Life settled into some measure of routine at the Rock, though as a gym it had never been through an Olympic cycle quite like this one. They'd never had a legitimate Olympic contender, let alone seven and the pressure was definitely building on the athletes. Sasha studied the gymnasts working hard on the gym floor, watching for any possible problems. He looked to his right and saw two people, dressed from head to toe in a soft blue color familiar to most club gymnastics coaches. UCLA had come to call and Sasha had a pretty good idea who they wanted. He was actually surprised that they hadn't arrived sooner.
He jogged down the stairs to introduce himself to the two coaches, both of whom practically stumbled over themselves to shake his hand. He grimaced. These coaches represented a six time National Championship team. They should at least act the part. He invited them to his office, stopping on the platform to turn and look at the gym floor again. Every eye was trained on him. "Get back to work," he barked, sending every gymnast and assistant coach scurrying.
"This is a fine gym you have here," the female coach said, with a genuine smile. The awe seemed to have worn off for her.
"Thank you, we're very proud of it," he said, sitting behind his desk, "Now what brings you to the Rock."
His instincts had been right. They were looking at Emily Kmetko. He smiled at them. "You do realize Emily is on the fast track right now? She's a definitely Olympic contender and she probably wouldn't be able to attend and compete full time until the Fall of 2012, at the earliest, the Spring of 2013 if she did well enough at the Olympics to demand major media attention afterwards."
The male coach scoffed, "She would be able to come now. We'd coach her until the Olympics if necessary." Sasha eyed the man whose eyes darted away quickly.
"And if she decides to forfeit her amateur status?" He said, directing his question to the female coach.
She smiled, "We're UCLA, Coach Beloff. We will be offering her over one hundred thousand dollars worth of education simply to compete on our National Championship gymnastics team. I've coached girls with Olympic aspirations before."
"Coach Field," Sasha said, "all due respect. You haven't coached them well enough. I'm sure you realize that gymnastics at the NCAA level and the elite international level are two very different things. The Olympians that have come out of your program have been overwhelmed on the international stage."
The woman narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you saying you'll advise Emily to refuse our scholarship offer?"
Sasha shook his head, "No. I'm saying I will be upfront with her about her chances at the Olympics if she ceases training at the Rock. Even you can't deny they decrease significantly."
Coach Field shrugged noncommittally, but her assistant seemed to be offended, "I disagree," he said. "I believe the Emily would flourish at our school."
Sasha shrugged, "As a person and a student, I have no doubt, UCLA would be a great fit for Emily, but as a gymnast, she would become complacent. Walking in the door she would easily be the best gymnast you have. Here at the Rock, she has her teammates, the current World and National champion and a former National champion pushing her to get better, as well as an Olympic gold medalist on the men's side. As a Bruin, she would plateau and that's not something she should be doing a year out from the Olympic games."
Suddenly, the office door opened and Payson walked in, her head down, looking at a thick brown paper envelope, "Sasha?" she asked, not looking up. "The paperwork for Becca's participation in the Pan-American games arrived." She looked up. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you had visitors." She approached them confidently. "I'm Payson Keeler," she said, her hand extended. Each of the UCLA coaches rose to shake her hand, practically drooling on her and the thought of the World Champion wearing the gold and blue, even as that was now an impossibility due to NCAA amateurism bylaws.
Sasha stood, "Payson, this is Coach Field," he said indicating the woman. Payson shook her hand.
"A lot of coaches myself included were very disappointed the day you gave up your amateur status. I know we were hoping to snag you," Coach Field said, with a smile.
Payson returned the smile, but shrugged, "I never had any intention of competing at the collegiate level."
"And this is Coach..." Sasha trailed off, intentionally forgetting the assistant head coach's name.
"Coach Waller, member of the 1992 Olympic team," he said, shaking Payson's hand but glaring over her head at Sasha. Sasha smirked, having known exactly who the coach was, a moderately well-known male gymnast who'd had some success at the club level before moving on to UCLA. He'd competed against him several times when Sasha first moved up to senior elite at the age of sixteen.
Payson looked between the two men with a small smirk on her face. "Well, sorry to interrupt. I'll let you get back to your meeting."
"Payson," Sasha stopped her retreat. "Send Emily up here, would you?"
Payson nodded, handing him the envelope, "Sure. Also, Tara wanted you to know that the level tens are ready whenever you are and Lauren wanted to run her beam by you before she left for the day."
An hour later, Sasha and Emily walked the UCLA coaches to the door of the Rock.
Coach Field handed Emily here card, "Feel free to call me if you have any questions, any time. My cell number is written on the back."
"Thank you," Emily said, taking the card.
They watched the twin set of blue track suits leave. "So, what do you think? Emily asked, not taking her eyes off the coaches.
Sasha sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't tell you what to do with this one, Emily. You have to weigh your options."
"I'm not going," she said, very quietly, more to herself than to him.
Sasha shook his head, "Sit down with your mum and your brother and anyone else who might have an interest in this decision." She had the grace to blush at his roundabout mention of Damon Young, the LA based rock star she was dating. "Talk it over and don't make any decisions right now."
"You think I should go?" she asked, frowning at him.
"Come on, we'll talk inside."
They made their way back to his office. Emily shut the door behind her and sat down on the couch. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Sasha asked. "I told you, I won't tell you what to do."
She rolled her eyes, "You always tell me what to do, it's what you're good at. It's how this coaching thing works."
Sasha chuckled, "So what are you asking me exactly?"
"If I go to UCLA in the spring, what does that do to my chances to make the Olympic team?"
He sighed, "It effectively kills them. Your training would not be nearly at the level required. You're not competing in team finals on beam unless absolutely necessary at Worlds already. If you left now, I don't know how my father would react after you've spent months working out of an inferior program."
"And if I waited? If I put it off until after the Olympics?"
"And if you get injured between now and then? Then what?" he asked, playing the devil's advocate for her, while loathing the words coming from his mouth. "UCLA is a very good school, with an excellent gymnastics program. You would dominate at that level, win National Championships, but the choice is yours."
She nodded, before pocketing the card. "I'll talk it over with my mom tonight," she said. "Thanks, Sasha."
She left his office and he twisted his mouth into a frown. "Damn it," he muttered, punching the desk lightly. He had no idea how to advise her. Emily was an extremely talented gymnast and had just begun to scratch the surface of what she could do, but sometimes life got in the way of dreams. The opportunity UCLA was offering her was one he couldn't let her simply pass up. It was one of the best universities in the country, a place she could still do gymnastics at a high level and get her education paid for, all at the expense of the one thing she'd been working toward her entire life: the Olympics. There way no way she'd be able to maintain the training schedule necessary to compete in elite international gymnastics, while balancing a college workload and competitive NCAA gymnastics. It wasn't possible. He knew it sounded arrogant, but there was the coaching as well. Even if she attempted to keep up with her training, Sasha knew he was simply a better coach than the people UCLA had in place. They were competent, but they didn't understand fully the requirements of training for the Olympics, at least not at the expense of their own program.
There was one thing he did know, if Emily Kmetko decided to go to UCLA, his father was going to go nuts.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there mulling it over, but his thoughts were eventually interrupted by Kim waving her hand in front of his face, "Good night, Sasha." He looked up and shook his head, "Sorry, night Kim. Have a nice weekend."
"You too." She pulled on her sweater, "You staying late?" she asked, a concerned look on her face.
"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm leaving," he said, standing up, grabbing his own jacket from the back of his chair.
"Sasha, could I ask a favor of you?" Kim asked.
He nodded, "Of course."
"Would you mind going to check up on Payson at her new place? I promised I wouldn't intrude on her, she's trying to be independent and I get that, but I can't help but worry and if you went over there, well it wouldn't be me."
Sasha sighed. Shit. "Kim, I'm not sure that's the best idea," he said, hating that he was lying yet again, even if it was a lie of omission.
"Please, I wouldn't ask, except that, she respects you. She wouldn't have a problem with you checking up on her, as her coach."
What the hell, Beloff, just tell her yes. You were headed over there anyway. He held a hand up to stop her, "Okay, I'll go over tonight, see how she's doing."
Kim smiled, "Thank you," she said, relief crossing her face. Another lie, another moment she'll look back on and despise you for.
Sasha shook his head, "No reason to thank me, Kim."
A half hour later, Sasha was climbing the steps to Payson's townhouse. He knocked on the door and waited patiently for her to open up.
The wooden door swung open and she stood there, looking amazing in a pair of worn in jeans, and one of the many tee shirts she'd stolen from him, though he thought it looked much better on her, the neckline big enough to expose the smooth skin of her collar bone and one of her shoulders.
"Hey," she said, as he stepped inside. She moved back against the door to allow him room and he leaned down to kiss her. A soft peck and then another, his tongue gently nudging her lower lip before they both pulled back.
"Hi there," he said as they moved into the hall and she shut the door behind him. He could smell dinner cooking. "That smells incredible," he said, as they walked into the kitchen together.
"You want to help?" she asked. "Those peppers could use chopping." She pointed with the wooden spoon she was using the stir the tomato sauce in the pot on the stove.
He took one of her knives from the drawer and began to chop up the peppers. "So your mother asked me to come check up on you tonight. I'd say you're doing pretty well, right?"
She sighed, "She's worried?" she asked, frowning.
"She's your mum; it's her job to worry." It was his turn to sigh, "Can't say I really enjoy lying to her."
"I know, this is such a mess isn't it? I mean look at us, we're so normal, but if people found out it would be a national controversy. And I hate lying to my family. I'm starting to feel like such a fraud."
Sasha put down the knife and in two steps had her in his arms. "Me too," he said, holding her close. "We could always come clean, tell them everything."
She let out a mirthless laugh, "I think we both know how well that would go over. We can't expect the rest of the world to act like Austin or your father. I love them both, but…"
Sasha finished for her, "neither of them is exactly normal."
That she laughed at, "Exactly." Then suddenly her laughter ceased, "My dad will never trust me again. He'll forgive me eventually, but he'll never…" she trailed off, her voice catching at the thought. She was shaking in his arms now.
Sasha reached around behind her and shut off the burners. He kissed her forehead and took a shaky breath. This was not where he'd expected their conversation to go. "Do you want to stop?" he asked. "We could, you know? I could leave right now and tell your mum you're doing well and just be your coach and no one would be the wiser." They were the words he had to say, the words of a man who loved her enough to let her go.
She shook her head, pulling back from him just a little, "And what would be the point of that? I'd be miserable without you," she admitted, unashamed of the intensity of her feelings.
Sasha's entire body relaxed in relief as she refused his offer. He wasn't sure what he would do if she took him up on it. "I never should have put you in this position. I should have waited," he said, pulling her close again, "I'll never forgive myself if you lose what you have with your parents."
She ran a hand into his hair and leaned back, looking him in the eye, "They know you're a good man, Sasha. Eventually, they'll forgive both of us."
Sasha laughed, "Your dad will never forgive me," he said. She opened her mouth to protest. "It's okay, Payson. I knew that the moment I kissed you on the plane to Rotterdam. Your dad loves you. You're his little girl and I violated his trust. He'll never forgive me that."
They were silent for a moment, when suddenly Payson's cell phone broke out into the familiar Kid Rock song, "Austin," she said, grabbing her phone from the counter.
"Take the call," Sasha said, "I'll start up dinner again."
He turned the burner on, and picked up the wooden spoon from where she'd set it on the counter.
Then from directly behind him, Payson shouted into the phone, "She what? Austin, what are you…oh my God. Yeah, um, thanks. I'm gonna go." The wooden spoon nearly flew out of his hand.
"Is everything okay? What's the matter?"
Payson looked at him and sighed. "It's Emily."
Emily Kmetko was no idiot. She knew this decision was too big to make on her own. She needed to talk to someone about it, someone who'd been through it before. She immediately thought of Payson. Her parents had originally refused to let her take sponsorship money because it would cause her to forfeit her amateur status, but that decision almost backfired completely when she broke her back. It was a miracle she'd gotten another chance, but she thought that of everyone Payson would have the most perspective on the issue.
She got in her car and drove. She smiled as she pulled into the community's gate. She still couldn't believe Payson had her own house. It was so grown up, but then Payson had always been more adult than the rest of them. She pulled her car onto Payson's street. She lived at the other end of the block. There was a silver truck in front of her and as they approached Payson's house, she saw it slow down and then pull into the driveway.
Emily frowned, pulling over. It was dark and the street was dimly lit, so she had to squint to see. She watched as a tall man got out of the car and took the stairs to Payson's front door two at a time. He knocked, shoving his hands in his pockets waiting for an answer. The door opened and Payson stood there. Then something happened that Emily had not seen coming, the man took a step forward and kissed Payson. Her immediately thought was to leap out of the car and scream bloody murder, but then she saw her friend's arms come around the man's back, leaning into the kiss, accepting and participating willingly.
Emily wasn't sure what happened next, but then the door was closed and she was still sitting in her car. She shook her head, starting up her engine and pulled away from Payson's house. Austin's lake house was just down the road. He and Payson were really close maybe he could shed some light on this development. She couldn't believe Payson hadn't told her that she was seeing someone, and it was serious enough that he'd be showing up at her house at eight at night for what? Dinner? Dessert? Breakfast? Her mind was reeling with possibilities, each one more sordid than the next.
She shook her head, this was Payson. What's the big deal? So she had a boyfriend. We all do or did or will, it's not like anyone follows that stupid no dating rule anyway. So she kept it a secret. Good for her, it's almost impossible to keep secrets at the Rock.
She pulled her into Austin's driveway and made her way up to his front door. She knocked. The scene she'd witnessed flashed through her mind again, the silver truck, the tall, athletically built man, the way he leaned down to kiss her, she was so much smaller than him and blonde and wearing clothes this time and not a towel like she had been in London.
Austin pulled the door open, "Hey Emily," he said with his signature smile in place.
"How long have Sasha and Payson been together and how long have you known about it?"
Austin's smile faded, "Come in, we should talk."