The way he must have seen me: a spoiled rich girl who didn’t know how good she had it, despite the fact that I’d had that one bad thing happen.
“You okay?” Cole said, and I realized that I had been staring off into space, with probably something of a morose expression on my face.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Sorry. I was just... thinking about something.”
He smiled. “Anything good?”
“Not really.” I tried to push those thoughts from my mind, hoping that if the thoughts went away, so would the bad feelings that accompanied them. There was something very down-to-earth about Cole, something very open and accepting that I realized I myself did not possess. It was like the ease in which I’d seen him hanging out with that guy, that homeless guy he’d been playing chess with when I’d been in the car with Lauren. It might not be PC to admit it, but I wouldn’t have been hanging out with someone like that. I just wouldn’t. Admitting that—even if it was just to myself—was painful. I didn’t want to be that sort of person, yet I had no idea how to be any other way.
“Can I try this one?” Cole asked. “It looks like it’ll fit.”
He had picked out a titanium Moots cyclocross bike, which would indeed fit him perfectly.
“Great,” I said.
“So, you wanted to ride around the city?” Cole asked. “A little urban shredding?”
I tried to hide my smile. “I think I’m more interested in just a leisurely sort of bike tour around. Something like that. Something where we don’t even have to wear helmets.”
“Well, I think I’m going to have to insist on helmets either way,” he said. “It’s not your bike-handling skills that I’m worried about—it’s the drivers.”
I didn’t quite trust the drivers myself, especially not in the city, at least not in this country. Whenever I was over in Amsterdam or Copenhagen, I’d ride everywhere on my three-speed with the basket and the panniers, no helmet, a pair of ballet flats, and some sort of chic but comfortable outfit. But... it was a different story here, even if Cole and I were just going to be tooling around the city.
“Can’t argue with you about that,” I said.
I grabbed my three-speed, and Cole took the Moots. “Did you have anywhere particular in mind?” he asked.
“No, not really. Maybe somewhere I’ve never been before. I wouldn’t mind seeing as much of the city as possible.”
He grinned. “Well, all right, then. Sounds like my kind of day.”
***
We headed out. We rode for a while, and when we came to a particularly steep hill, I got off and pushed the bike. Cole did the same, though he had enough of a gear range on the Moots that he probably could have made it. After maybe an hour, I felt my stomach start to rumble.
“I’m getting kind of hungry,” I said. “You want to stop and get something to eat?”
“Sure.”
I was, actually, ravenous, and getting to the point where I didn’t care what we got to eat, so long as we were eating something. Fortunately, there was a café right across the street, with outdoor seating. I pointed.
“That looks perfect.”
We crossed the street and leaned the bikes against a street signpost. The hostess gave us a table on the outside patio, right next to the sidewalk, so the bikes were in plain view. I guzzled the glass of lemon water and snatched a slice of bread from the bread basket, which I consumed in about three bites.
Cole laughed. “I certainly won’t be engaging in any eating contests with you today.”
My eyes scanned the menu; everything sounded good. But what I finally settled on was the avocado bacon burger on a brioche roll, with truffle fries. On impulse, I ordered an imperial IPA too, and then one for Cole also, because I had a feeling he wouldn’t if I didn’t do it for him.
“Am I allowed to drink on the job?” he asked after the waitress left.
“You are because I say you are. And, come on—it’s a beautiful day, we’ve been out riding for most of it, and now we’re going to enjoy a burger and a beer.” And it was true—summers in San Francisco were often cool and foggy, so when there was an actual warm day with not a cloud in sight, it was something to be celebrated.
“I must admit, this is my favorite job ever,” Cole said.
“You’re not just saying that because you’re hoping to get a raise, now, are you?”
“I’d do this even if I wasn’t getting paid.”
I felt that warmness in my chest again, felt the butterflies start up. It was hard to tell with him when he was joking or not, and part of me was certain that he must be joking now, yet the other part of me wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he would be here right now, regardless of whether or not there was money involved. Because we were having a good time together, actually enjoying each other’s company.
Not that I felt I could admit that out loud.
“Oh, my God. Stella, is that you?” I froze at the sound of the voice, which was not exactly the reaction I wanted to have. I knew who that voice belonged to: Grace Whitcomb. We had been rivals of sorts, back in the days when I’d been racing; I’d beaten her more than she’d beaten me, though of course the race where I’d crashed, she had won. I knew it was her without even having to turn my head completely; she had this odd combination of accents, like maybe French or possibly Italian, but the real reason for her strange way of talking was the fact that she’d basically been a world traveler from the time she was born and had pretty much gone everywhere that anyone might want to go.
I turned all the way, forced my face into a smile. “Grace!” I said. “Wow! It’s you.”
She came over, arms wide—obviously an embrace was about to happen. I started to stand but she was hugging me before I’d straightened, so it was pretty awkward. The whole time I was aware of Cole sitting there, a bemused expression on his face. I knew he’d watched some races and I couldn’t help but wonder if he recognized Grace. She wasn’t classically beautiful like Lauren, but she had this worldly air to her that most people found irresistible.
“It’s so funny—I was just talking about you and now here you are!” she exclaimed.
I didn’t ask what she’d been saying about me or whom she’d been talking to, though I wanted to. Instead, I just forced a bigger grin and nodded to Cole. “This is Cole,” I said. “Cole, this is Grace.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Grace said, and she extended a long, tan arm. “I’m not trying to interrupt anything, but I was just walking by and I happened to glance over and I was like, holy crap, I think that’s Stella Brookshire! And sure enough, it is! Can I sit for a moment? Can we catch up?” Her eyes darted to Cole and then back to me. “Unless I’m intruding on a date or something, in which case—”
“It’s not a date,” I said quickly. “Have a seat.”
Grace sat down right as the waitress brought our food out. The burger looked amazing, but I suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Oh, wow,” Grace was saying. “That looks delicious.”
“Would you like me to put an order in for you?” the waitress asked brightly.
Grace shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m training right now and have to watch what I’m eating. But, man... if I wasn’t... I could probably eat three of those!”
“
You girls really should do competitive eating contests in the off-season,” Cole said.
He picked up his own burger and took a huge bite, completely unbothered by this whole situation. Of course he would be, though—Grace hadn’t been one of his biggest rivals. Grace wasn’t still doing everything that he could’ve—should’ve—been doing. The burger’s aroma wafted toward me and my stomach clenched. There was no way in hell I was going to eat this now, not with Grace sitting right there, looking all sleek and svelte and like the picture of goddamn health.
“So,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral, “how’s everything been with you? What are you up to?”
“Things are good! Life has been crazy, as I’m sure you know. I’m really glad for a few days of downtime. Then I’ll heading out to Val di Sole.”
“Cool,” I said. I loved Val di Sole; it had been one of my favorite places to race. I felt a twinge of jealousy, which I tried to ignore. I didn’t want to be that person. “That’s such a fun track out there.”
“You should totally come out,” Grace said. “That would be awesome! Do you think you could?”
“Um, maybe.” It would be possible, of course. I could easily take one of Dad’s private jets over there, but there was no way in hell I was going to do that. The only thing worse than sitting here at this table with Grace would be having to stand on the sidelines and watch her ride in a race that I’d previously beat her in.
“I’m sorry,” Grace said. “That was actually really insensitive of me to say. I mean, of course we would love if you were there, but I understand why that might be hard.”
I forced a bright look. “What do you mean? It would be fun. I’m just not sure I’d be able to fit it in right now with my schedule.” I didn’t elaborate, and luckily she didn’t ask.
“Well, maybe another time,” she said. “Anyway. I’ve got to run; I’ve got a cupping-therapy appointment. But I’m so glad I ran into you! Really.” She leaned over and gave me an awkward half hug.
“Good luck,” I said. And then she was gone.
Cole looked at me. “Cupping therapy?”
I barely heard him, though. The burger on my plate was a lukewarm, soggy mess. My former biggest rival was heading off to one of my favorite places in a few days. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, hard, but it worked—the pain was enough of a distraction that I was able to keep the tears at bay.
Chapter 13
Cole
I could tell Stella was bothered, but was trying not to show it. After Grace had left, she stared off in the direction she had disappeared in for a while, as if looking for long enough might be able to conjure her back just to be able to tell her off.
“You okay?” I asked.
Stella scowled. “I’m fine,” she snapped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, no reason. Other than you look like you want to kill the next person who is foolish enough to inquire about your well-being.”
“Is that an option?”
She didn’t need to tell me that seeing Grace had reopened old wounds, had been a painful reminder of how her life could’ve been if she was still racing. I didn’t want her to be feeling that way, but I knew there was nothing I could say that would change that.
“Are we walking anywhere in particular?” I asked as I pushed the Moots along next to her.
“No,” she said. “I just want to walk. And not talk.”
So we did that. I fell in step behind her, since we were on the sidewalk, and I watched her as she strode along. Really, I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that everything was going to be okay, though that was probably not what she was wanting right then. We came to an intersection, and instead of waiting for the light to change so we could cross, she turned right and we started walking down that block.
We walked for quite a while, neither of us saying anything. She obviously didn’t have any place in particular in mind, but we were now in the neighborhood of the bike shop I frequented, so I figured we could stop in there.
“Hey,” I said, finally breaking the silence between us that had been going on for probably almost half an hour. Stella turned her head slightly but kept walking. “You want to check out this bike shop?”
She took several more steps before responding. “Sure.”
We went into the bike shop. Stella left her three-speed out in the rack by the front door, but I brought the Moots in with me, since I didn’t have a lock. This was a decent neighborhood, but I didn’t want to take the chance. There was another rack inside that I left the Moots in. I thought maybe I’d get something for Stella, something small and silly, like a bike bell with a design on it, to cheer her up. I could tell, though, her mood improved a little once we were inside and she saw all the bikes. None of them were anywhere near the caliber of her own bikes, but for someone who enjoys bikes, just being around them can sometimes be enough.
The store was two levels, with clothing and accessories upstairs, the bike showroom and the mechanic’s shop on the lower level. The mechanics were working at the back of the store; there were three bike stands set up, all of them in use. I needed to pick up some more tire sealant, so I started to walk toward the back where they kept that sort of stuff. Stella came with me, and I was about to say something when the strangest expression crossed her face. She stopped dead in her tracks and just stared. For a second I thought it must’ve been one of the bikes that was being worked on; she was looking right in that direction. But the bikes currently being worked on weren’t that impressive—two commuters and a Cannondale that definitely looked like it had seen better days. I followed her gaze. She wasn’t looking at the bikes, but at one of the guys who was working on the bikes, on the Cannondale. He was bleeding the brakes and hadn’t noticed her yet. An ex-boyfriend? Someone she used to ride with? I grabbed the bottle of tire sealant, figuring that it was better to just not say anything, when the guy looked up and saw Stella staring at him.
He visibly paled. If this was an ex-boyfriend of hers, their relationship obviously hadn’t ended well. He set the syringe down on the workbench and started to pull off his latex gloves. Stella stiffened.
“I didn’t realize you worked here,” she said when the guy came over. To say he looked nervous would be the understatement of the year.
“I had to find work somewhere.”
The guy was probably in his mid-twenties, a tall, lanky fellow with the suggestion of a beard and several silver rings piercing both of his ears. He looked vaguely familiar, though it was probably just that I had run into him here before.
“This is Marty,” Stella said, her voice tight.
He held his hand out to me. “What’s up,” he said.
“Hey. I’m Cole.” His palm was cool and sweaty. He seemed agitated, and he kept looking at Stella and then looking away. I almost wanted to reach out and pat him on the shoulder and tell him to take a couple of nice, deep breaths.
“Yeah. Yeah. I think I’ve seen you in here before.”
“I got one of my bikes here a few years ago.”
“Cool, cool.” He eyed Stella. “How... how have you been?”
“Things have been all right,” she said. “I’ve been riding again a little bit.”
He actually smiled when he heard this. “Oh, yeah? Is... is your dad okay with that?”
“Of course he is,” Stella said. “He’s been really supportive of it.”
It was hard to read the expression that crossed his face. This whole situation was completely bizarre. What the hell was going on? The vibe in the air was almost palpable, and it wasn’t a particularly good one.
Several more awkward seconds passed, and then finally the guy stammered that he’d better get back to work. He eyed me once, as if trying to figure out just who I was. I stared right back at him, and he gave me a weak smile and a halfhearted wave.
I paid for the tire sealant and was back outside before realizing that I hadn’t done what I’d intended to do in the first place: get something for Stella.
&n
bsp; “So, what was that all about?” I asked as she got her bike out of the rack. My plan had been to wait for her to bring it up, but I couldn’t help myself.
She glanced back toward the shop as we walked away. “You have just met my former mechanic.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say after that. I had never really thought that we’d run into him, though why I thought that was sort of dumb—if he lived here in the city, chances were pretty good that we would certainly see him at some point or another. San Francisco might be a city, but in many ways it was more like a small town.
“Could this day get any weirder?” Stella asked. “Am I not allowed to have a day where I can just relax and enjoy myself? I have to see all these ghosts from my past. First we see Grace, and now Marty? Who’s next?”
“I didn’t realize he worked there,” I said. “I’m sorry. I guess I might’ve seen him around before; he did look kind of familiar.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know him,” Stella said. “It’s not like I ever talk about him or anything. It’s just... I wasn’t expecting to see him. I never saw him again, after that day. I had always thought he’d come see me at the hospital, or maybe stop by after I was back home, but he never did.”
“Wow,” I said. “Really?”
“Yeah. Maybe he thought my dad wouldn’t want him around or something, or maybe he just felt too bad about the whole thing. I don’t know. We weren’t best friends or anything, but we had definitely spent a lot of time together. And he was a good mechanic. Is a good mechanic.” She shrugged. “It’s just weird to see him. I know that some people blame him for what happened. I don’t, though.”
“That’s probably why he stayed away.” It was, in my opinion, kind of his fault to begin with. Yes, things happened, and mechanical failures were possible in anything, but as the mechanic, he should’ve made sure everything was in perfect working order before Stella raced. And if something on the bike failed, then, yes, he should be the one held responsible.
“And I can understand that. I just... I wasn’t prepared for that.”
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