Fran grumbled something Caroline couldn’t decipher and was still squawking when they stepped out of the elevator. The lobby was busy
• 82 •
Descent
with several people at the front desk, another three or four sitting on the couches by the unlit fireplace. Loud voices drifted from the bar area.
Not everyone was tucked tightly into bed at this hour.
Caroline saw Shannon first. She frowned at the disheveled look she had acquired. Her hair looked like her hands had been in it all evening. Her clothes were askew and was that road rash on her knee?
She frowned but changed her expression and disposition, and as Shannon walked toward them, she felt the heat rise in her chest. There, right there on her neck, just above her collar, was a hickey. An honest to God, high school hickey.
“Speaking of getting fucked,” Caroline said under her breath loud enough for Fran to hear. When Shannon looked at her with fire in her eyes, Caroline realized her comment carried much farther than she intended.
“When in Rome,” Shannon said sarcastically as she passed by Caroline and Fran and punched the elevator button.
Caroline knew Shannon was staying at the same hotel and wasn’t surprised to see her in the lobby. The sponsor of the championship had reserved a block of rooms for the riders and Caroline had taken advantage of the cheaper rates this time.
“What was that all about?” Fran asked watching Shannon walk away.“How the hell would I know? I’m not her keeper,” Caroline barked.
A pang of red-hot jealousy burned in her gut and she was furious at herself for letting Shannon ignite it again.
“Don’t snap at me,” Fran said. “I just asked a simple question.
And speaking of simple questions, was that a hickey I saw on her neck?
I haven’t seen one of those in years.”
“Shut up, Fran.” Caroline practically marched across the lobby and out the door Shannon had recently come through.
“For someone who says there’s nothing going on, you sure aren’t acting like it.”
“I said shut up, Fran.”
“I saw the look in your eye. You wanted to throttle her.”
Caroline stopped so quickly it took Fran several steps before she realized she was walking alone. Caroline was hot all over and she knew her face must be beet red. “I told you. Shannon Roberts is old
• 83 •
JuliE CaNNoN
news. Very old news. The only thing we have in common anymore is trying to win this championship. She can fuck whomever she wants.
It’s none of my business and I don’t care if her entire body is covered with hickeys.” At one time it had been, and Caroline was the one who had put them there.
It was a long weekend in early November when Caroline’s roommate had gone home for a family wedding. The minute class was over on Friday afternoon Shannon was at her door. They didn’t leave her room the entire three days except for an occasional trip to the cafeteria to be seen and to replenish their tired bodies.
Caroline had dared Shannon to let her give her a hickey and when she finally agreed, one thing led to another and after another marathon round of kissing, sucking, touching, and licking, Shannon had dozens of hickeys that stretched from the top of her thighs to just below her collarbone.
They laughed about it at the time like seventeen-year-olds would, but when Shannon had to change her clothes in the locker room for tennis class it wasn’t so funny after all. Before the end of the day, Shannon’s body was the topic of conversation. Several of the girls knew she and Shannon were friends and asked her about it. At first Caroline was mortified, but after a while she considered it her mark and she was damn proud of it. Shannon’s reputation as a bad girl was reinforced after that weekend.
No longer in the mood for a walk, but knowing she couldn’t go back into the hotel, at least not yet, Caroline walked.
“Hey, CD, slow down.” Fran caught up with her. “I sit behind a desk all day. Give me a break, will ya? I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“You didn’t,” Caroline replied truthfully. Shannon did by saying hello to her in Canada, and the very fresh bite mark on her neck said even more.
• 84 •
Descent
ChaPTER ElEvEN
Shannon was third out of the chute the afternoon of the first day of qualifying. Hundreds of riders and fans had come to Ben Nevis on the slopes of Aonach Mor the last week in June. Mount Anne was the closest town and the second race in the championship series was named after it.
Forty riders had descended the trail ahead of her, one starting every five minutes. In the last two days she had ridden the course several times and had memorized every twist and turn on the difficult trail.
This morning as she eyed the leader board, several riders had crossed the finish line bleeding, one severely from her knee. It was obvious to everyone nasty spills were still an everyday event at the championships.
Every rider was giving it her all and pulled out all the stops to win.
The bell rang and Shannon shot off the starting line. The course immediately dropped fifteen feet and Shannon was pedaling before her rear tire hit the rock-strewn ground. Her left arm came perilously close to a tree branch, but she barely noticed, her concentration on two places, the ground directly in front of her and what lay ahead.
She had on all her safety gear. Her arms were covered by the long sleeves of her shirt, courtesy of TKS and her other sponsors, her chest protector underneath. Her bright green gloves were cinched tight and didn’t move as she squeezed her brakes at just the right time to slide into the next turn. She had worn her helmet and goggles so many times they felt like they weren’t even there. It had been difficult to adjust to the full-face helmet after riding for so many years with just a simple brain
• 85 •
JuliE CaNNoN
bucket, as they were known, but for her own safety she had switched.
When she first got it she wore it everywhere around her house, even when she mowed the lawn and repaired her bike. It was now as much a part of her as her own hands and she felt naked every time she was on her bike without it. It had probably saved her life more than once too.
Leaning over the handlebars, she pushed her right leg down and pulled her left leg up, shifting gears to climb the steep grade. This part of the course had the steepest incline and she was breathing hard.
Focusing on each pedal stroke, she arrived at the peak. There was no time to stop and admire the scenery, some of Scotland’s best, because she was determined to come down the mountain the fastest.
No wider than the width of handlebars, the final section was where the race separated the big girls from the little girls. She nicked a bush with her elbow and an even bigger one with her right leg. She felt and heard nothing but her raspy breathing inside the helmet. One more turn and she would be on the straightaway to cross the finish line.
She hit the turn with every skill she had, alternately braking and accelerating so as not to slide in the loose dirt. On her last practice run, this was where she had dumped it, and as she got up she noticed that several others had as well. Dried blood covered several rocks.
Out of the last turn, she finally heard the noise of the crowd. They were five and six deep, screaming, shouting, and blowing air horns as she rode under the black and white sign. Shannon skidded to a showy stop and looked to the board for her time.
“Damn,” she said. She was two seconds slower than her own course record time. What had happened? She thought she had a pretty clean ride, except for the fourth turn, that was a bit sloppy. She took off her helmet and pedaled out of the finish area; another rider would arrive in a few minutes.
“Shannon, you’re bleeding.”
Shannon looked and for the first time noticed blood dripping down her leg. It was flowing pretty freely and her sock had turned from white to red. A drop hit the dirt as she looked at it.
“You’d better get that looked at, honey.”
Shannon found the voice of the endearment and Gail was looking at her with concern written on her face.
• 86 •