5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Warlock
I slide behind the wheel of my car and pull out of McQueen’s parking lot. During my career, I’ve learned to recognize sadness, tragedy, and fear when I see it. But seeing it swimming in Tallahassee’s blue eyes tugs at my heart.
Her behavior and reactions are more than just a finely tuned defense mechanism. She isn’t guarded, the woman’s armored herself. Something unspeakable happened to her that made her distrustful. Especially toward men.
There’s something about Tallahassee that kicks my protective instinct into overdrive. I want to know who the hell hurt her so I can dole out retribution on her behalf. I want to be the one that frees her from the prison she’s locked in.
The stories aren’t true.
I’m beyond curious what stories she’s talking about.
The way Ricochet recognized her tells me she’s famous. Or had been at one time. It’s almost impossible for celebrities or sports icons to keep their personal lives secret. That being the case, I’m sure whatever happened to her is online.
I really want to know who or what made her construct those massive walls around herself, but I don’t want to find out by searching online. I want Tallahassee to trust me enough to confide in me herself.
On the other hand, if I knew what I was dealing with, it might help me understand her better. Or give me insight on how to bring down those steely, sky-high walls.
I know I could easily find the reason for her distress. I just can’t bring myself to invade her privacy that way. If I did, I’m not sure I’d be able to hide it from her; knowing her secret could change everything between us. I’m not willing to risk that. At least not yet.
The infamous race Ricochet mentioned is a different story. That, I have no issue looking up.
Once I get home, I take a shower and get ready for bed. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I crawl into bed and get comfortable, reclining against the headboard with my tablet.
It takes a few minutes to find the right video because there are dozens of them, and I keep getting distracted watching snippets.
But I stick to the films of her in the pool, avoiding any interviews.
I come across her first Olympic appearance and interrupt my search to watch it.
She’s a fresh-faced, nineteen-year-old rookie who won gold in the 100 freestyle and silver in the 200.
I resume my search for her infamous swim.
It takes some time, but eventually I find what I’m hunting for.
The video of the relay starts prior to the race, showing the athletes in the ready room.
Tallahassee looks adorable in her sweats and USA team parka.
Despite the intense pressure, she appears calm and relaxed, legs stretched out, earbuds in listening to music.
When the race begins, there’s an anticipatory energy in the air.
From the start, the United States takes the lead, and it appears they have it locked up until the third leg of the race when the U.S.
swimmer’s foot slips, and she stumbles off the block, tumbling into the water.
When she rights herself and starts to swim, she’s lagging in fifth place.
“Oh no!” an announcer shouts. “The Olympic rookie, Gretchen Saville, bobbled off the block.”
“Saville is in her first Olympics, and this is her first Olympic swim,” a second announcer says. “The slightest mistake can cost fractions of seconds, but this is a catastrophic error. Saville is only seventeen. She’s never been in this position and cracked under the pressure.”
“What a disappointment. The United States came into this race as the favorites. This misstep may have all but destroyed any hope for a medal.”
“It’ll be up to anchor, Tallahassee Crockett, to try and salvage the race for the United States.”
“Crockett is an outstanding freestyler. She has immense talent, but I’m not sure anyone could pull this off.”
The camera cuts to Tallahassee on the block. She’s laser focused, shaking out her arms, radiating intensity while she waits.
She’s leaner, more muscular, and well-defined. I have to admit I prefer the delicious, feminine curves she’s got now.
“Crockett is going to have to come from way back,” one of the announcers needlessly offers. “I’m not sure she can do it.”
“The pressure of the Olympics in a normal situation is intense, but trying to make up such a huge deficit is a monumental hurdle. Four years of hard work and dedication comes down to this moment.”
The rookie manages to make up enough ground to hit the wall in fourth place, and Tallahassee erupts off the block, hitting the water like a bullet headed downrange for a bullseye.
“Holy cow! Crockett is explosive coming off the block.”
“That’s a great reaction time by Crockett.”
“She’ll have to track Australia down.”
“She’ll have to track everyone down,” the other announcer replies with a chuckle.
“Crockett is already creeping up on third place!”
I lean forward, drawn into the excitement coming through the screen. I almost start shouting with the crowd to cheer her on as her body glides through the water, catching up and passing other swimmers one by one with her smooth, powerful strokes.
“Crockett the Rocket is right. Tallahassee Crockett is absolutely flying! She’s inching up on Canada.”
The words have barely left the announcer’s mouth when she overtakes the Canadian swimmer.
“It’s Tallahassee Crockett and the United States chasing down Charlotte Johnson of Australia.”
At the end of the pool, she somersaults and powers off the wall.
“What a turn by Tallahassee Crockett!”
“She’s got a great dolphin kick coming off that turn. Look how deep she is!” the announcer calls as the video shows Tallahassee gliding underwater like she was born to it.
“Here she comes! Here she comes! We’re seeing history in the making.”
“I’m going to have a heart attack,” the other announcer says with a snicker. “Is it possible Crockett can pull this off?”
Her teammates are screaming from the edge of the pool. The entire stadium is in utter pandemonium. Most of the crowd is on its feet, rooting her on.
For several seconds, the camera shifts to a man and two women enthusiastically cheering for her from the stands.
I recognize Nash McQueen. Jealousy surges through me as I watch him shouting encouragement.
If Tallahassee and Nash are in a relationship that would explain how she ended up working for him.
The thought pisses me off, even though I have no right to feel this way.
“Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Tallahassee Crockett has taken the lead, and she’s not slowing down!”
My heart starts beating faster watching her swim like her life depended on it. Even knowing how this race is going to end, I’m still caught up in what I’m seeing and can’t help whispering, “C’mon, Tallahassee.”
“Unbelievable!” one of the announcers shouts. “Are you seeing this?! Crockett started this race in fourth place, and she’s leading by half a body length!”
“Ten meters left, and Tallahassee Crockett is almost a second under world record pace! And she’s not slowing down.”
“She’s pulling away!” the other announcer yells.
The crowd begins a boisterous chant of “USA! USA!”
“She’s way ahead of the world record line. They. Are. Not. Catching Tallahassee Crockett!”
At the end of the pool, head down, body stretched out and reaching, her palms slam into the wall. She breaches the surface of the water drawing in a huge gulp of air.
“Tallahassee Crockett has shattered the world record! That was an unbelievable finish.”
“Wow! My goodness, that was a great swim.”
“Tallahassee Crocket just swam the race of a lifetime! She’s now the fastest female swimmer on the planet.”
“This may be the greatest women’s swimming relay in Olympic history! Holy cow that was something!”
“We’ll be talking about this race for years to come. That was beautiful to watch. It doesn’t get any better than that.”
Tallahassee is gasping for breath. She yanks the goggles off her face, squinting up at the electronic scoreboard showing the results of the race.
As soon as she realizes she’s won, her face breaks into an expression of pure joy. She slaps her hand against the water and yanks her swim cap off.
For a moment I’m thrown by how different she looks. It’s not only her light pink, shoulder length hair, but because there’s no fear or worry in her eyes. There’s nothing but elation and happiness surrounding her.
The crowd is going wild. Her teammates are jumping, screaming, and hugging each other.
Tallahassee gives the Australian swimmer in the lane next to her a one-armed hug and says something to her.
Then, still trying to catch her breath, she pulls herself up on the lane buoys.
Raising her arm, she waves at the crowd with a huge, radiant smile plastered across her face.
Tallahassee hoists herself out of the pool to join her teammates, the four of them hugging and jumping up and down in celebration.
Tallahassee put her heart and soul into the race, giving it everything she had. Her legs are wobbly, and I can only imagine they feel like jelly after the effort she put in. I can relate. As a SEAL, I’ve been there many times.
The rookie is crying, and Tallahassee hugs her. The camera is close enough to catch their conversation, “I’m so sorry,” the rookie tells her.
Still breathing hard, Tallahassee shakes her head. “What for, rookie? We just won gold.” Then she whispers something, and the girl bobs her head and wipes her face, pulling herself together.
Tallahassee pats the girl on her swim-cap-covered head then moves away. Side-by-side-by-side, they turn to the crowd, all of them waving and smiling wide.
It was one of the most impressive and exciting performances I’ve ever seen. Knowing she qualified for and swam the 100m and 200m freestyle prior to this race, I’m amazed she had that kind of fuel left in the tank.
Three events. Three gold medals. The woman was untouchable. She was such a beautiful swimmer. Elegant. Graceful. She made it appear effortless. She’s a remarkable athlete.
After rewatching her relay race twice more, I search for the medal ceremony. When Tallahassee places her hand over her heart, I notice her fingernails are painted with tiny American flags and grin. I watch her sing the National Anthem with pride and tears in her eyes.
I’ve seen all five races from the two Olympics she competed in but I’m still hungry for more.
I’m not a social media person, but I find myself diving down a rabbit hole scrolling through her Instagram.
It seems like the safest way to prevent myself from learning anything negative that happened to her.
She posted film clips of interviews where she was confident, animated and funny, looking relaxed and chatting comfortably with the host. She was gracious, giving as much credit to her teammates as she took for herself.
Most of the photos are either Tallahassee in the pool or with food. The photographs and hashtag RocketSnacks started trending after someone posted a picture of her sitting at a table laden with a variety of food.
From there it escalated. Her teammates, fans, and, surprisingly, other countries began posting pictures of Tallahassee either eating or surrounded by plates of food.
Her followers marveled at the number of calories she consumed.
I had to agree, based on the photos, the woman ate like a starving linebacker.
I’m captivated by how open and accessible she is on her Instagram.
After her famous relay race, so many people wanted a picture with her, and she seemed happy to oblige.
She didn’t seem cautious or distrustful in any of her posts; she was approachable and friendly.
She leaned into the spotlight. Now she hides from it, wanting nothing more than to be inconspicuously anonymous.
It’s like looking at two different women.
Once again, I find myself wondering what happened to change her so drastically.
She’d participated in two Olympics with four gold and one silver medal to her name. Then she vanished. Her social media went silent, and somehow, years later, she reemerged as a waitress at McQueen’s.
What the fuck happened to you, Tallahassee?