CHAPTER TEN
The Airstream hasn't been cleaned in so long Payson could write her name in the dirt on the door. She probably will later, just to annoy Sasha. She concentrates on that thought as she opens the passenger door of her car, hooks Phoebe to a red leash and lets her jump from the seat, because, though the Airstream is back in its rightful place, the 'reserved for Cruz' and 'reserved for Kemetko' parking signs are conspicuous by their absence. Payson looks at the spots her friends used to occupy and allows herself ten seconds to mourn the Rock life that is gone forever. Then, with a deep breath, she pulls herself to her full five foot four inches and strides purposefully into the gym, Phoebe trotting beside her.
It's barely 6:45am but the gym floor is already teeming with gymnasts. Sasha has ordered the entire roster to be in by seven and no one wants to be late on his first day back in charge.
"Lauren?" Payson frowns, spotting a twirl of blonde braid brushing the floor as its owner stretches to lay palms on the floor. Special occasion or not, Payson has never known Lauren be early to a practice. Standing back up, pushing her arms to the ceiling to ease out early morning shoulder stiffness, Lauren greets Payson with a smile as wary as it is welcoming.
"Hey Pay," she calls, a little too brightly, as she jogs over.
"Hey," Payson replies, stiffly, gripping harder on Phoebe's leash.
The gym is alive with noise but Payson and Lauren stand together in silence. Just another thing that will never be the same again, Payson thinks.
"I told Kaylie what happened," Lauren breaks the awkward quiet.
"I know," Payson replies crisply, unmoving.
Lauren nods. "She called you, huh?" she tries again at conversation; Payson cedes a little ground.
"Yesterday, after you spoke to her. We talked."
"And?" Lauren asks a little desperately, biting her lip.
"One day at a time, Lo," Payson sighs, pulling Phoebe back when the dog tries to dart across the floor. "Let's just get to Worlds."
Battling her tendency to throw a tantrum when something doesn't go her way, Lauren nods an 'okay'. "What's her name again?" she asks, crouching down to stroke Phoebe's head, eager to have another topic of conversation. Phoebe wags her tail and sniffs Lauren's knee.
"Phoebe," Payson says, unable to keep a small smile creeping into her face as Phoebe plays up to the attention. She crouches down too and plays with Phoebe's tail, which makes the little dog spin on the spot. "Sasha's set up a basket for her in the office. We didn't want to leave her in the trailer all day."
Lauren nods and giggles a little when Phoebe licks at her fingers. Usually, she would tease Payson for the weird little family set up she's got with Sasha over this dog; Lauren hates that the freedom of such banter is gone.
"Sasha's in the office," Lauren says, as they stand up, both brushing dog hair off their hands. "And Parker's here," she wrinkles her nose at having to pronounce the name, "do you know why?"
Payson frowns and glances at the staircase. "He didn't mention anything last night."
Again, Lauren misses the opportunity to tease Payson about the innuendo in that statement but she shoves it into the big ball of regret in her stomach that she intends to use to power her to beam world gold.
"I'm gonna go..." Payson points at the office by way of explanation, walking away as Lauren says a quiet "ok" and returns to her solo warm-up, missing Summer, missing Kaylie, rolling her eyes when she realises she even misses Emily.
Payson jogs up the steps, Phoebe beside her. Kim is bringing Becca to school before she comes in so the office is empty apart from Sasha.
"Well that was awkward," Payson says as she walks through the door. "I know I said I'd give Lauren a chance for the sake of the team but, God, every time I see her I can't help remembering what she did." She shakes her head as she bends down to unhook Phoebe's leash and usher the dog into the basket by Sasha's desk. She's so lost in her own thoughts she doesn't realise for a moment that Sasha has made neither comment nor greeting.
"Everything ok?" she asks, standing. Sasha's sitting in his chair, busy scribbling on a notepad.
"Everything's fine," he says, without looking up.
Payson frowns. "Did you hear what I said?"
"About what?" More scribbling.
"About Lauren," Payson replies, a little annoyed. Phoebe gets up to sniff Sasha's hand in greeting but he ignores her so she scuttles back to her basket.
"You know we've got no time for personal vendettas right now, Payson." When Sasha finally looks up from his notepad, his expression is as cold as his tone. "Can you get down to the floor and ask Lauren and Kelly to join us, please. I'll be there in a minute."
Payson almost takes a step back. "What's wrong?"
Sasha's face doesn't change. "Nothing's wrong," he says, pushing up from the chair and turning to rifle through the filing cabinet.
"Ok-ay," Payson says slowly, frown deepening at his attitude. "I guess I'll go get the others then," she says, when he makes no response. She finds herself at the bottom of the stairs without realising she even left the office.
"Lo, Kelly," she hears her voice shout.
At the summons, Lauren jogs over immediately, while Kelly, dismissing the two boys she's talking to with a little wave, dawdles toward them, only reaching the water cooler as Sasha stomps down the stairs.
"You ok?" Lauren asks, as she takes her place beside Payson.
"I'm fine," Payson lies.
"Firstly, Kelly? Thank you for joining us at such short notice," Sasha gifts her the briefest of nods, ignoring Payson and Lauren's looks of confusion. "Haley, Drea, and Beth will be advised this by email, but I wanted to take the opportunity to tell you three in person. The NGO have appointed me as head coach for the national team."
"Seriously?" Payson exclaims, grabbing his arm with excitement.
Sasha glances at her like she's just burnt him. Her smile falls along with her hand.
"As planned, training camp will begin here at the Rock on Monday, but since the three of you are local I wanted to get started as soon as possible." Sasha looks at Lauren and Kelly, not Payson. "I know things have been confused since trials. We've lost Kaylie and Emily. We've lost training time and we've lost focus. But I can assure you the next four weeks will be simple. You will train, you will sleep, that is it. There will be no drama," he layers the word with disgust, "no infighting or petty squabbles or backstabbing. You are a team. You will work as a team. You will succeed as a team. And yes, I will be giving this same speech again to the whole team, but I don't think it will hurt any of you to hear it twice."
Softening slightly, he continues, "I know what you two have gone through to get here." He tilts his head toward Lauren and Payson, though his eyes do not fall on the latter. "And how much you want to defend your title," he says to Kelly. "Believe me when I say there is nothing I want more than for you all to succeed. I just need to know one thing: are you with me?" Sasha reaches a fist toward them and holds it steady. "Team USA?"
"Team USA," Lauren echoes, placing a hand on top of Sasha's closed fist.
"Team USA," Payson lines her voice with determination as she slaps a hand on Lauren's and shoots a glance at Sasha.
"Team USA," Kelly says, after a slight pause, the slap of her skin completing the pact.
They throw up their clenched hands after Sasha's three count.
"Usual warm up," Sasha pushes the sleeves of his long grey t-shirt up to his elbows and checks his clipboard, "then beam first."
As Lauren and Kelly head over to the mats, keeping the width of a bus between them, Payson waits, arms folded, a few feet from Sasha. "I can't believe the NGO finally did something that made actual sense," she jokes, but with far less jubilation than she would have used had she been told about the appointment before finding Sasha in this mood today.
Sasha doesn't ignore her outright but the brief nod and tiniest of smiles he affords her don't exactly encourage Payson to follow up her comment.
"Guess I'll go then," Payson says.
"Fine," Sasha frowns at his clipboard, "I'll be over in a minute; I just need to get the compulsory sheets."
"Compulsory sheets?"
"Yes," is all the explanation Sasha offers.
"But Worlds doesn't require compulsory routines anymore," Payson pushes.
"I am aware of that."
"Then wouldn't it be smarter to work on our actual routines since we're so close to Worlds instead of wasting time on compulsories that don't count?" Payson's accusation comes out louder than intended. It carries, drawing the attention of half the gym.
Sasha stands as rigid as a coiled snake. "Until it says 'coach' on your jacket, I would appreciate not being told how to do my job," he says, coldly, loud enough for the watching gymnasts to hear his derision. "Now, go do your warm up." He stalks away and Payson can't decide if she's more hurt, embarrassed, or angry. As she walks across to the beam, anger starts to draw ahead.
"Trouble in paradise?" Kelly asks innocently, stretching her quad as Payson joins her and Lauren.
"Seriously not in the mood, Kelly," Payson barks back, yanking her leg into a hamstring stretch and grimacing at the floor.
Kelly ignores the warning. "Not a good week for Rock romance, huh?" she continues in her most annoying sing-song voice. "I mean, first future Mommy Tanner disappears without a trace and now you and Coach Cradle Snatcher look headed for divorce court. I don't know how either of you can concentrate on anything else," Kelly pulls out a pitying expression, "and with Worlds so close. Such a shame." She shakes her head sorrowfully and then suddenly brightens. "Oh well," she shrugs, "at least I'll be in Rio to pick up the medals you're both too distracted to win."
"Can you just shut up!" Payson shouts, slamming her foot down and turning on Kelly, her strained temper finally snapping and snapping hard.
"What Payson means to say," Lauren interrupts, grabbing Payson by the shoulders to hold her back whilst shooting a forced smile at Kelly, "is can we talk to you in the bathroom?"
"What?" Payson shoves off Lauren's grip and turns on her, unquenched anger searching for another target.
"The talk we were going to have in the bathroom," Lauren prompts, unsubtly shrugging her eyebrows at Payson. "Remember?"
It's obvious that Payson has no idea what Lauren is talking about and Kelly, clever face morphing from argumentative to intrigued, peers curiously at them both. "If you're planning on giving me a swirly, I'll have to decline."
Lauren scoffs and gives Kelly a withering look. "Like your head would fit in the toilet."
Kelly narrows her eyes but Lauren holds the stare, refusing to blink, even with Payson muttering under her breath and trying to shake off the restraining hand Lauren has on her forearm. "Five minutes," Kelly announces, then stalks off toward the bathroom.
"Want to tell me what this is about," Payson growls.
"Stopping you throwing down with Kelly Parker, like, five minutes after Sasha said no drama?" Lauren snaps back, hands on hips.
Payson scowls at her teammate, can't formulate a response, so marches off to the bathroom too. She begrudgingly accepts that Lauren's intervention was well-timed but she's too irate to say thank you right now.
The bathroom is empty but Lauren goes through her usual routine of checking each stall before locking the main door. Payson and Kelly hover by the sinks, as far apart as the small room permits. Payson faces the mirror, arms folded.
"Look, arguing isn't going to help anyone," Lauren starts.
God, Payson thinks, when Lauren Tanner is the voice of reason something must be wrong.
"It's not like anyone could say any of us were friends at the moment," Lauren continues, "and that's fine because this isn't about friendship," she looks at Payson, eyes softening, "this is about being teammates."
Payson tips her head, watching Lauren's reflection.
"I know being Queen Bitch is how you roll," Lauren addresses Kelly, "and, whatever, none of my business if you like having everyone hate you, but can't you for, like, four weeks, aim the bitch-tude at people not on your own team?"
Kelly's face is blank as she stares into the stall in front of her.
"Beth's head is so far in the clouds I'm surprised she hasn't got hit by a 747 yet; Drea has, like, zero experience; Hayley's been around a while but she's not exactly off the charts in any discipline: if we don't keep it together then we've got no chance in hell at making the team finals let alone winning a medal and I am damn well not throwing away everything I've - we've - worked for."
Payson looks at her reflection. There are black circles under each eye and she feels even more tired than she looks.
"I'm not saying we have to braid each other's hair and swap secrets, but we've got to learn to work together else we're all screwed," Lauren finishes, folding her arms and looking beseechingly between Payson and Kelly. This is the first chance she's got of proving to Payson and herself that she can have her teammates' backs, that she can change, and she's not about to let the opportunity slip past.
Gripping the sink, letting rationality beat down emotion, Payson feels her lightning strike temper drop from boiling to simmer. Not a word of this conversation has gone unheard by Kelly, though she has shown no reaction. Before either of them can speak, a fist hammers three times on the door.
"Thought I'd just remind you we have a world championship to train for, not that I want to interrupt," Sasha's sarcastic voice rings through the door.
"Sorry, Coach," Kelly responds first, her usual vapid sneer in place, "just talking to my teammates." Suddenly, her eyes become so clean of sarcasm that Lauren and Payson exchange a shocked glance.
"You're in?" Lauren murmurs, suspicion tinting the beginnings of triumph.
Kelly turns to the mirror and adjusts her bunches. "I'm in," she announces, then strides from the bathroom.
"And you?" Lauren studies Payson.
Kaylie, Emily, Becca are gone, and Payson doesn't recognise Sasha today; maybe it is time to make a pact with some devils, she thinks, staring at her reflection.
"I'm in."
Practice goes quickly if awkwardly for Payson since gossiping is one aspect of the Rock that has not changed and she and Sasha are the topic of more than a few conversations. Still, she's coped with worse. The late afternoon heat is a shock after ten hours being blasted by air-conditioning and Payson shivers as she pushes the front door open and hurries outside. "Kelly, wait," she calls.
"If you want relationship advice, may I suggest withholding sex until he stops acting like an asshole," Kelly says lightly, as she pauses on the sidewalk, gym bag on her shoulder, car keys in hand. "Sorry, force of habit," she sighs, remembering their truce. "What's up?"
Payson studies Kelly's face. "Why did you agree?"
A fall on bars dislodged Kelly's trademark bunches so her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail. "To the whole truce thing?"
"Yeah."
The side of Kelly's mouth curls up. "Took you long enough to ask. But then I guess you have been a little distracted today what with your boy going through his man-struation cycle."
Amusement at the description fights to bloom on Payson's face; she beats it away and remains stoic.
Kelly watches her for a while then shrugs. "I'm former national champ. I'm current world champ. Might be nice to add a team gold to my already very large medal collection. And, though god knows I've tried to figure out a way, I can't win one of those on my own." She finishes with another airy shrug, swinging her car keys round her middle finger.
This time, Payson does smile. Self-interest, now that's a Kelly Parker personality trait she recognises.
Kelly notes the expression and smiles too. "Thought you'd like to know things hadn't gone totally Twilight Zone today," she turns to leave, then pauses, "but, who knows, I'm twenty in five weeks. Maybe I'm going soft in my old age." It could be a trick of the early evening light, but Payson thinks she sees something almost like vulnerability in Kelly's eyes.
"Maybe," Payson echoes, quietly.
Two blinks and Kelly's swaggering away, head tipped high, gym bag swinging.
"Oh, by the way," Kelly turns back, usual smirk firmly in place, "since I'm going to be here for a while, maybe we will get time to braid each other's hair."
For the first time ever, Payson Keeler and Kelly Parker share a genuine laugh.
The gym's mostly empty when Payson re-enters. The Worlds team had stayed three hours longer than the rest of the Rock gymnasts and now that they're gone too the assistant coaches are closing things up. Two of the massive overhead lights clank as they're flicked off, dimming the room to its evening atmosphere. The light in the office glows suddenly bright and Payson sets her jaw as she takes the stairs at a run.
"So, do you want to tell me what's going on?" she says on entering, calm and cold, just as he has been all day.
"Excuse me?" Sasha replies. He's at his desk, apparently absorbed in a stack of scribbled notes.
Payson walks up to the edge of the desk, folds her arms and glares down at him. "What's going on?" she repeats.
Something finally flickers in Sasha's stone face though Payson can't read what it is.
"Nothing's going on," he says, still frowning intently at his work.
"Right," Payson says, coldly, snatching Phoebe's leash from the desk and crouching down to attach it to her dog; the hell is she thinking of Phoebe as their dog right now. "So I guess that whole 'we can talk about anything no matter how awkward or embarrassing' thing only works when I'm the one admitting something awkward or embarrassing. Good to know, Coach," she spits the last word as she stands and turns away, a quiet Phoebe following beside her.
"Payson."
Payson pauses in the doorway.
"Payson."
She keeps her back to the office. "What?" she barks, digging a bare toe into the carpet.
"I'm sorry." It's Sasha's voice – his real voice – that she hears. "You're right," he says softly, "we should talk."
Warily, Payson backs away from the door and drops down on the black couch. Phoebe hops up next to her and Payson's glad of the little dog's support.
Sasha remains at his desk but his papers have been put aside. "I've been an arse to you today," he sighs, looking out onto the shadowed gym.
"Total ass," Payson corrects as she strokes Phoebe.
Sasha puffs out a half-smile. "Total arse," he accepts, "and I'm sorry."
"You said that already," Payson murmurs. In her peripheral vision, she sees Sasha stand, walk over to the window, and lean a hand against the glass.
"I guess I was just...I was trying to protect you."
That has Payson sitting up straight. "Trying to protect me?" she says, incredulous.
Sasha's caught in a blind spot of the desk lamps; his body is lurking in shadow. "I know, I know, complete arse," he sighs, finally turning to face her, though he keeps his eyes on the carpet, "but I was worried about the appearance of any favouritism; I didn't want you to have to deal with even more gossip."
Payson ruffles Phoebe's fur as the dog snuggles against her side. "And you thought ignoring me and embarrassing me in front of everyone would stop them gossiping about us?"
"I'll admit, not my best plan." Sasha walks back into the light, considers sitting beside Payson, but perches on the edge of his desk instead.
"You think?" Payson shakes her head. "Why didn't you just treat me like normal?"
Sasha stiffens slightly, bracing the desk either side of him with tight fingers. "Because," he pauses, exhaling deeply to the ceiling, "because my normal for you isn't my normal for everyone else."
When Payson looks up at Sasha this time, he meets her eyes. "I don't understand what that means."
Running a hand roughly through his hair, Sasha shrugs again. "Me neither, really," he sighs. Now he's looked at her, he isn't looking away. "I have a different coaching rapport with you than I do with all the other gymnasts. It's," he pauses, "it's hard to explain."
"Try."
All the main lights in the gym are now off. Through the office windows, the air is black. It feels as if they're in a yellow bubble, floating above the rest of the world.
Sasha's deep frown when he answers is troubled. "I consider you a friend, Payson. A good friend."
Payson's gaze doesn't falter even though her body tenses. "I consider you a good friend too," she admits, "when you're not acting like an arse." She deliberately puts her terrible British accent into use on the last word; sure enough, it lights a smile from Sasha. He sobers quickly. "What's wrong with us being friends?" she asks quietly, almost embarrassed by the seemingly childish question.
Sasha looks at her, looks at the ceiling, opens his mouth, then just sighs. "Any other life, us being friends would be enough to have your mom calling the cops," he remarks, rubbing his forehead and looking at the floor.
That falls heavy on Payson. Any allusion to their age difference usually sparks annoyance; it's harder to feel that when Sasha's speaking the truth. Payson gives Phoebe another stroke, then stands up, watching her feet as they walk over to the desk and stop in front of Sasha, who tenses so quickly she feels the air constrict.
"This isn't any other life," Payson murmurs. With a steady finger, she guides Sasha's chin back up. In the warm light, his eyes are deep. Sometimes Payson does forget his age, the life he led before they met. "And the cops can go to hell." She says it so deadpan that Sasha bursts out laughing and Payson enjoys feeling the shake of his jaw before drawing her hand away.
Kindness has slipped back between them, has suffocated the distance of earlier. Still, something has definitely shifted, Payson just can't name what it is.
"I really am sorry for how I treated you today," Sasha says slowly, regret etched across his face.
"Thank you," Payson accepts the apology this time. "And I'm sorry I criticised you in front of the others; it was unprofessional of me."
Sasha blinks slowly. "Thank you."
Payson is still standing in front of Sasha, so close her thighs are nearly brushing his knees. Their private cocoon in this dim office feels so safe that Payson almost forgets herself, is half stepping toward Sasha before she remembers what such an action cost last time. She redirects herself in time, sits instead on his desk next to him. She doesn't see that he was leaning forward himself, had his hands poised to catch her waist.
"So," Payson says, deliberately louder, fearing her thumping heart is echoing in the silent gym. "If I agree not to criticise your coaching in front of the others, will you agree to treat me exactly the same as the rest of the team when we're in here?"
Beside her, Sasha breathes out deep before he speaks. "I think that could work," he agrees, faint smile touching his calmer face.
It's been a long, stressful day, and Payson never professed to being that smart. She lets her head fall against Sasha's shoulder. He stills for a moment and she waits for him to shrug her off, retreat into the cold manner he's used as a shield all day. When his arm settles round the back of her waist, Payson closes her eyes and sinks against him.
"Think there's someone else I have to apologise to as well," Sasha murmurs.
Payson smiles without opening her eyes, feeling the rumble of Sasha's voice through her cheek. "Think it's going to take more than an I'm sorry," she warns with a chuckle.
They both look down together to where Phoebe has settled at the feet. The small dog is sitting on her haunches and looking up at her owners with wide brown eyes as if demanding to know why they're ignoring her.
Sasha sweeps down to scoop her up, his big hands holding her like a football. "Do you forgive me too?" he asks, shooting a smile at Payson.
"I don't know," Payson reaches over to pet Phoebe as the dog wriggles around with delight at all the attention, "I'm thinking some bribery might be needed."
"Is that right?" he play-frowns at Phoebe and then watches Payson's half smile. "I suppose I can live with that."