Dressed and washing down the remainder of her breakfast with an energy drink, Shannon closed and locked the door behind her.
Her footsteps were silent on the plush carpet of the hall, the elevator barely making a sound as it opened its doors on her floor. The car was crowded and she recognized a few other riders as she stepped inside.
A chorus of “good lucks” sent her on her way when they reached the hotel lobby.
It was a short ride to the race expo and riders’ area, but Shannon opted to walk. Her start time for the first heat of the finals was after lunch and she was too keyed up to sit idly in the backseat of a cab. Her gear was safely secured in her sponsor’s trailer so all she carried was her backpack.
She garnered more than a few passing looks as she walked down the street. At five foot six, she wasn’t much taller or shorter than the other riders, but her shock of blond, almost white hair drew some
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JuliE CaNNoN
attention. Most of the men and a fair number of women checked her out from the bold letters across her chest to the fitted bike shorts covering her muscular thighs.
As she neared the race venue, dozens of people wished her luck.
She wasn’t famous by any means, but she was well known on the circuit and by fans of the sport.
She entered the riders’ only area and quickly scanned the grounds for Caroline. She would already be here, Shannon knew, checking out her gear, her bike, and getting psyched for the finals. Shannon was leading Caroline by only four seconds, which on this course was like a split second. One misstep, loss of concentration, or missed execution in a tight turn and the race could be lost.
Shannon never understood riders who had to meditate or get psyched up for a race. She simply imagined the trail in her mind, rode the lift to the top, and waited for her turn to descend. She never took it too seriously, which made her relaxed and fluid on the course. Usually, she won or came in second. Rarely did she come in anything lower than fourth, and she had not taken a spill in over three years.
Frank Striker, the owner of TKS, was waiting inside the trailer when Shannon entered. “There’s my goldmine,” he said before she even had the door closed behind her.
Shannon hated the perpetual leer on his face, but he never said or did anything that would give her the right to slap it off. He was her major sponsor. She sold her image, name, and reputation to him in exchange for big bucks. She hated the business side of racing but knew it was part of the game she had to play. She had money of her own, but why spend it when she could spend someone else’s just as easily?
“Hey, Frank, how’s it going?” Shannon asked as her way of saying good morning.
“Makin’ money and makin’ more money.” Frank’s middle name was greedy.
Shannon didn’t reply but went straight to her bike. At times she felt more at home with her bike than she did with most people. The carbon, aluminum, rubber, and wire were an extension of her. A way to express herself, the excitement of life, her race toward the future. There had to be some Freudian hypothesis in it all, but she tried hard not to think that deep.
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Descent
“You’re gonna take home the blue jersey today, Shan, I can feel it.
Davis can’t catch you, and the rest of the field are all wannabes. I have money that you’ll take it all this year. You know you’re the favorite.
Davis gets the sympathy vote ’cause of her broke leg, but she’s got nothing compared to you.”
There were many things that Shannon disliked about Frank Striker and he just about hit every one of them in his monologue. She hated being called Shan, his constant stroking of her ego was unnecessary and nauseating, and he never had a good thing to say about Caroline or any other rider.
She and Caroline were ranked number one and two in the world and she deserved, and had earned, the respect that went along with that.
“Caroline is fully recovered. She has just as much chance to win this as I do. As anyone, for that matter.”
“But she isn’t going to get a million dollar bonus if she does, is she?”Shannon bit her tongue on the first response that came to mind and chose the second instead. “Who knows? Maybe she will.” The rest of her statement was drowned out by Frank’s laugh.
“From Bellow? They’re so cheap they squeak when you say their name. She probably barely got enough money to pay for the trip.”
She wasn’t in the mood to spar with Frank today so she picked up her gear and headed out the door followed by Frank’s parting words.
“Kick ass, girl!”
v
Caroline pulled on her knee pads and buckled her shoes. The butterflies in her stomach were better than a clock. They always arrived about an hour before her start time and when she heard the announcement for the third heat she knew she had about forty-five minutes until she needed to be at the top of the hill.
Commotion behind her drew Caroline’s attention and she turned just in time to see Shannon enter the staging area. She had a presence that made her seem much larger than her average size. She drew crowds wherever she went at races, and it was particularly evident today by the numbers of people the security guards made wait outside the gate.
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JuliE CaNNoN
Caroline knew every inch of Shannon’s body, her mannerisms, her body gave away her moods, but that was years ago. God knew she was not the same person she was in high school and she suspected Shannon had changed as much as well. But the sense of familiarity, even after all these years, was unmistakable. Shannon still had the same swagger, the same sense of purpose, the same determined look in her eye she had when they were together.
Shannon gazed around the area, nodding to a few riders, looking past others, and Caroline watched Shannon’s eyes settle on her. Her heartbeat double-timed once, then twice before settling into a faster than normal cadence. Shannon’s expression immediately went blank but not before Caroline saw the moment of recognition and remembrance fill her face.
Caroline nodded and motioned Shannon over. With each step Shannon took toward her, Caroline’s pulse raced a bit faster. Stay calm, she told herself. Don’t let her get to you, she repeated in her head until Shannon stopped in front of her.
“I just wanted to wish you luck,” Caroline managed to say more calmly than she felt.
Shannon hesitated as if she were deciding how to respond. Finally she said, “Thanks, you too. It’s going be a tough one. The bobby pin about three-quarters down has gotten loose.”
Caroline knew the spot Shannon was referring to. It was a tight turn where the hard-packed dirt had eroded away due to the dozens of tires skidding over its surface. Interesting that Shannon warned her about it.
“You’re riding a Shimano crankset. How’s that working for you?”
Caroline asked wanting to keep the conversation going and Shannon close to her. This was the most they had spoken to each other since that awful day in her dorm room. Shannon looked surprised at the question.
“Good. They’re pretty tight and smooth. I think it’s their best crank yet.”
The bike techno jargon was going on all around them and would the entire series. Each rider believed that what she was riding was the best and many an argument ensued when two vehemently disagreed.
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Descent
“How is the Bellow working out for you?” Shannon asked referring to Caroline’s frame manufacturer.