AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Niko wet his lips. “I could pick out a good option or two. Ones where they’d have someone with a good grasp of English on staff so it could be direct, too. But are you sure, Angel? You don’thaveto do this.”
“No one should make you bow to the pressure,” Jasper put in.
“I’m not bowing,” I retorted. “I’m making the smartest career decision I can think of.”
Rafael hummed to himself. “You voluntarily speaking to the press about your past could make the Devil’s Dozen even more angry.”
I smiled tightly. “That depends on the story I give them. I think I can spin a good one that gets everyone off my backs.”
A glint of approval came into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with showing the world you mean business.”
I tipped my head to Niko. “I’m doing it. Set something up for me, as soon as you can get me in there.”
* * *
Stage lights glowed from all directions. Sweat had already broken out down my back, even though I was only standing off to the side of the main studio area. I swiped my clammy palms against my trim and professional-looking slacks.
I’d thought gliding onto the ice in front of high-level judges was nerve-wracking, but my skating competitions had nothing on this.
One of the program’s staff caught my attention and motioned toward the small cluster of armchairs where the show’s interviewer was waiting. That was my cue. I aimed a tight smile at her and strode out into the full glare of those lights on the set.
The interviewer stood by his chair until I’d sat down and beamed at me as he took his own seat. I could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was hoping to get a juicy story tonight.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me and our viewers, Miss Garcia,” he said, his Japanese accent only a little thicker than Niko’s very mild one. “It’s an honor to speak with such an impressive skater.”
I forced my smile to relax as much as I could manage. “I’m glad to be here. I know there’s been a lot of talk about me in the past couple of days, and I’m hoping I can clear things up.”
“Of course. Why don’t we start with the basics? I’d love to hear how you first became interested in figure skating.”
This was comfortable enough territory. My smile softened even more of its own accord. “I fell in love with the beauty of the sport when I saw my first performance when I was five years old. Ever since then, I’ve spent every moment I can on the ice.”
“Clearly all that hard work has paid off. I understand that this was your first year entering the major US competitions, and you and your partner, Jasper St. Pierre, placed first at the National Championships there.”
I nodded. “That’s right. It’s been a thrill, finally getting to see my dreams through.”
The interviewer folded his hands together on his lap. “And you’re here in Japan now for the World Championships being held next month in Nagano. What are your hopes going into that competition?”
I couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Obviously it’d be amazing if Jasper and I could win a medal there too, especially the gold. But what’s most important is giving the best performance we can on the ice—giving it our all, no matter how we end up placing.”
“An admirable attitude.” The man paused and leaned forward in his chair with a slightly conspiratorial air. “Now, Miss Garcia, I believe the current concern is that you’ve presented yourself under a false name.”
Here we go.
I swallowed thickly, doing my best not to let my expression stiffen. I wanted everyone watching to see a woman who was making the most of the hand she was dealt, who preferred to be honest and trusted her community to accept her.
It was a precarious balance. I needed to sound genuine, but I also couldn’t risk gettingtootruthful.
My pulse thudded in my veins. I drew in a breath and inclined my head. “Yes, that’s right. I’ve been using an assumed name. But only for my protection.”
The interviewer’s eyebrows shot up. “Your protection? What have you needed protection from?”
My fingers twined together where I’d clasped my hands in front of me. I willed them not to clench so tight my knuckles would whiten.
The vague version of my story that I’d rehearsed spilled out of me easier than I’d expected. Like a valve opened to let the toxins flow out.
“It’s my mother,” I said. “I grew up in an abusive home. She was violent and mixed up with local criminals… I never felt safe there. It’s been hard really feeling safe even after I ran off months ago.”
The man’s lips had parted in shock. Whatever answer he’d thought I might give him, it mustn’t have been that.
