Chapter 14 #2
As we get to the edge of the rink, the cheers start to subside a smidgen.
His grip tightens slightly, like it does whenever we’re about to bow together at the end of our programs. I let him lead me into a spin underneath his arm, but he doesn’t let go entirely and instead pulls me into a low dip, which sets the crowd off again.
It feels like magic is swirling around us, sending every nerve ending a jolt of pure joy, flaring out from where his fingertips are pressing into the small of my back, even through my jacket and the shirt underneath.
A shiver slides through me and he sends me a wink.
Okay, then, pretending he never said anything on the plane it is.
I can do that.
I can do this.
I throw my head back and laugh, playing it up a little before he spins me back to my feet and we skate off the ice as the next country is announced.
· · ·
“The power of social media,” Charles says, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand it, but it seems as if it’s working.”
“I’d say so,” Dad responds, before taking a sip from his glass.
The reception is back at the hotel, in one of its massive ballrooms. I’ve been to parties like this before, usually at Nationals, but those are held at, like, a Hilton or a Marriott.
This hotel is wildly different. It looks like something out of my history textbook, all columns and intricately carved sculptures and actual candelabras lining the walls, with a gigantic chandelier at the center of the room.
I’m extra glad I packed a decent party dress for this.
Walking in here in a Team USA tracksuit was not going to cut it.
Instead, I’m in my favorite black dress and the one pair of heels I own, a set of strappy black sandals that I used when Brayden and I took a salsa class about a year ago.
I basically tower over everyone in the room, except for a couple of the men, Brayden and Freddie included.
Everyone else seems to be appropriately sized for figure skating.
“We should take advantage of this now,” Charles says, and I refocus on the conversation as best I can.
“I’ve already had some calls with a few of the companies you’ve been doing ads for, but I’ve also decided to set a threshold for the two of you, financially speaking.
We don’t want too many demands on your time, so we’ll make sure anything you do is something that’s worth your while. ”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Brayden says, squeezing my hand.
“And I’ve had calls from Nike.”
I choke on a sip of seltzer. “Nike?” I ask through a cough.
“Nike,” Charlies confirms. “It’s early days and we have a bit of a negotiation ahead of us, but they see the wisdom in signing you two up this far out from the Games.
You give them a bit of a discount for the length of the deal, but we’ll have it set to renegotiate in four years, so you can profit on your fame now, but have a chance to really cash in if you do well at the Olympics. ”
Shaking my head, I take another sip of my drink. Slower this time, in case he has any more surprises to throw at us. “Let’s not jinx us, okay?” I manage to say, still in total disbelief.
“And while I have you here,” he says, mostly to my dad, though, “the film crew that worked on Kellynch, they’re interested in filming again, maybe as these two get prepped for Senior Worlds next month?”
Figure skating isn’t a sport that takes a break for an Olympic year. They still hold their Senior World Championships as scheduled, regardless, even though most of the competition is watered down after the Games.
Dad nods. “Of course, it’ll be even bigger as we’ll have three athletes.”
“We don’t even know if we’ll be sent to Senior Worlds,” I say, cutting in quickly, the panic rising at the idea. “We’re still only juniors.”
“Two weeks from now you won’t be,” Charles reminds me, “and the senior teams basically fell on their asses in Beijing. The NFSC is going to want you there. Count on it, a month from now you’ll be flying out to Senior Worlds.”
I shake my head. Senior Worlds had always been a good possibility this year, but it was just supposed to be for the experience, no pressure. “But we’re not ready, not to, like, actually compete. We’d need to add an extra…”
“Camille’s well aware of what you’ll need to do to get prepared for a senior competition,” Charles insists, and he’s not wrong.
“I have full confidence that you’ll do well.
Not win, of course, but a good starting point for next season.
It will show Nike you’re ready for the big time as we negotiate. ”
Charles turns back to Dad to say something, but I don’t hear it. There’s buzzing in my ears until Brayden nudges me a bit with his elbow. “You okay?” he mumbles.
I look up at him and he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, like he’s about to say something, something important, something like what he said back on the plane, and you know what, I was perfectly happy ignoring it, so I cut in before he can utter another word.
“Do you still want to go out tonight?”
“Yeah,” he says, furrowing his brow, studying me carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this. Good luck to him, because I’m barely sure where I’m going with this.
“Well, then, let’s go out.”
“Okay, then,” he says, a wide smile playing over his face as we excuse ourselves from the conversation.
“Let me grab the other girls,” I say, pulling up our group chat on my phone. “You get the guys. We’ll meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes?”
He doesn’t respond, a funny look playing across his face.
“Brayden?” I ask, tilting my head.
“Right, yeah, I’ll round up the boys and we’ll get going.”
Fifteen minutes later we’re in the lobby and five minutes after that we’re in cabs setting out to a place the hotel’s concierge recommended.
“Are we famous?” Ben jokes as we make our way into the club, past a line of waiting people, by a bouncer who holds a velvet rope open for us.
It’s not completely dark inside, like what I’ve always pictured a club looks like.
It’s got a chiller vibe than that. The walls are made of old stone, so it looks like the entire place was built out of an ancient tunnel or something, but there are neon lights lining the ceilings, changing colors and blinking with the pulsing beat of the music being spun by a DJ at the back of the room.
“How did we get in so easy?” I ask Brayden, who’s standing beside me.
“I…”
“Charles called and mentioned that I might be stopping by with some friends tonight,” Elisa says, answering for him and smiling.
“He said we’d all be stopping by,” Brayden says, quirking a smile at Elisa, who actually flutters her eyelashes at him in response.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in real life do that before and I try to stifle a laugh, but it’s tough.
Brayden doesn’t manage it quite as well as I do, and he tries to mask it in a cough.
“I need a drink,” Elisa says, looking around for the bar.
“I think we all do,” I mutter, and Brayden laughs again, “but part of the deal was not drinking, right?”
“Right,” he says, nodding.
“C’mon, we got a place to sit,” Jimmy says, and we follow him to a corner of the club, a little set away from the sea of people out on the dance floor, drinks in hand.
There are large leather couches roped off with a small sign on it that reads RéSERVé.
“Charles got us, like…what is this, a VIP section?”
“This is wild,” Riley says, her eyes wide as she takes in the rest of the room.
“I’ve never been clubbing before and the first time I go I get to do it in Paris!
Dance with me!” She grabs my hand, and as she does, I grab Maria, who grabs Elisa, who grabs Katya, who grabs Gillian, and we’re able to wind our way through as a group to a relatively open space on the floor.
“We should have brought the guys!” Elisa shouts over the music, but I’m content to ignore her.
The bass is pulsing through my chest and this is why I wanted to go out tonight.
I wanted to let the music completely surround me, so loud and obnoxious that there’s nothing else I can do but dance and ignore every other thought swirling in my head.
Thoughts about sponsorships and medals and winning and pressure and nerves.
Because that’s the only thing that conversation with Charles and Dad and Brayden did for me earlier.
It wasn’t exciting or thrilling or a dream come true.
It was terrifying. I should have expected this.
It’s what I set myself up for, isn’t it?
Attention that leads to sponsorships, which leads to financial security.
That was the plan, but now that I’m here and it’s possible, I just… it’s a lot.
Because it was never supposed to be me. I wasn’t the Russo people talked about when we were growing up.
That was always Elisa. She was Mom brought back to life on ice.
She was supposed to be the legacy. And, yeah, maybe I resented that a little bit, but there was also some freedom in that.
Freedom to be too tall and to skate for the sheer joy and love of it.
The only time I made a decision that was driven by anything other than those things was when I split with Freddie, and I’m still dealing with the fallout from that choice.
Now, though? Now it’s different. People expect results from us. They expect us to win. They’re even betting money on it. A lot of money. Nike doesn’t play around. They wouldn’t even talk to Charles about Elisa late last year, even when it was clear she was going to make the Olympic team.
It’s all way too much.
So instead I dance.