Lexie gave Ben a hard stare. "That's not true and you know it. It was your choice to stay home, not mine."
Dan now knew that Lexie hadn't been kidding about the spat she mentioned yesterday. He also knew he didn't want to get in the middle of it. "All right, time to warm up. I'm outta here."
"And it's time you do the same, Ben," Lexie said watching Dan head for the warm-up room. "Best of luck." She grabbed his shoulders, gave him a quick kiss, and then took a front row seat on one of the wooden folding chairs.
The lifting would start in about a half hour. There wasn't much to do but wait and greet the well wishers who continued to offer their congratulations on yesterday's performance. She wore tight shorts today, hemmed at mid-thigh, and wasn't blind to the admiring looks she got from the men here, mostly muscle guys who loved women with strong, shapely legs. Had she not been with Ben, she might be interested in getting to know some of them, Dan Kramer included. She had been dating Ben for about a year, and his insecurities were getting old fast. Constantly stroking his fragile ego took more energy than her arduous workouts. Her female confidants found it hard to believe that a handsome, strong, muscular guy like Ben could be so insecure. They didn't know the half of it, nor had Lexie at first. It took a few months before she realized that Ben's confident, take-charge persona was so much veneer—a veneer that began to crumble as she became more successful on the lifting platform. The more successful she became the more insecure and possessive he got. Enough was enough. She still cared about him, still loved him on some level. But sometimes it felt like an ordeal being with him, dealing with his multiple issues. Most of the joy she once got from the relationship had whooshed out like air from a bad tire. Maybe it was time for a clean break. How to do that was the question. If she knew anything about Ben, she knew he wouldn't take it lightly. Possessive, controlling people never do. She'd seen enough TV tabloid news stories about people like that to know that things could get very ugly if she gave Ben the boot. He'd rant and rave, maybe assault her, perhaps even try to kill her. Sure, she was strong, could take care of herself in most situations. Physically, however, she was no match for Ben Vogel. She didn't want to end up a statistic. But neither could she take much more of feeling confined by his possessiveness and jealousy, and moving on seemed like the right option. All she needed was the right moment to tell him, and right now was hardly the right moment.
She tried to stay focused on the lifting. As expected, Ben and Dan were locked in a battle for first place. The two rivals came out for their first attempts in both the snatch and clean and jerk after their three other competitors were done. Going into the clean and jerk, Ben held a slight lead having snatched 145kg to Dan's 143kg. Both hoisted 180kg for their second attempts in the clean and jerk, which meant that Dan's third attempt had to eclipse Ben's by at least three kilos for the win. A tie wouldn't do it because Dan was slightly heavier and therefore Ben would win on bodyweight.
Of course, Lexie knew this as she sat there conflicted over whom to root for. Dan was the underdog, and who can't help but root for the underdog? Still, her loyalty—what was left of it and it wasn't much—pulled her the other way, though only slightly, certainly not enough to stand and cheer for Ben as she once did. When Ben called for 181kg, a personal best, she wanted him to make it, wanted it for him as much as she knew he wanted it for himself. And when he did, she found herself clapping, though not as hard as she clapped for Dan Kramer when he called for 185kg and then proceeded to hoist it to arm's length to the satisfaction of the refs who gave him three white lights. Dan Kramer, the underdog, was the new 94kg Junior National Weightlifting Champion.
She knew there'd be a price to pay for Ben's loss and she was right. Ben scowled on the medal podium and then, after wading into the spectator area, kicked the chair next to where Lexie had been sitting. "You lost by just two kilos," she said, trying to cheer him up. "You'll get him next time just like you beat him at the Maryland Open."
He threw down his equipment bag with a grunt. "Don't patronize me, okay?"
"I'm not patronizing—ˮ
"Lexie, just shut the fuck up and let's get outta here."
"Don't talk to me like that, mister. If you can't lose like a man, then maybe you shouldn't compete anymore."
"Spare me the lecture," he snapped, grabbing her forearm. "Are you leaving with me or what?"
"Not until you calm down, I'm not," she said, yanking away.
She felt embarrassed when she noticed the small crowd that had gathered around them, Dan Kramer among them, gold medal hanging from his neck. She made eye contact with him, and then he said, "Are you okay, Lexie?"
"I'm fine," she said. "Ben's just having one of his hissy fits. Congratulations on your clutch lift. Way to pull it out." Had she been alone, the fury she saw in Ben's piercing blue eyes would have scared her. She was safe with people around. But how in the world was she going to get home?
Ben slung his equipment bag over his shoulder and drifted closer to Dan. Poking his finger inches from Dan's face, he said, "Brother, you really ought to keep out of this, cause' it's none of your fucking business." Ben grabbed Lexie's arm again. "Let's go, Lexie. Now!"
"Get your mitts off me," Lexie screamed. "I'm not going with you. We're through. You and me, we're finished. Got that? Done!"
The grey-haired official in blue and khaki stepped in. "Is there a problem here folks? Because if there is, you need to take it outside."
"No sir, we were just leaving," Ben said.
This time Lexie moved in and did the poking. "You mean YOU'RE leaving. I wouldn't get in that truck of yours if it was the last one on earth."
"Okay, move it along," the official said, brushing his hand across Lexie's shoulder. "You need to settle your differences outside."
Ben, Dan and Lexie filed out into the unusually warm March afternoon. Ben resumed where he left off, barking orders for Lexie to leave. She stood defiant, her arms folded against her chest, refusing to budge.
Dan asked where she lived, then offered to take her home since it was just a few miles out of his way.
Ben was beside himself with rage. Not only did he lose the gold, he lost it to the guy who in his mind was now stealing his girlfriend. "We'll see who you're leaving with, bitch," he barked, and then ran to his truck.
Lexie's expression went from defiant to fearful. Whipping out her cell, she punched in 911. "He's got a gun in that truck," she told Dan, "and he's mad enough and crazy enough to use it."
Dan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back inside. While she explained her "emergency" to the operator, Dan told the official who had shooed them outside. The official told another official, and soon they had the place on lockdown. Minutes later, four police cruisers pulled up, roof lights ablaze. Lexie directed the cops to the parking area where they could find Ben's truck, a white GMC van. As an extra safety precaution, an official led Dan and Lexie into the warm-up room, while those that remained stood around the main hall, anxious and impatient, trying to squeeze information from nervous Expo staffers.
They were alone in a room filled with four lifting platforms, flat benches, metal folding chairs and several Olympic barbell sets. Just moments ago, this space was alive with the sights and sounds of athletes preparing for their attempts on the main platform in the Expo Center. Now it was empty save for the equipment and two people huddled together because of the presumed murderous intent of an angry, gun-wielding, two-hundred and six pound weightlifter.
"I'm so sorry I had to drag you into this," Lexie said. Arms folded against her chest, she paced nervously back and forth across one of the platforms. "I should have done what Ben did yesterday and stayed home."
Dan, still wearing his warm-up suit, took a seat on a metal folding chair by the platform. "Not your fault. Maybe I should have missed that third clean and jerk."
Lexie kept pacing, ignoring Dan's lame attempt at cynical humor. "That would have only prolonged the inevitable. I should have broken up with him months ago."
Ben smiled to himself, thinking how darkly comical and absurd this was, ensconced in the warm-up room of the Philadelphia Expo Center with golden girl Lexie Mandel, his fantasy muscle goddess, hiding from her estranged boyfriend. Mean and crazy Ben might be, but Dan couldn't blame him for refusing to let her go. Girls like Lexie were a rare breed, beautiful as well as strong, able to hoist weights that were once thought biologically impossible for females to do, while at the same time retaining their femininity. Discreetly, he eyed her rippling, shapely quads and nicely tapered, diamond-shaped calves as she paced on the black rubber matting in her tight blue shorts. Distress marred her stunningly pretty features—her nose, long and noble and her mouth, with its pouty lips crunched tight with worry.
"What's taking them so long?" she said, pausing in front of Dan, her intense, gray-blue eyes pleading for an answer.
"I don't know, but at least we haven't heard any gunfire yet. That's a good sign. Maybe he drove off."
She let out a harsh chuckle. "You don't know Ben. He doesn't give up so easy, and I'm afraid—ˮ
An official and two police officers, a male and female, came through the door. The officers looked all business, matter-of-fact. The official who had ushered them into the warm-up room looked grim.
