Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Okay, sure,” I say, because it’s not like I can mount a good argument against his principles. I write my name and number down on a coaster and slide it his way.
He takes it, tapping it thoughtfully on the bar. “On the other hand, if you can figure out what’s going wrong with him, we’d all appreciate it. Seems like such a crime to see a top athlete playing so badly.”
“Bro. You want me to work some magic, but you won’t put any skin in the game?”
He laughs. “That’s a fair point. I’ll mull it over.”
“You do that,” I say, sliding off the stool. “Thanks for the beer.”
“My pleasure. See you around, Zoe. Stop in anytime.”
If this job lasts more than a couple of months, I will. But for now, I head home to my crappy little apartment on the corner of Eighth Avenue and Twenty-First.
Three hours later I’m asleep on my mattress on the floor when my phone rings.
My apartment is still so new to me that I’m confused when I open my eyes. Groggy, I pick up the phone to find an unfamiliar 212 number. I answer because I’m too sleepy to figure out if that’s a good idea. “Hello?”
“Hi, Zoe, this is Harp, the bartender down at Highlights. We met earlier tonight.”
My sluggish brain tries to make sense of that. “Okay, yes?”
He chuckles awkwardly. “Well, I know it’s late. And you wanted me to tell you when Chase Merritt was here. So this is sort of that call, but sort of not.”
The mention of Chase wakes me completely. I sit up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s here, but he’s wasted. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s almost last call, and he’s refusing to leave. I understand that this isn’t your problem, but I don’t know anyone else who works for the Legends, and I don’t really want to call the cops. Our guy doesn’t need any more trouble tonight, yeah?”
Oh shit. “I’ll be there in ten.”
Chapter 10
Nine and a Half Years Ago
The pairs classes are taught by someone named Martina. She has ink-black hair and an Eastern European accent. But she’s not as chilly as Sister Walsh, which might account for how popular the pairs class is.
“Today we’ll cover side-by-side skating, and holds,” she says. “Zoe, can I count on you to demonstrate?”
“Sure.” Zoe glides forward to the front of the group, and once again, Chase feels all his attention zoom toward her, like a tractor beam. Today she’s wearing black tights and a short little skirt, which only makes her legs look longer. Her pink T-shirt reads I Can’t, I Have Ice Time. And her signature braid hangs over one shoulder.
“Who will partner Zoe?” Martina asks. And before she finishes the sentence, Chase’s hand shoots into the air.
Zoe colors. But this is perfect—he’s been trying to get her attention again for another pizza date. What he really needs is her phone number.
“All right, Coach Merritt,” Martina says. “Have you done any pairs skating before?”
“Not since before I had to shave,” Chase quips, making all the girls giggle. He skates over to stand beside Zoe.
Martina studies them both with serious dark eyes. “Then let’s review the fundamentals. When you reach for your partner’s hand, your palm is always up, and hers is always down.”
“Roger,” he says, extending his hand, palm up.
Zoe offers her hand, and he grasps it.
And, okay, he’s touched girls before. A lot of girls. In a lot of places. But he’s never felt this sizzle of energy when her smoother palm meets his. He glances down at her, and their eyes meet—just for a second, but long enough for his pulse to quicken.
“We’ll start with some simple back crossovers,” Martina says. “Here you’ll get a feel for aligning your strides, your rhythm, your balance. The goal is complete synchronization. Strides should be even, arms should mirror each other. You must feel your partner’s timing, fall into the same rhythm.”
They share another quick glance as they both push off to one side—toward the open ice. By silent, mutual agreement, they turn their bodies by a quarter rotation at the same moment and begin their backward arc.
Martina is still speaking, her voice ringing out for the whole class. “When we do our crossovers, we focus on timing, yes? Chase is bigger, with longer legs, so he must soften his stride to match Zoe’s. And, Zoe, don’t hold back—your power comes from pushing on your edges, so use it.”
But they really don’t need this advice. At all. They’ve already fallen into sync, each stride in perfect time, the crisp scrape of steel against ice counting out their strokes.
Martina turns her body to follow their progression around the rink. “Look at their feet—this is about precision. Their shoulders are parallel—no one lagging behind or pulling ahead. Pairs skating always starts here—the smoother the crossovers, the smoother the jump.”