Whirlwind 01 - Finish Line - Pt. 01

Nathan held the door for her and he walked confidently up a grand stone staircase to the second floor. Becoming more puzzled by the second, Ariana followed. Nathan looked around and smiled. He waved and a young woman, tall and slender and of African descent, hurried over.

"Is something the matter, Mr. Moore ... I mean Nathan?"

He looked shocked. "Of course not, Leslie. Everything is wonderful. I just wanted you to meet my - friend, Ariana."

Ariana shook Leslie's hand. The woman tilted her head and looked at her more closely. "I think I might know you from somewhere."

Ariana shrugged, embarrassed. When she was on stage in front of hundreds of people, at a safe distance, she was quite comfortable; but unless she was with close friends, she was actually quite shy.

"The reason we are here, Leslie, is we need you to work your magic for Ariana the way you did for me yesterday."

Leslie looked positively euphoric. "I would be delighted. Come on, Ariana, adventure awaits."

Ariana found herself taken in tow and encouraged to explore the furthest corners of the store. Every time she could glance in his direction, Nathan was perched on a stool in the book section, seemingly methodically working his way across a full-wall rack filled with travel guides.

Over the next two hours a remarkable metamorphosis occurred, and she found herself with completely different, well, everything. Microfiber underwear which would dry out quickly, and not chafe even if wet. Impossible clothes advertised to be warm in cold climates and cool in hot climates, and practically impossible to rip or tear. A vest with a plethora of secure, waterproof pockets to keep a passport, money and important papers safe and intact. An appropriately-sized backpack, a twin of Nathan's, which was lightweight and now comfortably filled with an arsenal of travel accessories and spare outfits. An all-in-one hat which Indiana Jones would envy topped her head, and lightweight, waterproof, pre-broken in boots with synthetic soles guaranteed not to slip even on mirror-smooth, oily surfaces, cradled her feet. She was assured that she could run all day in any terrain without a blister -- though an emergency blister kit was tucked in one of the pockets of her vest. All of this attention was alarming her - the race seemed less like an enjoyable publicity stunt and more like a looming major military campaign every minute. While they were not supposed to tell anyone that they were participating in the Fantastic Race until the race was over, from Leslie's hints and innuendo Ariana strongly suspected that Nathan had hinted strongly enough that Leslie could make some very educated guesses. The clothing she had entered the store with was neatly folded and put into a carry sack to take back to the hotel, to be shipped home. When Leslie finally pronounced her completely outfitted she followed docilely to the checkout, pausing only to display the finery to Nathan, who, nodding in satisfaction, headed for the door. Apprehensive as to the total cost of her new travel gear - most performers are not extravagantly compensated - she opened her purse at the counter and started searching for the card with the best interest rate, only to be confronted by Leslie's bemused smile. "It's already taken care of," she said, nodding toward Nathan, who was standing by the door talking on his phone.

"Oh, o course, silly o me. Thank ya fer all o yer help, Leslie."

Leslie's beaming smile was very nearly smug, and she winked and called, "Good luck!" as Ariana hurried to the door.

Nathan was putting his phone away and holding the door. For some reason she wasn't surprised to find the car waiting for them. "Thank ya fer tha outfit, but I must insist on repayin ya."

"Not me, the Fan Forum. It has a small budget from donations and gifts, for members to get to performances, to get Meet n' Greet tickets to raffle off, things like that; I don't think any of the members would object to the use I put it to. The accounting is on page 2 of the monthly fan forum report."

"Oh, well, thank ya." She thought about it, remembering it vaguely but admitting to herself that she seldom read it past the first page. "An could ya put a 'Thank ya' note on the forum fer me?"

"Certainly. There is a significant contract penalty for giving things away before official announcements. So I'll just say you were caught short of a couple of essential travel accessories and appreciate the support of the forum members. Once the official announcements go out, I'll fill in the details."

She had settled back with a nod and looked at the scenery, and they were nearly back at the hotel before she realized how remarkably comfortable the outfit was.

They had a late but light lunch in the hotel's bar, killing time until the Fantastic Race reception started at six in a private dining room. Nathan drank no alcohol, was attentively interested in anything she said, and was adept at telling travel anecdotes for maximum humor. But finally she just had to ask.

"Mr. Moore."

"Yes, Ms. Collins?"

"We hae corresponded for aboot three yers now, met three times for a total of aboot fifteen minutes, and hae spent the day together, an you, my fan forum administrator hae had me as a near captive audience, and as far as I can tell, you havena asked me a single question, except whether or no I trust you. I am findin tha puzzlin."

A blush flitted across his features, accentuating his smile. "I'm a gentleman, and a gentleman never asks personal questions of a lady he doesn't know quite well. If the lady has something she wants him to know, she'll tell him. It's okay for you to tell me what your favorite breakfast is, but I would never ask you if your favorite breakfast is a Belgian waffle with blueberries and real whipped cream."

Flustered was the only word adequate for describing her consternation. "How did ya know that tis me favorite for breakfast?!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You told me last year when I sent you the March fan forum update. You sent back a thank you and said you had just finished your absolutely favorite breakfast, a Belgian waffle with blueberries and real whipped cream, though you always felt guilty eating it." He read the trepidation in her eyes, and sympathized. "Sorry. I believe people tend to think of the Internet as private, and sending messages as almost like talking to themselves. Realizing that you may have said more than you intended, or worse yet, not remembering what you MIGHT have sent winging out to a relatively casual acquaintance in cyberspace, could be disconcerting, especially for a celebrity." He chuckled and shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm a sincere fan."

"Sincere fan? An what might tha be?"

"Well, you know that 'fan' is short for fanatic, right?" Ariana nodded, not knowing where this was going to go. "Well, there are casual fans; they find the fan forum, maybe sign in, follow a few threads, then pass on, may not hear from them again for months, if ever. Then there are fans, who might be fascinated to know what you had for breakfast. Then there are rabid fans; those who would not only like to know what you had for breakfast, but also for lunch, dinner, and all your meals for the last week. Then there are the stalkers. I haven't heard of you ever having to deal with that, and I hope you haven't." Ariana shook her head. If you didn't count the O'Doules and her own family, there wasn't anyone she knew of who would want to hurt her. "Well, thank goodness for that. Anyway, I like to think of myself, and some others on the forum, as 'sincere' fans. Your performances have touched us, one way or another, and we don't care much what you had for breakfast, we respect your personal privacy, and we wait patiently for your next achievement."

"That is a wonderful an refreshin sentiment. The girls an I hae so many interviews, an appearances, an engagements, that tis nice ta hae a normal conversation fer a change."

,

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly in light conversation, discreet people-watching as they saw the rest of the teams check in with Zoe, and watching the news on the screens around the bar. She was gratified to see that he left a large tip for their waitress, since they had monopolized a booth for three hours with only a few drinks and splitting a single appetizer. They went back to their rooms, changed for dinner, and met outside the dining room.

They were introduced to Tom Kepple, the instantly recognizable host of the Race, were ushered through an impressively comprehensive buffet line, and found their seats.

Ariana kept track of the competition as she nibbled at her salad.

There was a German national soccer champion and her husband. There was a Canadian hockey player and his wife. There was a well-known French singer and her son. A Japanese pop star and her sister. There was the captain of the world cup New Zealand rugby team and a young man who was probably a fan. There was a retired American basketball star with a young man who had Down Syndrome. There was an Olympic gold medal-winning Chinese gymnast and her brother. A Gran Prix-winning, Italian driver with a woman who might have been a fan, or might have been a girlfriend, but certainly didn't seem to be a wife. There was an American Rock Star known for outrageous behavior and living larger than life, along with a slightly younger man who was probably a fan. Tucked in at the other end of the table was a Russian ballerina and a girl who was either her daughter or a small clone. And then there were she and Nathan.

There was some small talk, mostly in heavily accented English, but everyone seemed edgy and bemused. After the dishes were cleared away, Tom went over the rules, made absolutely certain everyone had signed the nondisclosure agreements, Zoe collected all of their electronics, and bid them a good night.

Early the next morning, dressed to race, she and Nathan had met outside her room and gone down to breakfast together. Ariana arranged with Zoe for her original luggage to be shipped back to her Dublin apartment. The breakfast was another buffet, but except for the hockey player and the basketball star, everyone seemed to be eating light and drinking coffee to excess. At seven thirty they were called to the ballroom next door, where the teams stood in a loose line, close enough to keep an eye on each other and satisfy the assistants who were scurrying around completing last minute triple checks, but far enough apart to show that they knew they were rivals. She looked casually around. Most of the other teams were randomly dressed, more than one in jackets or tee shirts or team jerseys which were blatantly self-promoting. She spared a slightly longer look at one team two places down the line - Garrett, the internationally known American heavy metal rocker, with such an impressive array of facial piercings she expected that airport metal detectors would cause him to miss every flight, wore a shirt with a twice life-size picture of himself on the front. Wearing the same shirt and standing close beside the rocker was a college-age young man with a shaved head and a euphoric expression at being so close to his idol. She seemed to remember from the dinner that his name was Jeremy. She looked at her outfit and Nathan's and had to admit that of all the teams, they seemed the most ready to seriously race; making her even more nervous about the embarrassing possibility of being the first team eliminated.

Ariana stepped close to Nathan and got his attention with a quick and discrete elbow nudge. "As soon as we step oot there, we are on camera in front o tha world. I want us ta agree tha no matter what happens in this race, we will always be civil ta each other."

He looked genuinely hurt. "I promise I will be a courteous and congenial teammate at all times."

Then there wasn't time for further discussion, as a production assistant ushered them in front of Tom for their formal introduction.

"And this is Ariana Collins, a member of the world renowned Madri-Gals, the unofficial ambassadors of Irish culture."

Ariana nodded and smiled and gave a little wave to the camera, saying, "An I am absolutely thrilled ta be here," knowing she was stretching the truth more and more by the second. She hadn't had butterflies in her stomach this badly since her fifth grade school play.

"And your teammate is ...?" Tom prompted.

She gestured with both hands and looked up at Nathan, who was standing calmly and not displaying any trepidation at all over the intense attention of the camera. "This is Nathan Moore. He is the president of my fan forum and web administrator of my fan site."

"And how are you feeling today, Nathan?"

He grinned in a winningly boyish way. "More than a little surreal; but ready to race."

Tom turned back to Ariana. "And you are racing for World HIV/AIDS Research, is that right?"

"Yes," she responded. "Tis a horrible scourge tha should be wiped out, like smallpox or polio." She glanced at Nathan, who was standing quite calmly beside her, though she seemed to sense the expectant tension in his body, like a jet fighter idling at the start of a short runway.

With the introductions over, they were ushered to the table where their backpacks were getting their final checks for forbidden items. Ariana felt a quick spasm of uncertainty over the privacy and non-disclosure clauses in the contracts. But the inspector finished the checks, clipped a tag on each of their packs, nodded to them, and moved on to the packs of the next team. As she reached for her own pack, Nathan beat her to it and held it for her to shrug into. She murmured a fast, 'Thank you," and sighed as they were waved on by an impatient assistant with an iPad. Nathan flipped his pack onto his back with a quick, smooth motion, shrugged once to settle it, and clipped and tightened the restraints. They were introduced to their videographer traveling companions for this leg of the race, George and Laura, and were told to wait on one of eleven white stars set in a large semicircle on the floor. A technician gave them their headsets, which they had to don and check out. A small camera recorded what they were looking at, and a small boom mic recorded clearly what they said. Used to being wired up during a performance, she tried to talk herself into stoically accepting the recording for what could possibly be a nearly continuous three week performance. Then they waited silently as the last three teams were interviewed, cleared and set in position.

George and Laura were busy talking to the other videography teams on the other side of the space. Ariana's eyes ran over the other teams. The videography teams had been part of last night's briefing. The teams would rotate among the racers every leg, to prevent familiarity, had a cell phone to keep in touch with Tom and Zoe, and a small emergency stash of money 'just in case.' One of the videographers was a huge hulk of a man who was literally palming his recorder. She fervently hoped they didn't get him on a leg, and she tried unsuccessfully not to think of what it would be like to try and squeeze into a small taxi with him and his camera.

Nathan startled her out of the spiraling increase of her anxiety by turning to her and saying, quietly, "If we win, will you please do me a favor?"

Even though she was personally certain their odds of winning were much less than one in eleven, she replied cautiously, "An wha might tha be?"

He flipped his boom mic up, leaned close, and whispered in her ear. Ariana glanced up to see that their videographers were still distracted. Standing back up, he smiled and said, "Your choice." She considered the request. It was unexpected but not unreasonable, so she shrugged and nodded. "Alright, tis a deal. If we somehow manage ta win, I'll do it." She was moderately pleased at his sense of discretion.

At last Tom introduced the Celebrity Fantastic Race to the future television audience and went over, yet again, the major rules with extreme brevity, with emphasis on penalty times. He concluded with, "The theme for this race is earth, air, fire, and water, the four ancient elements. Each leg will have at least one of each of those elements as challenges." He turned and gestured to a series of tables. "On my signal, teams will take a table and assemble a world map puzzle. When you successfully assemble your puzzle, you will be given your first clue. To make it more interesting, the maps are geographic, not political - no country names or national borders." After a dramatic pause he called, "Let the race begin!" An airhorn blast ripped the air.

Ariana and Nathan sprinted to the nearest table. Nathan dumped the box of pieces on the table and spread them out with a single long sweep of an arm. Then he looked at her and grinned. "I'll pass you all the edge pieces, then you tell me what to look for, okay?"

"Right." Ignoring the camera, focusing down on the fragments of a world at her fingertips, she let all of her grandmother's myriad puzzle tricks flow back to her.

CHAPTER 2 [Dublin -- Three weeks later]

"There she is! I see her!" Cassie cried out, pointing.

They all stood on tip-toe, attempting to look over and through the milling crowds in the baggage claim. Ariana was following the crowd through the security doors toward one of the carousels, not seeming to be paying much attention to anyone or anything, her inscrutable expression enhanced by her darkened glasses.

Marie, Linnae, Lavender and Cassie slipped through the crowd, finally getting to Ariana as she was lifting her backpack from the conveyor.

"Tis wonderful ta see ya!"

"Ya ar three days later than ya should hae been."

"We hae been keepin our fingers crossed fer ya."

"Welcome home, world racer!"

Their greetings were literally bubbling over as they took turns hugging her, but then stepped back, catching her half-hearted, distracted responses. Ariana dropped her sunglasses into a pocket on her travel vest and smiled half-heartedly. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and a number of small scratches on her face, almost but not quite hidden by makeup, and her eyes were sad. "Tis good ta be home agin."

Marie was looking at her intently. "An you kin no tell us how ye did in tha race?"

With a wan smile, Ariana gave a slight shake of her head. "They hae got me signature on a contract with some pretty dire non-disclosure clauses; so don ask."

"Daniel says tha when we're on tour, he will hae tha show DVR'd so we kin watch it after a performance, since it airs at oor usual show time. We kin hardly wait ta see ye on the telly. It must hae been so excitin!" Cassie gushed.

"Excitin, borin, mostly exhaustin," Ariana replied, cautiously. "What I want now, more than anythin, is a long, hot shower an three days o sleep," and she yawned to emphasize the point.

"You'll hae ta settle fer one night, since ya ar back later than expected. Rehearsal is eight, sharp, tomorrow, and tha plane leaves fer tha first tour leg tha day after."

Ariana, gave a half-hearted sigh which trailed off to a groan as she thought of the Tour as another Race - somewhat slower pace, but much, much longer and far less interesting.

"So, what was it like, racing round tha world with tha president o yer fan club?" Lavender ventured, voicing the question all four of them were dying to ask.

"What would ya do," Ariana said, absently, with a trace of wistful sadness, "if ya met a man who was tha strongest but gentlest, most confident but modest, most intelligent but down ta earth, you had ever met; who was irritatinly even-tempered an thought ya could do no wrong?"

"Marry him," Cassie said promptly, then relented as everyone else, especially Ariana, glared at her. "Sorry, no helpful, I noo."

"Ya forgot ta mention wealthy," Lavender added, archly.