by A. G. Henley
“Aw, V, we’re joking. You know we love you, girl.” Ali side-hugged her.
A girl of about ten approached our table from behind Veena. Her winter cap, a pink-and-white number with a pom-pom, was askew on her curly, black hair. She bit her lip as she shuffled over. Behind her, a long table of adults and kids in ski clothes watched, smiling in our direction. I turned toward the girl, but she didn’t exactly look villainous.
“Um, excuse me?” The little girl almost whispered. “Are you VV? The Olympic snowboarder?”
“That’s me.” Veena stood and straddled the back of her chair to face her. “Who are you?”
“Jordan.”
“That’s a rad name,” Veena said, and the girl beamed. “Do you ride?”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you good?” Ali asked.
“Not really. My brother is, though.” She pointed at an older boy at the table behind her.
“I’ll bet you’re better than you think,” Veena said. “What tricks can you do?”
“I can do an ollie and a fakie.” Jordan twisted a piece of her hair around her finger. “Oh, and I can jib a rail without bailing.”
Ali grinned. “Listen to her go.”
“Keep it up, Jordan,” Veena said. “Be brave and work hard, and you’ll be better than him soon.”
The girl pulled her hat off and thrust it and a black Sharpie she was carrying at Veena. “Could you sign my hat?”
“It might be messy. Is that okay?”
When she said it was, Veena scrawled across the chunky knit. “Oh, kale . . . did you ask your parents first? I hope they won’t get mad.”
“They won’t.” Jordan clutched the signed hat to her chest. “I hope you get gold at the Olympics. I’ll be watching you on TV.”
“Thanks, Jordan. Don’t stop riding, okay?” Veena held out her fist, and the girl bumped it.
“I won’t.”
Jordan hurried back to her table where her mom hugged her and admired Veena’s signature.
“Damn, V. Aren’t you the celebrity.” Was that a smudge of jealousy in Ali’s voice?
“Once the Olympic coverage starts next week, her face will be everywhere, not only minor magazines like People,” Gage said.
“Shut up, you guys. You have tons of interviews, too.” Veena threw a pizza bone at Ali, Gage threw one at her, and Ali threw one at me. Pizza sauce smeared my shirt.
“Aw, sorry, Nic.” Ali handed me her napkin.
“How many media events has your agent set up anyway?” Gage dipped one of the thrown pizza bones in a dish of sauce and popped it in his mouth whole. “Are you gonna have time to train?” The last part was hard to make out.
“I wouldn’t have so many if it were up to me,” Veena said. “But they help me get sponsors, so my parents don’t have to pay as much for my training and travel.”
“Yeah, because they have such a hard time affording it and all.” Ali’s tone was half-teasing, half-serious.
“I know, but I made a deal with them. I get the money they save when I graduate from high school.”
“Sweet—what will you get?” Ali asked. “I’d buy a motorcycle.”
“She already has a car, remember?” Gage said.
“Oh yeah, where is that thing?”
“At home. My cousin drives it once in a while.” Veena tore her napkin into little strips in her lap, like the conversation embarrassed her.
“She got a brand-new car from Toyota for her sixteenth birthday,” Gage told me. He made a face like nice life, huh?
“What will you do with the money?” I was genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “I’m saving it.”
“For what?” Ali asked. “Spill, VV. Tell us, or we’ll harass you all night. Tell us…”
“Tell us your story…” Gage joined into singing the jingle of a recent Toyota commercial.
Veena balled up the strips and threw them on her plate. “I’m going to donate it, okay?”
“Donate?” Ali’s mouth hung open. “That’s so you, V. To who?”
“To Doctors Without Borders, maybe, or WFP.” We must have looked clueless, because she added, “The World Food Program.”
Ali shook her head, her mouth hanging open. “Girl, we need to get you in some real trouble. Like, sully your name.”
“Sully?” Gage asked. Veena snorted.
“You know, get her a bad girl reputation. She’s got the blue hair and nose ring already.”
“Ugh, let’s go,” Veena said. “The show starts in a couple minutes.”
I texted Kovitch that we were on the move. Veena spoke to Jordan and her family for a minute on the way out.
My stomach tensed as I waited for her. I’d been lucky to get this far, but I needed to get everything right from now on. If I lost Veena, the world would lose a lot more than a champion snowboarder or Olympic gold medal winner. It would lose a quality person. And we didn’t have enough of those to begin with.
The Grinders, a country punk band, sounded like a herd of howling cats to me. I wasn’t a big music fan, but if I were, country punk wouldn’t be my thing. I wanted to jam my fingers in my ears as soon as they started.
I didn’t like much about the bar, either. It was packed with people, had horrible sight lines, and smelled like old beer. Because the band was popular with teens, the bar wasn’t serving alcohol until later that night after they finished their set. That was the only way so many minors got in to begin with. But from the whiffs of alcohol and weed I’d smelled, plenty of kids had taken care of business before they came.
Brown and Bart had created a security plan, which they’d gone over with me yesterday. I knew the entrances and exits, the layout of the back of the house, and where Bart would be parked if we needed a quick getaway. But the preparation didn’t help me feel much better. In these tight quarters, if someone wanted to hurt Veena, they could.
I made sure we got a table in the corner, so I could see who came and went, but I shouldn’t have bothered. Ali and Veena were on the dance floor in seconds. They tried to drag me out there, too, but I refused. I’d fire myself first. At least up to now all my screw-ups were honest mistakes.
Gage went to get a soda and say hi to some VMA students at the bar. I pushed my way through the crowd to the wall near Veena. So far, so good. Until someone snuggled in next to me.
“Hey, new girl.” Jake’s breath reeked of alcohol.
“Hi.” I turned back to Veena.
“You’re slippery, you know that? I keep looking for you at school, and you keep getting away.”
I crossed my arms and pointed a sharp shoulder at him, but he moved closer until his face swam a foot or so from mine. He stage-whispered, “But now I’ve got you cornered.”
Did he want to bet on that? My baton pressed reassuringly into my back.
“Want to dance?” he asked.
“No thanks,” I said.
He grabbed my wrist. “C’mon, newbie, don’t be like that. It’s only dancing.”
In a flash, I rotated my trapped hand up so it was in front of my face, and with my other hand, dug my fingernails into the meaty part of his palm, and then jerked my hand out of his. Instructor Bradley would’ve been proud. As I applied pressure, Jake’s eyeballs popped.
“Be like what?” I asked as I let him go.
He blinked a few times like he wasn’t sure what had happened. “Later, maybe.”
“I don’t think so. And Jake, my name’s Nicole. Not new girl, newbie, or noob. Got it?”
“Okay, yeah, got it.”
Still rubbing his hand, he disappeared into the crowd. I returned my focus to the dance floor where Veena bounced with Ali, their fists in the air, singing the lyrics.
Someone slid in next to me again.
I twisted back, grabbing for the baton. “What part of the word no isn’t clear to you, Ja—?”
Connor’s face froze. “Um, every part is clear.”
I flushed. “Sorry, that was meant for someone else.”<
br />
“I’m glad to hear it.” He paused. “Everything okay?”
I rolled my shoulders back and down to release them. “Let’s start over. Hello, Connor. How are you?”
“I’m doing well, Nic. You?”
My eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a little old for this crowd?”
He pointed to a table on the other side of the bar where a few ski patrollers I recognized sat. “Some of the guys wanted to hear this band.”
I glanced at the musicians. Except for the drummer, they were all bobbing around the stage like Veena and Ali. Sweat flew off the lead singer and into the crowd whenever he swung his shaggy head around. Gross.
“Why?” I asked.
Connor laughed, and damn, it was sexy. I checked him out quickly. For once, he wasn’t sporting a ski suit. He had on worn jeans that fit him well, a comfortably faded T-shirt, and a plaid shirt worn open over the top. That golden stubble roughed his cheeks again, and his hair was perfectly messy. Carrots, he was hot.
“So, Nic, speaking of being older than this crowd, I heard a funny rumor.”
I kept my eyes on Veena. “What kind of rumor?”
“That Veena’s family was threatened. That they hired a bodyguard. And that the bodyguard is you.”
Heat shot down from my scalp into my chest, but I kept my expression mild. “Really?”
He leaned a half-inch closer, and his voice grew serious. “Here’s the thing: I don’t think it’s a rumor.”
“It’s not that funny, either.”
“Nic.” He nudged my shoulder.
“What?”
“Are you Veena’s bodyguard?”
I made myself laugh, but it sounded forced. “Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “Okay. I thought I’d ask. You know, you show up at Veena’s mountain school mid-year, but you don’t ski or ride. You’re always with her, watching her back. You can take out a guy riding probably ten miles an hour past you no problem. Still, I see I was wrong now. You’re definitely not a bodyguard.” He paused and leaned in again. “But if you were, that would be sick.”
My lips slid up; I couldn’t help it. “It would be. Sounds like a fun job.”
I couldn’t tell the truth. This was Veena’s secret, not mine. But I so wanted to.
He pushed his back against the wall, his arm against mine. I could feel the warmth of his body. “I’m just saying, if you were a bodyguard, and you got in a sticky situation, you could count on me.”
“Thanks. That would be good to know,” I paused. “If I was a bodyguard.”
Veena saw Connor and me then, and she gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. Thankfully Ali hadn’t noticed us, and Gage was still at the bar.
“Where’d you hear a rumor like that anyway?” I asked.
“Vail’s a small town. Stuff gets around. Did they teach you to tackle like that?”
“Who?”
“You know, them. Whoever trained you to be a bodyguard.”
I laughed. “I played tackle football on a boys team in middle school.”
“Yeah?” He looked surprised.
“I held my own in sixth and seventh grade, but my teammates came back after the summer before eighth looking like they’d been shooting human growth hormones. Taking them down wasn’t so easy and being tackled hurt. But I didn’t forget the technique.”
“Clearly. I guess I better watch my step.”
“Why?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression suddenly serious. “In case I ever piss you off.”
I grabbed the chance to turn the spotlight off me. “So, what about you? Did you play football? I know you snowboarded.”
“I grew up hunting with my dad. I liked being out in nature and learning how to handle a rifle, but the whole killing part got to me after a while. So, I only shoot at the range now. And with a pistol.”
That made me forget Veena for a second. “What do you use?”
“Glock G19. What about you?”
The words gushed out of me like a flash flood. “A Sig Legion 9 mm. I don’t have it yet, but I’m getting it after this—”
Amusement danced on his face. “This what?”
“Year,” I finished lamely. “You know what, forget I said any of that.”
He winked. “It’ll be our secret.”
I cursed to myself. Some secret. I don’t know why I bothered to keep my job under wraps. Everyone seemed to already know. A few boys joined Veena and Ali to dance; I kept my eye on them.
“How old are you, Connor?”
He leaned back against the wall. “Twenty-three.”
“That’s pretty young to be a ski patroller and working for the U.S. Snowboarding Team, isn’t it?”
“I did grow up riding, so that part wasn’t a big deal. I worked as an athletic trainer at my high school, and I did a six-week EMT training program when I graduated. I’ve done first aid, outdoor emergency education, that kind of stuff, over the last couple years.” He waved a hand. “I don’t get paid much, but the experience is what I’m after. And I’ll get to go to Laax with the team.” The stage lights flashed, illuminating the strong angles of his face. “Anyway, I could say the same for you. Not working as a full-fledged bodyguard at your age? How’d you pull that off?”
“I didn’t, remember? I’m not a bodyguard.”
“I know, but still. Impressive.”
I shook my head. This conversation made my head hurt. “Look Connor, this has been . . . confusing, but I have to get back to not working now.”
He winced as the lead singer hit a particularly aggressive twangy note. “Okay. I better head back to my table anyway. See you, Nic.” He mock whispered in my ear. “If that’s even your real name.”
I tried hard not to appreciate the athletic way he moved as he walked back to the other side of the bar. Veena and Ali came over a few minutes later, sweaty and panting. Ali had her phone out, texting.
“I need to use the restroom,” Veena yelled. I went with her, but Ali stayed behind.
“How’s Connor?” She drew out his name as we walked.
I ignored her, focusing instead on creating a narrow pathway to the back hallway where a line of girls had formed at the bathroom door, waiting. At least it was a little quieter back here.
Veena talked about the show as boys shot in and out of the other restroom, banging the door as they went, but my attention was drawn to a girl kissing a guy in a dark corner beside the emergency exit. I tried to look away, but there wasn’t much else to focus on. They both moved sluggishly, and when they spoke, their voices were slurred.
The girl kept slumping in the guy’s arms, and after a minute, she tried to pull away from him. He gripped her arms hard, leading her toward the exit door.
“No, it’s cold out there. No.” She pulled back again. The other girls in line exchanged worried glances. My muscles tensed as the metal box inside me, stuffed with memories I’d rather forget, rattled.
“Stay put,” I muttered to Veena. Then I stepped toward the couple and spoke to the girl. “Do you need some help?”
“No, she’s good.” The guy tugged on her arms again.
I shoved the sudden, blinding rage down. I needed to stay focused on Veena, even in the bathroom line, but I wouldn’t leave an impaired girl in this situation. I spoke to her again.
“You said you don’t want to go outside, right?”
“Yes.” Tears shone in her half-closed eyes. The line behind me was quiet.
“Do you have friends here?” I asked. “I’ll take you to them.”
She swept a pale hand toward the main room. “In there.”
As I gently led her away, the guy managed to focus on me. His hand was still on her other arm.
“Let go,” I said to him. My voice stayed even, but my heart hammered inside my chest. The smell of old beer, the music, the shadowy hallway . . . bile crept up in my throat and heat spread across my back as the memory box inside me creaked open another notch. Not
now. I needed to stay focused. This girl needed help.
“What’s your problem?” the guy asked me. “She’s fine.”
I took a step toward him, but Veena caught my forearm and spoke to him. “Listen, you should really do what Nic says.”
“I’ll get help,” a girl from the line said before hurrying off.
After a long moment of drunkenly sizing me up, the guy released his hand. A few of the girls watching clapped.
I tried hard to calm my breathing as the box inside clamped shut again. That was too close.
Veena and I led the girl back to the main room. After a minute, she found her friends at a table. They didn’t look much better off.
“Are you girls driving?” I didn’t recognize them from VMA.
“No, we Ubered from our hotel,” one said.
“Good. Might be time to call it a night.”
Finally realizing their friend was crying, the girls pulled on jackets and gathered purses. Ali and Gage came over after they left.
“What happened?” Gage asked.
Veena gushed. “Nic rescued that girl from a drunk jerkwad who was trying to get her outside!”
Ali lightly punched my shoulder. “You rock so hard, Nic.”
We all went back to our table. As we walked, Veena glanced at her phone and froze. Her hand shook as she thrust it at me.
It was a grainy video of Veena on the dance floor a few minutes before. The text said:
You won’t be dancing much longer.
Eleven
We left Ali and Gage with a few rushed apologies and found a bundled Kovitch stamping his feet in an alley right around the corner from the bar. I showed him the video.
His hazel eyes hardened. “I’ll call the chief and let him know.”
He beckoned the black BMW sedan idling down the street. I checked to be sure Bart was behind the wheel before helping Veena into the back seat. Then I slid in after her, and Kovitch slammed the door shut. He and his team would follow us.
Bart drove the speed limit back to school, glancing in the rearview mirror often. No one spoke.
In our room, Veena placed her shoes by the door instead of kicking them off like usual. She turned on every light, even in the bathroom, and sat in front of her shrine, staring at Lakshmi.