Love and Other Games (18 page)

Aria Kane

Lia fingered the blue evil eye charm dangling at her neck and tried to meet the sponsor representative’s eyes, but his gaze continually shifted over her shoulders toward the bustling Olympic Village’s main indoor plaza. Mr. Chancey seemed to be talking in circles. Her English was good, but not great – certainly not good enough to decipher his true meaning. She suddenly wished Del had been able to take this meeting with her.

She frowned and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but what are you saying? In a few words?”

The short, stocky American ran a hand through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. He began to talk, but stopped, clearing his throat and taking a sip from the coffee cup sitting on the table in front of him. Lia concentrated on keeping her breathing even; she couldn’t let anyone know how badly she needed this deal – how badly her family needed it. The Milonas family did not take charity. Even the money her neighbors somehow scraped together so that she could travel to Switzerland for the Games, she planned to pay back all of it, down to the last cent.

“You’re an excellent athlete,” Mr. Chancey said.

Lia heard the tone people used when they said something nice just before saying something heartbreaking. She blinked slowly, willing her heart to stay calm.

“You’re very attractive, would look great in all kinds of ads,” he added, watching her closely for a reaction.

Lia wouldn’t blush at the comment. She refused to. This was part of the game, she knew, even if she didn’t like it. Female skiers competed in layers that doubled their size, but posed wearing bikinis in magazines and on billboards.

“And I’m a gold medal favorite,” she reminded him, tilting her head in warning. "I had the top finals qualifying score yesterday, and I didn't even try that hard."

A smile flicked at the tips of his lips before he regained control. “Yes, well  …  that’s the problem right there,” he said, gesturing at her as though it were obvious.

Lia looked down at her jacket and matching pants, patting her hair. “What?”

“People respect you, your dedication and your hard work.” There was still a “but” floating around underneath the surface of his words.

“That’s good, right? I’m dedicated to excellence, like Ravenski products.”

“Respect doesn’t sell skis and jackets, darling.” Mr. Chancey shook his head, glancing sideways at her.

“I’m done with these games,” Lia said, growing suddenly impatient. “Is Ravenski going to offer me a sponsorship?”

Mr. Chancey took a deep breath, as he did when he was about to begin a long explanation, then thought better of it. “No.”

“Not even if I win Gold?” Lia asked.

“In that case, we can have another discussion, depending … ”

Lia stood up, scraping the metal legs of her chair against the polished concrete floor, and turned to go. She still had a few more hours of sunlight and a landing that wasn’t as solid as it should be for the international stage. She didn’t have time for this if they didn’t have time for her.

“It was nice meeting you, Lia.” Mr. Chancey’s tone was insincere and held a deep note of importance, like he was trying to make a point.

She spun and examined his expectant face, squinting slightly, trying to see what she was missing. If she stared at him long enough, maybe he’d just spill it. But Mr. Chancey had more time than her, and it seemed he knew it.

She sighed. “Why?”

“Why, what, Lia?” His voice had that I’m-trying-to-teach-you-a-lesson quality school teachers always used.

She crossed her arms and glared back at him, knowing she was acting like a petulant student, but not really caring. “Why won’t Ravenski offer me a contract?”

“People may respect you, but they don’t love you. They don’t even really like you.”

Lia started to protest but he held up a hand to stop her.

“You’re too serious. You never smile. Your focus is legendary, but it doesn’t win you any hearts. And, above all else – in a sponsor’s mind, at least – hearts open wallets.”

She couldn’t find any words. What could you possibly say to someone who just informed you that nobody in the entire world liked you? The urges to scream and cry battled for dominance, but she forced them both down and arranged her face into the cool, calm mask she practiced for post-loss interviews.

A knowing smirk flashed across Mr. Chancey’s chubby face. She was probably proving his point, but she didn’t care. By the end of the Games, Lia determined, she’d be the one smiling. She had to be. She was her family’s last chance.

“Thank you, Mr. Chancey, for your kind words,” she said before turning on her heel and striding out of the coffee shop’s seating area. Once she rounded the corner, she glanced at her watch. She had four hours before she had to be ready for that fancy party her manager insisted she attend with a few of her teammates.

“It will be great for networking,” her manager, Del, had said. “It’s small, invite only. I snagged you an invite, of course. But there won’t be any press or anything there, only athletes and sponsor representatives.”

Twenty-five years ago, Del had been the top female downhill skier in the world, but now she made a career out of boosting other Greek athletes’ careers. She was excellent at her job, so Lia tried to follow her advice without too many complaints. But it was easier said than done some days. Like today, when all Lia wanted was to practice her landing and take a dip in the hot tub.

One thing was for sure: She wouldn't change herself to please men like Mr. Chancey. She wasn't
likeable
? What kind of people even said things like that? She'd work hard and win, like she'd always done, and that would be enough for the sponsors. It'd have to be.

Lia lengthened her stride and stepped faster toward her dorm. Four hours was just enough time to get out to the practice aerial ramps, run a few jumps, and get back in time to shower and primp. The Games were in full swing and the entire complex buzzed with excitement, but Lia barely noticed any of it as she made her way to her door.

She turned the key in the lock and sighed with relief when she realized her roommate wasn’t in. A little peace and quiet was exactly what she needed.

As she packed her gear in an old blue duffle, she heard her laptop ding from where it sat on the simple wood desk. It was an old hand me down with a battery that lasted about five minutes, so she had to leave it plugged in whenever it was on. After another ding, she gave up on trying to ignore it.

Flipping it open, she found a Skype invitation flashing on the screen from the username “EvangeliaMilonasNo1Fans.” Her smile bloomed as she pressed the button to connect.

Her mother’s confused face appeared in the Skype window. "How do I do the thing?" the older woman muttered in Greek as she stared down at the keyboard below the webcam.

"Mama," Lia said, laughing. "You did it."

Her mom's gaze snapped to the screen and her eyes softened. "Evangelia! How is Switzerland?"

Before Lia could get a word out, her mother shouted. "Yannis! Christos! Your sister is on the computer!"

She heard some scuffling in the background. Two boys, one ten, one twelve, both with sweaty mussed hair and dirt on their cheeks, charged into the frame. Her mama took a step back and smiled warmly at the boys.

"Where's Alex?" Lia asked.

"He's out with Papa," Yannis, the youngest, said. "Fixing the fence on the back pasture."

Alex, at sixteen, was her oldest brother and did most of the manual labor on the farm now that her dad – and his back – were getting older. With the bank closing in, they didn't have the money to hire laborers like they used to, so Alex usually worked from sun-up to sun-down before studying late into the night. She desperately wished she could help so that Alex could attend a real school. She had to remind herself that she
was
helping the best she could, even if it didn't feel like it some days. Prize money from her past championships had paid for updates to the irrigation systems and a new herd Papa had been wanting for years. Her family didn't have any problem with hard work, but the terrible economy had hit the farming industry like a brick to the chest. They were all working harder than they should have to just to stay afloat.

"We saw the interview they did with you today on the TV!" Christos said.

Lia smiled before remembering Mr. Chancey's comments. She decided not to ask how they thought the interview went.

"They said you were going to win," Yannis said. "Even they know."

She found herself wishing she could playfully fluff his hair. He hated it when she did that, but it always made her smile. "I will try, Adelfáki. I have to go practice now, so I can bring you home a gold medal."

Her mama gave her a knowing smile and pushed the boys aside. "Go wash up for dinner," she told them and waited until Lia heard their footsteps pounding up the stairs of their three-bedroom farmhouse before speaking again. "You look worried, Evangelia. How are things going there, really?"

"Everything is fine, mama," she lied. "I'm just worried about this landing. I really should go practice."

"Of course," the woman said, but her voice was a weighted sigh. "Good luck."

"Is everything all right there?" Lia's eyebrows creased with concern. "Is Papi—"

"No, he's fine," her mama said. "Just more of the same. The bank's been calling every day. They may take the tractor."

Air rushed from Lia's lips. Her mother didn't say it, but that would ruin them. The farm would have to close and they'd have to move into the city, all of them looking for jobs – along with thousands of other people.

Lia painted a brave mask on her face. "Don't worry about it too much, please. I'll take care of it. I'm working on something."

Her mother's smile was laced with sadness. "I know." She seemed to internally shake herself. Lia had learned the brave face from her mother, after all. "Good luck, Evangelia. We'll be watching. I wish we could be there."

"Me too, mama, more than anything."

Brandon James glanced at his watch and sighed. Any second now, his boss would be calling asking for an update on his assignment. He didn't have one. "Come back with a story that will make readers cry," Joe had said. "Or don't bother coming back."

Who could have guessed none of the Olympic athletes would have a story worth telling? At least not one that hadn't already flooded the major TV networks. And Brandon didn't do sloppy seconds. So far, his choices were to try to put a new spin on an old story, or bore his readers with a mediocre tale. Either way, he wouldn't be working for
Moment Magazine
much longer.

What he needed was someone with a story they didn't want to tell. And for that, he needed to go somewhere without his press pass warning them all away like neon sign.

He strolled to the small hotel bathroom and checked his suit. Waiting on Joe's call was going to make him late. He should have left twenty minutes ago. Getting into this party tonight was not going to be easy. Even with all the pre-work he'd done over the past few days.

He was retying his tie when the phone finally rang. Joe's fake-nice voice greeted him as soon as he picked up the phone. "Hey buddy, what's the word?"

I'm not your buddy, pal,
Brandon thought, but instead he said, "I'm working on something. Going to this thing tonight, got a few leads."

"Which kind of leads?" Joe asked. "The rumor kind or the actual kind?"

Brandon bit back his response, ignoring the question. "Look, I really gotta go. The thing tonight is invite-only and I'm already late."

"You got an invite to a mysterious invite-only party?" Joe asked, skeptical. "And I didn't have to arrange it for you?"

Brandon laughed. Not because Joe was funny, but because Joe thought he was, and Brandon had to play the political games, at least for a little longer. He needed to nail this story. He couldn't spend another year working for a talentless hack who'd merely had enough dumb luck to marry the Editor-in-Chief's daughter.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Brandon said, already moving the phone away from his ear.

He heard Joe say, "You better have something by then or—" before the phone clicked in its cradle.

The bus ride to the Olympic Village only took ten minutes, but the time passed very slowly. Brandon removed his press credentials from the outside of his suit and tucked them into an interior pocket. The party was just outside the Village and press was not allowed. But he had his ways of getting in.

He found the building quickly and smiled when he saw the petite blonde girl wearing a bad-fitting polo shirt working the door. He wasn't too late.

He'd spent the last few days flirting with and flattering Sheri. Now it was time to see if the effort had paid off. Pasting on his most charming smile, he strode to her with a slow, confident gait and waited for her to notice him.

"Mr. James!" Sheri said.

He smiled warmly, pretending to only now notice her. He stood closer to her than polite company really allowed.

"I've told you," Brandon said, laying a hand on her arm. "Call me Brandon. Please."

Her pale cheeks flushed pink and she looked down at her clipboard, but not focusing on it. Brandon fought back a frown. In that moment, that clipboard was his worst enemy. He had to make her forget about it completely.

He leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Do they let you have a break or do you have to stand here during the whole thing?" He let his cheek graze hers.

Her voice cracked as she answered. "I get to go in during the last hour of the party."

He pulled back and flashed her an enticing smile. "Great, I'll see you then. I'll save you a drink."

Just in case she was still thinking straight, he brushed his hand across her hip as he strode past her. She inhaled a sharp breath and didn't say a word as he opened the door behind her and entered the party. She didn't even glance at the clipboard.

Maybe he'd gone too far this time, but he needed to get into that party. He had an incessant hunch about it – and Brandon's hunches were legendary. Sheri'd be fine. A little harmless flirting wasn't going to hurt anybody.