by Lisa Luciano
“Yeah.”
“Then why not tell the world?”
“Because it’s none of their damn business. If I’ve learned anything from this sport, it’s that you have to pick your battles. And that’s one I can’t win. I could screw the entire chorus line on the stage of Rockefeller Center and most of the people on this planet would still think I’m gay. Come on. Admit it. You came in thinking the same thing.”
“Yeah, well… ” Brody hesitated. Apologies were not his specialty. “I was wrong. About that and a lot of other things.”
Robby chuckled.
“That’s one. Now I only have to give that speech 199,999,999 more times to make some progress… in this country. Then I can start working on the rest of the world.”
“Goin’ public about your relationship with Brigitta wouldn’t hurt.”
Robby’s head snapped to the side to face Brody.
“What do you know about that?”
“Not as much as I’d like to.”
“You want the gory details? Maybe we should be huddled in the corner of a locker room clutching copies of Playboy,” Robby said, gleefully rubbing his hands together.
“I’m only concerned with keepin’ you alive.”
He didn’t know why, but Robby believed him.
“I’d seen her for years from a distance at different competitions,” Robby explained. “To a kid coming up the ranks she was like some goddess. Untouchable. Above the rest of us. I almost got up the nerve to talk to her a few times, but she was never alone. Then after the Olympics she disappeared. She went off to do a European tour. I signed with WTL.”
“So you did work for ‘em.”
“Not for long. They promised me the moon. I didn’t know they planned to turn me into a little satellite orbiting Glenn, their superstar. They forced me to do crappy numbers and made me water down my routines so he wouldn’t look bad by comparison. They didn’t care about me. They just wanted to suck what they could out of the attention I got during the Olympics. So I quit.”
Brody was impressed. A man with standards. He couldn’t think of one other person he knew who would give up guaranteed money.
“Didn’t you have a contract?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t care,” said Robby without a hint of bravado. “My dad talked to a lawyer. He said they couldn’t make me skate, but the trade off was that they could slap me with an injunction if I tried to skate for anybody else. I’d have to sit out the length of the contract. Fortunately, it was only for two years.”
“That’s an eternity for an athlete,” Brody said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
The temperature was dropping rapidly with the setting sun. Robby didn’t seem to notice.
“Tell me about it. I figured I’d take a vacation. You know. Just any place warm. It would be the first real one I ever had. I kept making plans, but I never did it. Then I was invited to an exhibition of medalists. It was for charity. Since I wasn’t getting paid, WTL couldn’t stop me from doing it. The choreographer wanted us to pair up for the opening and closing number. Of course, Brigitta was there. She should have been with Glenn. He was the other gold medalist, but she needed a taller partner, so they threw us together.” He dropped his head, almost embarrassed to continue. “I know it sounds corny, but when she took my hand that first time, it was like electricity shot through me.”
“I’ll bet,” Brody said, grinning.
“No, I’m not talking sexual. That came later.”
Jesus! Brody thought. The guy’s laid one of the most desirable women on the planet and he says it like he’s readin’ a damn shoppin’ list.
Robby continued.
“It was as if she could read what was inside of me and I could do the same to her. Like our souls were meeting again, instead of for the first time.”
“Weren’t you just a mite intimidated?”
“That’s what’s so crazy. I expected to be. But there was a look on her face that she never showed the world, like she trusted me and wanted me to protect her.”
“Protect her from what? What’d she have to be afraid of?”
“That’s what I had to find out.”
The light was fading. A half moon slowly began to make its appearance.
“Before I could stop myself, I was telling her all my problems. My dreams. My deepest fears. I’d never opened up to anyone like that before. Not even Carol And she knew. Brigitta understood exactly what I was feeling.”
Robby thought back to one day in particular. After the exhibition rehearsal, they’d run into each other in the hotel lobby. Brigitta looked so much smaller, almost delicate. He knew as did every skater that boot heels and blades add a good four inches to everyone’s height, but it wasn’t that. Not only her noticeably absent bulk, but her reserved demeanor stood in stark contrast to the on-ice dominatrix who devoured men and scared off frail females who made the mistake of crossing her path.
It seemed too easy. Robby wondered if she had been waiting for him. Whether it was the hand of fate or some grand plan hatched in her scheming little head, he was grateful when she asked him to dinner.
Her hearty appetite surprised him. The possibility of her excusing herself and dashing off to the ladies room where she would jam her fingers down her throat like so many other skaters he’d known did occur to him. But she not only seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her prime rib and French fries smothered in melted cheese, but the company as well.
“Come skate with me,” she cooed with a slight, utterly irresistible accent as the flickering flame of the candle in the center of the table ignited her deep brown eyes.
“What?”
“Yes. Together we can show them magic.”
“I can’t,” Robby insisted, wishing there was some way to take back the words and the reality behind them. “Not for another six months. Besides, I’ve got nowhere to go.”
She reached out for his hand and covered it with her own. He noticed a huge ruby sparkling on her ring finger.
“If I could get us our own tour, would you do it?”
“Us? Together? Here, in America? It can’t be done.”
“Nonsense,” she said, leaning back and fingering the matching necklace that hung just above her full bosom which was barely covered by the material of her plunging neckline. “I always get what I want. Just leave it to me.”
Robby was amazed that he could still evoke such vivid images in his mind. He hadn’t seen her in over a year. Brody needed no explanation as he forced himself not to gaze at the back door of the house leading to the kitchen.
“When I was with her I didn’t know where I was. And I didn’t care. She made time stop. She was a beautiful princess from a magic kingdom who pulled me into her world where I could be fearless, strong… perfect.”
“It had to be a rush knowin’ you had what so many other guys wanted.”
Robby nodded, his face betraying a not-so-pleasant memory.
“She enjoyed it too. And played it up for all it was worth. On and off the ice she was a temptress, daring men to resist her.”
“And in bed?”
Every inch of Brigitta’s body was round and soft, except for her hands that were chapped as were Robby’s from constant exposure to the cold. Sometimes she would wait for him to initiate sex, but just as often she would come up behind him and press her warm flesh against his. He knew it was useless to make excuses. He had none anyway. He’d never wanted a woman so much in that way before.
A few months later, they secretly bought a house together. Even after the media finally discovered their hideaway, Robby still insisted they were simply roommates and that it was a practical decision since they spent virtually every waking moment together while preparing to launch the tour. No one believed it, but no one had proof of anything more than a very solid professional partnership. Urged by their tour manager, Barry Sampson, to let the world see what they were hiding, lest something more scandalous and damaging be invented, Robby finally relented much
to Brigitta’s delight.
A news crew from a local talk show came to videotape a typical day at home with skating superstars, touring partners, and good friends, Robby Donovan and Brigitta Besch. No matter how hard they tried, she couldn’t get through even a single take. Her giggling was uncontrollable. Robby knew why, but could only watch helplessly as she charmed every man in the room into letting her have one more try. She was thinking exactly what Robby was. Everywhere they aimed the camera was a spot where they’d made love. The bed, the floor, the table.
Thank God the walls can’t talk, he thought.
She was more than ready to go public with their affair, but something he couldn’t explain told him to hold back even if it made every man question his sanity and every woman wonder about his true sexual leanings.
Well after the crew had packed up and gone, Brigitta was not content to close the book on the subject. In the middle of their love-making sessions that went on as long as she desired, she would somehow find the strength to conduct a conversation.
“Why can we not say something?” she asked as she dug her short, neatly trimmed and polished nails into Robby’s bare back.
“Can this wait?” he answered, his knees sinking into the plush living room carpet as he placed himself between her meaty thighs.
“Are you ashamed to admit our love?”
Love. Is that what this is? he wondered.
He eased himself inside her. She appreciated his sensitivity and desire not to hurt her, but she wanted to feel him, all of him. She wanted every ounce of the energy he possessed, but seemed to show only when they skated, to race through her veins. Urging him on with breathless words in a language he didn’t understand, her shoulders and buttocks burned as they rubbed against the rug beneath them. She clamped her hands along the side of his head and directed his mouth over hers. His hands found her ample breasts that had flopped off to the sides. Clasping them, he guided them back in place, then brushed the tips of his fingers across her hard nipples, trying to soften them. They were as unyielding as she was.
“Sounds too good to be true,” Brody said, his voice wrenching Robby back.
“It was,” Robby agreed, his chest still vibrating at the mere thought of her.
“What went wrong?”
“When you open up to someone, you can’t pick and choose what they see. It took a while, but eventually we both realized we were playing a game. In the dark under the spotlights we could be anyone we wanted. But in the light of day… We weren’t the same people off the ice. And the truth is, when we got a good look at each other, we didn’t much like what we were seeing.”
His mind jumped back once more.
Technicians circled the arena carrying props and light fixtures. The ice was empty except for he and Brigitta working on a number in rehearsal clothes. It annoyed her that his outfits were never color-coordinated. He could never understand who she primped for since in a matter of minutes she’d be sweating right through those carefully chosen garments.
“Let’s try it again,” Robby said.
“Is good enough,” Brigitta argued, brushing her hand in the air like she was dismissing a servant.
“For who?”
“So we make a mistake. The audience will never know. Or if they do, they don’t care.”
“Don’t you care?” Robby challenged.
“Uh oh,” whispered one roadie to another as he tried to undo a giant knot of electrical cables jumbled on the ground beyond the boards. “Batten down the hatches. There’s a storm brewing.”
“You drive me so hard,” Brigitta whined. “I’ll have no energy for the performance.”
“Well, maybe if you laid off all those desserts you wouldn’t be puffing like an overloaded train chugging up a steep hill.”
“Oh!” she huffed, her full red lips parted in outrage.
Robby grabbed a tissue from a box sitting on the rail. It was one of the few things he hated about practicing. His nose was always running from breathing so hard in the moist cold air.
“It’d be a hell of a lot easier on me too,” he continued. “I have to lift every cookie and cake you shove in your mouth.”
She smoothed her hands along her curvaceous hips, across her slightly protruding tummy, and up to her breasts that were unrestricted by a bra.
“You don’t seem to mind my body when we make love.”
“You’re better in bed than you are on the ice. But then, that’s something you’ve spent more time practicing.”
She glided slowly to him, smiling. Suddenly, she sucked in her cheeks and pursed her lips.
“Scheisse!” she screeched, smashing her fists into his chest.
Caught by surprise, Robby couldn’t hold his balance and fell flat on his butt. He watched her stalk off, not even taking time to put on her skate guards. As she waddled into the tunnel he could hear her muttering phrases in her native language. She’d taught him a little. None of the comments sounded even vaguely flattering.
“Whoa,” Brody said. “You were bein’ kinda tough on her, weren’t ya? I mean, you really hit her where it hurts.”
“You should’ve seen some of the shots she took at me.”
Brody’s mind raced with the possibilities.
“Like?” he asked, unable to resist.
“Like flirting with every guy that crossed her radar screen.”
“Hot to trot, huh?”
“She likes to enjoy life,” Robby said as diplomatically as possible. “I knew that when we first got together. But I didn’t count on getting so…” Whatever he was thinking, he shook it off. “I think she did it mostly to make me crazy. To see if I cared enough to do something.”
“Did you?”
Robby paused. He was tired.
“Neither one of us admitted it, but the things we fought about weren’t really the problem.”
“What was?” Brody asked.
“It was too good. We were reaching a point where we either had to make a commitment or split up. But what kind of a life could we have together? Her home and family were in Europe, not to mention her big endorsements. My opportunities were here. One of us would have to quit skating or we’d spend the rest of our lives waving to each other from airport terminals. She loves it as much as I do, maybe for different reasons, but skating’s the most important thing in our lives.”
He tried to remember if he’d ever actually said those words to Paige and if it was something she could even understand, much less accept. Even more bewildering to him was why he was thinking of her at all.
“Whoever made the sacrifice would resent the other person for it and eventually it would destroy what we had,” he said, remembering the scrapbook photo he’d once seen of his mother at the age of twenty dancing in a Broadway musical. “That’s when I realized it would never work.”
At that moment Brody hated Robby. Not only did he get to live out the dream of being a world class athlete Brody once wanted so badly, he had avoided the agony of sacrificing something he desired for another.
“Who broke it off?” he asked.
“It just kind of happened. Towards the end it was pretty bad. We were fighting all the time. If the tour hadn’t gone under we probably would’ve split up anyway… Yeah… Probably we would have.”
“Tell me about that.”
Robby leaned against a gray-stained wooden fence and watched two horses munching the last blades of grass they could find on the barren field beside the road.
“It was a good day. One of the rare ones. Neither of us had taken a shot at the other in twenty four hours. When we were called into Barry Sampson’s office and Ralph Ratner was sitting there smiling, I should’ve known something was up. Barry usually came to see us to brag about the latest venues or new dates he’d stolen out from under Glenn and his goons.”
“Wait. Who are Barry Sampson and Ralph Ratner?”
“Sampson was our tour manager. Ratner is Glenn’s agent.”
“What the hell was Glenn’s agent doi
n’ there?”
“Exactly what I was wondering.”
Robby and Brigitta settled into the comfortable leather chairs, feeling like kids who had mistakenly been sent to the principal’s office.
“Robby, Brigitta,” Sampson began slowly. “I have some terrible news. There’s been an accident. Juergen was apparently out boating at his summer place. We don’t have all the details yet, but he’s been killed.”
The color drained from Brigitta’s face. It was the only time Robby had ever seen her look scared. He took her hand. It was as cold as his.
“Juergen?” Brody asked.
“The guy she convinced to back our tour. Some European businessman. He didn’t care about the skating. Actually, I think he had a thing for Brigitta and she strung him along.”
“Is that all she did?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“How badly did she want that tour?”
“You son-of-a-bitch!” Robby shouted, charging at him.
He jammed Brody into the railing. The fence rocked as Brody bounced off of it. He could have easily knocked Robby flat. In his condition, Robby was no match for his bigger, stronger opponent. Robby wanted to make another run at him, but moaned as if he’d been gut-punched and doubled over instead. Brody put his hand on the young man’s back.
“Sorry, man. I was out of line,” Brody said, trying to make amends, but fully prepared for the possibility of another attack.
There was nothing to fear. Robby’s anger had evaporated, replaced by intense pain. Hell, he’d wondered the same thing more than a few times, but could never get a straight answer from Brigitta about it. Brody helped him stand up. After taking several deep breaths, Robby finished the story.
“Juergen’s body wasn’t even cold yet and Barry had cut a deal with WTL. The bastard sold the tour out from under us and tried to tell us he was doing us a favor. That without a major sponsor wed have no chance. He worked it out with Ratner so we could skate on Glenn’s tour. They even promised to make us the stars. I wonder if Glenn knew about that. All his hard work and devotion to them and they were ready to toss him away like a used paper towel. Brigitta said yes right away. She was petrified. But I couldn’t do it. I knew we’d just be well-paid slaves. Brigitta started crying. I think it was finally hitting her that it was all over. Our tour was gone. It wasn’t just a job, you know? It was something Brigitta and I had created together. It was…”