Chapter 6 – In the Sin Bi
On Thin Ic e
November
Amelia
Even though it's early in the month, I'm flying back from the Aurora Skate Masters, one of the many competitions I’ve entered this year. Since June, I’ve competed at least twice a month, consistently placing within the top four.
As I gaze out my plane window, the evening sky shimmers with color, soft and endless.
[Flashback ]
As always, the venue is cold, so cold. The air bites at my face as I prepare to step onto the ice. I've been moving, staying warm and loose, stretching on the sidelines to stay limber.
I pull my TrueNorth thermal core head mask over my face and secure it.
I love this material because it's so thin that it's barely noticeable up close or on camera.
The thermal heat-holding nude core suit is layered beneath my sequined red skate dress.
From a distance, I look like any other skater, except for the balaclava.
The balaclava is made from the same lightweight thermal material.
It's warm and barely there, with an almost sheer, silk-like layer over the eyes and nose that lets me see and breathe easily.
It wasn't designed to disguise me, but it does, giving me a bit of anonymity, even though everyone knows me as Jaxson's wife, Mellyn.
On TV, in a news clip or sports highlight, I could be skating, and no one would immediately recognize me.
You really have to look to notice me. Even so, it does exactly what it's meant to do, keeps me warm, and shields me from the effects of Raynaud's.
As the music begins to pull me forward, I glide from my starting position. I can barely hear the announcer over the cheering crowd, but it all fades into the background as I focus.
“Next on the ice, representing Canada… Amelia Smith.”
It's second nature to perform this dance.
My body feels at one with the smooth surface of the rink.
Hitting my spins fast, controlled, without error, my heart thrills.
The chill permeates my body, my legs burn, and my fingers begin to sting, but I don't pause.
I push, concentrate, and give everything I have to these magical few minutes.
“Nice control on take-off. She's been going strong this season.”
“That's right, Henrik. She's the one to watch. She started in fourth place in the series and took third place, earning bronze, last month in Bratislava, Slovakia, at the International Danube Crystal Cup. Her stats are climbing.”
As the music builds dramatically, I take off into a Biellmann spin.
Perfect! Just glide and spin.
The crowd's cheers swell, and they rise to their feet .
“That move was incredible! She's radiating confidence and making a bold statement here in Oslo, Norway!"
“That she is, Svein.”
[End of Flashback]
The applause and music fade, leaving only the soft hum of the airplane's engines as my thoughts return to the present. I glance down at my chest, brush my fingers over the bronze medal, and smile. It's not gold yet, but it's a step in the right direction.
Reclining my seat, I connect to the in-flight Wi-Fi I purchased with my ticket to browse the sports reports. My name's been popping up in the media more often lately, but fortunately, they haven't linked me to Jaxson yet.
I spot an article featuring a highlight reel of me.
Curious, I click on the link, and a video of my short program at the Aurora Skate Masters in Oslo, Norway, pops up.
It's the event I just wrapped up. It feels surreal to have it there for the entire world to see, capturing my moments on the ice, which now have a dream-like quality.
A sense of pride washes over me as I watch myself, strong and graceful.
The hosts, Ted Shively and Sam Barnhart, run a popular sports talk show called The Pulse , which is broadcast by the internationally renowned TSRN Total Sports Review Nation.
“Ted, we've got a dark horse to watch this year. Amelia Smith is a former Olympic hopeful who twisted her ankle and had to withdraw from the last Olympics. Returning to competition took her some time, but now she appears to be peaking. Her first event in the ISU Challenger Series was the Stars of Ice Invitational in Nice, France, where she placed fourth…”
As the commentator drones on, a graphic listing my recent competitions, scores, and placements appears on the screen. At the bottom, a blue bar displays the headline: Amelia Smith: Rising Star of the Figure Skating World Returns to Form .
“…and now she's earned another bronze medal in the circuit, in Oslo, Norway, at the Aurora Skate Masters,” Sam finishes.
The screen shifts to show the final moments of my performance. The announcers are nearly shouting, and the crowd is roaring.
“Sam, the fans in France have started calling her the Phoenix because of her comeback and that fiery red skate dress.”
“Ted, things are looking up for her, that's for sure. ”
The voices fall away as the clip shows me finishing my routine and gliding to the side of the rink.
A close-up follows as I catch my breath, wrap a thick coat around my shoulders, and watch the scoreboard.
When my ranking appears, I shout with joy.
My face isn't visible through the head covering, but the emotion is evident in the way I jump with excitement.
The other girls come over to offer hugs and handshakes. My coach beams and pats me on the back.
As I continue to scroll, I stumble upon an article about Jaxson.
Unfortunately, this one is published in a scandal sheet and includes a clear color photo of Jaxson, with his hand firmly planted on a woman's behind after a game as he hugs her.
The headline reads: “Is Jaxson Kingston in the Sin Bin?
Hockey Star Caught Hot-Handing Scantily Clad Mystery Woman and It's Not His Wife!
The journalist, Priscilla Daly, a notorious “girl's girl” known for holding celebrities' feet to the fire at the slightest whiff of scandal, calls Jaxson out for his outrageous behavior.
She points out how he shamelessly flirts with fans, parties too much for a married man with a hot wife, and is now caught feeling up some rando in public.
Then, she dares to ask, “Where's Jaxson's wife?
Shouldn't he be appearing in photographs with her instead of another woman?”
Isn't that a great question?
My thoughts and feelings are all over the place.
If it weren't for the NDA, I would find a lawyer right now and file for divorce without hesitation.
I don't want to breach that agreement. I know how much damage a scandal could cause to Jaxson, the team, and the sponsors.
The fallout could trigger lawsuits, and I don't want to face the mortification of battling corporate giants in the media spotlight.
So, I turn my attention inward, reflecting on the possibility that maybe I saw this coming.
I never let Jaxson's opinions sway me. I kept my coach by my side and committed to an increasingly strict training routine over the past year.
That dedication has sharpened my performance and opened doors.
If all goes as planned, I'll qualify for the Olympics, and right now, I seem on track to do just that.
Jaxso n
With practice finally over, I'm wiped out. After staying up so late last night, chasing girls, the next-day recovery is becoming harder.
Don't tell me I'm getting too old for this crap.
I slam my gear into my equipment stall without a care for whether I damage anything and sit on the bench with a huff. I feel more like a 40-year-old than a 20-something. I scrub my face and lean back, closing my eyes to rest them. Sweat pours down my back, and I desperately need a shower.
The large-screen TV on the wall blasts The Sports Pulse , a sports talk show I usually enjoy watching, and all my teammates are gathered around, oddly hanging on to every word the sportscasters say.
Normally, I'd be right there with them, checking out the other teams and stats, but right now, I'm livid.
After the game Friday night, Mandy jumped into my arms outside the hotel. Reflex kicked in, and I grabbed her by the waist—well, maybe a little lower. Next thing I knew, a pap was right there, camera flashing, and now the gossip rags are plastered with photos of it.
“Hey, Jax,” Ryker says, pointing at the TV. “Where's your wife at, dude?”
I freeze! My stomach drops .
Has the gossip already hit the mainstream sports networks? “Frig!”
Ryker keeps gesturing, eyes wide. “Your wife… Melly…”
My blood boils. I can't believe I let this get out.
The last thing I need is for them to rub it in.
I storm across the locker room, fury flaring, and shut the TV off without even looking at it.
I get right in Ryker's face. "That," I gesture to the now silent screen, "is none of your business.
Keep my wife's name out of your mouth, Ryker!
I know what's being said! The gossip rags are trash!
Don't talk about my wife, don't mention my wife, and don't tell me how much trouble I'm in with my wife! It's nobody's business.”
I jab a finger at the rest of the guys, who are staring at me like I've lost my mind. “That Priscilla Daly started this, and she can ki—"
“Kingston!” the assistant coach sticks his head inside the door and shouts, “Meeting in the conference room, now!”
“What the…?" I jerk my head around.
“Chop! Chop! Coach and your PR team are waiting.”
I mutter a few choice words under my breath and turn toward him. “I haven't even showered yet. ”
“It'll keep,” he replies. “Time is money.”
I grab my towel and wipe my face again, shaking my head.
What now?
I turn back to the guys who've huddled up, talking low and shooting looks my way. I can practically feel them gossiping.
"No one talks about my wife," I bark at them again. "Not. One. Word. Understand?" Then I whip around and stalk to the conference room.
Behind me, Ryker mutters, "Dude… she just landed a triple loop."
But I'm too far gone and too much in my head to hear it.
Ryker
“What's that about?” I ask the guys still lingering at the TV.
We'd been watching a highlight reel of Jaxson's wife at a skating competition on The Sports Pulse.
At least we think it's her. She's wearing a full-body thermal suit that covers everything, including her head, with a red skate dress over it.
Classic Melly. We all know she wears protective thermals under her clothing in the winter months because of her sensitivity to cold.
But the reporters called her Amelia Smith. That was her maiden name, wasn't it?
“We all know he's stepping out on her, or has opened his marriage," Josh growls. "But he flips if you so much as say her name. Best not to bring her up. It clearly sets him off.”
Everyone nods. From now on, Melly is our own version of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to keep the peace with Jaxson.
Honestly, it's kind of ridiculous. She's out there landing impressive loops and spins, and here we are tiptoeing around him like he's the delicate one.
We shrug and head back to what we were doing before Kingston's drama distracted us.