The corridors were virtually empty when Payson and Sasha returned the next morning. There were a few athletes milling around, some headed towards the first day of competition, but for the most part, they made their way back towards their rooms unnoticed.
They stopped at her door and she turned towards him, resting her left hand against his chest, the weight of the ring unfamiliar and pleasant. She hadn't expected a proposal. In fact it had been the furthest thing from her mind, but the moment he asked, she knew it was what she wanted. Since she was five years old Payson had been able to see her future stretching in front of her, one road, which granted had taken a few unexpected detours, but eventually led her to the Olympic Games. But whether she'd known it or not, the moment Sasha Beloff walked into the Rocky Mountain Gymnastics Training Center, that road had extended long past London in 2012. Over the last two years or so, her vision of her future was no longer simply a vision of herself standing atop a podium, a gold medal hanging around her neck, but of a life and family she would build with the most amazing man she'd ever met, who, astoundingly felt the same way about her. So as soon as his proposal tumbled from his lips, no more than a mere whisper, she knew what her answer would be. They'd made love long into the night, relishing the intimacy that somehow stemmed from the idea they had just promised to one day become husband and wife.
"We don't have to get married right away," he said, as exhaustion finally began to overtake them, his body spooned around hers. "You have school and we'll be starting up the gym, but I couldn't wait any longer. I..." he trailed off.
She leaned down and kissed the back of his hand, which was entwined with hers. "It was perfect, Sasha. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We'll figure out the details later," she said, feeling sleep overtaking her consciousness.
"I love you," she said, looking up into his eyes as she leaned against her door, unwilling to let go of him just yet. She'd repeated those words over and over again the night before, knowing they were woefully inadequate to describe what she felt for him, but hoping he understood how she felt.
He bent slowly towards her, nuzzling his nose against hers, inhaling deeply, their eyes drifting closed before their lips pressed together lightly, almost innocently. "I love you too," he said, their foreheads resting together, his hand rising to hers, his thumb caressing the cool metal band. His hand released hers and cupped her cheek, drawing her lips to his again, this time deepening the kiss, a physical reaffirmation of the words they'd just spoken.
"Team workout at the gym at noon, don't forget," he reminded her quietly, bringing them both back to reality.
Payson smiled against his lips, before pulling back and slipping the ring off her finger. She turned around and held her hair out of the way as he unclasped the chain that held the charm he bought her for Christmas years ago. He secured it around her neck and brushed his fingers lightly against the skin there, her entire body shivering in response as it always did to his touch.
She hated that she had to hide this, even though they planned to tell everyone almost immediately. The last thing she needed to explain to the media was the one and a half karat rock on her finger, though it might make for some interesting interviews, as opposed to answering the same questions over and over again with such repetition that she could practically recite her answers prior to the questions being asked.
With one last kiss she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her with a sigh.
"Oh my God, there you are! Don't you answer your texts?" Kelly shouted as she moved towards her bed and tossed her duffle bag on the floor.
"I turned my phone off. What's up?" she asked. She'd never seen Kelly this agitated. She was pacing back and forth and running her hands through her brown hair.
Kelly finally stopped in her tracks. Her eyes were wide as she moved to the room's desk and picked up a newspaper, "You and Sasha, you're on the front page of The Sun. I think the pictures are from Denver, it looks like the hotel we were in."
Payson stepped forward and took the paper from her. There across the page were two pictures, one of them dancing at the reception held early last week. She and Sasha were dancing together, his cheek resting against her head, their eyes closed. The other was taken in the hotel lobby just two nights ago after he'd emerged from the hotel bar with Marty more than a little buzzed, having no problem wrapping his arms around her in full view of the public. The nature of their relationship was obvious and there would be no denying it. Across the paper written in huge font read: Britain's Olympic Bad Boy and America's Sweetheart. There was an article inside, but no other compromising photographs, simply their biographies and some other photos of them while competing. There were also pictures of Austin Tucker as well as several of Sasha's former flames.
Payson sat down on her bed and closed the paper, breathing deeply. Pull it together, Keeler. First you have to figure out who did this and then you have to make sure you control the story. Don't let them turn it into anything that it isn't.
She turned on her cellphone and it immediately lit up with messages, mostly from Kelly and Austin that morning, but also a few from MJ, who'd been called by the paper for comment.
She called her agent back immediately, knowing that while it would be awkward, the conversation had to happen.
"Payson," her clipped British accent echoed through the phone. "Is there a reason I'm looking at pictures of you and my…my..and Coach Beloff looking like…." It seemed that for once MJ was at a loss for words.
She sighed and looked back at the newspaper. They were actually really gorgeous pictures of them. "Yeah, we got a little careless last week," she admitted finally.
"So it's true then, you and Sasha," MJ asked, keeping her tone professional.
"Yes. I'm sorry, MJ, I just thought you wouldn't want to know, that it would be awkward."
"Payson, it's my job to know," MJ assured her, though Payson definitely heard a note something else in her voice. If she hadn't known better, she'd say it was a trace of vulnerability. "I'm going to call Meredith Hanover at ESPN, see if we can't set up an interview, one on one or maybe with…with Sasha if you want him there. There's going to be some fall out with the public and the media, but I think we can control it if we spin this right."
Payson wanted to argue with her, that their relationship didn't need any spin, but she knew MJ was right and that's what she paid her for, to stay emotionally detached and do what's best for her professionally. "Sounds great, MJ."
"I'm on a plane to London in a few hours. I'll see you soon."
Kelly was sitting across from her, biting her lip as she hung up the phone. "What are you going to do?" she asked as Payson tossed her cell to the side and took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair.
"Circle the wagons," she said, the terminology coming from her father's obsession with western movies. She grabbed her cell phone and like lightning began texting, shooting off messages to Emily, Lauren, Kaylie, Austin and Sasha.
And so just five minutes later, her closest friends and the love of her life were all gathered together, sprawled out across her room at the Olympic Village, passing the newspaper around and frowning.
"So wait, you and Sasha are like together?" Izzy Ruggeri said, sitting in one of the arm chairs in the corner.
Payson eyed Kaylie who shrugged helplessly, "I couldn't just leave her. Besides, I think we need all the help we can get here."
Payson nodded and sighed, not being able to disagree.
Austin grabbed the paper again, "I don't think anyone here would disagree if I suggested that this is probably the work of Ellen Beals," he tossed the paper onto the small table in the center of the room. "She's been trying to stir up shit for the last few weeks. This is probably her last ditch effort."
Sasha nodded, "It's got to be her."
Lauren sighed, "Why the warm and fuzzy pictures though? I mean, look at these, these pictures aren't scandalous. They're gorgeous. It's something you'd want in a frame on display. Not exactly tabloid fodder. If she wanted to really nail you guys why didn't she get something juicier?"
"Maybe she didn't have any other photos?" Emily suggested.
Payson's cellphone buzzed, as did Sasha's. She scanned the text message quickly and the panic began to set it. "Pay, what is it?" Austin asked, but Sasha answered for her.
"Members of the NGO and the USOC want to meet with us this afternoon," he said.
She felt the bed shift next to her and his arm slide around her shoulders, pulling her into him tightly. "It's going to be okay, love. I promise," he said, kissing the top of her head.
Payson sighed shakily, "I'm so sorry, you guys," she said, looking around the room at each of her teammates. "This is what our Olympics is going to be about now and I'm just…I'm so sorry."
"Wait a minute, I get it now," Lauren said, still looking at the newspaper cover. "She sent them these pictures because it was all she had. Beals doesn't know anything. She doesn't know or care if you're actually in a relationship or not. The only thing she knows is that these pictures make it look like you and Sasha are together. She's expecting this to be a big media mess with you guys denying it and the NGO and USOC investigating and all kinds of craziness."
"Are you kidding, Lo? Of course Beals knows," Kaylie said, looking at Lauren like she had ten heads. "She figured it out somehow and she leaked these pictures knowing the media would go crazy with the whole coach and athlete thing, plus the age difference."
Austin cut in finally, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Lauren. I don't think Beals actually knows about you guys," he said, sitting down across from them and looking Payson in the eye and then Sasha. "She's probably throwing things out there and hoping something sticks, but if you guys go into that meeting with the NGO and the USOC like this is no big deal, then it won't be. It's only a big deal if you start denying, then the higher ups are going to feel like they have to do something, suspend Sasha, launch an investigation, whatever. Hell, we should all act like it's no big deal, like we've known about it and we're all cool with it, which is really much of a stretch."
"I've only known about it for a day," Kelly piped up and everyone looked at her, "but I'm fine with it, totally fine," she insisted and Payson shot her a small smile which she rolled her eyes at.
She felt Sasha's arm tighten around her shoulders, "Austin's right. We go into that meeting like we have nothing to hide, which we don't. Everyone you or I care about knows about us and we haven't done anything wrong."
"Now we just have to prove that it was Beals who leaked the pictures," Lauren said, frowning at the newspaper again. "She did have the photographer on a pretty short leash all week, but she'll just blame him for the leak if we accuse her."
"I have an idea," Sasha said, taking the newspaper from Lauren's hands, a smirk forming across his face and as he explained his plan to the group, one by one they all began to smile. It would take an Oscar worthy performance from Payson, but it just might work.
Kim Keeler woke up just as the captain flashed the seatbelt sign, announcing their final descent into Heathrow Airport. She looked to her left and shook Becca awake, "Becca, sweetie, we're landing soon," she said, her younger daughter blinking awake.
She heard a seatbelt click to her right and turned to see Mark pushing his tray table back into the back of the seat in front of him and smiled, before taking his hand and squeezing. Mark had never been the best flier in the world, but he'd been a real trooper, "Almost there," she said reassuringly.
She'd forgotten how difficult flying was for him and it made her heart constrict at the idea that he'd done this dozens of times during the year he commuted from Minnesota back to Boulder on a regular basis, trying to keep them afloat before Payson's endorsements had helped pay off her medical bills and their mortgage.
Kim was relieved when she'd arrived home from the Rock and she'd found Mark flipping through airline tickets and itineraries for their trip to London. She'd sat down on the couch next to him and together they'd gone through what she was sure would prove to be a phenomenal Olympic experience, even beyond the wondrous notion that their daughter would be competing and not just competing, but the odds on favorite to return home with multiple gold medals, if not sweep all six. Mark had seemed more at peace as well after speaking with Payson and that alone was worth more than the first class accommodations, restaurant reservations and tickets Payson had pulled together for them.
"I can't believe this is it, our little girl is here for the Olympics," he said, absently, almost to himself.
She knew he didn't require a response, so she simply squeezed his hand again and they sat back awaiting a smooth landing.
The landing was smooth and they exited the plane quickly and though the lines at customs were long, they got through them without any major issues, but as they moved towards baggage claim, Kim felt the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She felt eyes on her and that's when the world exploded, flashing cameras, a cacophony of voices shouting in their direction. Then just as quickly they were surrounded by airport security and the Eastern European accent of Boris Beloff echoing over all the noise. They were herded out of the airport quickly and into a waiting town car and before Kim could blink, they were speeding away from Heathrow, the entire scene feeling nothing like a very short nightmare.
"What…what was all that?" Kim asked, pressing her hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.
Boris looked at her and then over to Mark, before picking up a newspaper from the seat next to him and handing it to them. "The kids made the paper," he quipped lightly.
The silence that reigned in the car was uncomfortable to say the least, until Becca took the paper and after looking at the pictures for a minute said, "They look great."
Kim couldn't help it, she laughed. Becca was right, they did look great in the photos. The tension broken, she turned to Boris, "How bad is it?" she asked.
"Not so bad as it could be," he said, with a shrug.
She felt Mark tense next to her, "How could it be worse? This will be a huge scandal. Payson must be devastated." She took his hand, hoping he could draw some reassurance from her.
Boris scoffed, "Not devastated, she is angry," he said. "They will meet with the NGO and some men from the Olympic Committee in just a little while. It is that Beals woman, they are sure of it. She is the leak. Sasha was sure she would have also told the press of your flight information, so I came to find you. We will not go to your hotel; the press most certainly is there."
Kim looked out of the car window, noticing for the first time that they seemed to be heading out of the city and not further into the heart of it. "Where are we going?"
"To Wimbledon," he said, "to the house where Sasha and his mother lived for many years."
She felt rather than saw Mark begin to protest, but she turned to him quickly, "He's right. If Beals is behind then the media will be all over us. We need to talk to Payson before we say anything."
"They have a meeting," Boris said, "then they'll meet us at the house later."
The answer seemed to pacify Mark for the moment, but Kim felt a knot in her stomach at the thought of Payson and Sasha going in front of a committee to try and explain their relationship. She was her mother and she was just coming around to the idea.
"Do not worry, Mrs. Keeler," Boris said, his grey blue eyes, so much like his son's reading her concern easily. "They are very strong and they are together."
The drive was long, almost forty minutes, the landscape shifting from the urban sprawl of London to the serenity of an upper middle class suburb, until finally the car drew to a stop in front of a gorgeous house.
"This is your home?" Kim asked as they got out of the car. The driver got their bags from the trunk and proceeded to bring them into the house as Boris unlocked the door.
"It belongs to Sasha. His mother left it to him when she died, but at one time, a long time ago, yes it was my home too."
Sasha cleared his throat, a tickle having gathered there as they stood out in the hallway, waiting for the officials from the NGO and the USOC to arrive at the small conference room they'd reserved at the Olympic Village. Then, suddenly, from around the corner in a pack of business suits and chatter they approached. Sasha saw Henry Palatt, the PR man, along with Ellen Beals in the group. Palatt nodded to him politely, but Beals was smiling smugly. He felt Payson tense next to him and he looked down to see her jaw twitching dangerously.
"Why don't we all go inside?" Palatt suggested, opening the door and holding it as they all filed in.
As everyone took their seats at the conference table, Payson and Sasha, as they discussed simply stood together at the head of the table, looking out at the group calmly.
Finally, one of the suits, a man Sasha recognized as an NGO official, the same one who cowered under his father's glare during their debacle of a meeting the Olympic trials, began to speak, "I think you both know why we've asked you here. There were some disturbing images published today in one of London's tabloids and we've determined to get to the bottom of…"
"Can I interrupt you, Mr. Wrightson?" Payson asked politely. Sasha looked down towards her, marveling at how she remembered the insipid man's name. "I'm sorry, but I think that maybe there's been some misunderstanding in regards to my relationship with Sasha."
Then, just as they'd planned, Ellen Beals pounced, "With photographic evidence like this, are you saying that you and your coach aren't engaging in an inappropriate relationship?" Beals shook her head in dramatic frustration. "Then I don't see what choice we have but to launch a full investigation into…"
"Miss Beals," Payson said, "excuse me, I'm sorry, but you didn't let me finish. I'm not denying what's in these photographs. Sasha and I are in a relationship, but there is nothing inappropriate about it. As far as I know dancing and embracing is standard behavior in any romantic relationship."
Another one of the suits sat up in his chair, "Excuse me, Miss Keeler, are you saying that you and Coach Beloff are seeing each other?"
"We are," Sasha jumped in at this point, smiling at the man, "it's a little unorthodox maybe, but we've managed to keep things very professional in the gym." He looked down at Payson who smiled at him and then rolled her eyes lightly at his put-on jovial tone.
"This is crazy," Beals said from her chair. "They can't be allowed to get away with this."
"Get away with what exactly? Dating? There isn't a law against that, is there?" Payson asked, keeping her tone nonchalant. "If you all don't mind, we had to send Sasha's dad to go pick up my parents and sister at the airport and we promised we'd meet them for lunch today. We wanted to make sure they were settled in before things got really crazy, but then all this happened."
"Wait, you're parents know about this? And your father?" asked yet another committee member, a smallish man sitting opposite Ellen Beals.
Sasha smiled as he knew Payson was about to go in for the kill, "Of course they do," she said, a bright smile crossing her face.
Sasha looked around the room, "If that's all, we really have to be going," he said, taking Payson's hand in his and together they began moving towards the door.
He smiled as he felt Payson's hand slip from his and move back towards the table to pick up the newspaper, "I was wondering, Miss Beals," she said, addressing the former national team coach in a saccharine sweet tone, "would it be possible for me to get a copy of these pictures? I absolutely love them."
Beals stuttered for a moment, "I don't know how I would….I can't…"
"But these were taken by the NGO photographer in Denver. I'm sure you could ask him for a couple of extra prints, especially since you got the ones you sent to The Sun from him already. If he wants us to pay for them that would be fine. Unless of course you didn't ask and simply stole them."
"You can't prove anything," Beals said, standing up, leaning against the table, glaring at Payson
Payson rolled her eyes, "I don't have to prove to these men that it was you, but you and I we know better, Ellen. I think it's pathetic that you'd stoop to this level. It was low, even for you," she said and then looked up at the rest of the group, "and if any of you are really interested in what's best for American Gymnastics, you'll track down the photographer and talk to him about these pictures and find out how they ended up on the cover of a tabloid. Somehow I think he'd be willing to talk, especially since he hasn't been properly credited like any photographer worth his salt would insist upon." Payson took a step back and Sasha watched as every man in their stuffy suits sat back in their chairs again, releasing a collective breath.
"If you'll excuse us, gentleman," Sasha said, pointedly excluding Beals as they exited the room and moved down the hallway, their pace slowly as they moved outside towards the same pick-up location from the night before, where once again a car was waiting to take them to Wimbledon.
"Do you think your Dad found them?" she asked as they climbed into the back of the town car raising the partition between them and the driver immediately.
"I'm sure he did," Sasha assured her as the car began to move. As they pulled away from the curb, he suddenly felt a weight slide off his shoulders; one he hadn't realized had been there since earlier that morning when all of this began. "You were spectacular in there, love," he said, leaning in towards her, brushing his lips against her cheek before nuzzling into her neck. "Dead sexy as well, taking on that entire room, incredible," he murmured as his lips began to caress the soft skin of her neck, finding that extraordinarily sensitive patch of skin just behind her ear.
"It was your idea," she said, in a breathy tone, leaning back, arching her neck to give him better access.
"We make a pretty good team, don't we?" he said, his hand sliding up the smoothness of her thigh.
"The best," she agreed, finally turning towards him, their mouths meeting in a bruising kiss as the car sped down the highway towards home.