A Shot at Gold Read online

  “I don’t want to be back in the game.”

  “You’re not the one playing right now. The idea was that you come back, coach with us, and help us get some amazingly talented archers into the Olympic games. We’ve got one girl here that has a chance to make the squad now, and she’s coming here because we told her you were one of our guest coaches for the year.”

  “They need continuity. I’m only available on the weekends. It won’t work,” Elodie said, giving the man another excuse and finishing her second glass of wine. “Besides, I’ve got a case that’s going to occupy a lot of my time.”

  “You didn’t have a case last week, when I called to confirm because I knew you’d pull something like this.”

  “It just hit my desk yesterday, Marshall,” she defended.

  “Be honest… It’s about Rod, isn’t it?”

  Elodie closed her eyes at her coach’s name and said, “I haven’t been back there since. Not for this or–”

  “I know that. And you knew that when you told me you could do this. I have people counting on you, El.”

  “You guys have a staff. You’re fine without me.”

  “We sold these people on–”

  “A washed-up archer coaching them in something she hasn’t done in years? That’s on you, Marshall. Not exactly the best marketing strategy.”

  “You’re really not coming?”

  “No, I’m not. I can’t. I can’t go backward.”

  “This was supposed to be a step forward.”

  “Well, it doesn’t feel like that to me.”

  “Fine. I have to go figure out what I’m going to do now. Bye, El.”

  Elodie dropped the phone to the couch and rolled onto her side. Then, she balled herself up into the fetal position. When she woke up, it was three in the morning. She’d slept for twelve hours. She stood up and stretched, feeling lethargic yet somehow energized at the same time. She was used to these competing emotions. She wanted to go back to the academy, and she also didn’t. When she went to her bedroom, where she tried to lie down again, sleep hadn’t come by four, so she got up and decided to go for a run.

  She had three running trails she preferred. One was just down the street, and she could walk there, take off on a three-mile run, and walk back. The second one was a short drive. The third was Elodie’s favorite, but she hadn’t run it in years. She threw on her running clothes and hopped into her car. Marshall had said something about a first step. She couldn’t do what he had requested, but she could do this and show him she was trying.

  The Archery Academy was located in the middle of a large forest. A substantial portion of the forest was city-owned, but part of it had been bought by the academy years ago. They had kept much of the wooded area but had created several practice fields outdoors as well as a gymnasium, dorm, cafeteria, and indoor training facilities. It was the premier training facility for archery in the United States and was partially sponsored by the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee; other money came from tuition costs for the participants. The program could last for years for some archers or for one year, depending on the person, their abilities, and their funds. Elodie had been there for three years. It was where she had first started with Rod as her coach.

  She climbed out of her car, stretched, and started her run on the trail that ran around the outside of the field. It was only a mile, but she had loved running around it in the past. She would go at least three laps, if not more, back in the day. She could still do three miles today, but it was getting harder and harder since she didn’t always have the time to do it consistently. As she rounded the first corner of the trail, which was covered in some brush, she could feel how out of shape she was. Her breathing was already fast, and her abdominal muscles started to hurt around the half-mile mark.

  By the time she finished her first lap, she wanted to give up. That full bottle of wine she had consumed the afternoon before, had been a mistake. Elodie walked to her car, grabbed her bottle of water, and downed the whole thing. It was then that she heard a sound she would always recognize instantly. It was the sound of an arrow hitting a target about seventy meters away. She knew that because the targets in this field were always set to the Olympic distance. Elodie checked her watch. It was five in the morning. The students starting in the summer should have just arrived last night. That meant they’d have orientation today; not training. It could be Marshall or one of the instructors out early and getting some shots in since they wouldn’t be able to do too much shooting themselves once the new program started. Elodie tossed the empty water bottle onto the passenger seat, closed the driver’s side door, and walked in the direction of the field.

  As she peered through the trees, she didn’t see an instructor, though; it was a student. She could tell because her stance was a little off, and none of the instructors here would have been in anything but pristine form. Elodie watched as a young woman – with strawberry blonde hair in two braids going down her back – pulled back on her bowstring and let another arrow rip. Elodie couldn’t see the arrow fly from her position, but she heard it hit the target. From where she was standing, she could see it had hit in one of the gold rings. That meant it was either a nine or a ten. Elodie couldn’t make out which, but despite the form issue, the girl looked competent enough.

  Then, she recalled the packet Marshall had sent her on the incoming group. There was only one near-redhead in the bunch. Her name was Madison Fletcher. She was twenty-two years old and had won a national championship at her university. She had also been a winner of some smaller tournaments, but it was clear from her file that she had talent. Madison had started later than most archers that would be in this program – she had been sixteen at the time; Elodie wondered why. Then, she thought about how good the woman must have been to have made it to the final round of a major tournament. Madison had lost, but she had only been nineteen, so that was to be expected.

  Madison pulled back and fired again; another gold ring. Elodie watched as she appeared to contemplate what to do next. She pulled out another arrow, fired again and again, and then, she lowered her bow to the ground and ran to the target. Madison didn’t walk. She didn’t jog. She rushed the seventy meters and then slowly removed her arrows. Then, she turned around and ran back. Someone had drilled her like this. Likely, an old coach had wanted her to keep in shape and thought that running to get her arrows was the way to do it. Elodie then rolled her eyes. Rookie coaches knew enough to be dangerous. Madison picked up her bow and repeated firing three more arrows. Elodie had seen enough. The girl was good. She needed work, but she was good. She was also in the right place, and there was a good crew of instructors here. They didn’t need Elodie and her baggage fucking up their talent. No, she belonged in her law office and away from this sport.

  She was about to turn to go when something rustled in the trees just behind or above her, and Madison quickly looked her way. Although Elodie was hidden, it was not very well. They were far enough apart that she couldn’t see if Madison was looking into her eyes, but the woman was definitely looking in her direction. Elodie froze. Had she been caught staring? Did this girl now think she was a crazy stalker? She should say something, right?

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. I just went for a run on the trail around the field,” she half-yelled and gave an awkward wave.

  “Okay,” Madison replied.

  Elodie didn’t know if she should say anything else, so she just turned around and headed back to her car. She drove the short distance home pretty fast, thanks to the lack of early morning traffic, showered, and changed into her work clothes. Then, she made the coffee, sat down at her kitchen table, and opened the file; the actual file Marshall had given her on Madison Fletcher. She looked at the photos. There were two. One was clearly either a yearbook picture or had been taken for her school ID. The other was the girl in her stance, about to release an arrow. She looked young. Well, they all looked young to Elodie. She wasn’t exactly old at thirty-three, but s
he wasn’t twenty-two anymore, either. Still, there was something in Madison’s eyes that she found interesting. They were green; bright-green, in fact. Madison was smiling in the picture, but her eyes weren’t. It was as if the smile belonged in one moment in time, and the eyes belonged in another, more thoughtful one. She didn’t know what to make of that. She sipped on her coffee and looked through the few pages again. She’d done so when Marshall had sent her the information for the twenty students that were starting their program, but she hadn’t memorized them.

  Madison had to write a short essay on why she deserved to get into the program. It was only five hundred words, but as Elodie re-read it now, she could sense a mix of confidence and vulnerability in the girl’s essay; maybe a little more confidence than Elodie would like, but that was what athletes needed, sometimes; especially the female ones. Elodie finished her coffee, put the cup in the dishwasher, and headed to work. The trip didn’t exactly take long. Her law office was next door to the house.

  She had bought her house right after finishing law school. She’d had some money saved up, and the area was going through a buyer’s market, so she had picked it up for a steal. She hadn’t been able to afford to do much to the place, but it was home enough. A few years after she started working at a local law firm, just off the main drag in town, her neighbors to the right put their house on the market. It butted up very close to her own place; and to her left, there was a large tree grouping with a steep decline and a small creek, so if at some point in the future, she wanted to expand her small one-bedroom house, she would need the land on the right. She had had enough saved for the down payment and decided to go out on her own.

  She now had her own, relatively successful, law practice with two employees: one receptionist, who only worked part-time, and one paralegal. She’d spent more money on the office than she had on her house, but that made sense to her. If the practice did well, she could reap those rewards later.

  The reception area was the living room with the kitchen acting as, well, a kitchen. The dining area was where she had stationed her paralegal, Nancy. Her office was in the master bedroom. There was also a second bedroom that she left as a bedroom, but that was because she didn’t have a guest room at her house. On the off chance that she actually ever had a visitor, Elodie didn’t want to have to offer them the sofa. The building looked like an actual house on the outside, but it had a small parking lot that could fit six cars, so it wasn’t all that bad. There was also the sign above the garage – also known as their filing room – that read, ‘Booker & Associates.’ There were no associates just yet, but maybe one day, she would have some. Then, she could move into a real office, tear down this place, and expand her home onto this property. A girl could dream, at least.

  “Morning, Nancy,” she greeted as she opened the door.

  “Hey, boss.”

  Matt, the receptionist, was a local college student who was pre-law. He only worked when he wasn’t in class or on campus, so Nancy, the paralegal, acted as their welcome committee for clients, both existing and prospective.

  “I’m a little late. I got caught up this morning,” Elodie said.

  “You live next door.” Nancy smiled up at her as she handed her a file. “Your 9 a.m. is in your office. I got them coffee, and this is the file.”

  “Thank you. Did you–”

  “All the research on precedents you asked for, is in there. And I emailed it to you when I got in this morning.”

  “You’re the best. Thank you.”

  When the door suddenly opened, Elodie turned her head, and her eyes went big. Standing just inside the open doorway was Madison Fletcher.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Can I help you?” the woman, sitting behind a large oak desk, asked her.

  “Hi,” Madison said.

  “Hello. Do you have an appointment?” the same woman asked.

  “No,” she replied, staring right at Elodie Booker.

  “Nancy, can you let my client know I’ll be right with them?” Elodie asked.

  “Sure,” Nancy replied, standing.

  A few seconds later, she disappeared behind the door to their right.

  “Can I help you?” Elodie asked.

  “You’re Elodie Booker.”

  “I am. This is my law practice. Do you require legal services?”

  “My name is Madison Fletcher.” Madison took a few steps into the office. “I’m in the archery program at the academy.”

  “Okay,” Elodie replied.

  “I was told by the head of the program that you’d be a coach this year. It’s why I applied. Last night, when I got in, he told me you weren’t coaching after all.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said, holding onto a file folder and moving it from hand to hand as if she didn’t know what to do with it. “And, exactly how did you find me?”

  “The internet,” Madison replied.

  “Right,” Elodie said. “Well, I’m not coaching after all. That’s correct. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a client meeting I’m late for.” She hooked a thumb back to that door.

  “I’m confused. You agreed to coach us, but now you’re not?”

  “No, something came up.”

  “For an entire year?” Madison asked a little louder than she had intended. “I’m trying to make the Olympic team. I came here because you’re the best archer I’m pretty sure the world has ever seen.”

  “What about Robin Hood?”

  Madison smiled then and said, “That’s, actually, my nickname.”

  “It was mine once upon a time, too.”

  “When I was first starting out, someone wanted to try Katniss, but that was way too on the nose for me,” Madison told her. Then, she lost the smile. “Anyway, I’m sorry for being so direct, but I drove four hours yesterday to get here, and planned on staying for a year because I wanted to be coached by you.”

  “There are plenty of great coaches at–”

  “I could have gone to the academy when I was eighteen. I went to school instead. I could have trained on my own or found another coach near where I’m from. I came here this year specifically because when I looked online at this year’s program, you were a coach.”

  “Well, I’m flattered, really, but–”

  “El? They’re waiting.” The woman popped her head out of the door. “They have to head out by ten.”

  “Thanks, Nancy,” Elodie replied, turning away from Madison for a moment and then returning her blue eyes back to Madison’s. “I’m sorry. I really do have to go.”

  “You went there,” Madison said. “You were in the program. You said it helped make you the archer you were, and you won a gold medal. Why–”

  “It did. All of that is true, but I’m not coaching there this year, Miss Fletcher. Now, I have a meeting to get to. If you need legal advice, feel free to make an appointment. If not, I wish you well in your program and good luck on making the Olympic team.”

  Elodie Booker disappeared behind the office door just as the other woman came out of that same office and sat back down behind her desk.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yeah, a coach,” Madison replied.

  Then, she turned and left the office. She was pissed. She had turned down three archery coaches who had wanted to take her on because she knew Elodie Booker was the woman she wanted coaching her. When Madison had heard that Elodie was going to be at the academy, she had moved mountains to complete the application on time and reached out to Marshall to ensure that she’d make it onto his list for the summer start. Now, she was sleeping in a dorm with five other women, had no use for her mini-fridge or TV because the room already had them, and she didn’t have the coach she wanted. She had planned this, and now, it was all crashing down.

  When she returned to the campus, Madison headed straight into her room. She found it empty since most of the people on campus were probably already at orientation. She grabbed the binder of information she had been given upon moving in the previous day
and went downstairs to join them.

  She gritted her teeth as Marshall introduced the coaches, physical therapists, and other staff members they would be working with, as well as the plan for the next year. This was not what she had wanted. She hadn’t even heard of any of these coaches before. She had heard of Elodie Booker. Anyone in the archery world knew who the woman was.

  Marshall reviewed the rules for training, nutrition, and the campus itself. There would be a curfew of ten o’clock on weeknights and midnight on weekends. They would be up by five in the morning for their early workout. The early part wasn’t a problem, but she was twenty-two years old. She didn’t need anyone telling her when she had to be in bed. Plus, there had been no mention of a curfew on their site when she had applied or reviewed the sample schedule.

  They took a tour of the campus next, now that everyone was here. There were fourteen guys in this group and only six women. Although that was pretty typical for the sport, it did piss Madison off even more. She was tired of being told she was a great female archer. She wanted to be a great archer. Elodie Booker was the only woman who had been able to break down that barrier. Elodie had been called the best in the world during her heyday, male or female. Madison wanted that for herself, and she’d wanted Elodie to help her achieve it.

  They toured the cafeteria, which she’d already seen. Then, they went to the gym, which was of modest size, in her opinion, but she had had a great gym at her university, so this just looked standard. Madison knew her dismissal of the exemplar facility was more due to her mood than anything else. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she had lost out on something amazing; something very, very important. She’d never felt that way about a coach before, and she had had a few. Some were better than others, but none had captured her mind more than Elodie Booker. Part of that stemmed from the woman’s ability and the fact that Elodie was a hero of hers, but there was something else she couldn’t put her finger on.

  Madison was pretty sure that she’d seen Elodie that morning before she had gone online to find out where the woman lived or worked. She knew Elodie had moved close to the academy years ago, so it wasn’t hard to find her. Initially, she was planning to find a contact email address somewhere, but she had woken earlier than usual to get some quick practice in, and she had seen a woman in the trees. Their brief exchange had her convinced it was Elodie. She had gotten excited, thinking maybe the woman would be coaching here after all. But when she’d asked Marshall again, he had dismissed the idea. That was when the ever-determined Madison pulled out her phone and got to Googling.