Kimberly Menozzi, Author
Follow me!
  • Home
  • Blog
  • Novels
  • Bio
  • Order Books
  • Contact
  • Reviews
  • Works in Progress
  • Interviews

Thursday Thirteen: 13 Excerpts from 27 Stages

1/12/2011

4 Comments

 
Picture
I've been trying to write as much as possible this week, so I didn't have much time to plan a Thursday Thirteen. On short notice, this is what I've come up with:

13 Excerpts from 27 Stages
(a Work-in-Progress)


_1) "Oh, no. I've left my mobile in the room." Charles patted his trouser pockets and stood next to our table, looking around as though he'd dropped something.

"Why not leave it? I mean, we're only going to be down here a short while. Surely you could just return any missed calls?"

He hesitated, his hands momentarily frozen over his pockets, his expression blank. I understood at once the source of his agitation. He was expecting a call.

Scratch that. He was expecting her call.

"Fine," I said, pretending not to notice his guilty composure. "Go on up. I'll take my time over the menu, then."

Another hesitation, and then he was walking away from our table with obvious restraint.

I sat quietly, unsure how to feel. Charles had never before been quite so transparent about her. Part of me was quite hurt by this, and yet part of me was relieved. Of course, now I had my own mental diversion, and while it wasn't exactly the same it did seem to ease the pain a bit.

There was scarcely more than a moment for me to consider this before a sizeable group of men passed through the dining room and headed toward the exit. Stunned, I sat and watched them file by, chatting amongst themselves while their names ticked off a mental list, one by one: Meijer, Browdowski, Mendoza, Mendoza…

How was it possible we'd stayed in the same hotel and I hadn't even known it?

So much for any "psychic connections," then. I had to smile at my silliness, and that was when Renard passed by the table, one hand raised in a subtle greeting. My smile stayed in place even as my heartbeat sped up and my own hands shook on my lap.

He didn't seem to notice – he only smiled and continued out to the lobby. He glanced back at me before stepping through the doorway, and I heard the rumbling of what I presumed to be the team bus outside the front doors of the hotel.

Picture
_2) In retrospect, the benevolence of being granted a few free hours the night before now made sense. It had been our last chance at that kind of freedom.

"No way should that stage have taken us out like it did. You've all been letting things slide, acting on your own, not following orders." Jerzy turned his cold gaze to Rom, who ducked his head onto his chest. No understanding of English was necessary to know how he'd screwed up, and no doubt the message hit home. "This is what happens. As of today, you get one hour of free time after dinner. That's all."

Adrie's scowl behind Jerzy's back surely hadn't gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, but no-one would rat him out. Any rider with a family, or at the very least a girlfriend, was bound to resent such a limit on the time we could spend with them privately.

With surprising calm, Adrie cleared his throat, and Jerzy slowly turned to face him. James tensed next to me, and Alvaro, seated next to Adrie, shifted his seat away to one side after a skyward glance.

"You have something to add, Major?"

"What about our families? An hour a day is hardly enough time to spend with my wife and my daughter, and we all know there will be days we don't see them at all, anyway."

Silence spooled out in the meeting room, and I wondered if anyone else had neglected to breathe, as I had. As quietly as I could, I drew a long breath, waiting to hear Jerzy's response.

"I'm being generous. I could make it one hour a week," he said, and turned again to face the rest of us. "You all need discipline; that's clear. You should be supporting the team leaders, and instead, you fell apart!"

I couldn't help bristling at the plural. Leaders? I screamed mentally. That's the whole fucking problem!

"As far as families go – I don't want to keep any of you away from them. If you want to be with your family, go." He gestured toward the door and Adrie dropped his gaze to the table. "If you stay, you need to remember this: I am your father, your brother, your best friend – even your mother! I am your family. This team is your family. You depend on them, and they depend on you."

The composure with which he spoke was chilling. This was not ranting Jerzy, not blustering or manic Jerzy.

This was Jerzy at his angriest, and I'd never been more aware of walking on a knife-edge than I was then. The rest of the team seemed to be, too. No one spoke, whispered or so much as coughed in the silence that followed.

"Get out to the bus. Now."

Jerzy stalked away, and we all stood, not a chair scraping across the tiled floor before we filed out as quietly as possible.


_3) "You can give him my apologies, if you like," he said, not looking at me.

I laughed and shook my head. "He'd never believe me if I tried to."

"What, that I apologized?"

"No, that I sat here with you as if we knew each other or something. He'd never believe it. I mean, I hardly believe it myself."

He smiled again and my heart lifted.

"We do know each other, don't we? You're Abigail. I'm Federico."

"Acquaintances at best," I said, drawing the words out and shaking my head. I didn't want to delude myself into believing anything too far-fetched, even if he was encouraging it.

"Yes, but…. It has to start somewhere, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

He licked his lips, took another drink and set his glass back on its coaster with exaggerated care.

"Friendship," he said with an air of finality, his gaze meeting and holding mine. "And don't you think these coincidences are enough to show maybe we could be friends?"

Or something else altogether, if your eyes are saying what I think they are.

I pushed the idea aside and tried to focus on the inherent sweetness of the statement he'd just made. Friendship was a lovely option, wasn't it?

"Well, going back to the hotel thing…" I began, unsure why I wanted to return to the topic.

"Hmm?"

"Where is the team staying tonight? That is to say, I doubt we're in the same place again, but it's probably a good idea to be sure."

He laughed quietly, nodding, and I understood he wanted to put me at ease. Something changed in that moment and he ceased to be "Renard" in my mind, becoming "Federico" instead.

That's one step closer to something, but what?

Friendship?


Picture
_4) For a short while, Brunn and I rode shoulder to shoulder, chatting amiably. He asked whether I was still considering moving to Italy, and if so, where? I said I hadn't changed my mind, but was undecided about where exactly I wanted to go.

Behind me, Schlessinger barked a short, disapproving laugh. I glanced back at him and returned my focus to the ride, only to have him pull alongside. I paid no attention to him, but let him get ahead of me and take his turn at the head of the group.

Brunn looked back at me, shrugged, and when the time came he took over at the head of the group again.

"You never did answer my question, Ciccio," Schlessinger said, dropping behind me once more.

"Which question was that?" I asked, filling my voice with as much bored disinterest as I could.

"How's your girlfriend?"

A ripple of chuckles went through the group around me, but I pretended not to notice. Evidently, word had gotten around.

Now I understood who had sent the magazine to me at the hotel.

I took my time answering him, prolonging my silence by taking a long drink from my water bottle, then meticulously replacing it in its cage. It was my turn to lead again, and I did, noting Brunn's questioningly-raised eyebrow as I passed him.

I waited until my turn was over, and then Schlessinger's, before responding.

"She's fine. I wish her the best."

5) "I thought we were supposed to be on holiday. Or at least that you were treating it like that," I said, sitting opposite him. "You never said you'd be working the whole time."

Charles rubbed his eyes slowly, then lowered his hand to the tabletop. "Abby…"

I stiffened. What on earth was coming, now?

He took a deep breath and looked out the window again. "I might have to go home."

"Why?" I asked, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. Was he going to tell me about the other woman? Was he going to ask for a divorce? Should I be feeling almost eager to hear, one way or the other?

"Work, darling. Always for work."

There were no words. I sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before a question finally formed.

"When were you thinking of going?"

"I thought we'd leave from Torino."

"'We'?"

"Of course, 'we'. I couldn't possibly leave you here alone, following that bunch of miscreants –"

"I'm not going home. Not until the Tour is over."

"Abby, be reasonable-"

"I am. If you need to go home, then go home, but I'm not going with you. I'm following this through, all the way to Paris."

He sighed again, and I resisted the urge to stand and slap him. "Abby, Abby… Of all the things to see through, you pick this?"

For just a moment, I hated him. The moment passed, but it passed slowly.

6) My confidence grew with every step I took, and by the time I passed through the lobby, a sense of invincibility had begun to sink in. All these years, I'd convinced myself that Jerzy had some sort of sixth sense going for him. He'd caught so many of my teammates when they'd misbehaved, hadn't he? Why the devil wasn't he down here now, dragging me back upstairs and threatening to break my legs or something?

Because I am doing what I am supposed to be doing, I thought. Not even the desk clerks saw me go by on my way to the front doors.

I stepped out and watched the entrance of the restaurant across the street. I was suddenly sure that were I to simply start walking across the street – without so much as a glance in either direction – no harm would come to me.

Still, I checked. No point in pushing my luck and getting mown down by a bus.

Once I'd crossed I glanced back at my own hotel, fully expecting to see Jerzy at his window, scowling down at me. Or perhaps waiting at the front door with a hangman's noose in his hand. Or the bucket.

I shivered a little, unable to stop, and then went inside.

7) "I'm glad I found you, Abigail."

"Abby," I said, my lips forming my own name in spite of the fact I couldn't feel them, any more. "My friends call me Abby."

That smile again – innocent, not sly or seductive – and I couldn't pull my gaze away. I was distantly aware of the heat rising to my cheeks. And a few other places, as well.

My heart was pounding to the point I almost couldn't hear when he spoke again. The din of rushing blood in my ears and the rattling of suitcases as they were pulled through the lobby behind me had rendered me nearly deaf.

Then he rested his hand on my arm, just below the short sleeve of my t-shirt, and I snapped out of my daze.

"Abby," he said, my name sounding awkward as he used it for the first time. "Could I buy you a coffee, or something? I'd like to see more of your photos, if I may." His eyes flicked in the direction of my computer bag, and I followed a moment behind, uncomprehending.

"Oh," I said, half-laughing as I understood at last. "Of course you can. We could go in the restaurant here, or in the bar in the back. I think they might have some booths free."

"Perfect." He started across the foyer with me, one hand rising to touch the back of my arm, just above my elbow. It was an innocent, gentlemanly gesture, nothing more, but it sent a small shock through me.

Picture
8) My heart was beating triple-time as I hurried across the street and into my hotel. I put my hand in my pocket and felt my keycard there, then took it out and grasped it tight in one hand. Scanning the lobby to reassure myself, I went straight to the stairwell and unlocked the door with my keycard, then took the stairs two at a time, bounding up as quietly as I could.

When I reached my floor, I paused, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths until I could hear the air-conditioning hum echoing around me. There was no other sound on the floor, as far as I could tell.

I opened the door carefully and poked my head out, harbouring a momentary, insane desire for a mirror to check around the corners with. No sign of Jerzy. He wasn't lurking behind the decorative ficus, nor was he standing by the door to my room. The corridor was completely empty.

Easing the stairwell door shut behind me, I took a few tentative steps toward my room, the keycard against my palm now slicked with sweat.

More silence. Only silence. The quiet padding of my trainers across the carpeted floor barely registered. A sudden, blatting fart – reminiscent of an angry duck's quack! – made me jump as I passed James and Phil's room.

I bit down on my lower lip, hard, to stop the laughter which threatened to erupt. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh because of the noise, or because the noise had actually startled me.

I had to be crazy. This was the biggest risk I'd ever taken – none of my races even compared to this. I knew as well as anyone that Jerzy's wrath wasn't something to be trifled with – contract or no contract, if he wanted you off the team, you were gone.

And here I'd acted against his very explicitly-expressed wishes. I'd broken one of his biggest rules by defying the team curfew.

9) Hollowness carved itself into my stomach at the thought. Could I really be so pragmatic? Could I really let him go so easily? Living alone was something I could handle, no doubt – I was already doing so, wasn't I? – but truly being alone?

I shivered at the thought as Charles replaced the receiver in the cradle of the phone. The bed sank beneath his weight as he shifted and stood up, and I pulled the covers up over my shoulder. I listened to him padding to the window, heard the shick of the curtains opening and the soft patter of rain against the windowpane.

"Abby, you need to get up. We'll want to leave for Avignon as soon as possible this morning."

I ducked under the covers a bit more, sighing. He was right. The stage was starting there today, and it wasn't likely we'd arrive early enough to beat most of the crowds. Perhaps I'd have to shoot further along the route instead?

I shook my head. The logistics alone made it unlikely that Charles would agree to change any plans at this late hour.

With a groan, I extracted myself from the covers and shuffled across the room. My lack of sleep the night before was going to be problematical. Charles laughed softly behind me and I turned to face him.

"What?" I asked, allowing myself a smile at the sound of his gentle mirth.

"You're becoming an old fart like me, darling. The late nights aren't agreeing with you as much as they used to, eh?"

"I guess not." I nodded, stepping onto the cool, tiled floor of the bathroom. "Maybe I just need to get back into the habit?"

"Maybe."

He stood in the doorway while I took off my nightgown. I felt his gaze, steadily assessing, slide over me while I turned on the water in the tub and pulled the lever to send the water up to the showerhead. I stood straight and faced him, making no attempt to hide myself. Why should I? He'd seen everything a thousand times before, and had shown his appreciation just a few days ago, hadn't he?

And yet… The desire to cover myself up, a perverse demure impulse, flitted through me. The words were there, on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be spoken.

Who are you? Where did you come from? Why did you go?

And the worst, most painful question of all came as he turned away, half-smiling.

What did I do wrong?

10) I wondered briefly how Schlessinger thought he might fare on the descents this time. Would he manage his nerves better this time around? In the team meeting on the bus that morning, Jerzy had alluded to the descents as being of key importance. I was climbing well – stupendously well, in fact – and a touch of that sense of invincibility returned as I worked my way up the ascent.

I don't really believe in luck – good or bad – but I couldn't deny the feeling which had wrapped itself around me this morning. Aware I was smiling again, I wondered if I looked as oblivious and simpleminded as I feared I might.

The day came into sharp focus: the green of the mountains, the white peaks in the distance, the deep grey of the tarmac rolling slowly beneath our wheels all had a clarity which I would have sworn wasn't there moments before. The air itself was crisp and sharp, magnifying the approaching summit until it seemed as though we were there a thousand times over.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, her voice was whispering her name to me.

She was in Grenoble by now. She was waiting.

I had to reach her. Forget everything else.

And if I happened to snatch a little time and close the gap a bit? If I happened to get a bit closer to the Royal in the process? All the better.

11) There were still three weeks before the race was over, too. Could I really do it on my own? And if I did, what would I be coming home to? In a way, it was almost better not knowing. At least then I could imagine whatever I wanted, and deal with the reality later.

It was a foolish way to address the situation, but there it was. I'd made my choice by not saying anything. It was already too late. Whenever I told him (tomorrow? the day after? the day after that, when he left?), there was no way to know how he'd react.

We'd have to hash this out eventually, but I was reluctant to set it all in motion.

Or I could just go home with him and be done with it.

I shook my head. No, that would never do. I'd hate myself forever if I did. How many dreams did I have to let die to find the dream I wanted most? I'd given up the idea of children when his career made it clear I'd be raising them alone, and now it was nearly too late. I'd passed on owning a photo lab in our small town because he felt it was too risky and besides, "The chemist's got that covered, hasn't he?" Artistic photography? Too arty-farty and I'd need a proper patron in order to make it work. "And what would you photograph, anyway? Backsides and landscapes?"

I sighed, remembering. He'd methodically shot down each and every one of them with stunning accuracy. I still didn't understand why he'd gone along with the Tour project. Maybe because the magazine had liked my demo shots and put up some funding for this project? Or maybe because his job had all but pushed him to take a holiday in the first place?

Most likely he'd thought I'd get bored and abandon it, just like I'd done with other half-hearted projects in the past; furniture refinishing, an attempt at watercolour paintings of landscapes, volunteering at the local crafts club.

But this was different. This was my passion reborn, but he couldn't see it at all.

He couldn't see the changes in me, either. I reckon we'd grown too far apart for him to see me clearly any more.

Picture
12) "I saw what happened with Solange. Her pictures are all over the 'net right now."

Was it possible I had no idea what she was talking about? Did she mean the AvantMode – if one pardoned the unfortunate choice of word – spread?

Abby blushed again, deeper this time.

"I saw the photos of her with that Conway person. They were on the entertainment news on TV, too."

"They were?" I asked, strangely incredulous.

Abby nodded, guiltily this time. "Yes. Some sort of art show or premiere or something? I hadn't heard anything about that until today. You're taking it rather well, though."

"Well, you know. I wish her the best. Really, I do. She'd never have been happy with me, anyway."

I don't know why I said it, but as soon as I had, I realized it was true. Solange had hated cycling – she hated most sports, except for figure skating and diving competitions – and she had admitted it from the start. That was, once her gig as a Tour d'Europa podium girl was over, of course. It wouldn't have done for the public to know that the smiling girl in the royal blue dress, giving kisses to each cyclist on the podium, thought that the sport itself was boring and the competitors were egotistical bastards (her words, not mine).

"How can you say that?" Abby's face held a sincere confusion which I found both puzzling and endearing. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"I'm not being hard on myself," I said, and a small chuckle wormed its way out of me. "Honestly. It's very kind of you to defend me, though. Even if it is against myself."

"Well, you seem like a decent enough person to me. I mean, you're nice, you're accessible, you're attra-" She cut herself short, but not before I understood what she was about to say.

The ever-deepening flush in her cheeks only confirmed it.

"Maybe I'm not so nice, Abby."

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning the computer so she could see it without looking up at me.

"The fact I've hardly thought about her the last couple of days should mean something, shouldn't it?"

13) I was thankful Charles had gone up to the room to do some work, particularly glad he hadn't put up much fuss about the fact one of the teams was staying there. That they would be on the bottom floors and we would be at the top seemed to help, too.

The team came into the lobby while I was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs by the dining hall entrance, just passing the time before I went up to get changed for dinner. I put away my computer, resisting the urge to go up to Federico and…do what? Throw my arms around him and kiss him? Ask him to take me away?

I shook my head and laughed to myself. Ridiculous. I'm absolutely ridiculous.

But when I got up to leave, he turned around and spotted me as though he'd expected me to be there all along.

Stopping short, I stood there, his gaze holding mine across the lobby's parquet flooring and wooden furnishings. In spite of the chaos of a couple dozen people checking in at once, the lobby seemed silent and still. He broke eye contact with me to face the receptionist and take the keycard she'd slid across the desk to him, and then he turned and pushed through his teammates in order to come over and join me.

A swift rush of dizziness came over me and I realized I'd stopped breathing for a moment. I drew a long, deep breath before he stepped up to me, smiling his usual sweet, warm smile.




And there you have an additional thirteen excerpts from 27 Stages.












I hope you've enjoyed them.























I'm working hard to get the book finished and then, of course, out for all you fine readers to enjoy in its entirety.































In the meantime, I'll have to give the ladies a little something to tide them over.






















Just a little somethin'-somethin'.
Picture
Oh, look! Bikes! :) Ciao for now!
4 Comments
Darla M Sands link
1/12/2011 07:17:43 am

Wonderful TT! And the picture didn't hurt any. Have a great day!

Reply
Lady Rose link
1/12/2011 07:59:36 am

happy tt can you believe it's dec already!

Reply
Alice Audrey link
1/12/2011 09:13:00 am

You sucked me in with the first one.

Reply
Stephanie Adkins link
1/12/2011 09:27:22 am

There are bikes in that photo? Really? I never noticed. LOL Great excerpts, Kimberly! Happy Thursday!

Reply

Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply.

    RSS Feed

    Kimberly Menozzi

    Author. Happily Married. Survivor of life with two deranged kitties.

    Please note: Thanks to an increase in spam comments, I'll be approving the comments before they post. Sorry!

    Archives

    April 2022
    October 2020
    August 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    October 2013
    September 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011
    February 2011
    January 2011
    December 2010
    November 2010
    October 2010
    September 2010
    July 2010
    June 2010
    May 2010
    April 2010
    March 2010
    February 2010
    January 2010
    December 2009

    Categories

    All
    150th
    15th
    2010
    2012
    27 Stages
    About Me
    Alternate Rialto
    Amazon
    Anniversary
    Ask Me
    Ask Me If I\\
    Ask Me If I'm Happy
    Ask Me If I\'m Happy
    Audio Interview
    Blog
    Blog Hop
    Bologna
    Book After Book
    Book Covers
    Books
    Books I Love
    Busy
    Buy
    Cameron Chapman
    Catch Up
    Catchupe6eedff5b6
    Celebration
    Characters
    Charcoal
    Charity
    Chris Hollis
    Christmas Lights
    Christmas Presents
    Contest
    Coppi
    Cover Art
    Cover Design
    Critique
    Cute
    Cycling
    Cyclists
    Dead Men
    Debut Novel
    Depression
    Diiarts
    Doctor Who
    Donations
    Doodlebug
    Earthquake Relief
    Ebook
    E Book
    E-book
    Emilia Romagna
    Emilia-Romagna
    Evil Unltd
    Excerpts
    Excited
    Excitement
    Eyecandy
    Fabian Cancellara
    Factoids
    Falco
    Family
    Fiction
    Filtered Light
    FREE
    Friday
    Funfacts
    Gift Idea
    Gift Suggestions
    Giro D
    Giro D'Italia
    Giveaway
    Goodreads
    Good Stuff
    Grammar
    Guest
    Guest Blog
    Guest Blogging
    Guest Blogs
    Guest Post
    Happiness
    Happy
    Hawt
    Heikki Heitala
    Holiday
    Hotties
    Inspiration
    Inspiriation
    International Women
    International Women's Day
    Interview
    Italian Life
    Italy
    John Lennon
    Kimberly
    Kimberly Menozzi
    Kindle Books
    Kitty
    Language
    Launch
    Leopard Trek
    Life
    Ljubljana Witch
    London
    Loss
    Love Story
    Martin Riley
    Menozzi
    Misconceptions
    Misused Words
    Nell Dixon
    New Release
    Novel
    Novella
    Novels
    November
    November 2010
    NSFW(?)
    Oli Johns
    Other Sites
    Otherworld Diner
    Packing
    Photography
    Photos
    Plans
    Process
    Professional Cycling
    Profoundly Shallow
    Promotion
    Published
    Purchase
    Purchases
    Random
    Random Thoughts
    Reading
    Re-cap
    Red Cross
    Reggio Emilia
    Remembering
    Research
    Review
    Reviews
    Richard Pierce
    Ridiculous
    Rip
    Road Cycling
    Robert Stermscheg
    Sad
    SAD?
    Samuele Bersani
    Sarah E Melville
    Self-censorship
    Sexy
    Simon Forward
    Smashwords
    Stage Three
    Story Excerpts
    Story Ideas
    Summer
    T13
    Thankful
    Thanksgiving
    The Next Big Thing
    Think Geek
    Thoughts
    Thursday 13
    Thursday Thirteen
    Time Trial Championships
    To Be Read
    Tragic
    Travel
    Trivia
    Tulagi Hotel
    Twitter
    Uk
    Venice
    Visits
    Weather
    Wip
    Women
    Women's Fiction Writers
    Wordless
    Wordless Wednesday
    Work In Progress
    Wouter Weylandt
    Wow
    Write On Wednesday
    Write On Wednesdays
    Writing
    Writing Process
    Yums

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.