Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“No.” I felt a lump rising up my throat. “I need to let him go.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to finally put myself in first place instead of waiting for him to…”
ACT 13 & A HALF
BACK THEN
TRAVIS
Miami, Florida
Me:
Hey… I’ve called you three times today. You okay?
Me:
Call me when you get a chance.
Me:
It’s been days and you haven’t called me back…
Me:
Is there a reason my calls are going straight to voicemail now?
Text from Tati:
No, sorry. Just been super busy lately.
Me:
Too busy to pick up the phone? Don’t answer that. I’m calling you in five minutes. Pick up.
I step out of the octagon and head for the exit.
“Wait, wait!” Ralph calls after me, making me turn around. “Where the hell are you going?”
“You know, if one of the qualifications for retaining your UFC championship stats was texting and calling Tatiana every ten minutes, you’d never have to train again.”
“That joke lost its punchline twenty times ago.”
“Your girlfriend can wait,” he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. “If the two of you are meant to be together, it’ll work out in the end. Trust an old guy on this.”
“Do you think she met someone and isn’t telling me?”
“Travis…”
“Nothing else makes sense.” I clench my jaw at the mere thought of her ever being with another guy. “Everything was fine the last time we saw each other, but she’s not talking to me like she used to. She won’t pick up my calls, and I’m pulling teeth just to get her to text me.”
“Doesn’t she have an important competition in a couple months?” He sounds exasperated. “Maybe she’s approaching her training far more seriously than you. It could be nothing.”
“Or it could be everything.” I step back. “I’ll be back in ten.”
“Right.” He throws up his hands. “Let’s take thirty, everyone!”
I step under the outdoor awning and call Tatiana.
The line rings once.
Twice.
“Hey,” she answers, her voice soft. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? What the hell is wrong with you lately?” I can’t fake how I’m feeling. “Have I done something to you?”
“No, Travis.”
“Tell me the fucking truth, Tatiana.” I can’t take this game anymore. “Better yet, tell me where you are so I can catch a flight and talk to you about us in person.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Have you met someone else?”
“No.” Her voice cracks, the first sign of emotion I’ve heard from her in forever. “It’s a long story, Travis. I’ll call you about it tonight, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll hold you to that. I love you.”
“I’ll always love you, Travis…”
She doesn’t call me.
She stops answering my texts and calls altogether.
ACT 14
BACK THEN
TATIANA
Chicago, Illinois
Several weeks later
“I’m seconds away from skating the best I’ve ever skated in my life,” I say to myself. “The best I’ve ever skated in my life…”
I stare at my reflection in the dressing room, ensuring every sequin on my black and red costume is hanging correctly. My heart is pounding in anticipation of today’s program, and I know I can win if I stay focused.
Even though the past several weeks have wrecked me emotionally, I’ve stunned Miss Price to silence at every rehearsal.
Leaning closer to the mirror, I double-check my eye makeup. As I add a wing with my mascara, the door swings open and hits the wall.
What the…
It’s Penelope.
She storms inside, opening every stall. Then she locks the door.
“Do I need to call security?” I spin around. “I hope you’re not crazy enough to fight me at a competition.”
“I don’t want to skate against sad and emotional Tatiana Brave today.” She glares at me. “I need you to bring back the perfectionist bitch that you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m not stuttering,” she says. “Yes, you’re skating better than ever lately, but there’s no fire. No intensity. It’s like you’re on autopilot.”
“Are you on drugs, Penelope?”
“You gave me a compliment at our last meetup,” she says, ignoring my question, “and I don’t appreciate things like that from you. You’re my best rival, my number one enemy—forever, and I need you to fucking bring it today.”
“For the record.” I set down my wand. “Telling you that you ‘sucked ass a little less than usual’ was not a compliment.”
A slow smile crosses her lips, but she doesn’t let it stay.
“I notice you landed a quad during your warmup,” she says. “Is that part of your routine today?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, so I need you to focus and land it as well as possible.” She's speaking like she’s my coach for some odd reason, as if I need her words of encouragement. “I need to see the level of effort you had in Sochi.”
“You mean, better than that, correct? I recall winning second place silver and messing up a few things.”
“You made one mistake in your entire routine.” She shoots me a sympathetic look. “We both you know would’ve won gold if my routine wasn’t half a point more technical than yours.”