Austin jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed, the cool sheet pooling around his waist as he looked around the dimly lit room. He was typically a deep sleeper and tended to slowly drift into consciousness, usually long after the sun rose, but something had drawn him from his sleep, he was sure of it. He looked down at Odette's bare back, her long honey blonde hair in disarray. She was definitely asleep and barely moved from the position she drifted off in. Maybe he just wasn't used to having someone else there; it had been a while or at least a while in relative terms. She was up visiting for a few days before the Olympics and despite their relationship remaining undefined at this point, Austin was beginning to regret having ever let her go or rather leaving her. Odette was sweet and gorgeous and refreshingly uncomplicated, especially when it was just the two of them. They were keeping it simple, something he'd preferred in the past, but as he looked down at her sleeping form, the idea of commitment of finding someone to really be with, it suddenly wasn't nearly as scary as it used to be.
Then he heard it, jolting him from his deep thoughts, a bell, that's what shook him out of his rest and his sleep glazed mind finally comprehended what it was, his doorbell. His doorbell was ringing at, he glanced at the clock on his end table, seven thirty in the morning. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes and swung his legs around off the bed, the motion helping to clear his foggy mind.
Most people would know better than to come see him this early in the morning. His friends all knew he wasn't a morning person, at least not unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Fuck," he cursed aloud as his foot caught on something and he almost killed himself on the last few steps. Bending down to retrieve the culprit, he saw it was Odette's bra and he chuckled to himself as he tossed it on the couch, seeing other items of clothing spread around the living room. It had been a great night.
As he approached the door he looked down, realizing he was only wearing his underwear he grimaced. Well, whoever shows up at my door at this ungodly hour will have to deal. He wrenched the door open and did a double take. "Kaylie?" he asked, though it was definitely her.
She took him in and then shook her head, "Do you ever answer your door wearing clothes?" Her tone was light, but he could tell she was recalling the last time he'd answered the door in only his underwear. He watched her eyes drift to his driveway where Odette's rental car was parked in the same place MJ's rental occupied. It was like déjà vu, only a lot more awkward.
He stood there staring at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but no words were forthcoming.
"Speechless, I never thought I'd see the day, Austin," she said, avoiding his eyes and every other part of him deliberately looking over his shoulder. She was wearing her national team track suit, ostensibly with her leo underneath, her hair slicked back in her signature high ponytail. Then it clicked in his head, today was the invitational national team practice. Today, Boris, some NGO officials, the three athletes vying for the final spot on the Olympic roster and their coaches would gather at the Rock to determine who would go to London and whose dreams would be shattered by the dreaded word, alternate.
"What are you doing here?" he finally managed to say, still unbelievably stunned by her appearance on his doorstep.
She looked uncomfortable, but then he saw her shoulders straighten and her expression harden. It was a look he recognized, but hadn't seen in a long time from her. It was Kaylie's game face.
"I just wanted to apologize, for everything I put you through. I just want you to know that I'm sorry and that I'm so grateful for everything you did for me." She bit her lip and looked away, the confidence from just moments before gone now, but he saw how much it took for her to simply utter those words, but then she surprised him and continued, "If I make that team today you will be one of the major reasons why, so thank you, Austin, for being there." She took a step closer and pushed up onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Then she was gone, jogging down the path from his front door to her car, not looking back.
She started the engine and pulled out of his driveway, he assumed on the way to the Rock. The practice was scheduled to begin at eight. He raised his hand to his face where he could still feel her lips warm and soft against his cheek. He smiled as the convertible smoothly sped up his street and then out of sight.
In gymnastics and in life, Kaylie's major weakness was also her greatest strength. It was simply that she let the world around her dictate her actions, both in the gym and out of it. As far as her gymnastics career was concerned, when she was in a positive frame of mind she was unstoppable, like when she won her national championship, but when she let the negative creep in, her parent's broken marriage, her inability to handle the spotlight, her friend's betrayal, she allowed anorexia to ravage her mind and body. It was a difficult way to live life, constantly shifting, never balanced.
The Kaylie that showed up on his front door was different, Austin was sure of it. She seemed, for once, at peace and suddenly he felt very sorry for Andrea Conway and Justine Turner, because if Boris Beloff hadn't already made up his mind, Kaylie Cruz was about to do it for him.
"Payson, are you taking this with you?" Emily asked, holding up a frame picture on the shelf in her living room. It was a photograph taken at her mother's wedding of Austin, Damon and Sasha, all leaning up against the bar, each holding a drink in his hand, completely unaware the photographer was taking a picture and all looking extremely and candidly handsome.
She smiled, "Yes, I am," she said, and Emily nodded, wrapping the frame carefully in newspaper and placing it in one of the many boxes currently open in the center of her living room floor.
"I can't believe you're moving to New York," Lauren said for at least the hundredth time that morning. "Mostly I can't believe you're moving to New York and leaving this gorgeous house vacant when I could totally house-sit for you."
Payson rolled her eyes, "Lo, I'm actually moving there, not going on vacation. Besides, I thought you were out of here after the Olympics, going jetset, like you always planned."
Lauren sighed and shook her head, "If my father ever let me hire an agent…" she trailed off.
"You're eighteen years old, Lauren. If you want an agent you can get one," Emily said. Payson could tell from her tone of voice that this wasn't the first time she'd said this to her step-sister. Emily's pointed eye contact and small eye roll made that even clearer.
"You don't get it," Lauren said, rolling her eyes as well, though with infinitely more drama, "I can't just hire and agent. My dad's a lawyer, he does stuff like this, he'd freak and besides it's not like I need the money."
Emily sighed, "Well, then stop guilt tripping Payson."
"Shut up," Lauren said, flopping back into the armchair dramatically and sighing heavily.
Payson smiled. Emily and Lauren's relationship had come a long way. Lauren was antagonistic towards Emily since the moment she set foot into the Rock, but since their parent's marriage, she'd seemingly called a truce. More and more they acted like actual sisters, arguing and forgiving at the drop of a hat, with much less actual animosity in their actions and words, especially from Lauren's side, as Emily had usually taken the brunt of Lauren's unchecked tongue and scheming.
"How do you think Kaylie's doing?" Lauren mused aloud, frowning to herself.
"You said you two talked things out, right?" Payson asked, narrowing her eyes at her blonde friend.
"We did, I apologized for acting like such a bitch and she seemed good afterwards, confident even, like I said before," Lauren defended quickly, obviously still feeling bad about the possibility that her words could mess with Kaylie's mental state enough to keep her off the Olympic team.
Payson nodded, "Then she should be fine. Sasha's with her and he'll keep her focused. I think if she puts in a performance like she did at trials that it'll be fine."
"What does Sasha think, I mean it's his dad making the decision, doesn't he have any idea?" Lauren asked, frowning.
Payson sighed, "It's not that simple, Lo. He and his father don't exactly see eye to eye on most things, so Boris isn't going to share a lot."
"Sucks," Lauren sighed, "I mean what's the point of having your coach's father being head of the national team if it doesn't mean we get a little leg up in situations like this. You're totally sleeping with the wrong Beloff, Pay. I bet this wouldn't have been an issue at all if you and Boris were…"
Emily cut her off making a gagging noise. "Ugh, Lauren, really, I just ate," she said, cringing.
"Seriously, gross, Lauren," Payson said, rolling her eyes, "Boris is nearly seventy."
Lauren smiled sweetly, obviously teasing now, "Oh, c'mon Pay, you're into older guys, obviously. Besides it's all in the family."
Payson shook her head, "He's going to be my father-in-law one day, Lo. That's just so…ugh…gross," she said, an involuntary silver running down her spine.
"Marriage, babies, blah blah blah," Lauren said. "You know, for an undercover, inappropriate relationship you and Sasha are incredibly boring."
Payson twisted her mouth into a pout, "We're not boring, we're stable, which I know is a foreign concept in our little circle of friends," she said, eyeing the both of them pointedly.
They were all silent for a moment before they burst into laughter. They lapsed into silence as their laughter faded and Payson felt the need to fill it, to reassure them and herself that everything was going to work out. "I think she's going to make the team, not because Sasha's her coach or because she's our teammate, but because she's better than Justine and Andrea and at the end of the day, Boris will realize that. He has to."
"You really think so?" Emily asked, biting her lip in concern. "I know we should all just be happy we made the team, but it wouldn't feel right going to London without Kaylie."
Payson nodded, though she added practically, "We'd also have less room for error. Not having her DOD in our arsenal would damage our shot at team gold."
"And your quest for perfection," Lauren added slyly.
She rolled her eyes. That's what the media had begun to call it in their lead-up coverage to the games and she knew she was going to take a lot of good natured ribbing for it over the next few weeks and if she actually did it, maybe for the rest of her life. "Team gold is the most important. I'd rather walk out with team gold than the five others, you know that," she said, trying to steer the conversation back to serious ground, but Lauren wasn't having any of it.
Lauren smiled, "Don't worry, we're going to kick the rest of the World's ass and then you're going to have to settle for silver on beam, Keeler."
Emily laughed and smiled. "And bars," she added.
Payson smiled at her teammates, her friends, her competition and said, "Bring it on."
Sasha stood on the platform studying the gym. It was ridiculous that this was even necessary. Kaylie Cruz was a far better gymnast with much more international success than either Andrea Conway or Justine Turner, even if she'd never totally regained her form after her bought with anorexia, she still blew them away on degree of difficulty alone. The fact that his father made the choosing of the Olympic team into a circus was frustrating, but he supposed it could be worse. His eyes drifted to the corner of the gym where several NGO officials were standing, along with his old nemesis, Ellen Beals, now an event coordinator, a significantly diminished role, but important enough to warrant attendance at the invitational practice as well as the first official team practice this afternoon.
From what he understood, Beals was in charge of the logistics of both the men's and women's team for the next few weeks, practice times, drug testing, coordinating with the IOC and all the other bureaucratic nonsense that went along with attending the Olympic games. In Sasha's opinion her job allowed for far too many ways for the historically vindictive Beals to interfere or sabotage his gymnasts. He and his father, along with Marty Walsh were on high alert, all of them knowing full well what Beals was capable of.
"So, gut feeling?" Marty's voice asked from beside him. "He's your father."
Sasha grimaced and nodded, "Gut feeling is that he'll take Kaylie, but really, that's just a guess. My father has his own personal brand of logic, Marty and honestly, this decision shouldn't have been difficult to begin with."
"Well, if he asks my opinion I think you know where I stand," his old friend said, crossing his arms over his chest, surveying the gym he used to call home.
"Yeah, you, me, the rest of the NGO, but they put the decision in his hands when they agreed to this," Sasha sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Kaylie better bring her a-game today."
That's really what it was all about. Sasha knew that the reason they were here today, participating in this insanity was because his father simply wanted to see if Kaylie could put together two pressure filled events in a row. Boris was all about consistency and steadiness; he valued the ability to hit a routine, even if the degree of difficulty wasn't as high. It was an old philosophy from back in the day when risk cost you medals instead of earning them, back under the old scoring system, when an easier skill and a stuck landing won out over a more difficult trick and a small hop.
That was the real reason why the Romanian team under Boris Beloff in 2000 won half as many medals as they did under Sasha Beloff in 2004, risk. While the new scoring system hadn't been in place in Athens, the mentality was, at least from the judges' standpoint and that's what made the difference on the podium. If only he could convince his father of that in the next ten minutes.
He thought he'd perhaps made some headway at the meeting after the women's final day during the Olympic trials. But it was possible the insanity of that meeting had caused his father to retreat even further into his old head, a dangerous place at the best of times.
"This is my team," Boris said, after all the committee members took their seats. "I know what I need to win and these girls are who I have chosen." There was a cork board behind him with the pictures of the two dozen young women who competed were stuck to it. It was like some sort of twisted reality show elimination round or it was supposed to be. Calmly, Boris began taking down the photos of the girls he wanted and put them on the other cork board, left empty for just this purpose.
A committee official whose name escaped Sasha smiled indulgently. "Coach Beloff, this isn't how we do things. The purpose of this meeting isn't even to name the team itself, simply to narrow the field from the girls who competed this weekend." Sasha agreed with the man, but the condescension in his tone had his jaw twitching.
Boris was not so controlled. He waved a dismissive hand, "And who are you?" he asked, glaring at the man who visibly shrunk into his chair, withering before their eyes. "I am the head coach of this team. These are the girls."
Then the room exploded, committee members appropriately outraged at Boris's heavy handedness, Boris completely belligerent and Sasha and Marty, old friends and sometime allies, literally getting in the middle, trying to keep the verbal brawl from becoming a physical one.
Sasha sighed as he saw Justine Turner arrived with her coach, followed closely by Andrea Conway and the head coach from Boston. It was a long flight out to Boulder simply to be told you were an alternate, but Sasha didn't have time to be sympathetic, he had a mission, keep Kaylie focused and get it through his father's thick skull that she belonged on the team.
He saw Kaylie enter the Rock and she immediately found him with her eyes. He smiled reassuringly, but the gymnast who used to simply get by on her smile alone simply nodded seriously. His mouth quirked up, not sure what that meant, but then Kaylie's expression mirrored his, a confident smirk appearing as he made his way down the stairs towards her.
"Good morning," he said and she nodded. "You ready for this?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted the answer.
Kaylie looked up at him, her expression an odd combination of confidence and amusement. "I've been preparing for this moment my entire life, Sasha. Let's do this."
Sasha's eyebrows lifted in surprise as she walked away from him to put her gym bag down and then towards the mats as she started to stretch with Justine and Andrea, teammates, but at the same time, the fiercest competition she would ever face. For those girls the victory would be simply making the team, with little hope for a medal beyond anything the team would win. For Kaylie, this was the next step; she was a national and world champion, three years of major international competition under her belt. And then Sasha realized that's who he was seeing right now. Finally, after years of ups and downs, startlingly impressive performances followed by lackluster attempts, this was Kaylie Cruz, Olympian.
He only hoped his father saw it that way.
It was impossible to wait any longer. She, Lauren and Emily had packed everything she was taking with her to New York, made themselves breakfast, cleaned her entire house from top to bottom and finally given in and changed into their Team USA gear, only to find themselves a half hour early, reduced to sitting in the parking lot, watching the minutes change on her car's clock.
"Boris is always telling us that if we're on time we're late and if we're fifteen minutes early we're on time," Emily said, her eyes pleading with Payson, though she had no idea who'd appointed her in charge.
"But we're not fifteen minutes early, we're a half hour early and I don't want to walk in there and distract Kaylie," Payson countered. "He told us to be here at eleven and it's only ten thirty."
"God, Pay, aren't you curious?" Lauren spat from the back seat, rolling her eyes.
She returned the eye roll in full force. "Of course I'm curious, but not nearly enough to go in there and possibly ruin everything. We're not supposed to be there."
"Can't you at least, I don't know text Sasha and ask him how it's going?"
Payson didn't even dignify that with a response. It was the twelfth time Lauren asked her to text Sasha when she knew he never carried his cell phone on the floor and even if he did, a ringing cell phone would be just as distracting as their unexpected arrival would be.
Suddenly the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the spot next to them broke the silence.
"Austin," Emily said, watching him ride up on Lolita.
Lauren's eyes gleamed as they watched him shift into park and kill the engine. "Wonder what he's doing here?"
Payson sighed, pulling her keys from the ignition and stepping out into the parking lot in case Austin had any designs on going in the Rock early. Or at all, really, today is a women's team practice. He shouldn't be here at all. Then again, when has Austin ever followed the rules?
"Hey," she said, opening her trunk and grabbing her gym bag, Emily and Lauren following suit.
"Ladies," he said, shooting them his most charming grin. It had little effect on any of them. "Any news?" he asked, keeping his voice deliberately casual, but Payson could see the tension in the corners of his eyes. He was concerned.
"Not yet. We're not supposed to go in until eleven, but I've got no clue of Boris made his decision yet."
Austin nodded, staring intently at the Rock as if the building itself would give him the answer they were all desperate for.
The minutes ticked by painfully and in silence. They weren't in any mood for small talk and everything else seemed like inane nothings in comparison to what was going on inside the gym.
"C'mon Pay, its ten minutes to eleven. Let's at least go into the lobby, maybe they'll see us milling around and invite us in," Emily said and Payson, who was just as impatient as her friend finally relented.
"Fine, but only if they invite us. We're not – " her words were useless as her friends practically sprinted into the Rock's main foyer and hovered at the doors that led into the gym.
Then suddenly the doors behind them swung open, as Izzy Ruggeri walked in with her mother, followed closely by Kelly Parker. They all stood in silence for a moment.
"Well?" Kelly said finally. "Are we going in or not?"
Payson sighed. "We're going in," she said and pushed the door open. They moved into the gym and saw several NGO officials gathered together, talking and smiling. Boris was with them, along with Ellen Beals whose mere presence made Payson's skin crawl, but she wasn't interested in them at all. Her eyes scanned the gym, until finally they landed on Sasha who was embracing a sobbing Kaylie, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her face.
Payson's stomach dropped as Sasha's eyes lifted to hers. The panic must have been evident in her expression because he shook his head with a soft smile and waved her over before pulling away from Kaylie and motioning towards them.
Then suddenly Kaylie's head shot up from Sasha's chest and she was racing across the few feet that separated them all, her eyes flickering from Payson to Lauren then Emily. She glanced at Austin quickly, but then her eyes moved over him to Kelly and Izzy.
"I did it," she said, "I'm going to London."
A shriek Payson hadn't realized was building within her bubbled to the surface as she launched herself at Kaylie. They were quickly joined by Lauren and Emily as Kelly and Izzy looked on at them, amusement clearly written across their faces. Payson opened her eyes and Sasha was standing where Kaylie had left him, a giant wet spot in the center of his shirt from Kaylie's tears of joy, glowing with pride at his girls.
Their team was complete and finally they were going to the Olympics.