CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Brushing her hair into a ponytail, Payson blinks early morning blurriness from her eyes. Though it had taken her a while to fall asleep last night - her traitorous brain kept taunting her with images of Sasha and Summer - she'd slept sound. Refreshed would be an overstatement, but she certainly feels more steady and able to focus on today's training session, and even face the party tonight that Marcus has decreed mandatory.
"Keeler, can I ask you a question?"
"Since when do you ask if you can ask a question?" Payson blinks again, this time to peer into the bathroom mirror and check the girl standing next to her is still Kelly Parker.
"Am I a coward if I don't fight Sasha over benching me for AA?"
"When did Sasha bench you?" Payson forgets her teasing. Sasha had told her a decision wouldn't be made until later today.
Kelly concentrates on twisting one long bunch into a bun.
"He hasn't. But he will."
She's doing her best to sound disinterested about losing an opportunity she's worked her entire life to achieve, and almost succeeding. Payson wonders if she'd have such composure if the roles were reversed.
"My d-scores on vault and beam are too low already," Kelly says, feeling about the sink unit for the hair pin bag. "Add in that Kirilenko's annoyingly on form, same with Genghi, and you've shown no signs of using all your energy up in bed with your boy. On paper, I can't win."
"But medals aren't won on paper." Payson follows Kelly's lead and continues arranging her own hair into a style suitable for today's training session.
"True. The stars could align and everybody but me has the worst competition of their life," Kelly concedes, coating her finished bun with hairspray. "But even then I would have to hit everything."
"And you don't you think can?" Payson coughs, waving away the chemical cloud Kelly just sprayed over them both.
For the first time, Kelly hesitates, fingers frozen in twisting up her second bun. The only noise is the extractor fan sucking moisture from the enclosed bathroom. "No," she says, shortly. "I don't."
Payson, throat suddenly tight, struggles to keep emotion out of her voice. "Accepting the reality of a situation doesn't make you a coward, Kelly."
Kelly's laugh is jagged. "That's not what my mother would say."
Payson bristles. "Then your mother's an idiot. No offence," she adds in quickly.
This time, Kelly's chuckle is real. "Don't take it back. You can give her as much offence as you want."
The teammates meet each other's eyes.
"Remember what I said about pity, Keeler"
"What are you going to slap me with?" Payson, hands midway through pinning her long ponytail into it's bun style, raises an eyebrow. Kelly's hands are also full of hair.
Scowling playfully, Kelly nudges a jutting elbow into Payson's upper arm. "I'm resourceful."
They continue in companionable silence for awhile, letting the conversation settle around them. Kelly finishes first, setting her bunches with enough hairspray that Payson has to retreat from the room to avoid suffocating.
"What about the team final?" Payson asks, still coughing, reaching under her bed to retrieve her gym bag. "You, me, and Lauren on bars?"
"Definately," Kelly agrees, exiting the bathroom and dropping down onto Payson's mattress just where Payson was planning to put her bag. "Haley will get the nod over me on beam, probably on vault, too."
"I don't know." Payson checks the battery status then slots her cell phone into her backpack. "Marcus might push for Lauren on vault since she scored more than Haley in quali."
Kelly's lip curls. "And Darby will favour Lo-Lo too."
"How are you feeling about floor?" Payson says quickly, before Kelly can start in on more conspiracy theories about Darby's favouritism to Lauren.
"Team wise? I won't fight Sasha if he opts for Lauren. As much as I want to."
"Event final wise?" Payson prompts. If Kelly can't compete, the second floor final spot will go to Beth.
"I don't know yet." Kelly picks at a burst blister on her palm. "Ask me after I've thrown a few tumbling passes today."
"You're a definate for the bars final, though," Payson says, collecting her national team jacket from it's allocated hanger in the closet.
Kelly doesn't appear to hear this consoling truth. She flops back on Payson's bed with a giant groan, crushing the half packed bag. "Why did it have to be Tanner in the all around? I'm okay with little weirdo taking my place in the floor final if my stupid ankle fucks me over, but Tanner?"
There are a number of platitudes Payson knows she could voice, but since she also knows that Kelly would find their inherent sympathy offensive rather than reassuring, she stays quiet, and finishes gathering her training accessories with a background track of Kelly's loud - and imaginative - cursing.
"No, absolutely not," Sasha frowns across the training hall as the girls run their warm up. He's hoping his message will be received, but apparently the three times he's said it in the past five minutes have not registered with Steve Tanner.
"If Lauren is going to have a decent shot in the all around final then she's got to up her d-score on bars," Steve proclaims again, punctuating his words with a fist to the palm as if such force of action will change Sasha's mind.
"And we really think the full pirouettes are within Lo-Lo's abilities." Darby hovers beside Steve, eyes wide with big sisterly sincerity that Sasha would smack down if it wasn't so horrendously hypocritical considering the level of professionalism he is displaying with Payson. "She's willing to put in the work in the next couple of days and I am more than happy to help her."
There is a repetitive stabbing sensation behind Sasha's left eyebrow that has him contemplating shoving a pen through his ear drum so he can scratch the inside of his skull. "Okay," he snaps, taking his eyes from the gymnasts and turning to face the belligerent Rock owner. "One, Lauren is not in the all around final, Kelly is. Two..."
"Come on, Belov," Steve interrupts, rolling his eyes with a level of contempt that seems to be a Tanner trait. "I spoke to Marty and, okay, he didn't give me details, but it's pretty damn obvious Kelly's ankle is bad."
"Two," Sasha repeats, raising his voice and not giving a damn if the other teams they're sharing the training hall with glance over. "The team competition comes first and that is where I want Lauren's concentration, not on some pie in the sky bars routine that she would have a maximum of three days to train."
"Four days if you'd make the decision about benching Kelly now," Steve fires back, "which, when I was talking to Marcus and Ellen this morning, is a recommendation they agree with."
Sasha smacks his lips round a humourless smirk. "Didn't realise you were so chummy with Ellen Beals again, Steve."
There's insolence in Steve's shrug that has Darby looking away uncomfortably from the two men.
"The only person I care about is my daughter, and I will do whatever is necessary to get her the chances she needs to show everyone what she can do." There's a theatrical flair in Steve's delivery that suggests preparation.
Sasha breathes his voice calm. "Well, I have an entire team to care about, and I'd appreciate you letting me get back to them." He glances at Darby. "I said I'd give Kelly to the end of the day before I made any decisions; the girl deserves that."
Empathy for a fellow competitor flows through Darby's resulting nod, though whether that will keep her from training pirouettes with Lauren today whenever his back is turned, Sasha doesn't know. He turns on his heel, about to walk over to the mat where Beth has moved into running through her tumble combinations without music.
"I bought you back to the Rock because I thought you were what was best for my gym and my daughter." Steve steps up behind Sasha's shoulder, speaking close to his ear. "Just so you know, I'm not too proud to admit when I've made a mistake."
"Are you admitting you made a mistake?" Sasha murmurs, feral smile blighting his mouth.
"That's up to you."
Sasha walks away without looking back.
"I'm just saying," Hayley reiterates, arm behind her head, easing out her tricep, "we should go say congrats." She nearly strangles herself pointing over at the Great Britain women's team training in the back section of the hall. "Since it's the first time they've made the team final in, like, ever. It is ever, right? It's ever," she concludes when no one answers.
"Sorry, Hayley, but we can't," Lauren says with a sharp smile. "Considering other people's feelings isn't something we do in gymnastics, is it, Payson?"
The three of them are prepping to run their beam routines. Payson ignores Lauren, too busy watching Sasha's conversation with Steve across the hall.
"Oh," Lauren's smile curdles, "I see RoboPayson is back." She juts out her hip to provide its usual shelf for the hand she jams against it. "Or maybe we should rename you MeanPayson. Or, I know, how about Doesn't Give A Crap About Her So-Called Friends Payson."
Hayley shifts her eyes between Lauren and Payson. "I'm just going to go over there now," she says, with fake brightness, and flees.
Alone, Lauren's sarcasm gives way to anger. She steps in front of Payson, close enough to block Payson's view of the rest of the hall. "Look, if you don't want to help me get Summer and Sasha back together, fine, be an unfeeling bitch, but at least help me convince Sasha to let me put some full pirouettes into my bars routine."
Payson watches the strip lighting in the ceiling flicker, remembering the flames at gymnastics camp; she thought this version of Lauren had burned away in that fire.
"Your routine is solid," Payson says, clinical and detached, eyes coming to rest on Lauren's. "You don't need to make changes."
Lauren, high ponytail bouncing, slaps her arms across her chest and sits her weight back into her heels, glare she's levelling at Payson not wavering. "I do to have a shot in the all around."
Anger without focus is a waste of energy, disappointment carries the same penalty. Payson swallows, trying to visualise both reactions dripping away from her like drops of mercury from a broken thermometer. "You're not in the all around."
With a deliberate twitch of her head, Lauren turns to look to the side of the hall where Kelly is having her ankle strapped by Mandy. The physio's expression is grim. Kelly, unaware she is being observed, has momentarily dropped her haughty facade and her face is rumpled with anguished pain.
Lauren looks back at Payson. "I realise she's your new BFF and all, but I didn't think friendship ever stopped Payson Keeler doing what was best for her team." There's a hint of jealously in Lauren's tone that Payson doesn't miss; Lauren never did learn how to share.
"So benching Kelly is all about what's best for the team?" Payson raises her eyebrows.
Lauren snorts and shakes her head. "You just can't stand that I might actually be better than you, can you? That I might actually score higher if we go head to head."
Payson doesn't need to say that the only time Lauren was ever the superior athlete of the two was when Payson had a split in her spine. They're both thinking it.
Lauren's cheeks colour. "You remember what they say pride comes before? And look how well that worked out for you last time."
Regret at her quick retort is evident as soon as Lauren's mouth closes, but she's too stubborn to issue an apology, and Payson wouldn't hear it over the sudden rush of blood to her ears anyway.
"Sasha has given Kelly the day." Payson's voice is tight, her posture poker straight as she takes one step toward Lauren, making their proximity just the wrong side of comfortable.
"Even if he decides Kelly can't compete, the team competition still comes first, and I will sing however many verses of Hey Tanner you want. But after that's done? And we've collected our medals and given a big, shiny, USA smile to every camera with a flash? Add your pirouettes, throw in a pac salto, do whatever the hell you want to that bars routine. You said you're done with me? Well, I'm done with you too."
Lauren blinks first as she tries to muster a look of defiance to counter Payson's blank expression. Nothing comes. So she turns without further comment, walks away with more of a wobble and less of a strut than usually marks her gait.
Curling her toes against the mat, Payson counts the rapid double thuds of her heart and struggles to haul in the fractured threads of her attention. She feels a shadow fall at her side.
"Pain, one to ten, and don't lie to me." Payson tries to infuse a smile into the question but her voice is too jagged.
Sasha's attention remains forward, his bulky cast allowing him contact with Payson's arm without having to stand closer than would seem professional.
"Where?" His joke falls flat; that he has pain in more than one place is one of the many issues that are deflecting Payson's attention from her training. "Sorry," he murmurs, a little sheepish.
"What did Steve want?" Payson asks, watching Kelly stand and balance on her bad ankle. Thirty feet and Payson can still see the tremour.
A large sigh beside her. "Don't worry about it."
"Tell me." The time for keeping information from her to protect her is long gone; not that she ever liked such measures in the first place.
"I might not need to write up a resignation letter," Sasha says quietly, glancing around to check they have no eavesdroppers.
Payson holds her flinch inside. "Lauren?" she mutters. She catches Sasha's single nod in her peripheral vision.
"And Drea. And the crash. Bad publicity is Steve's biggest fear and he'll sure as hell throw me under the bus to spare his own hide, especially if I don't start showing favoritism to his daughter."
"You saved his ass by coming back to the Rock," Payson hisses. "He had the national team training at his gym in the lead up to Worlds and every camera and journalist who came with that."
"You know Tanner. His only loyalty is to himself and Lauren."
"I won't let him just screw you over," Payson murmurs, fierce in the sterility of her countenance.
Sasha's hand is half way up to cup her face when he remembers himself. "It's not me I'm worried about." He looks down at Payson.
"The training cam video," Payson sighs, eyes closing briefly.
Lauren was raked over the coals for alerting the NGO to a 'relationship' that Sasha and Payson both denied; there is no chance Steve or Lauren will ever accept this denial wasn't a lie if they discover the status of the relationship now.
"Retribution is a Tanner specialty," Sasha says, before shouting, "be right over!" to Marty's holler.
Payson runs her tongue over her teeth, her lips firmly shut as she glances round the hall, watches the spectacle of three countries worth of gymnasts honing every millimetre of their bodies. This is Worlds. This is one of the last training sessions before the biggest competition of her life.
Payson twists her gaze up to Sasha without moving her head. "The Tanners can go to hell," she says and sees a spark of pride and belief finally light Sasha's dull eyes. "Now, pain, one to ten, and don't lie to me."
"Eight," Sasha finally murmurs, interrupting before Payson can ask any follow ups, "but we'll be back in the States next week and I'll have time to recover then; don't worry about me." His eyes bore down into her.
Payson lets a smile touch her expression. "Do not tell a future world champion what to do."
She marches past him, feeling his attention following her, his eyes tracking her movement, and if she puts a bit of an extra sway into her hips, well, every champion is allowed some swagger.