“Who?”
“I keep seeing this middle-aged guy drinking coffee and reading the paper in the afternoon. He was here before you came in.”
“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” Connor said, “but I work most afternoons.”
“I’ll point him out next time. Anyway, see you around?” I pulled my ponytail over my shoulder and smiled. Ugh. I’m on the verge of losing this job and now I’m flirting. What’s wrong with me?
Veena, Ali, Gage, and I ate at a crowded but cozy pizza place in town featuring a lit fireplace, exposed brick walls, and twinkly lights strung around the ceiling. They joked, laughed, and talked a mile a minute, but I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder. Although the evening had been meticulously planned out by my team, I felt too vulnerable at a table by the window.
Maybe it was being away from VMA and the ski hill for the first time, but even having Kovitch and his team outside and Bart standing by with the car didn’t help me relax.
Ali and Veena discussed the upcoming Grand Prix competition at Copper Mountain, a resort a few miles east of Vail.
“Copper’s pipe is sick,” Ali said, “but it’s nothing compared to the Beast.” Her Australian accent thickened when she was excited.
“I know! I’m stoked to ride it again.” Veena said.
“What’s the Beast?” I asked.
“The superpipe in Laax,” Veena said. “It’s the biggest in the world. Twenty-two feet high, seventy-two feet wide, and—”
“Six hundred and fifty feet long.” Ali bounced in her seat.
“They made a special pipe dragon to groom it,” Veena said.
“The Pipe Monster.” Gage used a Hollywood movie trailer voice.
Ali, Darya, and Veena all specialized in the pipe. I’d learned some riders at VMA did slopestyle, which was hitting rails and massive ramps designed for big air tricks, while still others rode boarder cross, an obstacle course race between four riders. Plus, there were slalom and giant slalom racers. Skiers, like Gage, had a whole different set of competitions and events. Keeping all of them straight wasn’t easy.
The girls went on about snowboarding while I studied the diners and wait staff, looking for trouble.
“What’s up, Nic?” Gage asked quietly. “Anything, um, in particular you’re worried about?” He glanced around nervously.
“No particular threat, if that’s what you mean.”
He cocked his head toward Veena. “I don’t know how she does it. Here she is with someone threatening her life, and she manages to train, study, and keep smiling through it all.” He leaned in closer. “She can be bitchy when she’s in a mood, though.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But we forgive her for it. Right, VV?”
Veena flipped her hair over her shoulder and paused mid-sentence. “What?”
“Nic was saying what a huge pain in the ass you were.”
She laughed. “You haven’t even seen the worst of it. Wait until Copper.”
Ali nodded exaggeratedly. “She’s a total stress case at competitions.”
Veena’s smile faltered. “I am. Sorry if I take it out on you guys.”
“Aw, V, we’re joking. You know we love you, girl.” Ali side-hugged her.
A girl of about ten approached our table from behind Veena. Her winter cap, a pink-and-white number with a pom-pom, was askew on her curly, black hair. She bit her lip as she shuffled over. Behind her, a long table of adults and kids in ski clothes watched, smiling in our direction. I turned toward the girl, but she didn’t exactly look villainous.
“Um, excuse me?” The little girl almost whispered. “Are you VV? The Olympic snowboarder?”
“That’s me.” Veena stood and straddled the back of her chair to face her. “Who are you?”
“Jordan.”
“That’s a rad name,” Veena said, and the girl beamed. “Do you ride?”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you good?” Ali asked.
“Not really. My brother is, though.” She pointed at an older boy at the table behind her.
“I’ll bet you’re better than you think,” Veena said. “What tricks can you do?”
“I can do an ollie and a fakie.” Jordan twisted a piece of her hair around her finger. “Oh, and I can jib a rail without bailing.”
Ali grinned. “Listen to her go.”
“Keep it up, Jordan,” Veena said. “Be brave and work hard, and you’ll be better than him soon.”
The girl pulled her hat off and thrust it and a black Sharpie she was carrying at Veena. “Could you sign my hat?”
“It might be messy. Is that okay?”
When she said it was, Veena scrawled across the chunky knit. “Oh, kale . . . did you ask your parents first? I hope they won’t get mad.”
“They won’t.” Jordan clutched the signed hat to her chest. “I hope you get gold at the Olympics. I’ll be watching you on TV.”
“Thanks, Jordan. Don’t stop riding, okay?” Veena held out her fist, and the girl bumped it.
“I won’t.”
Jordan hurried back to her table where her mom hugged her and admired Veena’s signature.
“Damn, V. Aren’t you the celebrity.” Was that a smudge of jealousy in Ali’s voice?
“Once the Olympic coverage starts next week, her face will be everywhere, not only minor magazines like People,” Gage said.
“Shut up, you guys. You have tons of interviews, too.” Veena threw a pizza bone at Ali, Gage threw one at her, and Ali threw one at me. Pizza sauce smeared my shirt.
“Aw, sorry, Nic.” Ali handed me her napkin.
“How many media events has your agent set up anyway?” Gage dipped one of the thrown pizza bones in a dish of sauce and popped it in his mouth whole. “Are you gonna have time to train?” The last part was hard to make out.
“I wouldn’t have so many if it were up to me,” Veena said. “But they help me get sponsors, so my parents don’t have to pay as much for my training and travel.”
“Yeah, because they have such a hard time affording it and all.” Ali’s tone was half-teasing, half-serious.
“I know, but I made a deal with them. I get the money they save when I graduate from high school.”
“Sweet—what will you get?” Ali asked. “I’d buy a motorcycle.”
“She already has
