That was a buzz I'd be feeling for a while. Between how fired up the crowd was and the fact that Celestino was already booking our flight to London, I never wanted to come down. Goddamn, I missed this feeling. The drug Victor got me hooked on. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stick around for his performance. Celestino and I had press to attend to. This time, they didn't want to hear my opinion on Victor. After the performance I just had, why would they?
"So, Ms. Plisetsky," a reporter began. A short, chubby man that reminded me of a turtle, "What can we expect from you this season?"
"A healthy mix of highs and lows," I answered, putting a bit of seduction in my voice, "Of pain and pleasure. An emotional roller coaster and a sort of sexual awakening that will have you questioning your morals and make you act on pure, animalistic instinct."
"Is it purely based on sex?" another reporter chimed in. This one a little nicer to look at. This guy took very good care of himself.
"It's more or less a visual study in human sexuality," I explained, "It's not like I have a pole on the ice with me?"
"What kind of preparations have you made for this?" he went on, "Did your experience at Cosmos act as an influence?"
"Excuse me," Celestino stepped in, wanting that incident stricken from my record altogether, "Which magazine did you say you were with?"
"Skate Weekly." You're...shitting me. There is no way in God's green Earth that this guy is who I think he is.
"Are you, by any chance, Doyle Wallace?" I perked up.
"Yes, I am." That explains his persistence on the sexiness of my routine.
"I'd like to have a word with you later," I ordered, my blood already boiling, "No more questions.
I left the flashing cameras behind me. A strong cup of tea was sorely needed. My hot tub, too, ideally. But I made myself a promise. It won't break my heart to miss Victor's performance, but if Yuri and Yurio have to do it, I'll be damned if I miss that. Fortunately, there was a cart just outside the rink. I swear, I may have single-handedly put this man's kids through college. Besides, I was about to have Doyle Wallace from Skate Weekly Magazine in front of me. It sucked that he was so cute. Why did Doyle Wallace have to be cute? It's a sick, cosmic joke that I wasn't getting.
Regardless, I met him in the alley, thinking about all the things I wanted to say to him. This was it. He's right in front of me. And I am an emotional yo-yo right now. I could kick the ever-living shit out of him and have no remorse. Not like he wouldn't have it coming, though. A thorough beating would be better than a lawsuit for defamation of character, wouldn't it?
"Um..." Doyle Wallace broke the silence, "Ms. Plisetsky? Is there a reason why you asked to see me?"
The more I looked over this guy's face, the less I wanted to punch it. I don't understand. This was the guy who wanted to peg me as losing it and whoring myself out to anyone and possibly developing a drinking problem. I'd be lying if I said that I haven't been appreciating my booze lately. Could anyone blame me, though? We all have our vices. And this was the guy that wanted to spearhead the charge at my pride. Color me curious.
"You can call me Violet," I allowed, still not used to people not calling me Mrs. Nikiforov, "And could we talk totally off the record?"
"Sure," Doyle Wallace took his phone out and turned it off, "We're officially off the record. Does this mean I can ask you anything I want without any sort of repercussions?"
"Hold on," I peeked around the corner, "Hey, Gene?"
"Yes, Violet?" Gene's radar went up, "You need me?"
"I want to introduce you to someone," I brought him into the alley, "This is Doyle Wallace. Doyle Wallace, this is my bodyguard Gene."
"Nice to meet you, man," Gene played nice.
"You, too," Doyle Wallace was a tad confused. And a little nervous. Given Gene's size and position, I'm not surprised, "I'm guessing I can't ask you anything I want, can I?"
"No, you can't," I confirmed.
"Noted."
"Actually," I stopped him, "I brought you out here, so I could ask you a few questions. Is that ok with you?"
"Me?" he wasn't quite sure what to make of me, but he rolled with it, "Sure. Go ahead. Ask away."
"Why did you feel the need to completely shit on me?" No sense of dancing around the subject. Might as well be blunt. This is off the record, "When I came out of Cosmos, I was at a very low point in my life and for some ungodly reason, you felt the need to put it under a magnifying glass. Why?"
Doyle Wallace looked down at his feet, feeling around in his pockets. He pulled one lone cigarette from the inside of his jacket and a lighter from his pants, "I like you, Violet. I do. I've been a huge fan of yours for years. When you announced your comeback, I could hardly contain myself. I was sitting at my desk in the office watching the announcement and I had the biggest spazz fit. When the Cosmos incident happened, it broke me. I knew you were better than that, so I was going to run the story in a little less negative light. But my editor had other plans. Really and truly, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry, Violet. I have bills to pay, a mouth to feed, and a pug at home with heart problems."
I knew that look. The shame of the job that was an unfortunate mistress. I couldn't totally blame him. I remember how hard it is living in a town like this when I'm not living a professional ice skater's life. Hell, I had no room to judge. I've done some shady shit for a paycheck. The days of me dancing half naked onstage and fully naked in private if the price was right were long behind me, though. Doyle Wallace was still a dick in my book, but not nearly as big of a dick as I thought.
"What's his name?"
"Excuse me?" Doyle gave me a look.
"Your pug," I clarified, giving him a little smile, "What's his name?"
"Her name," he corrected me, "It's Bubble. She's a good girl and very lovey."
"I'm sure she is," I awed, "Do you have any pictures?"
What can I say? I'm a slut for a pug. Doyle took his phone back out and turned it on. Right on the lock screen was a roly-poly little pug that absolutely stole my heart, "There's my girl."
"She's adorable," I melted, taking my phone out, "I got a couple babies, too."
"Can I see them?" he asked, starting to relax some more.
"Of course," I showed him the big, ginger poodle first, "This is Makkachin."
"That's Victor's dog!" Dammit, Doyle Wallace. We were doing good. We didn't need to bring Victor into it.
"That's our dog," I corrected him, "I was there when we adopted him, too. Me, Victor, Chris, our boys. But then, there was a cat that sort of imprinted on Yurio, so we got Nadya, too."
I swiped one more picture over and showed him the ball of fluff and judgment that Nadya is, "She's a pretty kitty."
"She's a hundred percent sass, too," I assured, putting my phone back in my hoody pocket, "Look, Doyle Wallace of Skate Weekly Magazine..."
"Just Doyle will do," he chuckled under his breath.
"Doyle," I went on, "I get it. And if you can do something to not make me look like a trainwreck, that'd be really cool."
"Does this mean we're going into a partnership, Violet?" Doyle crossed his fingers.
"I wouldn't say that," I mulled it over, "But if you're looking for a full-disclosure interview, I'll give you one. After the season's over, though. I have to leave for London in the morning."
"So do I," he confessed, "My editor told me to stay on you as much as I could. He's been after me for a follow-up for ages now. It's going to be the two of us for as far as this competition goes."
Well...That was a bit unexpected. It's nice I'm finding out about this now. What is it with people keeping things from me? I don't know why I'd be surprised, though. He's press. Those events are always swarming with reporters and photographers and someone's bound to recognize me. Now that I've had my slight heart to heart with Doyle, though, I'm glad he'll be coming along. I don't want to stab him quite as much anymore.
The two of us parted amicably and I went home. Yuri and Yurio were already more than qualified to be in for the season, so I didn't get to see them skate. Although, I'm intrigued to see how Yurio's improved under Celestino's direction. God knows I've gotten better. Yurio, though...With the added fire in his belly of Yuri walking away with gold last year, I'm sure he's still Mama's little warrior.
I wanted to take a nap. With every fiber of my being, did I want to take a nap. I wanted to kick my feet up in my hot tub with a dirty book and a glass of wine, but I had a trip to pack for. It sucks that I wouldn't have a chance to go shopping beforehand, but luckily, in our last shopping trip, Victor scored big enough for me to not have to. Bless him. Wow...I've had him on the brain a lot today.
Either way, I still needed to pack for London. From London, depending on where I place (which, let's be honest. I'll be on the podium.), I'll be in Moscow or Brussels. Then, from Moscow or Brussels, I'll be doing the finals in Rome. I couldn't wait to get to Rome. I had enough skater dresses to get me through. And fleece lined leggings were always a good thing to have on hand. Now that things were starting to cool off, the cold snap of winter would soon be upon us. But with the way weather can be lately, I packed some lighter leggings and knee-high socks just in case.
Knock, knock.
Who the hell...? I had already sent Gene home for the day, so I didn't have anyone else to get the door for me. Nadya didn't have thumbs. When I unlocked it, my stomach dropped, "Hi, Victor."
"Hi, Violet," my ex-husband stood in the doorway, "Do you mind if I come in?"
Play it cool, Violet. You knew this was coming. I gave him a nod, "But I'm busy, sweetie. I have a flight to make in the morning. And I still have to pack."
Thank God Celestino thought to overnight my costumes. Putting those in a suitcase would've been a pain in my ass that I didn't want to deal with. Victor followed me back to my bedroom, making sure not to trip over Sassmaster McGee, "I do, too. Yakov was calling me every name in the book for springing things on him last minute, but he'll get over it. I just wanted to make sure there was no bad blood between us."
"There isn't," I didn't break my concentration. Skater dress, leggings, shoes. My underwear goes in the front pocket.
"Are you sure about that?" Victor poked where he had no business poking.
"I'm sure," I blocked him out, making a beeline for my closet, getting another handful of clothes. Don't you do it, you son of a bitch. Don't you dare.
"Violet," he stopped me, taking my clothes from me, "Put these down."
I let out a heavy sigh and threw myself on the bed, "What do you want, Victor?"
"Well," Victor thought, "Why don't we start with a drink?"
"Couldn't agree more," I approved.
"Do you still have any of that vodka I brought back for you?" he asked, heading out to the kitchen. Oh, shit...
"Would you be pissed if I said no?"
"I wouldn't say I'm surprised," Victor shrugged, "You do like your vodka."
"I do have a bottle of wine I haven't opened," I pointed out, walking out into my living room, "Why? You feel like drinking?"
"A better way to grease the wheels," he figured, "Vodka always got your lips moving."
"Mostly to sing really shitty eighties tunes off key," I giggled, "I'm going to turn on the hot tub. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Victor got a couple of glasses down from the cabinet along with a bottle of Grey Goose I had hiding in the back, "I fell during my warm-up and my ass is killing me."
"Ow," I knew all too well the pain of a broken tailbone, "You didn't hurt yourself too bad, did you?"
"No," he shook his head, "What do you have for mixers?"
"Just about anything," I turned on the hot tub and went back into my bedroom for a dry swimsuit, "You know where the fridge is. Just don't touch the…"
"Apple juice!" Victor yelled, "I know how our son works! If there's no apple juice, Yurio would go on a killing spree."
"That's no shit either," I shivered. We made that mistake two years ago. Things weren't pretty.
Victor made us both a drink and joined me in the hot tub, "You're wound far too tight, dorogoy. Take this."
"Thank you," I slipped deeper into the water. This was nice. This is very nice. I deserved a beautiful Russian man bringing me vodka while I sit my ass in this hot tub.
"Violet," he moved to my side, "Can I ask you something? And you promise me you'll give me an honest answer?"
"Sure," I took a good, heavy drink, "Fire away."
"Are you pissed that I'm making a comeback?" Should've seen that coming.
"Victor…"
"No," he cut me off, "Are you really and truly pissed that I'm making a comeback?"
That son of a bitch cornered me. He figured he'd get me liquored up to get me to talk. I hate that vodka acts like a truth serum for me. Even more so, I hated that Victor was exploiting that knowledge. Damn Russians, man. I swear. Note to self: Don't get involved with another Russian man. They're bad news, Violet. You're learning your lesson now.
"If we're being honest," I sighed out, "Yeah. Kind of. I mean, when I plan on making a comeback and reporters are jumping me for information on you, give me someone that wouldn't be pissed about that. I know I sound like a selfish bitch, but you got your last season. You told me that you'd stay home with the boys and me and quit skating professionally. And coming back the same time I do was kind of a middle finger to me. You stole my thunder."
Victor's face fell as he took my hand under the water, "I'm sorry, Violet. You know that's not my intention. That's never my intention. You should know that. I don't have any control over the press. I'm sorry. I've been at this longer. They're going to keep coming back to me."
"I know," I bit my lip, "But…It's like watching my life flash before my eyes. Every time they ask me about you, I get a reminder that my career could be over in a second and no one will even care about me. When we got married, everyone turned on me. But at least they were still paying attention. The last time they even so much as glanced in my direction was when I was having a breakdown."
"So, show them a redemption," he suggested, "There's nothing the world loves more than a breakdown except for a comeback."
"It's funny you say that," a little smile crept across my face, "Because Chris told me the same thing. As he was saying it, I could almost hear it in your voice."
"You know, Violet," Victor pulled me into his arms, "I really do miss you and me hanging out all the time. I feel like I never see you anymore. Are we good?"
I laid my head in his shoulder, basking in his warmth, "Yeah. We're good."
"Good," he kissed the top of my head, "It's getting late. I should be going."
Just as Victor got out of my hot tub, I grabbed his hand, "No."
"No?" he gave me a look, "Violet, we have a flight to catch in the morning."
"I know," I dropped my gaze, "But…Please. Stay with me."
Victor picked my chin up and helped me out of the tub, "You know, you're so lucky my husband's so understanding."
A/N: Chris is pretty understanding of Victor and Violet's relationship. No matter how many ups and downs it has. So, they've gotten back together, so to speak. Violet's not as pissed at Victor anymore. She can stand to be in the same room with him now. Hell, they're cuddling tonight. Also, we've met Doyle Wallace! He's not a huge doucher like we all thought he was. He's actually not a half bad guy. Good for you, Doyle Wallace. And we're going to be seeing more of him when we get to London! Do we remember what happened the last time Victor and Violet and Chris were in London together? It was a time before Yuri and Yurio. That's all I'm going to say about it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow! xx