Chasing Dreams, Year Two

by Shawn Keys

  Guy held his gaze a long time. Then finally, he said, “The French Language Games. They can go. But it’s on them to be bloody magical there. Anything less, and I won’t sign off on them going to the Pan Am Games, much less representing us at Worlds and beyond. Do you hear me?”

  How fucking generous of you, Matteo grimaced inside. But he held his tongue. “Yeah, I hear you, Sir. Judge them righteously after the FLGs. I’m taking the high road here. Stay with me on it. They’ll make you proud.” He didn’t break eye contact when he added, “They need their coach with them.”

  With an ugly smirk, Guy said, “Had to dig a little more out of me, hmm?”

  “Again, you can look at it like that. Or, you can give Flora the credit you’ve given every other coach who’s taken our athletes this far. Know one of the best reasons the team will not fail? Because they’ll be so damned terrified about losing her when their money runs out that they won’t consider failing as an option. They know they have to be near perfect.”

  “She said she wouldn’t go running off,” Guy pointed out snidely.

  “She won’t,” he confirmed. “But the team doesn’t know that for sure. Even if they do, think about how that makes them feel. Knowing they’ve become a charity case? Oh…” Matteo added, “… and knowing their country doesn’t believe in them even though they’re the first ones to make a real mark in years? That won’t help either.” He shook his head again and challenged the man one last time. “Tell me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Were you lying when you told us that you want Portesara to succeed? You said there would be hard decisions. You said there might be sacrifices. But were you saying that so you could say ‘no’ to people with a clear conscience? Or did you really mean it?”

  Guy straightened, looking far less angry and more like a man answering with the truth. “I meant it.”

  “Then sacrifice your pride and do the right thing.” Matteo turned, grabbed hold of the doorknob, yanked it open and walked out.

  As he stomped into the reception area, Flora practically flew out of her chair to meet him. “What happened in there?”

  Matteo summoned a smile. “The team’s in. You’ll be getting a stipend. Maybe not enough to live the good life, but enough that you can stay in the country.”

  Flora beamed, astonished. “H-how? I mean…” She suddenly shook her head. “No, I… I probably don’t want to know.”

  Matteo shrugged. “Politics. In the end, it all comes down to that. I happened to find the right words to help him see reason.”

  She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, expressing more emotion for him than she had ever had before. “This is… oh, God, I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll take them all the way,” Matteo replied. “Trust me, that’ll be the best revenge, especially for the man back there. Come on, Flora. Let’s go help your team take France by storm.”

  Chapter 14

  “How does this feel?” Daniel asked, leaning in against the sole of Cadence’s foot.

  She was laying on her back on the field, one leg outstretched to steady herself while her injured one extended toward Daniel where he was putting pressure against it. She tested the weight he was putting on her, bending her healing knee to 90 degrees, then flexing it straight again. Daniel rode with her, trying to keep the pressure steady. “Good. Put your whole body on it.”

  Daniel followed her request, though he didn’t do so recklessly. He planned how he could recover fast if he started to feel her giving out rather than collapsing on her. Applying the added weight, he was all but hovering above Cadence. “Still good?”

  Cadence’s strong leg braced the nigh-two-hundred pounds of Daniel’s lean, tall, muscular shape. Taking it slow, she bent her knee again, approximating a one-legged press. She got down to about forty degrees in the bend before pushing him back up again. As her small grunt of effort finished, a smile broke out on her face. “Oh, yeah. Not even a twinge.”

  Daniel eased off her, then held out a hand. She took it and he pulled her up to standing. “Think it’s time.”

  “Oh yeah. I’m done with these fractional vaults. I need all the time we have left to get my rhythm back.”

  “If you feel the knee acting soft when you’re running, tell me. Alright? Don’t tough it out. We’ll still make the Pan Am games. The commissioner all but promised me that. You’ve already shown them that you have what it takes.”

  Cadence rejected the idea instantly. “You know better than to accept promises from them, Daniel. Besides, this isn’t about them. It’s about stopping that bitch Julie from getting her way. I’m going to Bordeaux. Simple as that.”

  Daniel didn’t fight her any further on it. He was watching for any sign of tenderness as she walked. There wasn’t any. There were some physical signs that bravado couldn’t cover. He wasn’t seeing any of those. For all her brash intentions, he had been incredibly proud of Cadence. She had stuck to her physio routine. Sure, she had pushed the edge, but she hadn’t gone crazy with it. She’d been patient. Smart. Her still-youthful, athletic body healed her faster than his could have, even being only eight or so years older than her.

  Her hard work was about to pay off. Daniel gave her a satisfied nod. “Yeah. I think you are. Alright, go through one more warm-up routine. We’ll do a full-speed jump. 4.0 meters. If you can leap back in the club, then we’ll call you ready to start pushing the boundary again.”

  Her smile turned eager. She trotted off to get the apparatus ready.

  Daniel was about to go over and help when he noticed Evelyn coming out onto the field. His pleasure at the sight of her swelled immediately, and that would have been enough to divert him from his coaching. But she wasn’t alone. Gordon was walking beside her. Although Evelyn managed to flash him a private smile, for the most part she maintained her business-persona as the pair came to meet him.

  Evelyn spoke first, “Gordon came to see me. He didn’t want to interfere with your field-time without asking permission. When he told me what it was about, I was sure you wouldn’t want to wait to hear what he has to say.”

  It took more than a little effort not to lose himself in appreciating his lover’s attire; she had gone for bare legs today, allowing her lightly tanned skin’s natural color to offset the white skirt-suit she had chosen. Running through all the wicked things he wanted to do to her didn’t exactly mesh with the semi-official reason she was there.

  Holding himself to task which required tugging his eyes away from the lushly sensual woman, he focused on Gordon. “What is it?” His tone wasn’t exactly friendly, but neither was it overly harsh. He might be Julie’s coach, but Daniel knew the man hadn’t encouraged the volatile girl’s attitude. However accountable he was, Gordon was equally responsible for Carla’s behavior, and she had been on Cadence’s side in the altercation.

  “A phone call would have worked. But I wanted to say this face-to-face,” Gordon offered. “It’s damn good of you not to press charges.”

  “My own team might have paid the price.”

  “Yeah, I figured that’s why you were keeping quiet about it. I’ve told Julie’s family what happened. It’s the reason I said that I couldn’t train her any longer.”

  Daniel’s eyebrows rose. “Bet they took that poorly.”

  “That would be an understatement. They tried to get me to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

  “They want to find a different coach, most likely,” Daniel guessed.

  “Yeah. I didn’t sign it. I’m not going to let other trainers walk into that situation blind. Told them any coach worth his or her salt would ask me what happened. I’ll tell them that I’m not sure if Gregoire poisoned her attitude or if she always had this in her. Either way, she’ll be difficult.” He shrugged. “Some coaches might be willing to deal with that. Not sure who.”

  Daniel thought over the family’s options. “They could import a coach. They have the money.”

  “Maybe. I guess there’ll alw
ays someone who’s willing. A pole-vaulting coach that can refine her skills? Well, that’ll be more difficult.” He shrugged again. “Either way, she won’t make the FLGs. Even if they pull some ploy like putting her father on the register as her coach, I don’t think she’ll find her rhythm in time.”

  “Wow. That’s huge news. What’s the commission saying?”

  “Nothing they can say. I declared I had a difference of opinion with her and refused to teach her. What can they do? I’m not a lawyer trying to bail on a client. They asked if I was willing to state the reasons. I said ‘no’ out of respect for what you’re doing to avoid the turmoil.”

  “Is Carla still going?”

  “Yeah. Thankfully they didn’t put any pressure on me about that. Carla feels terrible about it all, by the way.”

  “Hope not. She tried to do the right thing. Cadence said as much. Besides, Carla came close to getting hurt as well.”

  Gordon nodded. “Still, she was pretty shaken. That’s another reason I won’t keep Julie on my roster. She hurt your people, but she also hurt one of her own teammates. Makes it impossible to keep her around.”

  “Fair enough. I honestly hope you keep Carla in the running. A good, clean competition is what we need. Julie isn’t going to quit, you know. When she finally figures her way back into competing, I’d rather Carla be around to balance things out.” He pointed at Gordon. “How about yourself? You gonna be alright?”

  “Sure. Glad to be free of that tension, if I had to be honest. Have a few other athletes I’m developing as well for the vault, high jump and a couple other events. Not quite at Carla’s level yet, but some of them have promise. Including a new pole-vaulter who I think will be ready for the next Olympic cycle. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Daniel answered honestly.

  “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me,” Gordon said, “Miss Foster and I need to re-arrange my field time.”

  Evelyn nodded politely, then glanced to Daniel, “Anything you need?”

  “Not right now.” Daniel left it at that. Simple. Poignant. Enough for Evelyn to read behind the words.

  Her expression suggested she had taken note and would expect him to make good. Banishing her smile quickly, she turned back to Gordon. “Shall we?” They headed off in the direction of her office.

  Pausing to admire the artful sway of her hips and her rounded behind as she walked away, he let out a longing groan. End of the day can’t come soon enough. Laughing at his own, mild obsession, he finally turned back to the field.

  Not rushing into the fray, he stood and watched as MK continued her starter trials. Her focus had been on that element for the last two weeks. She still ran a few high-pace runs every day to keep herself in the groove, but most often she’d set up the first two hurdles and then practice exploding off the mark and transitioning into her full, hurdling stride. It had always been the weakest of her skills. She seemed determined to revolutionize it. Nearby, she had a speaker that spit out randomly-timed starter-gun firings to help her react to the sound.

  Daniel had to agree the blocks were where she could make the greatest gains. It could be what finally put her over the edge into beating Dior. It was also absolutely necessary if she was ever going to compete against Zekia and the other top Olympic competitors. She was going to meet a couple of them at the French Language Games. Both France and Belgium would have top-tier competitors there, Canada always put out solid athletes and a host of African countries usually produced strong, hurdling competitors, especially in the longer distance events.

  He watched her drill for a while and decided she didn’t need any refinement. She had embraced what she had to improve upon. Now it was about getting her timing right, building the muscle mass to properly burst off the block and honing her reflexes to the sound of the gun.

  Clapping a few times, he called out some encouragement to her, then left her to the work. Cadence was still warming up, so instead he walked to where Irène was sizing up her own personal demon: the shotput. The four-kilogram sphere was lying inside the launch circle. She was staring at it like it was mocking her. Daniel knew she rather despised the event, which was one reason she had been doing so much of it lately. She had acclimated quite quickly to the running events, MK had been a great tutor to get her into the hurdles more rapidly than normal, and she took to the long and high jump like a duck to water. She seemed to enjoy the primal grace that was needed for the javelin throw.

  But the shotput? It was not her thing. Not one bit. It wasn’t all brute force; Daniel knew from personal experience. Spiraling to gain enough energy to make a decent throw required balance and its own sort of grace. The leg kick to rapidly launch into the spiral was precisely the type of coordinated movement that Irène excelled at and which had inspired Daniel to think she could take on the multi-discipline sport.

  Despite all her talent, Irène had had a tough time embracing this one. Her skills for the shotput lagged far behind the others. She was still struggling to hit distances that wouldn’t be a major liability in attaining Olympic qualifying levels. Since the heptathlon was an aggregate score, an athlete was allowed to have stronger and weaker events. But none could sink too far behind or the athlete wouldn’t be able to make up the loss, no matter what they did.

  When he was close enough not to have to yell, he asked, “How are you feeling, Irène?”

  “Just measuring the mountain that I have to climb,” she sighed.

  “If that’s the metaphor you really want to go with, I’d say you’re looking at the last, long slope before you reach the peak. You’re nowhere near the base anymore.”

  “Except in this case, I’m throwing the rock instead of climbing it. I’d rather be climbing it.”

  “Probably not. It’s made of iron after all. Or brass, sometimes. Imagine climbing a mountain made of that?”

  She sighed, not acknowledging his attempt at humor. “I keep thinking how far off I am. 23 meters is right around where the world record is at.”

  “You don’t need the world record. It just needs to be in the realm of 14 meters or so. If you can start getting over 16 or 17, you’ll be killing it. Don’t measure yourself against the specialists. That’ll drive you crazy.”

  Rather than make her feel better, Irène groaned. “I threw 14.3 on that last one.”

  Daniel looked pleased. “Like I said, that’ll do!”

  Irène scowled at him.

  Ahh. She’s like Cadence. Making do was pretty much failure and being told it was ‘good enough’ was an insult, Daniel realized.

  Irène propped her hands on her hips, then waved briefly out at the landing area. “How am I going to add another couple of meters to my throw? That’s impossible!”

  “Not impossible. Difficult, that’s for sure.” Daniel took a deep breath, considering what he could say. “Alright, there’s only one way this is going to work. Even if shotput was more about strength… which it isn’t… you wouldn’t have time to bulk up enough to make a considerable difference.”

  She took a calming breath. “You keep saying it’s about the spin.”

  “Said it from the start. Powering the spin is huge. Releasing at the perfect moment is critical. You have to treat it like… like a catapult. Winding up and releasing. That’s the key. That’s how we can get the extra distance. We work on the spin and get your torque up. Turn you into a cannon.”

  “A cannon, huh?” she asked, seeming amused.

  “Damn straight. But trust me, better technique will do wonders. Who knows? You might even get to the point where you like it.”

  “Woah. Let’s not start looking for miracles, here.” Irène smirked, but when she stooped to muscle the shot into her hands, she did it with a touch more enthusiasm.

  Daniel retrieved another shot from the nearby rack. They were all meant for female athletes, so it was lighter than the one he was used to. But having already used them several times to demonstrate the motion to her, he had adapted h
imself to the difference. “Watch me again. I’ll walk you through the finer points. Watch me closely and try to mimic what I’m doing. Then, I’ll watch you throw and locate the details you aren’t getting right and see if we can improve them. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” she agreed.

  “Great. Pay attention to my every move.”

  * * *

  MK called out from the living room area, “Lights on or off?”

  “Off! Has to be off for a horror movie! Got to do it right!” Irène eased the bowl of melted butter from the microwave of their small yet functional kitchen and poured it expertly over the popcorn waiting patiently to be adorned. It was pushing the boundary of the health regimen they had all agreed to follow. Popcorn by itself was fiber after all. The buttery and salty toppings were the guilty pleasure part of the snack.

  Then again, it was their last cheat day before the FLGs, which were only a couple of weeks away. Her trial before the sports commission was in a few days, but Daniel had said they needed a respite before the final push.

  That meant they had a light round of cardio in the morning, and then been given the liberty to spend the day however they wanted. Cadence had joined Evelyn and Daniel for a cage dive off the coast to see some sharks; their version of a joint date, apparently. MK had been reading all day while Irène chewed up the competition in dogfights over the trenches in France in a World War I biplane sim game.

  MK and Irène had emerged from their self-imposed, enjoyable isolation to make dinner together. Over the meal, they had agreed to finish the night with a screening of Dark Shadow of the Murky Night IV, the latest in a horror film franchise that had recently reached the steaming services. Irène loved scary movies. MK did enjoy them, though not to the same level as her roommate. Fortunately for Irène, MK was easygoing when it came to movies, which meant she rarely advocated for other options.

  After their supper was done, they had agreed to meet back in front of the TV once they traded turns in the shower. Irène had diverted through the kitchen to make their snack. She didn’t feel guilty about the added butter. MK might glare at her, then promptly proceed to eat half of it.