taken two weeks for summer vacation then jumped back into training. Out of dedication, for sure. But had there been another reason? Staying busy, focusing on his career, was an easy way to escape any other kind of involvement. He could have made time. But the thought of picking the wrong person again, of getting close only to have it blow up in his face … it wasn’t worth it. Or it hadn’t been. Lorelai’s piercing green eyes and admirable determination might be enough to change that. Sin City on Ice had a show tonight.
“Hey, man, you got plans later?
Chapter Four
Las Vegas Arena
“Half hour to showtime!” The director’s voice carried over the conversations swirling in the dressing room. Lori sat completely still, eyes closed, while Margo, the makeup artist who looked a good deal like Ru Paul with twice the sass, applied three layers of glitter eye shadow and fake lashes long enough they almost reached the tip of her nose.
“Almost done, honey.” Margo dusted her cheeks with extra sparkle dust then put a final coat of gloss on her lips. “Perfection.”
If perfection meant looking like a streetwalker, then sure. Lori smiled. “Thanks, Margo.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’. You’re gonna light up the ice.”
The simple praise went a long way. She didn’t hear it anywhere else. Coaches weren’t for coddling. And once you became an Olympian, people expected you to stay one at any cost. Even your family. As for her cast members … well. She scooted out of the chair, and feeling came back to her legs, starting with little prickles in her feet. Hair and makeup took hours. “Hey, Margo. Did you move my bag?”
“No, hon. Didn’t you set it by the wall?”
She had, but it wasn’t there. Great. She strode to the middle of the room, set her hands on her hips, and lifted her voice. “Okay, funny. Whoever took my bag, please return it. I need my skates.”
Everyone looked at her, but no one responded except for barely checked amusement. Her blood pressure ramped up, but she held her temper down.
I don’t need this
. Except she did. And the fact that her spiteful cast mates knew it made everything worse.
“Haven’t seen your bag. But there’s an extra pair of skates in my locker. You’re a six and a half, right?” Francesca Tooms flashed an innocent smile shaded by the malicious look in her eyes. No way was she ever forgiving Lori for taking the lead.
“Right.” Seven, but Francesca already knew that. It didn’t matter. It was almost showtime, and Lori’s own skates surely wouldn’t resurface any time soon. Her rival opened the locker and pulled out a shiny new pair. As in … never worn. It took weeks to break in new skates. That combined with the smaller size would just about destroy her feet. She glanced at Francesca, whose smile hadn’t budged, but there was no mistaking the hatred.
I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Thank you.”
Without waiting for a response, Lori sat on the bench and laced up, making an extra effort not to wince as she pushed her feet into the tight, stiff boots. The pain was immediate, and it would only get worse. But it wasn’t the first time she’d had to perform like this, and judging by her awesome cast mates, it wouldn’t be the last.
The main lights went down in the arena and strobes flashed as they skated onto the ice. As much as it hurt, the aches only pushed her to work harder, perform better, show them all she deserved the lead. It wasn’t handed to her just because of her name. The music blared as they began the opening number, and she skated alongside Bradley, touching him only when she had to. She kept her Disney Princess smile in place even though a scream was waiting in her throat.
And then the lift. Oh God, the lift. Bradley swung her up above his head, and her heart pounded harder than it ever did when she was trying to perfect that triple axel. She stayed taut, focused on her posture and the applause of the crowd, and then he eased
“Hey, man, you got plans later?
Chapter Four
Las Vegas Arena
“Half hour to showtime!” The director’s voice carried over the conversations swirling in the dressing room. Lori sat completely still, eyes closed, while Margo, the makeup artist who looked a good deal like Ru Paul with twice the sass, applied three layers of glitter eye shadow and fake lashes long enough they almost reached the tip of her nose.
“Almost done, honey.” Margo dusted her cheeks with extra sparkle dust then put a final coat of gloss on her lips. “Perfection.”
If perfection meant looking like a streetwalker, then sure. Lori smiled. “Thanks, Margo.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’. You’re gonna light up the ice.”
The simple praise went a long way. She didn’t hear it anywhere else. Coaches weren’t for coddling. And once you became an Olympian, people expected you to stay one at any cost. Even your family. As for her cast members … well. She scooted out of the chair, and feeling came back to her legs, starting with little prickles in her feet. Hair and makeup took hours. “Hey, Margo. Did you move my bag?”
“No, hon. Didn’t you set it by the wall?”
She had, but it wasn’t there. Great. She strode to the middle of the room, set her hands on her hips, and lifted her voice. “Okay, funny. Whoever took my bag, please return it. I need my skates.”
Everyone looked at her, but no one responded except for barely checked amusement. Her blood pressure ramped up, but she held her temper down.
I don’t need this
. Except she did. And the fact that her spiteful cast mates knew it made everything worse.
“Haven’t seen your bag. But there’s an extra pair of skates in my locker. You’re a six and a half, right?” Francesca Tooms flashed an innocent smile shaded by the malicious look in her eyes. No way was she ever forgiving Lori for taking the lead.
“Right.” Seven, but Francesca already knew that. It didn’t matter. It was almost showtime, and Lori’s own skates surely wouldn’t resurface any time soon. Her rival opened the locker and pulled out a shiny new pair. As in … never worn. It took weeks to break in new skates. That combined with the smaller size would just about destroy her feet. She glanced at Francesca, whose smile hadn’t budged, but there was no mistaking the hatred.
I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Thank you.”
Without waiting for a response, Lori sat on the bench and laced up, making an extra effort not to wince as she pushed her feet into the tight, stiff boots. The pain was immediate, and it would only get worse. But it wasn’t the first time she’d had to perform like this, and judging by her awesome cast mates, it wouldn’t be the last.
The main lights went down in the arena and strobes flashed as they skated onto the ice. As much as it hurt, the aches only pushed her to work harder, perform better, show them all she deserved the lead. It wasn’t handed to her just because of her name. The music blared as they began the opening number, and she skated alongside Bradley, touching him only when she had to. She kept her Disney Princess smile in place even though a scream was waiting in her throat.
And then the lift. Oh God, the lift. Bradley swung her up above his head, and her heart pounded harder than it ever did when she was trying to perfect that triple axel. She stayed taut, focused on her posture and the applause of the crowd, and then he eased
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