Chapter 13

Kaylie Cruz was trying her best to calm her father down. At present he was running around the parking lot of the Rock where he'd instructed the hired crew to assemble the gym's stage and sound equipment. Media representatives were filtering in around them. He was barking orders at people around him, making sure everything was just so. She wasn't surprised. In fact, she'd been expecting this. The moment she called her father and mentioned the words "Rock" and "press conference" in the same sentence, he reverted back to his old manger mode. He was a highly predictable person.

"Calm down, dad." She said, grabbing his arm as he passed. "It'll be OK."

"You think so?"

"I know so." She assured him.

"Is Payson ready?" he asked.

Kaylie flashed her crowd-pleasing smile at her father and lied with enthusiasm, "You bet!"

The truth was, Payson had been breathing into a paper bag for the past thirty minutes in the ladies room with Emily hovering outside. Seeing the mics, people, and family convene together made everything real. It was positively terrifying.

"Everyone is by your side, Payson." Emily said, trying to talk through the bathroom door to her friend. "Your parents are here and so are Kaylie, Lauren and I."

Emily heard a faint grunt through the wood. She sighed.

"Can I get you anything? Water?" she asked in vain.

Another grunt.

"How is she?" Sasha asked, passing Emily at her post. He eyed the door with concern.

Emily shrugged. "She's Payson."

"Right…"

Sasha shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Uh – you think maybe I could give her a pep talk? You know – being her old coach and all I might be able to inspire her."

Emily paused, trying not to smirk. "Sure thing, Sasha. Do your thing…"

Sasha shuffled by Emily and knocked on the door.

"I'm fine!" Payson called out unconvincingly.

"Payson, it's me."

After he spoke, the lock on the door jiggled and opened slightly. Sasha slipped in.

Payson looked very nice – obviously a result of some extra effort and make-up from Lauren. In her knee length skirt, silk blouse, and heels, he was sure that no one would recognize this young woman as the smiling sixteen-year-old from the London games.

"Wow." He said, surveying her up and down. "You look…"

"Completely overdone." She said, groaning and rushing in front of the mirror. "I can't believe they talked me into doing this."

"Gee, Payson are you nervous?"

She turned and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I know what I need to say." She said, trying to pace in the small, cramped space. "I just can't seem to get these nerves down."

"I see…"

Payson braced herself, hands on the wall. When she turned around she didn't have much room to move. Sasha was hovering over her, trapping her against the wall, hands on either side of her, boxing her in.

"W-What are you doing?" she asked, heart racing as she turned her head up to meet his gaze.

"I told Emily I was going to give you a pep talk." He said. "You know, like old times."

He leaned in further, body against hers. Payson Keeler gulped.

"I don't remember pep talks like these."

"See…" his eyes were fixated at her pink mouth. "I'm not sure that a pep talk with help you unwind. What do you think?"

"Uh…no."

Sasha grabbed her hands and brought them over her head. Payson felt positively pinned to the wall – which surprisingly wasn't an unpleasant feeling considering the circumstances. She was breathing hard, in and out. Sasha could feel her chest rising and falling under him.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, starting to get the idea. She was relaxing already.

Sasha paused. "Well, it occurred to me the other day…"

"Yes?"

"You've kissed me twice…"

"Yes."

"But I haven't kissed you." He pointed out.

She smiled. "I guess you're right."

"The thing is…" Sasha said, making a face. "I'm a very competitive person."

"Oh I know." Payson assured him with mock seriousness.

"And I like to win."

"We have that in common, actually."

Sasha leaned in, just inches from her lips. "Well this time….I'm in control."

No protest came from Payson as Sasha closed the gap between them and tenderly kissed her. It was slow, deep, and burning. Payson was completely squished against the wall, which was a good thing because she was sure that without the support her knees would've given out. She completely let go of herself, letting Sasha "win" as he so eloquently put it. His hands were on either side of her face, thumbs grazed both cheeks and cradling her head gently upwards towards him.

Sasha kissed a lot like he coached – he adopted a long-term strategy centered around skill, endurance and surprises. Payson was far from disappointed. She smiled against his lips.

Suddenly, he broke away abruptly. "You relaxed yet?"

Payson grabbed his face quickly and brought him back to her for a second go.

"No… then?" Sasha asked with amusement between kisses.

A loud knock at the door forced Sasha and Payson to abandon their task at hand.

"Who is it?" she called out, arms skill wrapped around Sasha.

"It's me – Mr. Cruz!"

Payson reluctantly let go, took a quick look in the mirror to scan for make-out hair, then opened the door.

"Hi." She said casually.

Mr. Cruz furrowed in brow in confusion, looking back and forth between Payson and Sasha. "What were you two doing in there?"

"Pep talk." They said together without hesitation.

"Ah." Mr. Cruz said. "OK, well are you ready?"

Payson took a deep breath. "Yes. I feel very….relaxed. I'm ready."

"Great!" Mr. Cruz said with relief. "We're all waiting for you, but before we head out there I need to brief you two on some things."

"Us two?" Sasha asked in confusion. "I didn't think I was talking today at the press conference."

"You're not." Mr. Cruz clarified. "I wasn't referring to you. I was referring to Austin."

Before either Payson or Sasha could react to Mr. Cruz, Austin Tucker walked quickly around the corner towards Payson. He was sporting an Armani suit and classy grey tie. She turned her head to him in disbelief.

"Sorry I'm late." he said.

"You're not…" said Payson, still gaping at him with confusion. "considering that you weren't supposed to be here."

"Of course he is!" Mr. Cruz said. "How do you expect to address this without him? I called him right after Kaylie called me. He hopped on a plane."

Austin looked a bit nervous, more because of Payson than the cameras waiting for them outside. He looked and her and gave her a silent nod. "You look nice, Payson."

"Thank you." Her words came out more like a question than a statement. She felt like all the relaxing from Sasha was now completely counteracted by the surprising presence of her daughter's father.

"Uh…hi Sasha." Austin said civilly, extending his hand. Sasha didn't take it.

"Ok, enough of this." Mr. Cruz said. "Everyone can catch up later. Right now we need to review your approach. Austin, I need you to –"

"Stand there." Payson interrupted. "You'll stand next to me. I'll make the statement."

Mr. Cruz winced at her strategy. "Payson, I don't think you understand-"

"No." Austin said strongly. "No, she's right. Payson deserves to handle this the way she wants to. I owe that to her. I'll do whatever she says."

Payson raised her eyebrows, surprised at his cooperation.

"Fine." Mr. Cruz said in defeat. "Do what you want…we're starting in five."

A crowd had accumulated around the entrance of the Rock, waiting at the bottom of a small, raised stage. Speculation and murmurs were in the air. Everyone wanted to know what was next. What did this fascinating and incredibly silent athlete have to say about her story? It was a long time coming and the media was anxious to continue the narrative arch in their respective pieces.

Then, the door opened at exactly 11 a.m. The crowd erupted in questions and frenzy. No one who walked out of the Rock responded to them. They kept their eyes forward, on the prize. First were the Rock Rebels, processing like a protective border before Payson. Behind them the woman of the hour walked out with her parents and – to everyone's surprise – Austin Tucker himself. He walked next to Payson, not holding her hand or touching her, but occasionally shifting his eyes down toward her. Then, ending the group was one of Payson's old coaches from the Rocky Mountain Gym – Sasha Belov. No one took much note of him.

Everyone was in their place. The Rock girls were lined up in support behind Payson, right in the eye of the cameras. Austin was next to Payson as a silent pillar. Mr. and Mrs. Keeler were standing to the side of the stage, holding hands tightly as their oldest daughter approach the dreaded microphone. Sasha took a place next to them. From behind the podium he watched his old gymnast step forward bravely, her hands clenching and releasing continually at her side.

"Good Morning."

The sound of her voice was accompanied by the sound of cameras and comments. Alex Cruz, also on stage, raised his hand and silenced the crowd. Payson cleared her throat and looked around slowly before beginning again. Sasha wasn't sure whether she was making effective eye contact or noting an escape route through the crowd in case she needed it.

"Thank you for coming here today. Behind me is the Rocky Mountain Gymnasium – the training facility that I considered a home as I worked toward the Olympics as a teenager." Her voice was shaking slightly, but her face was collected and calm. "At this unconventional home, I've cultivated an equally unconventional family – filled with competition and teammates. These girls behind me along with my coaches and wonderful parents taught me long ago that families are made, beautiful, and rarely perfect."

More confidence started lining Payson's voice. She gripped the sides of her podium and kept going at a steady pace. "Today, years after my Olympic win, I still find myself in an unconventional family. I am a single mother of a beautiful little girl. I consider myself blessed to have her in my life. Her entrance into the world was unexpected to me and undesired to others, but she is my miracle and is worth more to me than any gold medal. Recent events have forced this girl into the public eye and while I understand the interest others may have in her, Austin and I implore you as parents to give courtesy and dignity to our family and her especially. Though Austin and I have chosen public lives and careers, she has not. That is all I will say about Ally for now and frankly, all you need to know right now."

She took a deep breath and made a strong eye contact. This next section was harder to get out. "Today I speak to you not as an Olympian, coach, or former athlete. Today – and everyday – I am a mother first."

Austin placed his hand on her shoulder after she said this. Payson barely noticed. She was too busy feeling relieved.

"I will be taking questions now." she finished.

"Payson! Payson!" reporters called to her desperately with arms up. Clearly, they had questions. Alex Cruz rushed up and started calling on them.

"What is the current nature of you and Austin's relationship?"

"Platonic." Payson answered quickly and easily. The questions were coming like bullets.

"Did this relationship form before or after the Olympics?"

"After."

"Why did you keep it a secret?"

"I was afraid of the impact of media attention on my daughter's upbringing." The tone in her voice was clear, biting and ironic. The reporter who asked got the picture.

"Does Ally do gymnastics?"

"I will not be commenting on Ally today."

"How much is Austin involved in Ally's upbringing?"

"He's always made himself available and has supported us since she was born."

"Was Austin your first?"

Payson couldn't help herself. Her jaw dropped at that one.

"Excuse me sir," Austin Tucker grabbed the mic away from Payson and addressed the male reporter. "What magazine do you write for?"

"Sports Weekly." the reporter said, obviously confused that he was doing the answering instead of the asking.

"I've done interviews with you guys before. Is your demographic is still the same: 25- 50 year-old Caucasian and African American men?"

"Uh…yes."

Austin smiled with an impressive combination of sarcasm and class. "Excellent, so why don't you quit, get a job at Cosmo, then come back with that question when your readers care - not that it's anyone's business. Until then, keep doing your job and we'll keep doing ours."

He smiled and handed the mic back to Payson graciously. She looked at him in awe, taking it without a word. She called on another reporter, then another, then another until Mr. Cruz took her away. Everything became smooth sailing after that.

When Payson Keeler walked off the stage that day, she felt completely and totally free.