by Lyz Kelley
Kate snatched the basket of rolls from my hand and set it down. “No carbs unless you’re actively racing or training. “We need to work on sliming you down, Bailey. You can’t race in the mountains carrying that extra weight.”
Extra weight?
Holy hell. Did the director just call me fat with a capital F in front of everyone? My cheeks burning, I clenched my jaw to keep the last bite of my paltry dinner from dribbling out my mouth, while Kate continued to blather on about food choices and optimal nutrition.
Trying not to gag on the salmon now stuck in my throat, I wanted to run off to my room and bawl my eyes out. But I refused to give in to my bruised ego. No way would I start my training here a wimp.
After swallowing the fish and hoping the lump wasn’t a bone, I raised my head and met my director’s steely gaze head-on. I even managed to plaster a smile on my face as I forked off another bite of salmon. “Are there any more veggies? The asparagus was particularly good.”
Celeste rose from her chair and headed into the kitchen. She returned with a grill pan. “Anybody else want more?”
No one else seemed interested. Yay, more asparagus for me. I scraped the olive green spears onto my plate. My pee tomorrow would stink, a small price to pay for not starving.
Kate leaned back in her seat and studied me with an arched brow, but this time I kept my cool. Did she expect me to argue about her plan to turn me into a lean, mean, racing machine? Nuh-uh. The Lady Spinners were my ticket to the pros and if losing ten pounds would give me the needed edge, I could forego junk food. I mean, how hard could that be?
A lot harder than I thought.
That night in bed, I tossed and turned, my stomach growling. What I would have given right then for a slice of deep-dish pizza, a Chicago hot dog, or my mother’s chicken and rice casserole. I gripped my pillow as visions of chocolate cake danced before my eyes.
How many hours until breakfast?
I awoke to counting. Seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one …
Planked on the floor, Celeste was pumping her arms up and down. Nothing like a hundred push-ups to start the day. But she wasn’t done. Dip. Clap. Dip. Clap. Was this girl for real? I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling rafters as an ominous feeling wormed into my gut. This wasn’t a training team. This was a fucking boot camp.
Celeste sprung to her feet. Sheesh. Who had that much energy in the morning?
“Come on,” she said, pointing at me. “Get moving, girl.” A sheen of sweat on her skin highlighted her prominent muscles. “Good to get your blood pumping.”
I climbed out of bed and groped for the bedroom door, shaking my head. The only thing I wanted to pump was the handle on a toilet. After returning from the bathroom, I grabbed my shower bag, wanting hot water and hot coffee. In that order.
Celeste gestured to my shower bag. “You might want to hold off. Breakfast ends in five minutes.”
Without a second thought, I tossed the bag back onto my bed. I was so not missing breakfast.
“Wait!” She plucked her fingers through my hair. “There’s bed head, and then there’s just a hot mess.” She also tucked in the tag on my T-shirt.
“Thanks.” I gave her a sheepish grin before bolting for the dining room, skidding along the polished wood floor in my socks. The smell of eggs and bacon wafted down the hallway. My mouth watered and my stomach growled.
Reaching the dining room table, I spied a serving platter with two omelets oozing cheese and picked up a spatula, silently praising the egg gods for such delicious gooeyness.
Except another hand snatched my intended breakfast from beneath my plate. Noooo! I stared at the now empty serving platter, not knowing whether to cry or scream. Maybe both. Instead, I slumped into a chair.
Fixing me with a cold stare, the blonde thief slid both omelets onto one plate and passed it to another girl. What the hell? I munched on a couple pieces of bacon in silence. More and more, I was starting to think this place sucked.
“Here,” said a soft voice next to me.
A girl with long, black hair and waifish eyes sliced off half of her omelet. I’d already forgotten her name. Ally? Abby?
“I’m not very hungry,” she said, fiddling with a piece of toast.
“Are you sure?” I asked, dragging the offered half-omelet onto my dish. Was there some reason they didn’t make enough food here? Maybe Kate wanted us to fight for our rations. Toughen us up or something like on Survivor.
The waifish girl placed a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me. My stomach is doing somersaults. Has been for over a week.”
“Abby, maybe you should see a doctor,” someone said to her. “Could be stomach flu.”
“Or maybe you’re pregnant,” the nasty blonde said with a smirk.
Abby’s eyes widened. She gripped the table with white knuckles.
“Shut up, Natalie,” someone said to the blonde. “Don’t be such a bitch.”
“I’m gonna lie down,” Abby said, pushing her chair away from the table. She slid her plate with her untouched breakfast toward me. “You can have the rest.” After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “Be careful.”
I watched her walk away, the back of my neck prickling. Be careful of what?
“Come on, everyone,” Alex Contador said, stacking dishes. “Group ride in a half-hour.”
Chairs scraped across the floor, but I returned my attention to eating.
Alex smiled at me. “Interested in riding, Bailey?”
I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Wish I could, but I can’t. My body needs to acclimate to the elevation before I begin training.”
Natalie snorted. “Or so you say.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
“What are ya, chicken?” Her mocking voice penetrated the now silent dining room. She placed her hands on her hips. “Plenty of athletes come to Colorado and perform full-out.”
One of the other riders nodded. “Do you think football teams that come here to play the Denver Broncos get time to acclimate?”
Both girls laughed.
“Maybe you’re too soft to be a bike racer,” Natalie challenged, crossing her arms.
I set down my fork—slowly, deliberately—and aimed what I hoped was my best laser-beam glare at her. “Bring it on, troll. I can outride you any day.”
She actually smiled. A real smile. “Not bad for a newbie. See you outside.”
What?
Celeste winked at me. Whoa. First test passed, apparently. I took a deep breath and the tension in my chest eased somewhat.
Except now I had to ride. Arggh. What had I just gotten myself into?
Chapter 21
After suiting up in bike shorts and a jersey, I grabbed my bike and followed the other riders out the front door of the ranch, allowing one final glance over my shoulder to ensure Kate was nowhere in sight. I didn’t need the director chewing me out for riding too soon.
We hit the open road and fanned out. I didn’t see a car in any direction—so unlike the Chicago area. During the first five miles or so, the road remained blissfully flat and the lead riders maintained an easy pace. The skies were clear and blue, the sun warm, and the snow-capped peaks in the distance seemed almost otherworldly to me.
Out of nowhere, a gentle incline in the road grew quickly into a steep hill, and I had to push hard just to keep up with the other riders.
Alex dropped back from the group and rode alongside me. “Doing okay?”
“Yup. Doing great.” I flashed him a smile.
“Don’t keep going if you’re hurting,” he said, obviously not buying my act. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
“Except to myself,” I replied, squinting into the sun. “I’m here to train, Alex. I can’t have my own teammates thinking I’m weak.”
He shrugged. “Your body, your risk.”
“Picking up the pace,” someone shouted from the front of the group. The riders jockeye
d for position as they attacked the upcoming hill.
Crap. This was it. The moment of my doom. Left in the dust, I’d have to ride back to the ranch alone only to be sent home to Evanston, branded a failure. I took a swig from my water bottle to wash away the sour taste in my mouth. And watched the other riders pull way.
No. This was my chance to prove myself. My chance to be noticed. Forcing the doubts from my mind, I thought of the girl racing in Piran’s painting. Strong, athletic, tough. Beautiful. I could be that girl. Damn it. I was that girl.
The muscles in my legs clenched in readiness as I cranked down hard on the bike pedals. Hill-climbing was my specialty, and I wasn’t about to let a little less oxygen hold me back. I sucked in the deepest breath I could manage and let my inner diva fly.
But since I’d trailed off the back of the group, my inner diva had a bumpy flight. Head down, I lifted off the saddle and focused on my rhythm, chipping away at the gap. After another mile, my chest cramped with each labored breath.
Movement beside me caught my attention.
“Draft behind me,” Celeste said. She positioned her bike directly in front of mine, a trick which allowed me to conserve energy by cutting my wind resistance.
Together we climbed the next hill, even passing a couple riders along the way. Excitement energized my tired legs and gave my strained lungs a second wind. I pulled ahead of Celeste to return the drafting favor.
We finished cresting the hill and began down a steep decline. Thankfully, I possessed two optimal traits for handling descents— my size and fearlessness. Leaning low over the handlebars, I picked up speed, relishing the rush of air over my face. Yes! I zipped past several riders.
Able to hold the momentum, ascending the next hill was a breeze. Whipping around a bend and down another descent, I surged to the front of the group. Alex gave me a thumbs-up, and I grinned. Until another rider suddenly angled too close, and I had to veer to avoid a collision. Sheesh. Was she just not paying attention or did she dart at me on purpose?
I slipped back to a more protected spot, and Celeste broke away off the front. My competitive drive kicked in again, and I gave chase. But so did Natalie, and she hit harder. I let her jump ahead of me, more than willing to draft behind and bide my time. After a few minutes, we both caught up to Celeste, and I made my move—a slingshot pass around Natalie that propelled me ahead of Celeste as well.
My lead proved short-lived though as Natalie shot forward, and for the next few miles, the three of us rotated being the leader. Until the four Wheelmen joined our break. The guys rode front and center until we reached the turnaround point, then we rode even harder and re-captured the lead, laughing as we celebrated our hard-earned victory.
The Wheelmen chased us down and caught us, but I really didn’t care. I was having too much fun. My legs felt good, and I had no problems breathing. Most importantly, I felt part of the team. Accepted. The remaining riders never caught our breakaway group and we sailed over the hills back to the ranch. A wicked awesome training ride.
After dismounting, we carried our bikes inside the house. I hustled down the hallway toward my room, hoping to get first crack at the shower.
“Bailey Meyers!”
The director’s shrill voice stopped me in my tracks. I slowly turned around.
Hands on her hips, Kate glared at me. “Do you think the rules here don’t apply to you?”
The other riders remained in the foyer, but I knew they could hear Kate chew me out.
“The rules?” I asked with as much innocence as I could muster.
The director’s lips compressed. “When I said no training until you’d acclimated to the elevation, I meant it.”
“I … um …” My thigh muscles began to twitch. I could just see myself cramping up and falling to the ground in a spasm of pain. Not exactly the impression I wanted to give the director, considering I’d ridden before getting clearance. I dragged in a deep breath.
“Rules are rules for a reason,” she continued. “To protect you and to protect the team.”
Staring at my feet, I nodded.
“I can’t have riders on my team who don’t listen to me. You need to pack your belongings and book a flight home. You’re off the Lady Spinners.”
What?!? I jerked up, my heart pounding in my ears. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“But Kate,” Alex said. “We pushed her to ride with us.”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t care, Alex. She made a dangerous decision. What if she had suffered severe altitude sickness and fainted while riding?”
“But she didn’t,” Natalie replied, wiping down her bike with a rag. “She killed it out there.”
I blinked. Had Natalie just stood up for me?
“Please give her another chance,” Celeste asked. “Bailey’s tough. She’s exactly what our team needs.”
“I don’t know,” Kate said, raising her palms to the group. She focused on me, and I held my breath, saying a silent prayer. The director tapped a staccato beat on the ground with her foot. “You felt good out there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, nodding vigorously. Shit, I just called her ma’am! “Sorry. Yes, Kate.”
She snorted a laugh and shrugged. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I trust the team.” Pausing, she once again studied me. I bit my lip, trying not to fidget. Finally, she leaned back on her heels. “The Lady Spinners are racing this Saturday in Denver. You’ll be there.”
I nearly peed my pants. Celeste and Alex grinned.
Kate patted my shoulder. “Great to know you aren’t sensitive to the elevation and can race sooner rather than later, but if you ever disobey my directives again…”
I gulped, not needing to hear her say I’d be sent home. Probably blacklisted as well.
While excited to be racing with the Lady Spinners, I not only had to make sure I didn’t screw up any house rules, I had to prove I could handle the mountains.
Wow. Apparently, being part of a team didn’t mean protection from snippy, jealous comments. The race in Denver finished, we began the drive back to Colorado Springs. I hunkered down in my seat and stared out the van window, trying to tune out Natalie’s shame fest. I slipped a hand in my knapsack and clutched the envelope containing my second-place winner’s check. Two thousand bucks. Not bad for an afternoon’s work.
Even losing the race to Caroline of Team Ibsy didn’t hurt nearly as much as my new teammates shunning me. The longest one hour drive ever.
We pulled up to the ranch and piled out of the van. Alex greeted us and helped unload equipment. “How’d everyone do?”
Natalie’s sharp glare could have sliced my head off. “Knocked out of the final sprint. Somebody wasn’t blocking the way she should’ve been.”
Raising his eyebrows, Alex shifted his gaze to me.
“I did the best I could to help you,” I said to Natalie, gritting my teeth. “With that crash in the last turn, I saw an opportunity to leapfrog to the front of the pack. Was I supposed to just sit there and wait for you to get a new bike? Then neither of us would’ve made the top ten. This way, at least the Lady Spinners have a second-place finish.”
Alex nodded. “Sounds like good tactics to me.”
Her scrunched-up face bright red, the blonde stamped her foot. “No, she should have—”
“Natalie,” Kate interrupted. “Take a shower. Then meet me in my office.”
Natalie’s mouth fell open. She crossed her arms and huffed. “I’m the leader of the Lady Spinners. Bailey is supposed to be a good little domestique and support me during races. She should have given me her bike.”
Alex sucked in a breath. The other riders gathered around, attention glued to the drama in progress.
Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Natalie, we are not having this conversation right now.”
Natalie whirled around and stormed into the house.
Lips compressed, Kate gripped her spiked hair as if she wanted to pull it out. After a moment, she
turned to me. “The Silesian Fall Festival in Europe is in two weeks. Part of the festival is a women’s professional bike race through the capital of Silesia. Team Ibsy needs another rider, a domestique. I’m offering up you.”
Racing as a pro in Europe? No way! Wait…riding solely as Caroline’s servant?
Finding my ability to breathe again, I gave Kate a terse nod. Racing as a pro trumped all else, even if I had to deal with Caroline’s snarkiness.
“Good,” she said. “You raced well today, Bailey.” Her gaze flicked over my teammates. “I trust I don’t need to say more about this?”
I sent the director a silent thanks. Hopefully, this would stop the angry looks and snide comments. Then again, it could make them worse, considering Kate had just chosen me to race in Europe. I had a feeling I might be in for a rough time at the ranch.
We entered the house, and I kept to myself. Didn’t feel like socializing with my teammates at dinner. And from the looks on their faces, the feeling was mutual.
Later that evening, I called my parents to let them know I’d be racing in Europe. Dad whooped. Mom fretted. I promised her I’d text every day, not wander into dark alleyways, keep my cash hidden, and avoid acting like a tourist.
After several minutes of chitchat about the neighbor’s dog digging holes in our yard, Mom passed the phone to Kelsi.
“Hold on,” my sister said. “Let me go to my room.”
I could hear footsteps bounding up the stairs, then a door closing.
“Piran’s all over the Internet,” Kelsi finally said, sounding slightly breathless.
“What? What do you mean?”
“On a celebrity blog. You need to see this for yourself.”
I set my phone down and grabbed my laptop. “What’s the web address?”
She rattled it off while I typed. The site loaded, and I studied the flashy blog with a yawn. “Okay, so what am I looking for?”
“Page down.”
A picture of Piran standing with Princess Chanel scrolled into view, and my breath caught in my throat, my gut twisting in knots. Wearing a super short dress and killer heels, the princess had her hands wrapped possessively around Piran’s, a smug expression on her face. Another picture followed of the two of them in front of a restaurant, then another in front of a dance club. The headline declared, “FAE PRINCESS NABS HER PRINCE”.