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“Well, the World Cup is the biggest mountain bike event in Scotland. The course is about three miles long and is one of the most difficult terrains in the series. It draws about twenty-five thousand spectators and ten times that many watch it on TV.”
“Ooo, you’d better look good, girl,” Fran said poking her in the side. “No, wait, you’re the one that’s camera shy; it’s Shannon Roberts that always looks good on camera.”
Caroline had been trying to forget Shannon was in the same small town this week, but having already seen her several times walking around on the event grounds, she had finally given up.
“I’ll bet she looks better from any angle.” Fran raised her eyebrows.
“Is there something you need to tell me, Fran?”
“What? Oh God no. Sorry, no offense.”
“None taken.”
“It’s just that she’s a knockout. Anyone with two eyes can see that. She sits on your side of the bench. I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about her.”
The shift in the conversation to Shannon made Caroline uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Caroline, you might be out of practice, but you certainly aren’t dead. You must have noticed how she fills out those spandex shorts.”
“They’re Lycra.”
“Lycra, spandex, Saran Wrap, who cares? Well, the Saran Wrap might be interesting. Anyway, the point is that there is nothing left to the imagination when she’s wearing those, except what she tastes like.”
“Fran!” Caroline choked on her cocktail, drawing the attention of several patrons in the lounge.
“Don’t Fran me, Caroline. I know damn good and well you lezzies talk about girls the same way guys do and the same way we straight chicks talk about guys. Don’t look at me that way.”
Caroline wasn’t sure just how she was looking at Fran.
“How many riders on the circuit are queer?” Fran only used the term in the most affectionate way.
“How should I know? I don’t go around and ask to see their sexual orientation card.” Caroline signaled the waiter for another drink.
• 70 •
Descent
“Jeez, CD, I’ve been hanging around you long enough that even I can tell who’s queer and who’s not. And Shannon Roberts is definitely one of yours.”
“She was once.” Caroline let her statement hang in the air like a berry ripe for the picking.
“What? When? How long? Was she as good as she looks?” She rattled off questions in rapid fire.
“Yep, in high school, about ten months, and absolutely.”
“Holy shit, tell me more. Tell me everything, and I mean every thing.” Fran was sitting on the edge of her chair in anticipation.
She and Fran hung out together as much as their schedules allowed, shared practically everything with each other including celebrating new love and wiping the tears of old love. But Caroline had never told her about Shannon. The memories were too painful. But after seeing Shannon again, talking to her, Caroline needed someone to help her sort it all out.
She relayed the story from the first time she saw Shannon in freshman English, to the first time they had sex. Funny how she didn’t consider it making love. They were teenagers, and teenagers didn’t make love, they had sex. And lots of it. She ended with the scene in her dorm room.
“Holy shit,” Fran so eloquently summarized, collapsing back in her chair.
“I’ll say.” Caroline filled her in on her meeting Shannon at their first race.
“And you haven’t spoken to her in all that time until last week in Canada?”
“No. It’s a small circuit and we’d see each other at practically every race, but she kept her distance and I kept mine.”
“So what happened in Canada?”
That was the question Caroline kept asking herself. What had made Shannon finally say something to her? “I don’t know. She came out of nowhere straight toward me. She had to track me down. It wasn’t as if we literally ran into each other in the ladies room. She just started talking to me and then when she congratulated me when my father was standing next to me, I thought I was going to die.”
“Double holy shit.”
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“And we’re in the same hotel.” Caroline held up her hand. “Don’t say it.”
“I don’t know what to say. First you tell me you had sex with the hottest thing in bike shorts, then you tell me your father caught you in the act, then she speaks to you for the first time in almost ten years, and now she’s in your hotel. Have I got all that right?”
“That’s about it.”
“Are you sure? You’re not going to tell me you have a love child you’ve kept hidden away all these years are you? I don’t think my heart or my clit can take any more.”
They both laughed, releasing some of the tension in Caroline’s stomach. “No, the love child is safely tucked away for a few more years.”
“What are you going to do?”
“About what?” Caroline asked.
“About Shannon.”
“What about her?”
Fran sighed. “Did you hit your head on your last ride or something?
Are you going to try to find out what’s gotten into her…so to speak?”
She winked at Caroline.
“There’s nothing to do. She’s here to try to win the championship, just like I am.”
“Bullshit. You two have some unfinished business you need to iron out.”
Caroline was getting frustrated. “It was ten years ago. Let it go. I have.”Fran laid her hand over Caroline’s. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. The circumstance around the way she walked away from you is a big deal.”
Caroline signaled for the bill and used the action to end the conversation and get her thoughts together. Was Fran right? Did they have unfinished business? Why did she never hear from Shannon? Why did she finally talk to her after all this time? And did she have the guts to get the answers to those questions?
• 72 •
Descent
ChaPTER NiNE
The Downhill is a high-speed descent down the Nevis Range course—a grueling, rock-strewn ribbon of bike-smashing dirt that drops five hundred twenty-five meters in two point seven kilometers. It’s rider against the clock. And the mountain,” Fran recited behind her.
“What are you talking about?”
Fran waved a piece of paper at her. “The information about the race. I printed it off the Web. It says right here that the current course record is four minutes and forty-three seconds held by none other than your Shannon Roberts.”
“She’s not my anything,” Caroline said but was ignored.
“And just how far is five hundred twenty-five meters and two point seven kilometers? When is the U.S. going to get in line with the rest of the world and start using metric?”
Caroline shook her head and smiled at her. “Which answer do you want first? The one that is ‘seventeen hundred feet in a mile and a half,’
or the phrase ‘not in our lifetime’?” They were getting ready to go out to dinner and Caroline was just getting out of the shower.
“How do you like being one of the people competing at the highest level? ‘Famous names, heroes from the magazines, Olympic and world champions will be here as they compete for important world championship points,’” Fran read as she turned the page.
“Pretty damn important, so that means you get to buy dinner. Now get out of here so I can get dressed.” Caroline stuck her tongue out at her and slammed the bathroom door.
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