Excerpt of Perfect Ten

Brian stopped in front of the diner and just looked at the door for a moment.

It was one of those silver bullet, old-style diners, the chrome dull with age, the windows shining clean and bright. It was a strange place for a job interview, but that's essentially what this was.

He'd heard through the grapevine that Christopher Allen was trying to make a comeback after his vault accident, despite the fact that his coach and corporate sponsorship had bailed on him. He'd also heard it was a long shot, that the guy was lucky he wasn't in a wheelchair, let alone even thinking about competing again. Scuttlebutt said Christopher was too old to start over, too injured, too past it.

And too stubborn to admit it.

Brian liked that in an athlete.

So he'd called and asked for a meeting. He hadn’t told Christopher he’d have to fly in just for this meeting. He’d kept it casual -- let's have lunch at that little place on the corner of Smith and Fifth.

This could change his whole life. Not that he didn't like coaching the girls at the private school where he was working, but he missed men's gymnastics, missed being involved, the feeling of the powder on his hands, the shaking in his muscles as he pushed himself past the point of his endurance...

His own glory days, such as they were, were over, but he had a chance to coach someone else into that sweet place where hard work and achievement met.

He just had to convince Christopher Allen that he was the man for the job.

He took a breath and went in, the sounds of the street replaced by the sound of people talking, china and silverware clinking, the smell of grease filling his noise.

He scanned the booths, looking for Christopher.

It took him a second to find the guy, the signature blond hair dull and overgrown where it was bent over a menu, the square jaw hidden by a scrappy beard. The man had lost some weight, some form. Brian could see the musculature still evident through the tight T-shirt.

He made his way over slowly, that feeling coming over him, the one that said this was a moment he wanted to remember, one he wanted to be sure to live in.

He stopped at Christopher's booth and cleared his throat. "Christopher Allen? Hi, I'm Brian Rainings."

"Hey there. Call me Chris." Chris stood, unfolding himself from the booth, the motion a little awkward, a little stiff. "Nice to meet you. How's it going?"

"Good, thanks. What about you? How're you doing?"

"Doing good. Doing real good." One square hand was offered over. "Have a seat, man."

He shook Chris' hand. The man had a good grip, warm and firm, not overbearing. "Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to see me."

Chris might have been on the injured list and abandoned by his people, but the buzz around him had been incredible before the accident, and Brian figured he couldn’t be the only one who wanted this job.

"Sure. You and I competed together once, a long time ago. Back when I was a junior and you were on top."

"Yeah, I do remember. The buzz in the locker room was all about this blond kid who was going to just smoke everyone in a few years." The vinyl seats were surprisingly soft, like they'd been well taken care of.

"Yeah. Talk's probably still the same, just for another kid." It was a little unnerving, looking at Chris. One eye was a bright blue, the other a deep, dark green.

"It always is. Everyone wants to discover the next big thing. Of course, I might just be sitting right in front of him." Brian grinned, knowing he was laying it on thick.

Chris chuckled, eyes dancing. "You do know I had back surgery, yeah?"

"Oh, you're that Christopher Allen." He winked and nodded. "Yeah, I know. I also know you're looking to come back."

"Looking to, yeah. I've been working on the trampoline, stretches, getting up to speed. I want to be ready."

"Sounds good. You tried any of the equipment yet? The vault?"

"The rings. The bar. No landings yet."

"How's it feel?" He still worked out using some old routines himself -- it was a hard thing to give up, pushing your body to its limits and beyond like that, feeling high and free.

"Stiff. I'm loving the tramp work. I can't do much else -- nowhere wants a guy without a coaching staff doing much training."

He nodded. "Yeah, they don't want the responsibility. So you still need a coach, then?"

"Yeah, Harry and Jeff moved on. They got Les Martin and both Evvie and Jean Parsons. Three for the price of one, you know?"

"Sounds like a good deal. For them. Kind of left you in the lurch though, yeah?"

Man, that was a practiced shrug. "It's a business. I'm not a sure thing."

"Neither are they. What if there's another accident? Harry and Geoff going to move on again?" He held up his hands. "Sorry, loyalty's just a dying art, you know?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. You want a burger? Chili dog?"

"Chili dog. With fries. And I hope they're greasy." And a milkshake. He loved diner food. "What about you? Burger? Chili dog? Coach Rainings?"

Those eyes just caught his, curious, questioning. "You haven't even seen what I can do yet."

"No, but I know what your heart is. You had every reason in the world to give up -- between the surgery and losing all your support -- but you didn't. You're still out there working, getting ready. I know I'm not a big name coach and I haven't proved myself yet. I'm sure you've had a number of offers, but I promise you, I will meet you heart to heart and I won't let you down."

Chris nodded, stopped as the waitress came up. "I want a cup of black coffee, two beef patties with cheese and a salad."

"Chili cheese dog, fries, and a chocolate milkshake, please."

"Mmm. Chocolate." Chris chuckled, winked. "Where do you like to work?"

"Well, frankly, I'd prefer somewhere small, quiet. You don't need the pressure of a high profile gymnasium with big names. There'll be pressure enough without that."

"Yeah. I'd prefer to fall on my ass in private the first few zillion times."

"There's a facility in Monterey. I know the guy who owns it. It's a beautiful town, weather's nice, and it's off the beaten path as far as gymnastics goes, but it's still close enough to a lot of the big meets."

"Monterey? Like California? Man, I don't have any sponsors. I can't afford an apartment out there."

"Well, all it takes is one. Have you made any calls?" He started sorting names through his mind. Mars used to sponsor him; he bet if he gave Bob Silmon a call, he could work something out -- they were good people.

"No. No. I... Well, I sort of hoped that Harry and Geoff would..." Christopher stopped, blushed. "No, not yet."

The waitress came with their drinks and he said, “Thank you,” waiting until she'd gone again before answering. "They aren't going to, though, are they? But I'm here."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm not caught in the past, man. I'm not."

"Well, I don't know if anyone could blame you if you were, but in order to get past what happened, you are going to have to face forward, reach for that brass ring and not live in I-used-to-be-somebody land, you know?" He leaned forward. "You also need to do this because you have to. If you're not going to put two hundred percent into it, you're not going to come back."

Chris met his eyes, gaze still, steady. "If I give it five hundred percent, there's a good chance I won't come back, but that hasn't stopped me yet." Jesus, Brian thought, there was some fury right there, just under the surface.

"I'm glad you know that. And now you know that I know it. So it's all out in the open. And I'm still here."

He took a sip of his drink, the bubbles fizzing in his mouth. He bet that anger alone would push Chris far. But it wouldn't be enough on its own.

"So what do you get out of this? You looking for a springboard to the big leagues? Because I'll be honest, I've just finished being that and it sucked."

Chris finished one cup of coffee, motioned for another, offering the waitress a half smile of thanks.

"Well, I've got a job right now. Coaching gymnastics at a girl's private school. The money is good. It's steady work. And the girls are great, they really are. But it's not... Men's gymnastics is where my heart is, but I don't want to be some assistant coach for some big club or school. I want to work hands on with someone." He gave the waitress a smile of his own as their food came. "I want a challenge. I want to believe in someone."

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