The Chosen Ones

by Lisa Luciano

  “You’re the most attractive, smartest, strongest lady I’ve ever known. I think that was worth waiting for.”

  “So now what?” she asked.

  “Close your eyes, click your heels three times and say there’s no place like—” She shook her head.

  “I used up all my wishes an hour ago.”

  “You can have one of mine,” he said.

  She looked at the slight flecks of green in his deep brown eyes.

  “Don’t need it.”

  Carol pressed her lips to his, then closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his chest. She was home.

  Celebrations went on all over the Village long into the night, but Robby had no desire to join them. He ducked into the deserted auditorium that was being used as a movie theater, dropped into the last row, and leaned his head back against the seat, but didn’t look at the screen. He had something better. He closed his eyes and relived every moment of the last few hours.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning Robby hovered over the edge of the bed trying to stuff one last souvenir into his already bulging suitcase. He couldn’t leave without the usual potholders for his mother and shot glass for his fathers collection. He shuffled the contents of the bag twice more.

  “I surrender,” he said, staring at the mess before him.

  There was a knock at the door. Carol entered, immaculately dressed as usual, but looking pale and drawn as if seized by an unseen malady.

  “Bud,” she began slowly. “I’m going to ask you something and I want a straight answer.”

  Uh oh, he thought. This is trouble.

  She hadn’t called him Bud in years. It was a nickname she gave him when they first met because he reminded her of a flower getting ready to blossom. She only used it when she was very happy or very worried.

  “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Are you on anything?”

  He was sure he had misunderstood. It was one of her tests. The little mind games she played to keep him sharp. But there was no playful teasing or determined challenge in her eyes.

  “You mean drugs?” he asked.

  “Anything. Decongestants, cough syrup—”

  “No way. You know I’m clean.” His throat tightened. “What’s wrong?”

  “The ASF just called,” she said.

  The federation? he thought. What the hell could they possibly want? He felt his heart pushing against his ribs.

  “You tested positive for steroids.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It’s a mistake,” Robby said immediately.

  “The second sample came up the same.”

  This isn’t funny, he thought. Why are you doing this?

  The color left his face. His knees wanted to buckle, but didn’t.

  “This can’t be happening,” he pronounced, silently begging her to end the charade with a ‘Got you!’ or some other jibe.

  “The ISU’s called a press conference for tomorrow to announce it.”

  ASF. ISU. The alphabet soup swirled in his brain until he felt dizzy. He caught himself. This wasn’t the time for weakness.

  “They wanted to do it today, but I talked them into giving us twenty four hours to get our story straight,” her voice droned.

  “Our story straight? You make it sound like I need an alibi.”

  “You know what I mean. We can’t show any confusion that could be misconstrued as guilt.”

  “I haven’t even had a chance to defend myself. Why are they going public with this so fast?” he asked, still not believing they were even having this conversation.

  “Because it’s an albatross nobody wants hanging around their neck,” Carol explained.

  “So they’ll sacrifice me to keep skating’s reputation clean and the hell with the truth.”

  They both knew what lay ahead. Robby would be banned from the sport and stripped of his medal. Sudden sharp pain hammered his forehead.

  This is like a horror movie, he thought. The one where the guy gets an ice pick in the eye. But it’s not a movie. It’s real. And it’s happening to me.

  He wanted to fall into Carol’s arms. She was glad he quickly regained control since she was close to breaking down as well. He snatched a few short breaths and stared at the mud-colored hotel carpet.

  “I don’t understand. I didn’t take anything.”

  “Then maybe you were given something.”

  He needed a minute to absorb that. His brain didn’t work that way.

  “How could someone do that?” he asked, staring sadly into her eyes.

  Carol realized his innocence, which she so loved, might now be his greatest enemy.

  “Did you eat anywhere other than in the Village cafeteria?”

  He shook his head.

  “It didn’t have to be a meal. It could’ve been something like a piece of candy—”

  “No, there was nothing,” he said angrily.

  “Wait a minute. There was some talk a few years ago… No. No,” she murmured, shaking her head.

  “What?”

  “Remember after your last performance? The little girl with the tray of drinks?”

  “Not really. I mean, I know she must’ve been there, but I didn’t pay atten--”

  “I wouldn’t have thought twice about it either, except that she was so insistent.”

  “That’s right,” Robby said, suddenly conjuring the image of her blonde braids and pink cheeks in his mind. “She was blocking my view of the scoreboard. I finally took the juice just to get rid of her.”

  There was a solemn pause.

  “Damn. If that was it, it’ll be impossible to prove,” Carol said.

  “Maybe if we can find out who—”

  “It had to be somebody who stood to gain by knocking you out.”

  “That could be anybody in the top five, even the top ten,” he said, pointlessly flapping his arms like a bird with clipped wings.

  “No, I think we can narrow it down to somebody who had a realistic shot at winning.”

  “Glenn?” he suggested.

  “Or Dimitri. It makes sense. Dale was never a factor. Once Freeman and TJ… It would’ve been between the three of you. You were their only real threat.”

  “But they knew the judges held me down in the short. The door was open.”

  “Maybe one of them wanted some accident insurance.”

  Robby was amazed at how steady her hand was as she picked up the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, don’t talk to any—”

  The door slammed.

  “Robby!” she yelled, dropping her hand that was still clutching the phone. Robby was welcomed into his friend’s room. They stood only a few feet apart, yet Robby could feel the distance between them even if Dimitri did not.

  “I’m glad you came. I wanted to say goodbye,” Dimitri said, stuffing the last bit of a buttered croissant into his mouth.

  He plunged into momentary despair as he realized if his plan to stay in the West failed, it might be the last one of those he’d be tasting for a while. He shook off the gloom and sucked the crumbs from his fingertips.

  “Yeah, you sure gave me a memorable send off,” Robby answered calmly. “Why?” he suddenly demanded.

  Dimitri stared at him, debating whether to have another glass of fresh squeezed orange juice.

  “At least have the guts to admit it,” Robby said.

  “What are you talking about?” Dimitri asked, genuinely confused.

  “I just have to know one thing. Did you dope me yourself or did someone do it for you?”

  “What?”

  “That’s pretty good. You almost convinced me you were surprised. How’d you manage to fit acting lessons into your busy schedule?”

  “The drug test?”

  “Yeah, the drug test,” Robby said sarcastically. “Forget the humiliation of losing the gold. I’m looking at an automatic suspension. No sponsor will touch me. If I don’t come up with one hell of a
story tomorrow, I’m finished. I hope a lousy goddamn medal was worth destroying me and our friendship.”

  How could I have believed him? Robby thought, remembering his friend’s pronouncement. This is my last competition. Oh man. And I bought it. What an asshole.

  “How do you know it was not someone else? Like Chandler.”

  “Because Glenn doesn’t think he needs any help to beat me.”

  “And you think I do?”

  “I think you had the most to gain by knocking me out.”

  “I had nothing to do with it. You must believe that,” Dimitri protested.

  “I’d believe it if you hadn’t told me you were quitting.”

  “I am. So why do you accuse me?”

  “You said you were afraid of what would happen when you left. What better way to set yourself up for a pro career or a cushy coaching position than by clinching an Olympic title? If you could just squeeze past Glenn, with me out of the way, you had it locked.”

  Dimitri wiped the butter from his hands and hurled the cloth napkin at his breakfast tray so hard it nearly toppled over.

  “You still do not understand my people. This is the worst possible thing to happen. Don’t you see? Now it will be even harder to step down. I’ve brought glory to my country. I’m a symbol of achievement. Despite all the hardships, Russia survives. But there is no one else ready to follow, so they will expect me to carry on. To build a dynasty.”

  “Tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” Robby said, showing no sympathy. “Wasn’t the silver good enough?”

  “For me there is no second place, and whether you accept it or not, that is my reality,” Dimitri said, getting equally as intense. “We were given everything. The best coaches, training centers, houses, cars… and for all that, they asked only that we win. Now we’re left to our own devices even to find food and clothing, but they still expect us to win because we re not individuals. We’re simply cogs in a gigantic machine. When you win, it must be an indescribable personal victory that we can only imagine… and to be beaten by an American is a dishonor you can only imagine. Until now.”

  Robby bit his tongue to fight back a rush of sorrow and fear.

  “When what has happened to you becomes known, there will be some people in my country who will be… how do you say it… dancing in the streets. They’ll rejoice at seeing an American go down in disgrace.”

  Robby looked at the lifeless olive curtains to avoid Dimitri’s face. “I’m so sorry. But I did not do it,” said Dimitri.

  He believed him. Damn it.

  “Does anyone else know you’re quitting?” Robby asked.

  “You, my wife, and…”

  Robby felt uneasy at the pause.

  “A few weeks ago I made the stupid mistake of telling my coach,” Dimitri said, embarrassed by the admission.

  “What was his reaction?”

  “Try to imagine this great bear of a man, slipping and sliding his way across the ice in street shoes, trying to get his hands around my throat.”

  “Did he try to talk you out of it?”

  “My friend, if you were handcuffed to a man who was about to jump off a building, would you try to talk him out of it?”

  “So he knows that he’s about to be unemployed,” Robby said, his mind racing. “And he might’ve told someone else.”

  “Most likely.”

  “And there’s been no pressure?”

  “I believe they were afraid to distract me before the competition, but I’m sure there will soon be many kind men who will try to help me see the error of my ways,” Dimitri said, slumping into a chair.

  “And being an Olympic gold medalist would be a real good inducement.” Dimitri’s eyes flashed with anger.

  “I told you, I didn’t—”

  “No, not you. But what about someone else who has a stake in your success?”

  “My coach? No. He has no time for politics. He knows only skating. He was angry at first, but he is a practical man. Once I am gone, he will find another to take my place.”

  Dimitri suddenly sat up.

  “When are they to make the announcement?”

  “Tomorrow,” Robby answered softly.

  “Can you delay them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Try,” he said, jumping to his feet.

  “What—”

  “Trust me. I’ll do what I can.”

  Brody kept an eye out for security guards as he yanked the exhausted young woman around by her arm.

  “Now, listen. You’re in a whole lotta trouble. I can put in a good word for you with the police, but you gotta gIve me a reason.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “I want the guy who gave you the drugs.”

  “There are thousands of people here. What are the odds we’ll find him?”

  “You better hope we get lucky, otherwise, they’re gonna find you a tall tree and a short rope, and I’ll be there cheerin’ ‘em on when they do.”

  They continued to search.

  “Wait. There he is,” she said, pointing to a casually dressed man of about twenty who was trying to make time with a group of female athletes.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. He walked her over to a security guard.

  “Hang onto this for me, will ya?” he said, offering him the woman’s arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “What the hell—” the guard sputtered.

  “Trust me. You do this, and I guarantee you’ll be a hero.”

  Brody strode over to the young man. Without discussion, he pulled him by his shirt collar into a corner.

  “Hey. Get your hands off me!” he said, fighting to get free.

  Brody released his grip, then pinned him against the wall, wedging his arm against his chest.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Joey. What’s it to ya?”

  “If I were you, Joey, I’d keep my voice down unless you want to spend the rest of your days bein’ the girlfriend of some guy doing twenty to life. I know who you are and I know who you work for.”

  “What do you want?” he asked, nervously.

  “Information about your boss.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Then let me enlighten you. I know you supplied TJ McNally with drugs. Drugs that killed him.”

  “There was nothin’ wrong with that stuff. It was top quality blow.”

  “You’re gonna have a hard time provin’ that, son. Especially if I go to the cops. Like that one right over there,” Brody said, pointing to a uniformed officer. “Still havin’ a memory problem?”

  “I can’t…” he said, shaking his head.

  “You’re makin’ this complicated. Read my lips. You’re in this up to your eyeballs. You got nothin’ to lose. You might as well tell me everything.”

  “Like?”

  “Like your boss, Ratner. What’s his part in this?”

  “Screw you. He’ll kill me if I talk.”

  “He’ll kill you if you don’t, cause I’ll tell him you did.”

  “No way. I can’t. I—”

  “I’m gonna make this simple for ya. Either he goes down or you do. But somebody’s gonna pay,” Brody said, finally releasing him.

  The young man indignantly shook back his shoulders to straighten his shirt. “Yeah, well, when the press finds out about Donovan’s drug test, what happened to McNally is gonna be yesterday’s news.”

  “Drug test. What the hell’re you talkin’ about?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Mr. Clean got caught dipping into the well. How’d that one slip through your net?”

  Dimitri walked briskly to his coach’s room. He entered to find the sheets rolled into a giant ball atop the bed as if a wrestling match had taken place. Blasko had spent ten years in the army before turning to coaching. The constant inspections and drills had taken their toll. If something could be left askew, it would be. He was hardly a revolutionary, but a part of himself he steadfa
stly refused to acknowledge secretly admired Dimitri’s occasional rebellions.

  “Yes. I have heard,” said Blasko, casually thumbing through a newspaper. Though stunned by his coach’s candor, Dimitri felt a twinge of hope that at least he would not have to play games.

  “Do you know who was responsible?”

  “What do you mean?” his coach asked.

  “Robby told me he was drugged.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “Yes,” Dimitri said with conviction.

  “Americans watch too much television. They see spies and plots around every corner.”

  Blasko abandoned the sports pages and rummaged through the other sections scattered across the table.

  “What was to be gained? Taking drugs offers no advantage to a skater. It wouldn’t have been worth the risk,” Dimitri argued.

  “Perhaps he was desperate,” his coach said with a shrug.

  “He wouldn’t have done that to himself.”

  Blasko dismissed him with a wave of his meaty hand.

  “You’re so very naíve.”

  “How could I be otherwise? For years you kept me locked away like a precious hothouse flower.”

  “If you’re accusing me of caring more about your career than you do, of that I am guilty.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dimitri said, unconsciously bowing his head. “I know you’ve done what you think best.”

  “I put you above everything else. All my other students, my family, even myself.”

  “Yes, and because of that you’ve blinded yourself to the truth.”

  “What truth?” his coach asked, throwing down the paper.

  “There are many things I know nothing of, but if I’ve learned anything about our country and the people who live there, it’s how to detect a lie.”

  “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Then tell me who drugged Robby Donovan.”

  “Dimitri, don’t concern yourself with this.”

  As a young boy, Dimitri always obeyed without question. Nothing seemed possible, so there was nothing to gain, nothing to strive for. He never expected to be happy. He didn’t see it as a birthright. But Robby did. And if it was within his power, he would not allow someone else’s dream to be stolen away. He summoned the rage of countless oppressed generations and faced his coach with a ferocity in his eyes that the older man had never seen before.