“Get started?” I repeated back to her. “You mean this isn’t a one-and-done kind of thing?”
“Oops,” Melanie joked. “Did I forget to mention that part? This opportunity is a big feature, possibly an entire episode if it all goes well. They basically want to embed with you for a week to start, and follow you through your daily routine. See you practicing, in the weight room, in dance class... a real behind-the-curtain look at what it takes to be a gold medalist.”
“Futuregold medalist,” I reminded her.
I leaned forward to pound my knuckle on the wooden boards three times. Superstitious? Who, me?
“There’s one other thing,” Melanie said, scrunching her nose. “If the timing works out, they want to do a home visit.”
My stomach curdled at the thought of going back to Connecticut. It was my home by definition but not in my heart.
“Nope. No way.” I stood up and started collecting my things and packing them into my bag. “I’m out.”
“Quinn, come on, it actually might help. People can see for themselves what you were up against. Your mom isn’t known for her tact.”
“Is a home visit a deal-breaker?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Don’t know, I can ask. That aside, I really think you should do it. It’s not like they’re offering it to everyone on the team. It’s a chance to tell your story the wayyouwant to.”
“You clearly don’t watch reality TV. Have you ever heard of a villain edit?” I snorted as I shoved the fleece in my bag.
“Stop. Be serious for a minute and really think about how thiscould play out. You’ll be your usual charming, gorgeous self on camera, and potential sponsors will see you as someone who’s multidimensional. Not just a pretty face. I can picture it now... Coke, Nike, Omega, all fighting to sign you. This interview is another chance to bank your future.”
My future. What did that even mean? My tunnel vision didn’t expand beyond the next two months.
“It’s a no-brainer, I’m forwarding you the email so you can see the specifics,” Melanie added as she bent her head to tap on her phone. “I’d never force you to do it, of course, but I strongly,stronglysuggest you agree to it. I’ll be right there with you, if you want me to.”
I busied myself wiping down my blades and putting on my soakers.
“I know,” I finally answered. “Thank you.”
“I think you’ll get a kick out of who they want to interview you,” Melanie added. “It’s fun synergy.”
My hackles went up, because I had zero in common with the three hosts of the show, other than us all being athletes. Darian Young was a former NFL quarterback, Maizey Liu was a retired Wimbledon champ, and Zach Bell was a former pro golfer.
“Who is it?”
“Bennett Martino! I love that guy. I mean, who doesn’t? Four years postretirement and he’s as droolworthy as ever.”
The name made every muscle in my body constrict in tandem, a system-wide cramp that made me glitch for a few seconds.
“Oh,absolutelynot,” I finally answered. “It’s a hard no for me.”
Chapter Two
How the hell had Bennett Martino gone from being a three-time Olympic Gold speed skater, to starring in his own failed reality series calledSkate Fast, Live Loud, to a DUI, to winningDancing with the Stars, to being a spokesperson for some sort of disastrous crypto thing, tothis? A cohosting gig on a well-respected streaming sports program. The man was human Teflon, because nothing stuck to him.
But there was no way I wanted to be a part of his latest redemption arc. Not after the way he’d treated me.
“Wait up!”
I turned to find my best friend, Zoey Chen, running to catch me as I walked out of the arena and into the parking lot. She’d been on rink two, working on her Four Continents program. I could tell she’d skated hard, because her cheeks were pink and her black hair was still damp at her temples. Without makeup she looked like a baby, a very young twenty to my absolutely ancient twenty-four.
It still smarted that I’d made the Olympics team again and she’d been a near miss, because I considered her a stronger skater.But in typical Zoey fashion, she’d been nothing but positive about it. Sure, there was probably some envy crouching behind her cheerful smile—the uncomfortable truth of being friends with the very people you needed to beat—but like good faux sisters, we compartmentalized any weirdness and focused on cheerleading each other.
“I nailed it today,” she beamed at me. “Three triples, back-to-back.”
It was my turn to feel a little envy bubble up, because to me it seemed that Zoey could hit effortless triples, all day, every day.
