Chapter 21
Leesa
‘I transcribed the interview as well, so you can search for the time stamp on any quote you want to isolate. I’ve put a few in bold that I thought were particularly good.’
Even presenting online, I felt certain my colleagues could all tell exactly why the time stamps on the interview footage didn’t quite make sense. They all knew I’d cut out provocative questions – and answers – and three entire minutes of Colin and me making out while I sat in his lap.
It had taken me too long to realise the phone automatically saved to the cloud and the incriminating footage had sat there overnight, on the work server, before I’d frantically snipped and pressed ‘Delete’.
Okay, I’d emailed myself a copy before I pressed ‘Delete’ and watched it back again at least three times on my private phone.
I hadn’t expected that of myself. The video should have felt tawdry and mortifying. I had starred in my own soft porn with the lead rider of the cycling team. At one point there was even a flash of my stripey pink knickers as Colin’s hand had ventured up my dress.
But I hadn’t felt dirty or guilty watching it. I’d been engrossed, fascinated by the stark lines of Colin’s face as he’d kissed me desperately. There were fewer glimpses of my face, but what I saw was a looser, freer me and she was damn sexy.
‘Initial feedback from the client has been very positive,’ Morgan said. I was glad of their presence on the call with Bill.
‘It’s good work,’ the big boss said gruffly – or maybe he’d just been vaping again.
‘I just have one question. The folder marked “Valerio for Magda”? I was looking through your content in preparation for the meeting and I can’t imagine why none of those…
assets have appeared in your campaign planning. ’
Heat rushed up my chest and I groped for my mouse to open up the folder, panic making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
‘Erm, I haven’t seen that one,’ Morgan stalled.
I clicked through frantically, telling myself it couldn’t be the kissing video, but terrified nonetheless.
‘Valerio for… Magda,’ I repeated rather stupidly as I searched for the folder on the server. ‘Uh, I suspect this is Colin playing a joke, as usual,’ I said through gritted teeth.
Double-clicking on the folder, I was confronted with an entire screen of thumbnails, all photos of Colin in front of the bathroom mirror, making various poses.
Christ. If Bill hadn’t been the one to find these, I might have laughed.
As it was, I wanted to throttle him for his long-shot prank that had paid off big time.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I mumbled. ‘He got hold of the tablet, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
To my shock, Bill laughed, clutching his stomach and then stopping on a cough. ‘You didn’t direct these?’
‘No, of course not.’ I only took footage of him with his hand on my ass, not – I tipped my head to peer at one of the thumbnails more closely – pictures of him balancing a water bottle on his head.
Not that anyone would care what he had on his head when he was shirtless, his shorts hanging off his hips.
‘I thought you might have had hidden depths, Leesa,’ Bill replied, as though disappointed I hadn’t been the one in the bathroom with him. God, I couldn’t get this right. ‘Maybe you should ask if we can use them.’
I wasn’t sure if it would serve Colin right if we published these photos or whether he’d revel in it and a tiny, embarrassing part of me wished he’d taken them for my eyes only.
‘Leesa definitely has hidden depths,’ Morgan commented, thankfully in a light tone, but I nonetheless got the message. They’d worked out I was a little too close to the talent.
At least the camp was over tomorrow and I had 12 days to recover. I never would have thought a training camp where I wasn’t actually training would be so hard on my lungs and my body.
Some unexpected places on my body.
‘Thanks for your time, Bill. We’ll keep you apprised of our progress.’
I wasn’t sure if Morgan could read my thoughts or if they were just keen to get off the call. Either way, I ended the meeting a little too enthusiastically and slumped against my desk, my head in my hands.
One more day. And then he’d focus on the Tour and leave me alone.
He had to and I would not be sad about that.
I would not wonder about his relationship with his dad or how his apparent family drama was affecting his psyche.
I would not picture him on my bed – not even sleeping peacefully – or in front of me on a bike in the wildly beautiful Dolomites.
I tabbed back to the folder of photos, clicking through them one by one. He still had the little redhead thing above his top lip, looking particularly ridiculous when he pouted for the camera. It felt like such a long time ago. It would be very strange when I didn’t see him next week.
Except I would be looking at his face every day as I assembled social-media assets. Ass-ets. Damn it, Colin Gallagher had utterly ruined me. But maybe at least partly in a good way.
‘Why didn’t you bring me here sooner? I’ve been in Italy for more than two weeks and I haven’t eaten a single slice of pizza!’
I had come down to Bressanone with Wil for a ‘business lunch’ – an excuse to chat away from the chaos of packing up a whole cycling team from an isolated mountain hotel.
After more than two weeks at altitude, I was disoriented to see so many people, so many bricks and flagstones.
It was a crash landing in the real world.
Wil smiled over her artichoke pizza. ‘We’re not exactly in Naples. Pizza isn’t a local specialty. When we first started coming here five years ago, this was the only place that served pizza, but now every hotel does. Brixen is turning Italian,’ she said, using the German name for the town.
I’d spent a few hours in Bressanone before, but I’d forgotten how pretty it was, the bright rendered buildings in yellow and ochre, the narrow cobbled streets, the endless church spires, all framed by a mountain panorama.
‘I don’t remember this restaurant from the time I was here on training camp,’ I commented, biting into my own slice of mushroom pizza. It had a thick fluffy base, drizzled with olive oil.
‘We don’t bring the riders, Leesa,’ Wil said with a grin, gesturing with her pizza for emphasis. ‘So, tell me how it’s all going.’
I chewed while I considered my answer. ‘My boss is happy with my work – and so is the client. That’s the most important thing really, for my hopes of getting a permanent job. Now I just need Colin to win a stage or two and it’ll be a dream project.’
‘Yes, well,’ Wil said with a wince, ‘we all hope he can pull it out of the hat when the Tour starts. But I meant for you. Have you enjoyed being back with the team?’
I hesitated for a moment too long and Wil gave my hand a quick squeeze.
‘I know it can’t have been easy to come back.’
I sighed. ‘You’re right. I wanted to move on.’ The final two words echoed in my mind along with flashes of memory of the time I’d spent with Colin over the past two weeks.
Wil put down her pizza and wiped her fingers slowly on a napkin. ‘I ask you because I have a lot of connections in various teams. If it doesn’t work out with Redwin – or if you have a change of heart about working for them – I’m sure I’d be able to get you placed somewhere.’
The ripple of possibilities was pleasant, especially after the angst of the past six months, wondering if Redwin would employ me, if I was good enough.
‘You probably want to stay in the States to be near your family, but I wanted to have it said, so there it is.’
Sure, my parents wanted me closer to home, but they’d prefer I took whatever job would lead to success the fastest – and they probably wouldn’t count working for a cycling team as a great success, when Redwin had worked with sponsors for the Superbowl and the NHL.
If I had to do something frivolous like sports marketing, at least let it be for a team with a lot of money behind it.
‘Whatever you do,’ Wil continued, leaning closer, ‘don’t sell yourself short. You might not have all that much experience, but the right employer will appreciate your potential – and so should you.’
I gave her a weak smile. ‘Thanks, Wil. But first, I’m actually looking forward to the Tour, which I didn’t expect. I wish I could stay and watch the women afterwards.’ Maybe if I ended up unemployed, I could, I thought bleakly.
‘You’re young,’ Wil said with a chuckle. ‘You still enjoy the madness. I have to deal with Tony and his anxiety. I think it would have made his life a lot easier if he hadn’t been so successful at bringing his children into the sport. You’ll see Lori at the start.’
Two weeks ago, I would have been dreading seeing her, jealous that she was still racing – actually winning – while I was trying to claw my way out of the sport.
But now that I’d let myself remember life with the team, sharing the anxiety and the boredom, the grumbles and the high points with the others, I wouldn’t mind so much seeing her.
Except that I suspected Lori would now remind me of her brother.
When we finished eating, we made our way back in the direction of the blue-and-yellow fairytale cathedral, all intricate details and baroque swirls, but a familiar figure down a back street caught my eye just before we crossed the square – a figure I’d been staring at for two-and-a-half weeks straight.
‘Just a second, Wil,’ I said, stopping her with a hand on her arm, then I dashed off before I lost sight of him. Whatever he was doing in Brixen alone, I suspected it would be trouble.
Following him down a narrow street behind the cathedral, past the gate of the church cloister and terraced buildings in pale blue and pink and yellow, I caught up with him by a low wooden door, his hand reaching for the handle.
‘Colin!’
He snatched his hand back, confirming my suspicions that he was up to no good.
‘What are you—?’ My gaze snagged on the subtle plaque by the door: Norbert Gasser, Tattoo Studio. ‘You can’t get a tattoo two weeks before the Tour de France!’ I hissed.
He shrugged. ‘Just a little one. It’s fine. It’ll heal over by then.’
‘If it doesn’t get infected and kill you!’
‘Take it easy, Kubicka,’ he crooned, a hand slipping around my waist – a natural touch that spoke to something deep inside me. ‘I have to do this. I’ll take good care of the wound. It’ll be just like racing with road rash and we’ve all done that.’
‘Not on purpose!’ I wanted to shove him away, but I didn’t quite manage it, my hand gripping his T-shirt instead. ‘You don’t have to do anything. You could just plan some artwork for later. Your Dad will kill you.’ My parents certainly would.
Of course he ignored me. ‘You should come in with me. I might need a hand to hold. You can make sure Norbert sticks to the hygiene rules.’
‘Norbert Gasser? Is that really his name?’
‘He’s a great guy – a real artist.’
‘You’ve been here before?’
He nodded.
‘For all of them?’
‘Just one.’
I couldn’t help but ask. ‘The dragon?’
He shook his head. ‘The compass.’
That was all he had to say for me to remember him sprawled on my bed, his hair mussed.
‘Leesa? Are you coming back with me?’
I turned to find Wil approaching hesitantly. My face was hot, wondering how much she’d seen.
‘I’ve just convinced Leesa to get the tattoo she’s been planning for years.’
I froze, ready to sock Colin in the guts, although preferably without witnesses. He nudged me in the back, an unsubtle plea to go along with him.
‘I’ll bring her back. She doesn’t want anything big, so we won’t be long.’
‘Uh, okay then,’ Wil said, her expression doubtful. I pasted on a smile, which seemed to be enough for her. ‘See you later.’
Remaining frozen until Wil disappeared around the corner, I whirled on Colin. ‘What did you say that for?’
‘It’s a great cover story. You got the tattoo, not me.’
‘Except that I won’t have an actual tattoo!’
He shrugged, trying not to smile. ‘You just say it’s somewhere under your clothes that no one can see. Easy.’ He seemed to like the idea of that. ‘Or you could really get a tattoo.’
He wasn’t serious, but my skin prickled at my hairline as I remembered all the girls in the team getting matching tattoos and me, watching, unable to take the plunge without at least a month of thinking time – then spending two years regretting my decision.
‘You know you want one. You could take the appointment.’
‘You are a menace,’ I grated out.
‘But I’m good, right? Are you going to save me?’
The way his words so often wedged deep, I was in a lot of trouble. ‘Let’s just go inside.’