Chapter Nine
I couldn’t deny it. My left ankle was aching. I’d tried mind-over-mattering the pain as usual, and I’d already downed more
than the suggested maximum daily amount of Advil, but the throb radiating up the front of my thigh was unmistakable. It didn’t
help that I’d lifted heavy at the rink gym, with a focus on my quads. I texted my massage therapist to see if she could slip
me in the next morning.
Hours later I was back at the rink to meet with Mel, Ben, and his two-person crew. As much as I wasn’t excited about doing
the show, I was a little bummed that I didn’t even merit a full team to cover my story. Especially since Ben didn’t seem like he’d put much
effort into his research. I was sort of hoping for a producer sitting just out of his sight line when the cameras were rolling,
who could rein him in when he went rogue or supply supporting details when he lost the thread.
Hopefully the people who did the editing on The Score could make up for any of Ben’s shortcomings, because how exactly was he qualified to bring my story to life? He wasn’t even
a real reporter.
I walked into the observation room above the ice to find everyone already chatting.
“The woman of the hour,” Ben said when he saw me. “Quinn, please meet Neil Pappas and Hailey Burkhart, our shadows for the next week.”
I shook hands with Neil first, a tall skinny guy in a black knit cap, two sleeves of tattoos, and black-rimmed glasses, then
Hailey, a petite blonde with a pixie cut in jeans and a black Western-style chambray shirt.
I was shocked by how young they were. Was my comeback being handled by an all-newbie team?
“Big fan,” Hailey said as we shook hands. “I’m so excited to be with you throughout this journey.”
I managed to give her a smile even though I didn’t love the sentiment. Ben and Co. weren’t going to be with me with me for the run-up to Italy. We had a week carved out of my insane schedule to get the primary footage for the show,
and then they’d be doing standard coverage of everything and everyone once the Games began.
I switched on my public persona. “Agreed, this is going to be fun!”
“Yeah, we’re honored to be here,” Neil said. “Normally we’d have a bigger crew, but bio-identical human growth hormones are
tough to beat, in more ways than one.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds like a mess. I can’t believe Andre Levins got caught doping.”
Actually I could believe it. I’d seen plenty of the dicey stuff that athletes did to tip the scale in their favor.
“Oh, not just Andre.” Neil raised an eyebrow. “The scope of it is crazy, hence us needing to throw all our firepower at the
story. But don’t worry, you’ll never know the difference. I have a hidden third arm in the middle of my back, I can do it
all.”
“It’s true, I’ve seen it myself,” Ben laughed. He pointed at Hailey. “That one over there can hold a camera, key light, and
a boom mic all at the same time.”
“Eh,” Neil said. “Hailey’s in more of a production assistant role this time around. I’ll be in charge of our cameras.”
“Hold on, that’s not what Kim said.” Hailey frowned at him. “She said I’m ready to be on cam two.”
“Well, Kim’s not here,” Neil replied smugly.
The room went quiet as the pair shot daggers at each other. Awesome, more tension on what was already going to be a hell of a week.
“Hey, as long as you make me look pretty, we’re fine,” Ben joked.
Mel brayed out a laugh. “Oh, you always look good,” she said in a flirty voice I’d never heard.
“Thanks for noticing, I’m blushing,” Ben flirted back.
Hailey caught me rolling my eyes.
“Let’s sit,” Ben said. “I know Quinn is busy, so time is money.”
“At this point, the only time she’s not working is when she’s sleeping,” Mel said as we took our spots at the table.”
I shot her a grateful look, because she was still trying to level set them about my availability.
“Mel, I know you and Kim talked quite a bit as we were sorting through schedules,” Ben said. “I wanted to confirm that we’re
all still on the same page. And please forgive me in advance for any hiccups, because this is my first time running the show.”
It was a rare moment of humility, the last thing I expected from a man who once told a reporter that he was going to write
a book about his life story, which was destined to be a New York Times bestseller. Bennett Martino always assumed that his force of will would make what he wanted to happen, happen.
I paused. I’d sworn I wasn’t going to do the interview, yet here I was, sitting across a table from the man. Maybe Ben was
more powerful at manifesting than I gave him credit for?
I pulled out my phone just as a text from Zoey came through, which included a photo of her and Ben arm in arm on the ice. Another ally down.
“As we talked about, we’re doing one master interview, where the two of us will sit down and go over my main questions. That’ll
be the meat of the show. At that point we can also address anything else we uncover during our time together,” he continued,
his eyes drifting to me.
I felt preemptively itchy at the thought of it. There would be zero uncovering happening with Ben. He’d never get access to
that part of me again.
“Did you send us the questions?” Mel asked, once again running front for me.
Ben shook his head. “I didn’t. I know firsthand what happens when you get the questions in advance—spin city. I prefer to
have a few guideposts for the conversation rather than a strict script.”
Mel frowned at him. “But you said you haven’t really been researching Quinn’s comeback, so how do you know . . .”
He broke out his gold medal smile. “Please trust me, we’re good, I swear. I might be new in the interviewer’s chair, but I’ve
sat through enough of these things to know what to do and not do. It’s going to be great, I promise you.”
“It’s just that I’ve been burned before,” I finally spoke up, giving Ben a pointed look.
“Exactly. We need this to be a feel-good story.” Mel picked up the thread even though she didn’t catch my subtext. “Not too
much focus on the past, okay?”
“Understood.” Ben nodded and turned to me. “I’ll take good care of you.”
He said it softly, and just for me.
I felt like I was on a boat, fighting to keep focused on the horizon so I didn’t get seasick, because the way he said it made
me want to believe him. But I knew better. I had to stay vigilant, because Ben had figured out how to make me feel at ease,
and I wasn’t about to open up and let him pick through my brain again. Getting me to confess to my traumas on camera would
all but guarantee a juicy show, which was exactly what he needed.
“I want to point out that we currently have that interview scheduled for the end of the week,” Neil said.
Ben nodded. “That’s not normal, I get it. Listen, I’ve been the subject of what feels like thousands of these types of interviews,
so doing it this way makes sense to me. The interviewer and the subject are in a much better place for intimacy after spending
time together doing all the other stuff.”
Ben caught me frowning at the word “intimacy.”
“Remember, Quinn and I have a lot to cover,” he added. “We’re basically strangers.”
He shot me a pointed look.
“But you did some research, right?” Mel asked hopefully.
Ben gave her his get-out-of-jail-free smile, which if the TMZ reports were accurate, was something that occasionally worked
on the men and women in blue.
“Sure, something like that.”
Mel glanced at me and we shared a moment of worry.
“Are you guys going to talk about that photo that leaked from the last Olympics? The hugging one?” Hailey asked. “I’m sure
people want to know the details.”
Ben laughed. “Nothing to tell. We were at a, uh, gathering of athletes outside in the dark and this one tripped. I grabbed her and kept her from face-planting, that’s it.
Now, would I also add that perhaps Miss Albright drank a few too many Feldschlosschens that night?
Not on the record, I wouldn’t. But if that’s implied . . .” He shrugged adorably.
Neil and Hailey laughed, but Mel didn’t. She knew I hated beer. I appreciated that Ben was putting distance between us, but
I needed to pull him aside and tell him not to fictionalize my life if he was going to be so careless about the details. A
gold medal winner overdrinking was just celebrating. A loser doing the same thing was drowning her sorrows.
“Can we finalize the rest of the schedule?” I asked, glancing around the table. “I want to make sure that my training isn’t
interrupted, but I also understand that you guys have shots you need to get.”
“Right, let’s dive into the specifics,” Ben said as he pulled out his phone. “Okay, so we’re going to be doing a tour of the
arena with you, like a behind-the-scenes look at a day in the life that our viewers eat up. Mel forwarded us a list of folks
here at the rink who we can interview. Easy stuff, I think we can grab that on Tuesday after you finish your morning practice.”
Ben paused to look at Neil. “Make sure you add the Zamboni guy, Frank, to the list. I met him this morning and he’s a trip.”
Neil nodded toward Hailey. “Write that down.”
Her face went crimson at his bossy tone. Oof. The week was shaping up to have plenty of minefields.
“We’ll obviously want to record a few practice sessions,” Ben continued. “Do you have a preference which day?”
“Never?” I said with a laugh, even though I meant it.
“I was thinking we could do it later in the week as well. I’d also like to chat out on the ice, after your session is over.” He pointed at Neil. “The good news is this one played hockey for the Buckeyes, so we can get up close and personal out there.”
“Not too close, I hope,” I joked.
Not that it mattered. I was used to camera angles so close that they captured the hairs in my nose.
“Please, you’re perfect,” Hailey said as her eyes traced around my face. “Do you even have pores?”
There were a few topics I hated discussing on the record, and the way I looked was one of them. I noticed that reporters never
asked the handsome male skaters about their skincare routines, or if their fellow skaters got jealous about the attention
they received. Stars on the red carpet were starting to push back on those types of questions, but I wasn’t in a position
to make waves. While my mom considered her beauty the be-all and end-all, I preferred to focus on my skills.
“Ha, give my primer all the credit,” I finally answered.
By this time of day I knew that most of my makeup had all rubbed off. For everything that my mom had stolen from me over the
years, from my self-confidence to a positive body image, I would always credit her for my clear skin and symmetrical features.
“Kim said something about going to a dance class, and the gym with Quinn, and a costume fitting as well?” Mel asked, bringing
us back to the topic up for debate.
Ben nodded. “Yup, I know the gym session is an easy get, but what about the costume stuff?”
Mel and I exchanged a look, because my costumes were currently getting tweaked. We’d made a few adjustments to my short program
costume thanks to unofficial feedback from judges during Nationals, who seemed scandalized by my new selections.
I’d spent my early career skating in long sleeves and fluttery skirts that hit below my butt, in various shades of pink, white, yellow, and baby blue.
This time around I was as close to naked as the rules allowed, with flesh-colored illusion mesh and crystals doing the heavy lifting to keep my kibbles and bits covered.
My “Bulletproof” costume was black with fierce oxblood accents that looked like it had shattered onto me, and my “Movement” one was a gold number that seemed like it was fighting to cling to my body as I performed.
I’d always be a shiny girlie for competitions, so the Swarovski gems were still in full effect on both costumes.
I had no problem wearing either one out on the ice in front of the world, but I knew that being in a confined space with Ben
watching as I tried them on would feel like foreplay. Like I was modeling lingerie for my boyfriend with my chaperones looking
on.
“Lucky break, because we’re heading to Quinn’s final fitting on Thursday.” Mel turned to me. “Is it okay with you if they
tag along?”
We all knew that the only answer was yes.
“Sure, why not?”
“Perfect,” Ben said with a satisfied nod. He tapped on his phone. “I’ll add that to our schedule for the day. Whew, we’re
gonna have a busy week!”
I shifted in my chair but managed to keep my performance smile plastered on my face. As challenging as the background with
Ben was, I had the added stress of making the public understand I was in a better place now. That my history didn’t define
my future.
That I was a winner and nothing could bring me down.
“The last thing we need to hash out is the home visit,” Ben said, sliding his eyes to me.
Okay, maybe one thing could.