Chapter 5
Colin
The way Leesa’s eyes widened to the size of a wheel rim was the highlight of my week. I kept my gaze on her as Amir cued the video – not a chore, when she’d gathered her hair in a high, fluffy bun that drew my attention to her neck. Then I cleared my throat to read the script I’d put together.
‘Before she was a marketing genius joining us for the Tour, Leesa Magdalena Kubicka – yup, that’s her middle name – was herself an elite pro with none other than the Harper-Stacked women.
Her best results were a stage win and fifth overall in the Tour of Scandinavia and a very memorable first place at the Great Ocean Road Race in her final season, before she retired at the advanced age of twenty-nine. ’
Sending another glance her way, I found the scowl I’d expected.
‘We, her biggest fans in the men’s team, have put together this video tribute to present the great achievements of our new guest.’
I’d chosen a hip-hop song with a driving beat that burst from the speakers as the images came up on the screen: Leesa in a helmet and sunglasses looking over her shoulder as she stood in the saddle; Leesa at the front of the peloton, her jaw tight with effort; a still from a photoshoot with one hand on her hip and the other resting on the saddle of an aero bike; Leesa grinning and holding an American flag, her arms covered in dirt.
It hadn’t been difficult to find videos to cut together.
She’d been so good at coming up with entertaining stuff for her social feeds, which was probably why she’d landed a job in marketing.
Looking through them all had also been an hour I’d happily spend again.
She had these breasts that were so tiny, I wanted to give them extra attention.
She was wearing a light dress today, with a floral print and provocative buttons running down the front. It was a far cry from the skintight Lycra of cycling kit that hinted at every smooth line of her body. I couldn’t decide which look I liked more.
I’d picked one video of her and Doortje Stoepker doing some viral dance with bikes instead of dance partners and then some GoPro footage from a tour somewhere in Portugal.
She had this way of smiling right to her back teeth that made me want to hold her against me until some of the magic soaked into me.
I hadn’t seen that smile yet this time. She didn’t usually give it to me.
Next came a couple of short race videos, one of her and Bonnie Tham clinging to each other, laughing and crying after a race – I didn’t even know which race.
Then a clip of her stepping onto the podium in front of the palm trees in Geelong, Australian native flowers in hand, after she’d earned that first place last year – when Lori had been sick after a spider bite.
I’d won the men’s race and lorded it over my injured sister like a dick, but it had been worth it to see her get some fight back – as well as that ludicrous grin on her face when she’d been texting Seb and thought I hadn’t known what she was doing.
Maybe because of Lori’s injury, Leesa had been named lead rider, given all the team’s support and then she’d brought the trophy home. I wondered how she looked back on that now.
Behind me, the light changed and I turned to watch the moment I’d selected to end the clip: slow-motion footage of Leesa hurtling towards the finish line in Geelong, the street lined with supporters behind the barriers.
Her face – usually soft and rounded and prone to smiling – was drawn tight with effort, with fight.
Her body was bowed over the handlebars, the silver chain she wore bumping against her chest with every pump of the pedals.
As she crossed over in first place, her eyes flew wide and her mouth dropped open and then she threw her fists into the air. There was no sound with the video, but we could all hear the way she’d hollered in disbelief.
God, there was something about a woman on a bike.
Turning back to my teammates and staff with a grin on my lips, a surge of satisfaction rose in my chest. Yeah, I knew it had been a shitty thing to do to introduce her like this without warning but, while I’d apologised for what happened in September, I hadn’t promised to refrain from more pranks.
Plus I wanted everyone to know that she wasn’t just a marketing executive, or whatever her job title was.
But when my self-satisfied gaze found her once again, my grin vanished. The scowl was gone, replaced with something hollow. With a swipe at her face, she got to her feet and walked woodenly to the front of the room as the applause tapered off.
Her eyes were deep and huge with betrayal and my skin pulled too tight all of a sudden. Nelson clicked on the lights and she flinched. Oh fuck, I’d screwed up – again. I only seemed to screw up when Leesa Magdalena Kubicka was within ten feet of me.
I wanted to shoo everyone out of the room, protect her from view, pull her onto my lap and rock her while I apologised. But apologising now would only make everything worse and she definitely wouldn’t let me pull her onto my lap.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, she faced the team.
‘After that entirely unnecessary introduction, I barely need to say a thing. But I wanted to reassure you all that I hope to have a positive impact on morale, if anything. I won’t disrupt your training or preparations for the Tour.
I still really just want you guys to do well – even Colin. ’
One of the coaches sniggered. Her voice shook and I found myself silently begging her to snipe at me, put me in my place.
‘Might need to watch your back, ay, Colin!’ called Derek and I flipped him off subtly from waist-height.
‘All right, all right,’ Dad intervened from where he sat to one side, his arms crossed. ‘You’ve had your fun, Colin. Now leave her in peace while we get back to work.’
She stiffened beside me and, for a moment, I thought she was close to tears. But Leesa could give as good as she got, surely. A protective comment from Dad wouldn’t push her over the edge.
But as she pasted a smile onto her face, brushed past me and headed for the sliding doors, there was something about the set of her shoulders that I didn’t like. I wished I’d pulled her into my lap – screw the consequences.
Her departure was followed by a chorus of groans. ‘For fuck’s sake, C!’
‘Have you really gone and pissed off the woman in charge of your sponsorship stuff? That takes balls – or stupidity.’
‘I put together the highlights of her career,’ I said defensively. ‘What’s so bad about that?’ I already knew the answer. I’d aimed and fired my shot. I just hadn’t meant to shoot to kill.
I made it to her door that afternoon with my hair still dripping from the shower. Back here again, on the other side of her door to apologise for my shit.
Leaning one hand heavily on the wooden doorframe, I pressed the heel of my other hand to my forehead.
Staring at the laminated picture of a furry alpine mammal stuck to the door, I tried to summon the courage to knock.
She had the marmot room, a single tucked under the staircase – the wooden staircase.
Everything in this place was made of wood. No pun intended.
Amir and I had the chamois room and, if it hadn’t been my third time in this hotel, I might have still thought that meant the crotch padding of a pair of cycling shorts and not a horned sort of goat thing.
I eyeballed that cute little creature on her door for long enough that the familiar sense of frustration rose up my throat.
Nothing I did was right. Leesa wouldn’t want to see me anyway.
All she wanted was for me to keep a professional distance and standing in front of her door agonising wasn’t exactly professional.
But I wanted to see her – not only to make her listen to an apology she probably didn’t want. I wanted to know what nerve I’d touched.
Straightening quickly, I rapped on the door to cut off my overthinking.
‘Go away, Colin!’
Despite everything, her words made me chuckle. ‘What if it had been Dad – or Wil?’ I called back.
‘You’re not your dad or Wil, so go away!’
Pressing my palm to the door, I brought my forehead close, as though I could feel her through the wood. ‘Can we talk?’
‘I thought you didn’t want to talk.’
At least she had her fight back. ‘Yeah. I was an arsewipe this morning. I’m sorry.’
To my surprise, that seemed to work. The door flew open. ‘Do you think apologising and calling yourself an asswipe will erase what you did?’
‘Nah, but hoped it might make you smile again.’
Not the reaction I expected, she slumped against the doorframe, resting her temple and letting her eyes fall shut.
‘You’re supposed to be mad at me. Go on.’ I lifted my chin and pointed at it.
When she finally spoke again, it wasn’t anything like what I’d expected. ‘If I punched you, would it get rid of the moustache?’
‘I don’t think you hate this moustache as much as you say you do. You talk about it all the time.’ I ducked my head. ‘Just think, without it I might be devastatingly handsome.’
She cracked an eyelid open. ‘“Might be”? What happened to your self-confidence?’
I laughed, hoping she didn’t notice it was choked. ‘I didn’t think you liked my confidence. Except in—’
‘If you say “bed”, this door gets slammed in your face.’
‘There’s my girl.’
She shot me a peeved look.
‘I’m sorry. There’s my woman,’ I corrected with a less-than-convincing straight face.
When she rolled her eyes, I knew I was making progress. ‘You’ve made your apology and we’ve had some obligatory banter. You can go now,’ she said.
That response wasn’t the one I wanted. ‘Do you wanna go for a walk?’ I tried out.
‘Why?’ was her response, but I was just glad it wasn’t a straight no.
‘It’s so fuckin’ beautiful around here.’ Especially when she was standing in front of me.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be resting?’
‘A walk is restful, isn’t it? Therapeutic.’
‘Maybe you should just get therapy.’
I might need to if she kept breaking my heart with every word she uttered. But I deserved it, after what I’d pulled over the years.
I crossed my arms. ‘You still haven’t said no.’
‘I noticed that too,’ she mumbled. ‘Are you planning to lure me into the forest and leave me there?’
‘Cross my heart, I’m not. Last time I did that to someone it backfired badly.’
She almost smiled. Just a slight lift of one corner of her mouth, but it felt like a gold medal – and I’d won two of those at Australian Nationals two years ago, so I knew what I was talking about.
‘Whether you believe me or not, I just want to talk.’
‘I suppose we should discuss how this project for PowerFuel is going to run.’
That wasn’t the kind of talking I’d pictured, but if the other option was the door slammed in my face, I’d take it.
‘Give me five minutes to change?’