Golden Girl

NOTE: There's no sex here and calling it a romance tale is a stretch. More accurate, it's about the end of one romance and the potential start of another. It's the drama in between that I hope readers will find compelling.

*****

Dan Kramer had been smitten with twenty-year old weightlifting star Lexie Mandel from the first time he saw her compete. No surprise, for he was one of many male strength athletes who admired her, as beautiful as she was strong and athletic, a five-foot seven, one-hundred and fifty pound wunderkind who had transitioned from CrossFit competition to Olympic lifting and become one of the top 69kg female lifters in the country. The lifting cognoscenti had posted a video on You Tube called "Golden Girl," a mini documentary with great shots of Lexie training and competing. Dan had seen it multiple times.

And now he had a front row seat at the Expo Center watching her compete in a major national contest. His eyes stayed riveted as she approached the bar for her third and final clean and jerk, a 132kg effort that would break the female Junior American record in her weight class. A hush settled over the hall as she chalked up and then stood over the bar. After a slow pull off the floor, she brought the weight past her knees, then exploded on her second pull and was under it in a flash. She struggled a little to rise from the squat position, then stood for a few seconds, preparing for the jerk. After a shallow dip, she split under the weight. Then, with the bar overhead, she brought her feet in line and held it until the ref gave the down signal. Three white lights flashed on the board, indicating a successful lift. The hall erupted in applause. Lexie jumped in the air, then bounded off the platform to receive high-fives from her coach.

Dan watched in awe as Lexie stepped on to the podium to receive her gold medal. She looked like a goddess up there: long blond hair; high cheek bones; gleaming white teeth; legs, long and shapely, with quads to die for. In his mind's eye, the medal podium appeared like the pedestal he had long placed her on.

"Ok, now's your chance," his friend Leo said as she walked off the stage. "Go talk to her. You said you were going to."

Dan sat frozen to his seat. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Leo laughed. "Go on, don't be a wimp, make your move already. She's not the fucking president or anything."

Dan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Well, here goes nothing. Wish me luck." He took his time strolling the few yards up to where she sat, felt even more intimidated when she failed to look up. "Congratulations. That was some fine lifting."

She thanked him, then quickly turned around to receive more kudos from another admirer, another young woman who had approached her from the rear. Dan stood there with his hands still stuffed in his pockets, watching them banter, feeling more and more like the guest who had overstayed his welcome. He wanted to follow up with something, but wasn't quite sure what. Finally, raising his voice, he said, "I've watched your competitions on You Tube. This is the first time I've seen you live. Were you nervous up there?"

Her girlfriends, who had been talking among themselves, looked up, eyed Dan warily. Lexie turned from her female admirer, faced Dan and said, "What was that?" He repeated himself. "Nervous? Oh, not really. I had lifted that much in training, so I knew the American record was within my grasp."

"You did look very confident up there," Dan said. "I compete also, so I know that confidence is a big factor."

She gave his muscular, five-foot-ten frame the once over. "Are you lifting today?"

"No, tomorrow. I'm in the ninety-fours." He was referring to the 94kg weight class that was scheduled to compete on the final day of competition.

She nodded. "Well, good luck." She then resumed speaking with her young admirer.

Frustrated, Dan shook his head and returned to his seat. "She's busy."

"So I noticed," Leo said. "You need a bolder approach."

"Like what?"

"Tell her you'd like to see her snatch."

Dan rolled his eyes at that shopworn, double entendre. "I already saw her snatch, wise guy."

"Okay, then ask her if she'd like to see YOUR snatch."

"Well, she did ask me if I was lifting today."

"There you go. See, she IS interested."

Dan knew that Leo was jerking his chain. Still, there was that faint glimmer of hope. So he approached her again and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hi."

She spun around. "Oh, hi."

"My name's Dan Kramer."

"Dan Kramer lifting in the ninety-fours."

"Good memory."

"Especially since its been a full five minutes since you told me."

He chuckled. "Look, I was wondering if you were going to be here tomorrow."

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Good, because I'll be—"

"To cheer on my boyfriend."

"Oh. Who's that?"

"Ben Vogel. You might have heard of him. He competes in your weight class."

Dan did indeed know Ben Vogel but had no idea that he and Lexie were an item. In fact, he and Dan had locked horns in the Maryland Open a year ago. Ben had just edged him out for first place, totaling 331kg to Dan's 325kg. Dan told Lexie that and then asked why he wasn't here to see her break the American record.

"He was supposed to be but, well, we had a spat." She laughed and grimaced at the same time, the way people do to cover a hurt. "He said he planned to watch at home through live streaming video. But, I don't know. He hasn't called or texted yet."

"None of my business, I know, but why be there for him when he isn't here today for you?"

Lexie frowned. "You're getting kind of personal there, aren't you Dan?"

"Hey, no problem," Dan said, throwing up his hands. "None of my business, like I said. Congratulations again on your American clean and jerk and total record. Hope to see you here tomorrow."

"Oh, you will. And if you don't mind me asking, what numbers do you hope to put up?"

"Now YOU'RE getting personal."

She smiled coyly. "Just scouting out the competition for Ben."

"Understood. Okay, then, let's just say I hope to put up numbers high enough to avenge that loss to Ben in the Maryland Open." Dan knew who his three other competitors were and where they ranked relative to himself and Ben. If all went as planned, he and Ben would be battling it out for first place.

"Well, good luck," she said. "Not to give anything away, but Ben's been on fire lately, hitting personal bests in training."

"Looks like I'll have my work cut out for me then."

"If Ben's on his game you will."

After they shook hands, Dan returned to his seat and filled Leo in on the conversation.

"Looks like you moved in at just the right time," Leo said. "This Ben might be on his way out."

"She didn't say they broke up, only that they had a spat. Besides, my first priority is hitting a winning total, not hitting on Lexie Mandel."

****

Lexie didn't hear from Ben until she got home. And she had to call HIM. She was ticked enough already, and Ben's failure to either call or text his kudos for her record-breaking performance ticked her off even more. He admitted to seeing her triumph via live streaming video. So why didn't he respond right away? "Too busy," he said.

Too busy my ass, Lexie had thought to herself. The fact was, Ben was just being spiteful. A possessive, self-centered guy, he got that way whenever she did things that didn't involve him. It could be spending a long weekend with a girlfriend or, God forbid, befriending another guy, especially another weightlifter. He had a jealous streak, and it extended to their sport as well. Ben, being a guy, was much stronger of course; however, Lexie's national ranking had eclipsed his even before the Junior Nationals. But now, because she set two American records, she ranked even higher. Ben, good as he was, had never held an American record. Lexie knew that he felt pride and envy at the same time, though she sensed more of the latter since her impressive performance on Saturday.

So there was plenty of tension between them on Sunday as they drove from Maryland to Philadelphia. Lexie told him about her conversation with Dan, leaving out the fact that she thought he was kind of hot. Ben said he felt confident that he'd out lift his rival once again. Lexie thought so too, though Ben's spiteful ways had eroded some of her loyalty. She still wanted him to win, yet she wouldn't mind so much if Dan won instead. It would serve Ben right for being such a poor sport.

"Okay, wish me luck," Ben said when they got inside the vast space of the Expo Center.

Lexie did, then turned around to accept congratulations from two teen girls who had seen her performance the day before. "You're an inspiration to us," one of them said.

Seconds after they walked away, one of the officials, a gray-haired man in his sixties wearing the standard issue blue blazer and khaki pants, came up to her. "Great lifting yesterday, Lexie. Keep that up and you'll make the Pan Ams next year."

After he left, Ben's sullen look wasn't lost on Lexie. "Sorry, Ben, I don't mean to be the center of attention."

"But you are without even trying," he said, standing in his warm-up clothes, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Must be nice."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, you're concern right now should be on winning this contest, not my so-called celebrity."

"I'd hardly call it so-called when you can't walk two feet without being approached by some admirer."

"Knock it off, Ben, you've got work to do. Dan Kramer, your main competition is here today." She then looked up. "And speak of the devil."

Dan saw them too as he came through the large double doors of the Expo Center. Without hesitating, he walked up and extended his hand to Ben. "Good luck today, dude. May the best man win."

"That would be me," Ben said, flashing a smart-aleck grin.

Dan smiled. "We'll see. By the way, your girlfriend here was awesome yesterday. Too bad you weren't here to see her break those records."

He shot Lexie a hostile look. "Yeah, well, she had enough people here to see it. She didn't need me."

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.