I've dabbled in Maddy Bell's GabyVerse before. This story was first printed in the second "Gaby and Friends" anthology last year and is currently being posted on Maddy's site. I hope you enjoy it.
A Gaby Fanfic by Jillian
Keith Davis had been with Sports World magazine for just over two years as a copywriter, and he still held out hope that one day soon he’d get his chance to do a feature. The magazine had whole staffs of writers covering baseball, football, basketball, hockey, golf, and even soccer. But one sport they were lacking in coverage for was cycling. In fact, the only writer who had ever done a story about it had retired the year before and management didn’t seem too torn up about not having anyone assigned.
Keith was a fairly smart fellow, and after studying long and hard the areas of strength and weakness in the magazine’s operation, he determined that his best chance to ever get a feature story would be to become a cycling expert. He started reading everything he could about it, bought a race bike and started riding himself every day. He even started riding to and from work, weather permitting, hoping that immersing himself in the sport would help him gain some insight that he could then turn into a top notch story, and maybe even a career. There were of course plenty of people who thought he was crazy tooling around Manhattan on his bike all the time, but he just shrugged off the occasional strange comments knowing that these were all just strangers and it didn’t matter what they thought anyway.
One Saturday he found himself watching television coverage of the Atlanta Winter Classic, and was captivated by the performance of this precocious girl who was staying toe to toe with the best riders in the world. The commentators said her name was Gaby Bond, and that she was the daughter of World Champion cyclist Jenny Bond. The longer he watched the coverage, the more certain he became that what he was meant to do was to write a feature about the two generations of Bonds combining to dominate the sport for years and years to come.
The following Monday morning Keith was in the office even earlier than usual, and was in the managing editor’s office the moment he arrived. “Sir? I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I had a great idea for a feature article over the weekend.”
“Who are you? Do you work for me?”
“Yes sir, Keith Davis. I’m a copywriter right now but...”
Mr. Tompkins, the managing editor, cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “Davis is it? What are you on about? No, let me guess. You want to be a feature journalist, is that right?”
“Yes sir.”
“And you think you have a can’t miss idea for a feature story for ‘Sports World’ magazine?”
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Forget it. Go back to proofing the box scores for next month’s issue and leave me alone.” As Mr. Tompkins said this, he was pushing Keith out of his office. Once he had pushed him clear of the door, Mr. Tompkins slammed it shut.
Keith dejectedly shuffled his way back to his desk and started the tedious task of fact checking college basketball box scores for the upcoming issue. The next day, Keith again marched into Mr. Tompkins’ office, and again found himself shown the door. They continued this little dance every morning for two weeks before there was finally a change in the routine.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” Mr. Tompkins sighed as Keith once again entered his office. “Okay, so what’s this great idea then?”
Keith walked into the office and sat down in the chair facing Mr. Tompkins’ desk and spoke, “I want to do a feature on the Bond girls…”
Tompkins cut him off, “What? Like the girls from the James Bond movies? Not exactly Sports World material, is it?”
“No sir. Jenny Bond, defending World Champion cyclist and her daughter Gaby. She’s the youngster who was riding alongside Lance Armstrong in Atlanta and asked for his autograph during the race. My research tells me she’s the defending British junior champion. Like mother, like daughter.”
“So you’re thinking of a ‘Future of Cycling’ kind of thing, eh? I understand you’re something of a cycling expert. That why you’re wanting to do this piece?”
“Well maybe just a little. I got interested in the sport just recently because I was looking for a way to make myself more valuable to the magazine. Maybe earn a promotion from the copy desk, up to writing features.”
“I’ll concede that if we get the timing right, it might work. Do you think you can have it done in time for us to run with the Tour de France coverage? Otherwise, our readers won’t give hoot about it, ya know.”
“I think so sir. I’ve got a little more research to do, then I’d need to do the interviews.”
“And where do I have to send you for those?”
“England sir.”
“England? Christ! Can’t you just make a few phone calls, ask a couple of questions, and be done with it? No, I don’t suppose you could. Not for a ‘Sports World’ feature, could you? Okay, I’ll give you this much. Think you can get everything you need over there in a week? I don’t want to have to pay to put you up across the ocean for months while you piddle around, ya know?”
“Yes sir, I can get all the interviews done in that timeframe.”
“Okay, then I’ll give you a tentative okay on the story. I want to see what you’ve come up with before I pay for a plane ticket and hotel though.”
“Yes sir,” Keith said, barely able to contain his excitement. He jumped up out of his chair and reached for Mr. Tompkins’ hand to shake, “Thank you sir, I won’t let you down.”
“You better not son,” he replied, releasing the younger man’s grip and returning to the paperwork on his desk.
Keith left his boss’s office and made a bee line for his desk, where he pulled some legal pads out of a drawer, turned to his computer, and started trying to do some research for his story. He barely moved all day long and ten hours later as he looked up to find that he was the last one in the office, he decided he’d done enough for one day. He shut down his computer, put his notes away, and headed home knowing he needed to hurry if he wanted to ride his bike home because it was starting to get dark.
During his ride home, he was thinking about some of the information he had found that day. Mrs. Bond’s resume was fairly well known, even amongst non-cycling people, but Gaby’s experience seemed to be far more limited. And who was this Drew he kept reading about connected to Jenny Bond? Some reports listed that British title as belonging to Gaby, while others said it was Drew. Were they both national champs?
The next day being Saturday, Keith decided to get out and go for a real training ride. He bundled up of course because it was still New York in March, which meant it was bound to still be pretty cold.
After what for him was an extremely strenuous 25 mile ride through city streets and much of Central Park, Keith made his way back home and nearly stumbled through the door, he was so exhausted. After a long hot shower and fresh clothes, he felt human again and got busy compiling lists of questions he thought he’d like to ask each of the Bonds.
Hours later, having spent a lot of time tracking down photos of the Bond family at various events, Keith decided it was time to turn in. But it seemed that while his body was trying to sleep, his brain couldn’t stop going over some of the things he’d found today.
Everywhere he looked Keith had found lots of pictures of Gaby with her mother and sister…in Paris at the end of the Tour Feminin, with her mother and father in Atlanta, the whole family together in Germany…the list went on and on. The strange thing was, while he found lots of race results that listed Drew Bond as winner, he was hard pressed to fine photographic examples of the boy’s existence. What was going on here? Was Drew an alias for Gaby so she could race against stronger competition? Or was it something else? This was something he had to figure out, because it could make or break the story.
Sunday meant a ride with his cycle club, which took them a little way onto Long Island before returning to Manhattan for roughly a forty mile round trip. The pace was far more relaxed than his training ride the day before, so even though he was tired when he got home, the exhaustion he felt was nothing like he experienced previously. However, by the time he got back home it was almost time to eat a bite of dinner and unwind a bit before bed. This meant there wasn’t any time for research.
Bright and early Monday morning, Keith was at his desk in ‘Sports World’s’ offices preparing to make a couple of phone calls pertaining to the story. His first call was to the Bond residence in a little town in Nottinghamshire called Warsop. He dialed the number and waited several rings before someone answered.
“Hello?”
“Yes, is either Mr. Or Mrs. Bond available?”
“Whom may I say is calling?”
“Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ magazine.”
“Just a moment…” There were sounds of the phone being set down, steps and muffled voices in the background, then more steps before the sound of the receiver being picked up again signaled that a voice was about to be heard again.
“Mr. Davis? Jenny Bond here. What can I do for you?”
“Mrs. Bond, I’m doing an article for my magazine about the ‘Royal family of cycling’, and I was wondering if it would be possible to schedule some interview time with you, your husband, and Gaby for sometime next week?”
“Well, I’m not a problem and Gaby will be easily enough tracked down, but my husband is currently in Germany working and would probably be easier to get hold of there. When did you say you wanted to do this?”
“Some time next week, ma’am.”
“How about a week from today, say mid afternoon. You can start with me, and then talk to Gaby if that will be all right.”
“Perfect. Thanks for your time.” As he hung up the receiver, Keith started to get a strange feeling about things.
‘She never once mentioned Drew, even though I said it was about the family in cycling. Does that mean anything?’ he thought. After a few minutes of struggling with all the different scenarios floating around in his brain, he decided that he probably wasn’t going to reach any viable conclusions until after the interviews were done at least. So he turned his attention to his next phone call of the morning. He looked up the number for the offices of Biggs Manufacturing.
“Hello, Biggs Manufacturing.”
“Yes, I’d like to speak to Diane Biggs please?”
“One moment sir,” came the voice of the older lady who answered the telephone. He was placed on hold for a minute before there was a click on the line, and the person he wanted to speak with was on the line.
“Miss Biggs?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“My name is Keith Davis, with ‘Sports World’ magazine. I was wondering if you might have a moment to answer a couple of questions?”
“If you tell what this is about, I might.” Diane responded.
“Fair enough. I’m working on a feature about the Bond family and their place in the annals of cycling history.”
“And what do you think I’ll be able to tell you?”
“Well, you were a team mate of Gaby’s in Atlanta. I’d just like to get an idea of what she’s like from a teammate’s perspective.”
“Gaby is a great young rider with a lot of talent, but probably her greatest gift is her ability to know what’s going to happen before it happens.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She can look at the riders around her and tell what they’re going to do even before they do it. It’s like she has an innate ability to read even minute changes in body language that might signal something’s about to happen.”
“For example?”
“Early in the Atlanta race, she’s the one that told our team we needed to pick up our pace and get to the front just as the pro teams put on a push to open up some space between them and the amateurs in the field. If it hadn’t been for that, we would have been left behind with the rest of the pack. And the whole autograph episode was just sort of a diversion to prevent the pros from taking off on a sprint at the feed. It kept us in the hunt, and as a result we took the team prize.”
“Really? Interesting.”
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it? And those aren’t the only examples. During training rides we’d deliberately try to keep her in the dark about when sprints would be coming up, but she always knew and got the jump on us every time. When we’d ask how she did it, she’d say something like ‘you were all looking back to check traffic’ or something like that, or ‘everyone slows down going into a dip, so I took advantage of it to get the jump’. We learned things about tactics riding with that little girl that we never would’ve figured out otherwise.”
“Great. Thanks for taking a few minutes to chat with me.”
“You’re welcome. You happened to ask me about one of my favorite subjects, so it was easy.”
“Well, thanks again. If I have any other questions, would you mind if I contact you again?”
“Not at all. It’s been a pleasure.”
Once Diane hung up the phone on her end, Keith found himself scribbling away furiously trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything in his note taking. He eventually hung up his phone and returned to his computer to do some more research.
After lunch, Keith had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Tompkins to discuss his progress on the story. As he walked into Mr. Tompkins’ office, he saw that his boss was on the phone and was directly him silently toward the chair in front of his desk. Keith sat there a few minutes while Tompkins wrapped up his call, then turned his attention to the young writer.
“So how goes it, Davis?”
“Pretty well. I’ve arranged an interview with Jenny Bond for this coming Monday in Warsop, England, followed by one with Gaby. I need to call Mr. Bond in Germany to see when he’d like to talk. I’m actually hoping I can get him in the day before talking to the Bond girls.
“I just did a phone interview with Diane Biggs, who was a teammate of Gaby’s in Atlanta, and she had some great things to say about the kid. I have a few other people outside the family to talk to, most of which I should be able to do over the phone. George Muller, the Apollinaris team director is another one I’d like to talk to, but I’ll probably try to catch him at the same time I talk with Mr. Bond.”
It turned out that Sunday worked well for both Mr. Bond and Mr. Muller, so that meant Keith would be going to Germany before England. After confirming the interview schedule, he sent an email to Mr. Tompkins letting him know what his travel plans would be and asking whom he should contact about booking flights and hotels for the duration. He was directed to someone in the business office who handled travel arrangements for the magazine, and by the time he left late Monday afternoon, everything had been taken care of.
Again Monday night Keith had trouble getting to sleep as his brain refused to stop running through the facts he’d uncovered so far about the Bonds. He was becoming more convinced by the minute that there was something odd going on concerning Gaby and Drew. He just wasn’t sure yet what that something odd was going to turn out to be. With any luck it could make this story a real eye opener.
Over the next few days, Keith spent a lot of time on the phone talking to various people who had had interactions with the Bonds. He talked to a couple of other members of the Grottoes team Gaby had ridden with in Atlanta, a representative of the British cycling team, and a couple of members of Team Apollinaris.
One of the highlights was on Thursday, when he spoke with Lance Armstrong about the incident in Atlanta.
“Mr. Armstrong?”
“Yeah.”
“Keith Davis with ‘Sports World’ magazine. Do you have a moment for a question or two?”
“Not long, but shoot.”
“It’s actually about Gaby Bond, sir.”
“Now you’ve got my attention.”
“What were your impressions of her when you met in Atlanta?”
“Well, she rides a lot like her mom, very aggressive. Doesn’t hold anything back. I admire that. And on top of that, she’s spooky smart on the road, like she reads other riders’ minds or something.”
“How so?”
“Her whole autograph seeker routine was just a delay tactic. She knew even before we got to the feed what we were planning, and did that to keep us from carrying out the plan.”
“You know, you’re the second person who’s mentioned that incident.”
“I’m not surprised. It was an inspired bit of tactics. Not that it’ll ever work for anyone again in my lifetime,” Lance began to chuckle as he said this.
“Thanks Mr. Armstrong for talking with me.”
“Anytime. So is your rag finally gonna start covering cycling?”
“That’s my hope. This is my first assignment away from the copy desk.”
“Well, good luck kid,” with that Lance hung up the phone.
Friday afternoon Keith was called into Mr. Tompkins’ office for a final ‘pep talk’. “So Davis, you all ready for your trip?”
“Other than needing to finish packing tonight, yes sir.”
“Found anything newsworthy so far?”
“I have some suspicions, but so far haven’t found anything for certain.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Well, it’s all speculation at this point, sir. Recorded race results make reference to not only Gaby, who we saw ride in Atlanta, but also a boy named Drew, who is listed as his age group’s defending National Champion in Circuit and Hill Climb. However, I haven’t been able to find anyone to talk to me about Drew, and in fact I’ve found some reports that actually credit those titles to Gaby.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Tompkins mused.
“That’s what I thought sir. I’d really like to figure out what’s really going on here. The other thing that I want to figure out is just why Jenny Bond isn’t training with her team yet? She missed the preseason mini tour because of ‘illness’, and still hasn’t rejoined Apollinaris. Her husband however is working for them as director of their new youth development program, and he’s spending a lot of his time in Germany while his wife and kids are in England. It’s just all a bit odd, if you ask me.”
“Get to the bottom of this, and it should make a pretty good story. Might even get you the cover.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now get out of here. You’ve got a busy next few days, you probably ought to turn in early tonight so you can start out fresh for your trip tomorrow.”
“Yes sir. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“Just don’t let me down.” Keith was dismissed as Mr. Tompkins returned to his work.
Friday evening he finished packing, and then settled in with his laptop to do a little more background research. Just as he was getting ready to call it a night, he found birth records for the Bond children, and what he found there just added to the confusion. It seems there were records for a daughter, Juliette, and a son Andrew. No mention of a Gaby anywhere he looked. This fueled his curiosity even more, and instead of retiring as he had intended he found himself back at his research much of the night.
Keith had narrowed things down quite a bit by the time morning arrived. It seemed the first mention anywhere of a Gaby was at a charity event at Christmastime just over a year ago. Since then, Gaby has been much more prominent in media reports than Drew ever was. While he knew he was onto something big, he wasn’t in any condition to try and decipher anything right then, so he set his alarm to get him up in plenty of time to get to the airport and crawled into bed for a few hours of well deserved sleep.
He barely made it in time for boarding, and as soon as they were in the air, he found himself back asleep again. There was a changeover in Paris, and the flight attendant woke him just in time to fasten his seatbelt for landing there. On board a smaller commuter flight to Bonn, Keith did manage to stay awake for the final leg of the journey. After breezing through Customs he caught a cab to the hotel, got checked in, and was once again asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
‘Okay, so maybe sleeping so much was a mistake,’ he thought to himself as he woke up about four o’clock Sunday morning. After trying in vain to get back to sleep, Keith decided to get up and ready for the day. He made some extra effort to make sure he looked professional, since today would be his first ever face-to-face interviews, and he wanted to at least look like he knew what he was doing.
After breakfast in the hotel restaurant, he got a taxi to Apollinaris headquarters where he was eventually led to the office of George Muller. As he entered the office he said, “Herr Muller, thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure young man. And please, call me George.”
“Thanks, George. As I told you before, I’m working on a story about what I’m billing as the ‘Royal Family of Cycling’, and wanted to talk to as many people associated with them as I could so I could get a good well rounded picture of what Jenny and Gaby are like.”
“The Bonds are one of my favorite subjects, so fire away.”
He took a seat opposite George and took out a recorder and a steno pad. “I hope you don’t mind if I record this?”
“Not at all. Now, what would you like to know?”
“To start with, how did you discover Jenny?”
“It’s not so much ‘discover’ in her case. When she was younger, she was on the verge of climbing into the world-class ranks before she took time off to have the kids. She continued riding competitively, although not as seriously as before, for several years until the kids got a little older.
“She then decided to take another shot at the big time, as it were. We’d seen her at numerous events around England and were quite impressed, but it wasn’t until last spring that we decided to make the offer.” He paused for a moment to take a sip of water before continuing, “the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Now as for Gaby…”
George cut him off, “Ah, the wunderkind.”
“I remember the announcement that your new youth development program started with her as the first member. Was there any one thing that caught your attention about her? I mean, aside from having a famous mother?”
“Gaby rides like Jenny,” George said with some pride. “They both have this ability to see things during a race that they can use to their advantage. If anything Gaby’s even a better tactician than Jenny. And along with her youth Gaby brings a certain amount of recklessness to her riding.”
“Recklessness?” Keith raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“Well, maybe that’s not the best way to describe it. She is always riding right on the verge of being out of control. That can be very good, and it can be very bad. When it goes well, it puts her in a position to win, but when it isn’t going so well…”
“Gotcha,” Keith jumped in. “And you say these are qualities that make her a great rider?”
“Absolutely. Jenny isn’t quite as close to being out of control as Gaby, but they have very similar styles.”
“Interesting. I just have a couple of more questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” George again took a sip from his bottle of water.
“Is there a reason why Jenny isn’t training with the team right now?”
George thought for a moment before saying, “She’s been ill and is trying to rebuild her strength before climbing back into the fire as it were.”
“And lastly, there are rumors flying around that she’s actually been undergoing cancer treatments. Would you care to comment on that?”
“As I said, she’s been ill. I can’t say anything beyond that.”
“Thanks George for taking some time to chat with me. Where can I find Dave Bond?”
“He’s probably in the garage. There were several wheels in need of truing as I understand it, and he was going to be working on that most of the day. Is he expecting you?”
“Yes he is.”
“Well then, it’s right this way,” George said as he got up and showed the young reporter out of his office.
Keith wandered into the garage and saw someone off in a corner working on bike rims. He assumed this was Mr. Bond and walked up to him. “Excuse me, Mr. Bond?”
The gentleman looked up from his task and after eyeing him for a second responded, “Guilty as charged. What can I do for you?” He started to wipe his hands on his coveralls, but the stopped and just said, “I’d offer to shake your hand, but as you can see I’m not really in a position to do that at the moment. Sorry.”
“I’m Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ sir. We spoke earlier in the week about me coming by to ask you a few questions?”
“Ah yes, the journalist who wanted to talk about Jenny and Gaby as I recall.”
“Yes sir,” he said as he again pulled out his steno pad and recorder.
“Please drop the sir. It’s Dave.”
“Actually, you’re included in this as well. It seems there are quite a few cyclists who swear you are an absolute magician at setting up a bicycle perfectly.”
“Who’s been spreading that kind of horse manure? All I do is talk to the rider and make adjustments until it’s right. No magic here I’m afraid.”
“Well Maria Pinger and Tina Porsche might disagree with you there.”
“So it was those two, eh? I’ll have to remember to change their chain tensions for tomorrow’s practice session as punishment,” Dave began laughing as he said what he obviously had intended as a joke.
“Something tells me they might not appreciate that. So tell me, how exactly did you become a bike mechanic? It’s my understanding you hold a degree in Archeology from Cambridge?”
“True. Well, it all started from trying to keep Jen’s bike in good working order without spending huge amounts of money on new kit. We were rather poor when we first got married. She was racing and I was still harboring dreams of making a living working dig sites. I quickly found just how ridiculous that idea was, and found a job working in an office that paid just enough for us to live on. Then the kids were born and Jenny cut back her riding schedule. She took a job teaching at Warsop College and that’s how things stayed for quite a few years.” He momentarily directed his attention back to the wheel he had been working on, making adjustments here and there until it spun perfectly true.
Keith was amazed at just how quickly Dave had been able to correct the wheel, “Wow, how did you do that so quickly?”
“Oh, it wasn’t that fast really. I’d been sitting here studying it for nearly a half hour before you came up. It just occurred to me I’d best finish up before I forgot what I’d intended to do to it,” again, Dave chuckled.
On a more serious note, Keith asked, “Is it difficult being separated from your family like this?”
“More than you can imagine. Last year Jen was the one living in Germany while I stayed with the kids in England. We decided that wasn’t something we wanted to live through again, so I took this job thinking we’d be able to be together. And the truth is, long term it will be better for that very reason. Unfortunately in the short term we’re still separated by the Channel and half of Europe.” Dave started to get a sad look on his face after he said this.
“So why are you apart right now, if that was the idea behind taking the job?”
“Jen is currently rehabbing, and the kids wanted to finish the school year in England before making the big move.”
“Yes, I’d heard she had been quite ill. Rumor has it she had cancer. Would you care to comment on that?”
“Not really, no.”
“Sorry, but if I hadn’t asked I’m sure my editor would have strung me up.”
“I understand. I just don’t feel comfortable saying anything about Jen’s illness. I don’t think it’s my place, and I will respect her privacy until she tells me otherwise.”
“It’s my understanding that Gaby takes after her mother in a lot of ways.”
“You can say that again. That child scares me to death sometimes.”
“So is it safe to say she’s an aggressive rider?”
“Oh, yes.”
“It’s been said her mother is the same way. Is that true?”
“Yes and no. Jen can be reckless at times, but she usually rides a more controlled race. Gaby goes at it wide open all the time. Sometimes it pays off, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
“Like in Atlanta?”
“Yes. Her aggressiveness kept her in that race even though there was no way in the world she should have been able to stay with those professionals like that. However, you might also want to remember that she passed out at the finish line and had to be revived by paramedics.”
“In America we call that ‘leaving it all on the field’.”
“That about sums it up I think.”
In talking with Dave, Keith decided not to spring his theory about Drew being Gaby for fear it might cause him to tell Jenny not to talk to him the next day. So instead he avoided saying anything about Drew and just stuck to talking about Gaby. “There are beginning to be a lot of people in the cycling world who believe Gaby could easily be as good or better than her mother. What do you think?”
Dave looked at Keith for several seconds while thinking before he answered, “I’m almost afraid to answer that one. Jenny is the reigning World Champion. Will Gaby one day also hold that title? It could certainly happen, but I’m not going to make any predictions because I don’t want to put any undue pressure on my child. That would be a guarantee of failure. No, I think I’ll just say that both are extremely talented riders and I love them both very much.”
“Very diplomatic. Ever consider tackling Middle Eastern peace?” Both gentlemen chuckled over that joke. Once the laughter subsided, Keith asked Dave, “Is there anything you’d like to comment on that we haven’t covered? I know that’s rather unusual, but I thought I’d throw it out there anyway.”
“No, not really. Plus, I really ought to be getting back to work here.”
Keith started to hold out his hand to Dave before pulling it back when he realized with Dave’s greasy hands he would be reluctant to shake with him. He then just said, “Thanks for taking some time to talk with me. I’ll be meeting with your wife tomorrow, and then I’ll be returning to America to start work on the article.”
“Any time, son,” Dave said before returning to his task. Keith slowly walked away, looking over his notes as he did so.
He then returned to his hotel to get some sleep before his flight in the morning. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
Back in his hotel, Keith started sorting through the notes he had taken during the day’s interviews, comparing them with his earlier research. It was while looking at the notes from his time with George Muller, the Apollinaris team director that it struck him.
“He said that Dave had tried to convince him that Gaby was actually a boy named Drew, but he didn’t believe him. So, my suspicions were correct.” After going through the rest of the day’s notes, he picked up the telephone and dialed Mr. Tompkins’ direct line.
After a couple of rings, someone picked up on the other end. Keith started, “Mr. Tompkins? Davis here.”
“Davis! Found anything Earth shattering?” he said with more than a little sarcasm in his voice.
“Maybe sir,” Keith replied.
“Oh really? Like what?”
“I want to make sure my suspicions are correct before I say anything sir,” Keith stated.
Tompkins shot back, “You damned well better! This isn’t some trashy tabloid where you can get by with half-truths and speculations. This is ‘Sports World’ magazine for Christ sakes. We set the standard in this industry.”
“Yes sir, I know. And before I put anything in writing it will be absolutely confirmed.”
“Good! So is this going to be something our readers will be interested in?”
“Sir, if I can prove what I suspect, it will be the biggest story of the year.”
“Keep me apprised then. When do you head for England?”
“In the morning. I’m flying into Manchester, then taking a rental car to a little village called Warsop for my interviews with the Bonds.”
“Don’t let me down on this, son. I took a big chance on you.”
“I won’t sir, I promise.” Keith listened to the line click and go dead on the other end before hanging up himself. He then returned to going over his notes, then got out his recorder and listened to the tapes of the day’s interviews once again to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
It was nearly midnight Bonn local time when he finally turned in to try and get a few hours sleep before his flight in the morning.
The next morning, Keith barely made it to the airport in time to catch his flight. After landing and making his way through the maze of security checkpoints one must navigate when entering another country, he fumbled his way to the car rental kiosk and after some forty-seven kilos of paperwork, was eventually on his way.
It took him a while to get the hang of driving on the wrong side, but eventually Keith had managed to pilot his rental car from Manchester airport to the village of Warsop. Having arrived a couple of hours before his scheduled time with Mrs. Bond, he decided a visit to Warsop College might be a good idea.
He made his way to the Headmaster’s office, where he asked if he could speak to the person in charge, who he found out was a gentleman by the name of Woods. After a few minutes he heard, “Mr. Davis, is it? Please come in.”
Keith stood up and followed the voice into the office where he met Mr. Woods. They took seats on opposite sides of the desk. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Woods. I’m Keith Davis from ‘Sports World’ magazine.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m doing a story about the Bonds, sir. Since you are so familiar with the family, I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions?”
“I don’t see why not. Ask away.”
Keith took out his recorder and notepad. “I hope you don’t mind if I record. I wouldn’t want to mess up a good quote,” he chuckled.
“Not at all.”
“I understand Mrs. Bond has taught here in the past?”
“And is right now, actually?”
“Really?”
“Yes. It seems she wanted something to keep her busy while she works on regaining her strength. We had an opening and were thrilled when she was willing to help us out.”
“I imagine the whole school is rather proud of the Bonds then.”
“Yes indeed. They’ve brought a great deal of honor to this old institution.”
“So, do the students follow cycling?”
“Not too closely, but whenever either Jenny or Drew has faired well in competition, we make sure to acknowledge it in assembly. I believe they deserve the recognition for their talent and hard work.”
“What about Gaby?”
“Pardon?”
“You mentioned Drew, but what about Gaby? Do you mention her performances as well?”
Flustered, Mr. Woods took a second before he could come up with his reply. “But of course. Did I fail to mention her? I’m sorry, old age, memory the first to go and all that,” he tried to brush aside the interrogation, hopefully rescuing everyone’s reputations. “Actually, she was just mentioned this morning in association with our cheerleading squad’s appearance at a competition over the weekend.”
Trying not to get too excited about what he thought he had just learned, Keith calmly replied, “Yes. I think we all know what that’s like from time to time.” He looked at his watch and feigning surprise blurted out, “My goodness, I didn’t realize the time. I have another appointment soon. I hope you won’t mind if I cut things short here?”
Breathing a sigh of relief of his own, Woods said, “Not at all. I understand perfectly.” He stood up and offered his hand to the journalist, “Feel free to contact me again should you have any other questions.”
Rising to shake his hand, Keith replied, “Certainly. Thank you for your hospitality.” He turned and walked out, deliberately trying not to show his excitement as he did so.
Once out in his car, he got the recorder out and listened to the portion of the tape where Woods had failed to mention Gaby. He seemed most shaken by the mention of her name. “I wonder why?” he said to himself as he sat there thinking.
A little later, when he pulled up outside the Bond residence he sat there in the car for a few minutes collecting his thoughts. This was the most important moment of his journalism career, and he was going to do his darnedest to make sure he didn’t screw it up.
Keith grabbed his trusty old backpack that served as his “briefcase” and made his way to the front door. After ringing the doorbell and waiting the longest thirty seconds in history, the door opened and there stood Jenny Bond.
“You must be Mr. Davis. Welcome. Won’t you come in?” she asked as she swung the door wide open for him to enter.
As he stepped across the threshold he said, “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Bond. And please, it’s Keith.”
“Oh, please call me Jenny,” she replied as she led him toward the sofa before taking a seat in the chair facing him. “I’ve never known ‘Sports World’ to pay all that much attention to cycling. How exactly did you wind up doing this story?”
“By choice actually,” he started. “I’m almost ashamed to admit this, but I’ve been with the magazine for three years and this is my first feature assignment. I’d been working on the copy desk, sprucing up press releases for print and proofing various scores and such. When I realized my best chance of getting a good assignment involved having some expert knowledge that was unique, I started looking for a sport that had been more or less ignored in the past that we didn’t really have anyone covering. It didn’t actually take all that much to figure out that something like cycling would be my best bet.”
“And you chose to come talk to me? I’m flattered. I doubt there are many of your readers who would even have a clue who I am,” Jen commented.
“Well, you and Gaby. It seems her little stunt with Lance in Atlanta has garnered a fair amount of interest in the sport,” Keith admitted. “I thought it might be good to take a look at two generations of cycling stars. Speaking of which, will she be joining us any time soon?”
Jenny chuckled nervously before speaking, “Soon. Cheerleading practice.”
“Good, that’ll give us a chance to talk awhile about your career then,” Keith began. “It’s my understanding that the road to becoming a champion has not been what you’d call a straight path. How did this all come about?”
Jenny chuckled again, this time more sincerely before replying, “When I was younger, I rode for the National team. I thought I might actually have a chance of turning pro, but when the kids came along it was better for them that I not be out traipsing around the globe. I took a teaching position here at Warsop College and raced weekends, mostly local.”
“So what prompted your return to a higher level of competition?”
“Once the kids were old enough I started training harder and eventually attracted some professional interest. After I signed with Apollinaris, I found myself being pushed beyond anything I’d ever done before and I loved every minute of it. Then I won the German title and after that the Tour Feminin. All of a sudden I was the one everyone else was chasing after. I was lucky to have won the Worlds.”
“I think your opponents would probably tell a different story. They’d probably say that you ride like a madwoman possessed.”
“I believe any race worth riding is worth trying to win.”
“You do have a reputation for being extremely aggressive out there.”
“As I said, I ride to win.”
“A trait that apparently young Gaby shares with you.”
“You could say that, yes. That child is more reckless than I am though. Over the years I’ve figured out my limits and try to stay within them, if just barely.”
“As opposed to Gaby, who pushed herself so far past her limits in Atlanta that she passed out at the finish?”
“Exactly. I worry about that, but it does me little good.”
“I take it that wasn’t the first time?”
“No, I’m afraid not. She has a tendency to push her body past its limits.”
In an obviously sarcastic tone, Keith added, “And of course, you’ve never done that?”
In as angelic a tone as she could manage, Jenny responded, “Why, of course not.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before she broke out laughing.
“You obviously still deeply love the sport and yet, you’re not currently racing. Why is that?”
“I’ve been ill and am just now beginning to recover enough to train.”
Keith looked at Jenny for a moment as if trying to decide something, then proceeded, “There are rumors about that suggest this illness is actually cancer. Care to comment?”
Jenny turned very pale for a moment, sitting there unable to speak or move. When she finally regained the ability to produce intelligible sound, she said, “I suppose it was bound to come out eventually, wasn’t it? Yes, that’s true. I was diagnosed during the World Championships, had surgery at the New Year, and have just recently been declared cancer free. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster.”
“Yes, I imagine so. Do you plan on returning to racing?”
“Oh, yes. By summer I hope to be back up to a level where I can compete.”
“That’s rather quick, isn’t it?”
“My doctor might say it is, but I’m anxious to return to cycling, plus I’m looking forward to living in the same house as my husband again.”
“I spoke with him yesterday at Apollinaris racing HQ. It’s my understanding that he took the job with Apollinaris for that very reason. Is that correct?”
“Definitely. We’ve lived apart the majority of the time for the last year or so, and neither of us care much for it to tell you the truth. When I’m ready to return to the team, the kids and I will be moving to Germany. But don’t for a moment think he doesn’t deserve that job. He’s easily the best there is at race setup.”
“That’s exactly what Maria Pinger and Tina Porsche had to say as well, so I’m inclined to accept it as fact. The impending move has to be rough for the kids though.”
“Yes, there are some difficulties we’re working our way through.”
Keith paused for a moment to jot down some notes in his pad and checked the tape recorder, deciding to swap out tapes. Once everything was back up and running, he continued, “Sorry about that. If I don’t bring home recorded evidence my boss might think I’m taking a vacation on the company dime,” he laughed at his own joke. “Now then, any regrets?”
Jenny sat there for a long time thinking, not saying a word. When she finally did speak her voice was shaky, as if she was on the verge of tears. “You could say that. I’ve made so many mistakes in the last year, I’ve lost count.”
“How so?”
“I’m not sure I want to talk about it.”
Seeing what he thought might be the opening he’d been waiting for, Keith decided to pursue the point, “All right, let’s back up a bit, shall we?”
Jenny just looked unsurely at the reporter. Undeterred, he continued, “Is it safe to say that you in some ways regret not pursuing your riding career when you were younger?”
“I suppose, but then I wouldn’t have had the privilege of raising my children.”
Keith then asked, “You were very anxious to make the jump when Apollinaris made their offer last spring?”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I may have rammed it down my family’s throats. Until then, we’d always made decisions as a family, and I made that one by myself.”
“Was your family opposed to you joining the tour?”
“No, not at all. They were far more supportive than I ever had a right to expect.”
“So what you’re saying is you feel guilty about having left them alone like that?”
“Yes, there is that.”
“Is there something else?”
Jen sat there thinking again, trying to determine if she really wanted to give voice to the things she had been contemplating for so long. Finally she started, “When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I tried to hide it from my family. I even made up a story about meeting someone new and leaving them so they wouldn’t find out about it. It was so stupid, really.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that one out for the longest time now.” She took a deep breath and let out an audible sigh, then continued, “I convinced myself that I was trying to protect them from it, but in truth I think I was trying to ignore the problem. A bit like an ostrich when it buries it’s head in the sand as a way of hiding from danger. If I didn’t admit to the problem, I could ignore that it existed and carry on just like before. That was the theory anyway.
“I couldn’t have done that had I been at home with my family, because they wouldn’t have allowed it. What really happened though is that I nearly destroyed my family.”
“So what prompted your return home?”
“My doctor told me I had about six weeks to live. When he said that, the only thing I could think of was that I needed to come home and make things right with my husband and children. Until I came home and saw their faces, I was ready to die, or so I thought.
“When I came through that door and told them what was happening, the love and acceptance they showed me…love that I don’t know that I deserved, frankly…made me want to live again.” As she paused, took out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes to try to prevent crying more than she was already, Jen added, “Fact is, I know I don’t deserve them. I can’t let myself do anything that would hurt them ever again.” As she said that she finally lost control, crying openly for some time before finally regaining control of herself.
When she finally had calmed herself a bit she said, “I’m sorry about that.”
“No need,” he said by way of trying to comfort her.
Just then the front door swung open and what sounded a bit like a herd of bison came thundering through the door toward the stairs. Jenny shouted at the source of the sound, “Gaby? That reporter is here, and I imagine he’d like to talk to you.”
The sound calmed noticeably as the teen came slowly into the front room to greet Jenny and the reporter. Keith stood and offered his hand, “Gaby? I’m Keith Davis with ‘Sports World’ magazine. Would you have a few minutes so we could talk?”
Gaby looked at him, then at her mum before replying, “Could I get a quick shower first. We had a hard practice, and I’d like to remove a bit of the smell. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not. I’ll be ready whenever you return.”
As Gaby headed upstairs to get cleaned up Jenny asked, “Would you care for some tea?”
“Certainly. Thank you.”
Jenny went straight to the kitchen and put a pot on to boil, returning a few minutes later with the pot and three cups on a tray. “Here we go. I’m sorry I didn’t think to offer sooner. Where are my manners?”
“That’s all right,” he said. As he took his first sip of English tea, Gaby re-entered the room, this time in jeans and a top with still damp hair and in stocking feet. Upon noticing her return, Keith said, “Welcome back.”
Gaby took a seat on the sofa next to her mum and said, “Sorry for keeping you waiting like that.” She reached over and poured herself a cup of tea, then settled back into her seat as she took a sip.
“You know, I didn’t realize the resemblance was quite that striking before. The two of you both present quite a combination. Beauty with a killer instinct.” Both Jen and Gaby blushed furiously at the compliment.
Jenny was the first to recover from the sudden attack of bashfulness to respond, “I’m fairly sure you’re exaggerating quite a bit, but thank you nonetheless.”
Keith looked at the two of them sitting there for a moment before he continued, “Now, I’m sorry to have to do this, but I’m afraid it’s time we got down to business.” He turned his attention to Gaby and said, “Tell me, do you prefer being called Gaby or Drew?”
Jen jumped up from her seat on the sofa shouting, “I think it’s time you leave!”
Flustered, thought not unexpectedly so, Keith looked calmly at her and said, “Ma’am, I figured this out just from what I found researching on the Internet. I can guarantee that if I figured it out, there will be others. I’m offering the both of you the chance to tell your side of the story. If a tabloid gets hold of it first, that’s not so likely to happen.”
The anger that had been written all over Jenny’s face softened, turning into concern, then resignation as she looked at her child and said, “It’s up to you.”
Keith also turned his attention to the youngest Bond, awaiting an answer. Unfortunately for the longest time one was not forthcoming, as the only thing coming out of Gaby/Drew was a steady flow of tears.
Once finally somewhat under control, Drew said, “The truth is, I’m not sure anymore.”
Jenny sat back down beside her child and placed her arms around him. As she cradled him she whispered, “There, there. It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
“How? How can it be all right? I’m not even sure who I am anymore.”
“I know, sweetheart. It’s not fair that you have to deal with this. But life isn’t fair. We can wish it were all we want, but that’s just the way it is. Just remember that we love you always and that nothing can ever change that.”
Oblivious to the reporter’s presence, Drew looked at his mum and said, “I want to be Drew more than anything. But it seems like the whole world…even my own body…wants me to be Gaby. I don’t know what to do?”
Jenny looked deeply into her child’s eyes and solemnly swore, “Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a gifted athlete. I see an intelligent young person who has an incredibly caring spirit. I see a person I’m proud to say is a member of my family. Nothing else matters, does it?”
Drew’s mind was spinning in a million different directions so fast that he couldn’t stop it to think about anything, so he just stared at his mum silently. Jenny looked back at him, trying to think what to say to make all the hurt go away, but she too was having problems thinking, her mind was racing so. Unable to find the answers they sought, she sat there looking at him for another second before finally concluding, “I don’t have any answers for you, but I promise we will find them together. No matter what it takes.”
The two of them held each other, openly crying, for several minutes without interruption. Unable to prevent his own thoughts from joining in the race started by Drew and Jenny’s, Keith eventually cleared his throat and softly asked, “Would you prefer I came back another time?”
Jenny and Drew both looked at him, then back to each other. For some time neither of them were certain what to do or say, but eventually Drew seemed to reach some conclusion as he found his voice, “No, now is fine. What would you like to know?”
Jenny jumped in, “Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Drew replied, “I’m sure. He’s right, it’s bound to come out at some point and at least now we have a chance to tell things from our side instead of the tabloids just making it up as they go along.”
Jenny thought seriously about the situation and having finally come to the same conclusion as her son said, “All right.” She then nodded toward Keith.
First acknowledging the supreme sacrifice that was just made by both Bonds, he looked at Jenny and gently smiled while slowly nodding his head to indicate that he appreciated the gravity of the situation. He then turned his attention back to the younger Bond and asked, “How did all this come about?”
Drew looked at his mum before starting, “Christmas before last, mum and Jules…she’s my sister…were going to ride a costumed charity event on the tandem when Jules got hurt and couldn’t ride. Mum asked me if I’d take her place, riding with her on the tandem instead of on my own.” Drew paused for a moment and took a sip of tea to calm his nerves before continuing.
“As I said, it was a costumed event. We were Xena and Gaby.”
“…And you were Gaby. Hence the name,” Keith commented.
“Correct,” replied Jenny.
Drew then continued, “Anyway, we won! We had to stay in costume for the newspaper to get the pictures, and then later had to appear again for the presentation of the check to the charity. I’m not sure why exactly but everyone said it didn’t seem right to do that as me, so I was Gaby again.”
“But that’s just one incident, perfectly explainable. I don’t see how that one incident could have led to this point by itself, so what happened after that?”
“Gaby didn’t make another appearance for awhile. At Easter, my friends and I had planned to do fancy dress for the disco. We all went as Manga characters. It took some coercion on their part, but in the end we all went as female characters.”
Keith started, “I’m not sure I see…”
“The others didn’t want to say ‘Here’s Drew in a dress’, so I had to pick out a girl’s name and Gaby was the first one that came to mind. I took first prize at the disco. My cousin Maddy had put my name in the contest as ‘Gaby Thomas’ to hide the fact that I’m me, but when I won I had to figure out how to collect the prize.”
Keith added, “Which then meant another appearance as Gaby?”
“Yes. I had to dress up and open a bank account as Gaby to cash the check.” This prompted a surprised look from Jenny, who hadn’t known that part of the story.
Drew returned Jenny’s look before continuing, “Then a few days later, Mr. Woods asked to see me. He had evidently discovered that it was me at the disco, and had the idea that he’d like me…or rather Gaby…to be the model for the school brochure. It paid a lot of money, just to pretend to be someone else for a few days. The school paid for new girls’ uniforms for me, as well as breast forms and a complete makeover.”
“I have to say, if I’d never seen you I might be having some trouble believing all of this. That being said, I think you’re one of the loveliest young ladies I’ve ever seen, as weird as it sounds. Sorry, but it’s true. The question remains, how did you get from there to riding in that race in Atlanta as Gaby?”
“Well, as you can tell I’m not exactly what you’d call the manliest, am I? Truth is most of the time when I meet people; I don’t know, they just assume I’m a girl. Plus, after that Christmas photo in the paper, it seems every time I get a mention in the press it’s as Gaby the girl, not Drew the boy.”
Jenny, who for some reason was feeling rather confrontational, decided to interject, “It’s not as if you’ve done anything to dissuade them from thinking that, have you? It’s almost as if we can’t go anywhere or do anything as a family without you doing something that prompts a ‘Gaby’ moment. You fall in a puddle, or scrape up your side so you can’t wear trousers, or just forget to bring a change of clothes.” She shook her head in frustration for a moment before completing her thought, “Truth is, you’ve probably done more to solidify that thinking than anything.”
“I suppose you might be right,” Drew said somewhat dejectedly.
Keith asked, “How’s that?”
“Okay, here’s an example. Just before one of my first time trials last season, I was over at Mad’s and we were working on costumes for a Con. I had on my breast forms and makeup and just forgot what time it was until it was almost too late. I tore out of there and got to the start just in time, not realizing I was still all done up like a girl. After that, a lot of the other cyclists just assumed I was a girl.
“And that doesn’t even begin to get into the number of times I had accidents where I wound up in a skirt because my boy clothes were ruined, or I injured my leg in a race and couldn’t put on a pair of pants. The list of occurrences is rather incriminating. I mean, after people have seen you in skirts a few times they start to assume you’re a girl.”
“And the name?”
“Maddy started coming with me to the weekly Tuesday time trial and mistakenly referred to me as Gaby where John the starter overheard. He started calling me Gaby after that and lots of other folks just picked up on it. Even some of the people who know I’m a boy, like John, think of ‘Gaby’ as a sort of nickname now.”
“I still don’t follow how that led to Atlanta?”
“I, or rather Gaby, got drafted into being a cheerleader when we started forming the group, and when the exchange trip to America was planned, the cheerleading squad was entered in a big competition over there. In order to avoid a lot of uncomfortable questions it was decided that it would be easier if I just spent the whole trip as Gaby, rather than trying to change back and forth for cheerleading.
“I joined up with the Grottoes bike crowd and they invited me to ride with their team in Atlanta. That’s how Gaby wound up riding in that race.”
“I’m sorry for prying, but is that what you were talking about earlier? About not knowing who you are anymore?”
“That might be a part of it, but there’s a lot more as well. All that time as Gaby sort of acclimated me to acting like a girl without thinking about it. I’m pretty sure even more strangers think I’m a girl now than they did before. But I’m also having some physical things…” Drew’s voice faded, as he couldn’t finish the statement.
Keith looked at Drew for a moment seeming rather confused, then turned his attention to Jenny, who eventually explained, “Drew’s having some hormonal problems and one of the side effects is that his body is developing a definite female shape, including breasts.”
Drew blushed so brightly that had it been dark you could probably have read from the glow. “Mum!” he whined.
Keith offered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any embarrassment.”
Drew’s face started returning to a more normal color, then he said, “That’s all right. It’s not your fault, it’s my body’s.”
Turning to address Jenny, Keith said, “It seems your family is dealing with a number of substantial issues at the moment.”
“I’d have to agree on that, Mr. Davis.”
“Keith, remember?”
“Keith,” Jenny replied.
“Knowing what I do now, I don’t really want to write the ‘tell all’ article that we seem to be heading toward. However, you do realize I can’t just ignore all of this, don’t you?”
She looked at him for a moment before replying, “I do. That doesn’t mean I want it all to come out. I don’t want anything to hurt my child, and I’m afraid this is going to do that.”
“I promise to try as much as I can to prevent that from happening. And I’ll make sure your side of things comes out.”
“I suppose that’s all we can ask, isn’t it?”
As he packed his things back into his bag, Keith said, “Listen, I probably shouldn’t do this, but if you give me your email I can send you the draft of the article for you to look over. That way at least you won’t be blindsided when it hits the stands.”
Jenny wrote down an email address on a slip of paper and handed it to the reporter saying, “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
Keith took it from her and replied, “Thank you for your hospitality. And your openness. I hope I can prove to you that I deserve the trust you’ve shown me this afternoon.”
He headed toward the door and just as he was opening it to leave, he turned and said, “My editor may want to have a photographer take some shots for publication. You,” he said directing his comments toward Drew, “might want to think about whether those pictures will be of Drew or Gaby. No pressure here, but just so you know, Gaby has a quickly growing fan base in America. Stunts like the one you pulled on Lance in Atlanta tend to draw attention to you, so keep that in mind.” After he opened the door and started to leave he turned again and said, “Thank you for seeing me today. It really has been a pleasure meeting you both.” He then exited, pulling the door closed behind him.
After watching the journalist leave, Jenny sat on the sofa and began comforting her younger child. Many tears had been shed, as they both worried about what would become of the story they had told the reporter. They hoped nothing too awful would come of it, but then they weren’t too sure.
At one point, Jenny tentatively asked, “Drew?”
“Yes mum?”
“Are you going to be all right? I mean if all this comes out?”
“I think so. It’s not as if his magazine has a huge readership in Britain.”
“True, but once the story breaks, there are bound to be other more local publications pick it up in one form or another. They may not be as respectful of our family’s privacy as Mr. Davis has been. We all need to be prepared for this. It could get a bit nasty.”
Drew looked at his mum for a while silently before responding, “I know. I know.”
Once Drew was more settled, Jenny reached for the telephone and dialed Dave’s number in Germany.
On the third ring he answered, “Hello?”
“Luv, I think we have a problem…”
Meanwhile, Keith Davis was driving back to Manchester where he was going to check into a hotel for the night, as the first flight home wouldn’t leave until early the next morning.
Once settled in, he picked up the phone and after requesting an outside line for a collect call, he listened as the phone on the other end rang.
“Tompkins,” barked the voice at the other end.
“Davis here sir. Just wanted to check in with you to let you know that I have everything I need and will be returning home tomorrow. I could have a first draft on your desk by the middle of next week.”
“Good, find anything interesting?”
“You could say that sir. This could prove to be a big one.”
“Just don’t let me down, son. I want to see you in the office as soon as you’re back on American soil, understand me?”
“Yes sir,” Keith replied then listened to the line click dead on the other end. He then replaced the receiver in its cradle, lay back on the bed, and instantly fell asleep.
The following morning as he took his seat on the plane and fastened his seatbelt for takeoff, Keith’s mind raced through everything he had learned on his trip. On one hand he knew for certain that anything other than a complete botched job on the final article was bound to result in him establishing his career as a feature writer. But on the other hand, he knew with just as much certainty that if he failed to handle this thing just right this story could destroy the lives of several well-intentioned and lovely people.
Would it be possible to write the story and not destroy the Bonds? Or was there no way to tell the facts without hurting this family? Those were the thoughts that swirled through his mind as the airliner hurtled across the Atlantic on it’s way back to the New World. Despite the hours of mindless travel, he was no closer to the answers he sought when the plane landed than he was when he left the Bond residence.
Exiting the terminal at JFK, he took a taxi directly to the magazine’s offices in Manhattan, where he went straight for Mr. Tompkins’ office. He knocked the simply reached out and opened the door. Taking a seat opposite Tompkins, who was sat behind his desk, he waited for his employer to end the telephone conversation he was in the midst of before speaking.
“Mr. Tompkins,” he said as his editor hung up the phone and turned his attention toward the young writer.
“Davis! Had a good trip?”
“Yes sir, I think we got some gripping stuff for the article.”
“Good, good. Well, don’t just sit there. Get busy writing. Now shoo!” Tompkins then reached for the phone again while Keith stood up and exited the office. He stopped by his desk for a moment to pick up some more notes for the story, then left the office and hailed a cab to take him home.
Now that he knows all about Gaby, it's time for Keith to write his article. But how will he do it? And what will happen?
A Gaby Fanfic by Jillian
Keith had stared at his blank computer screen for nearly an hour trying to solve his dilemma. Should he tell the world everything he had found out in the last few days, or would it be better to keep some things quiet?
Exposing Drew/Gaby would undoubtedly spark his career. He’d suddenly be a star in the journalistic world for digging up such a sensational story, but at what cost? Was it worth harming that wonderful young person who only wanted to figure out who he was? The more he thought about it, the muddier his thoughts became. Meanwhile in Warsop, the Bond household was stewing over these same questions, though from a slightly different perspective.
Jenny had more or less resigned herself to the fact that the truth concerning her cancer was going to come out. While she didn’t like the idea of the whole world knowing, she knew she’d live through it, whatever happened.
Drew on the other hand was completely terrified of what might happen if his story was exposed. Once everyone knew about Gaby, would he ever be allowed to be just plain old Drew again? Or would he be forced to become Gaby full time, whether he wanted to or not? Maybe it wasn’t logical to be thinking this way, but that didn’t prevent him from doing so nonetheless.
And beyond the personal issues an outing was bound to bring up, there was the question of both of their cycling careers. Would he ever be allowed to compete again? Or would he be shunned forever by his sport before he had a chance to make his mark? And lastly, would Drew’s predicament harm his mum’s riding career? These were all questions that swirled around the household as they anxiously awaited word of what was to happen.
It’s not that the thought of exposure had never occurred to either of them. It had always been a vague concern in the back of their minds before Keith Davis had shown up asking questions. His appearance served to crystallize those concerns and bring them to the forefront and even though they knew they couldn’t really blame him for their predicament, there was in the back of each of their minds a little voice that whispered, “What if…?”
For his part, Keith was in turmoil himself. He found that he cared for this family more than he expected he would and didn’t want to do anything to harm them. But he also had to balance that desire against his obligation to his boss, the magazine, and at least in his mind that vague monolith ‘journalistic ethics’.
As the hours ticked away he found he was no closer to an acceptable resolution and briefly contemplated scrapping the whole idea. However, each time his mind wandered in that direction he reminded himself why he started this project in the first place. He just hoped he could find a way to do it without doing too much harm to the Bonds.
Eventually he said, “I suppose I’d best get started. There’s no way to know how it’s going to turn out otherwise.” Once he finally started typing the story came out almost faster than he could think. Although he admitted the story had to be written, he regretted being the author before it was done. Even with multiple re-writes trying to hone the story both for journalistic and personal reasons, he was done in a matter of hours.
Cycling Royalty
By Keith Davis
In America, cycling doesn’t really have much of a personality beyond our king, Lance Armstrong. That’s not to say we don’t occasionally embrace other athletes when they do something to capture our attention.
Such was the case in Atlanta this past February, when a young British rising star stayed pedal stroke for pedal stroke with Armstrong, even going so far as to ask for an autograph mid race. For Americans this was our first exposure to this youngster’s antics, though it turns out that in Britain they had already started to recognize this young genius in the making.
The offspring of reigning World Champion Jenny Bond had in the same season that mom won not only that World title but also the Women’s Tour de France, collected Youth National Championships in Circuit racing and Hillclimb, thus prompting some European journalists to dub them ‘Cycling’s Royal Family’.
This might make you think that the Bond family was just one of those lucky ones that everything works out for and nothing ever goes wrong. The truth is, nothing could be further from the truth.
The very week she won that World Title, Jenny Bond was diagnosed with cancer, which nearly took her life a scant few months later. She is now said to be cancer free and is working her way toward a return to racing. When asked about the whirlwind her life has been since, Mrs. Bond replied, “It’s been a bit of a roller coaster.”
There is more than title defenses driving Jenny Bond to push herself toward a return to racing. Her husband Dave has recently taken a job as Youth Development Program Director for Apollinaris, the team Jenny raced for last season, and is currently commuting between the family’s home in England and the team headquarters in Bad Neuenahr, Germany.
When asked about living apart she said, “I’m anxious to return to cycling, plus I’m looking forward to living in the same house as my husband again.”
For his part, when asked about the difficulty of living apart from his family Dave Bond responded, “More than you can imagine. Last year Jen was the one living in Germany while I stayed with the kids in England. We decided that wasn’t something we wanted to live through again, so I took this job thinking we’d be able to be together. And the truth is, long term it will be better for that very reason. Unfortunately in the short term we’re still separated by the Channel and half of Europe.”
Another part of the Bonds’ roller coaster ride this past year is due to the youngest member of the family, Gaby. The aforementioned dual National champion cyclist, Gaby became famous overnight in America as the result of her performance in the Atlanta Winter Classic, where she finished with the lead group, comprised of the world’s best professional riders including the king of American cycling, Lance Armstrong.
When asked about the young Bond, Armstrong offered, “Now you’ve got my attention… she rides a lot like her mom, very aggressive. Doesn’t hold anything back. I admire that. And on top of that, she’s spooky smart on the road, like she reads other riders’ minds or something.”
When asked what he meant by that, Armstrong replied, “Her whole autograph seeker routine was just a delay tactic. She knew even before we got to the feed what we were planning, and did that to keep us from carrying out the plan.”
“It was an inspired bit of tactics. Not that it’ll ever work for anyone again in my lifetime.”
Apollinaris team director George Muller concurs, “Gaby rides like Jenny. They both have this ability to see things during a race that they can use to their advantage. If anything Gaby’s even a better tactician than Jenny. And along with her youth Gaby brings a certain amount of recklessness to her riding.”
When asked to compare the two, Dave Bond said, “Jen can be reckless at times, but she usually rides a more controlled race. Gaby goes at it wide open all the time. Sometimes it pays off, and sometimes it doesn’t.”
With all this talk of Gaby it may be surprising to learn that the beautiful young lady seen riding alongside Lance in Atlanta is not all that she seems. Prior to a year ago, Gaby didn’t exist. She began as a costume worn by the Bonds son Drew for a charity race he participated in with Jenny a year ago last Christmas.
The costume was so convincing no one even had a clue they were seeing a boy. Later, the Gaby character was again given life for another costumed event and eventually through a series of chance circumstances Gaby became a well known figure in her own right.
Drew, who looks far more like a young lady than a young man, is in fact the holder of those championship titles, though in many circles even those accomplishments are credited to Gaby. As for his looks, Drew suffers from hormonal problems, which are causing his body to develop femininely rather than male, and as a result he finds it easier at times to present himself as a girl publicly.
The student exchange trip, which brought young Bond to America, enabling him to ride in Atlanta, was one such instance. As a member of a cheerleading group that as part of the trip participated in and actually won the East Coast Cheer and Dance Championships, Drew decided that, though harder on him, it would be easier for Gaby to be the one making the six week trip rather than risk exposure through changing back and forth between personas. And that’s how it was Gaby and not Drew riding in the Atlanta Winter Classic.
Having seen Gaby both during the race and at various functions after, I found it difficult to believe what the facts were telling me was the truth. Because put simply, you would expect that a boy pretending to be a girl would look like a boy pretending to be a girl. Such is not the case in this instance.
Perhaps it’s a result of the aforementioned hormonal condition, but even when presenting as a male, Drew Bond looks like a lovely young lady trying to look like a boy. This has no doubt on occasion worked to his advantage in leading opponents to underestimate him on the road, but that in no way undermines the considerable talent he possesses.
Jenny Bond had a season for the ages a year ago. With luck, maybe she’ll be able to enjoy more successes of her own. But whether she can or not she can trust that in the person of her child, her legacy in the sport of cycling is secure. Whether ultimately that child is known to us as Drew or Gaby makes no discernable difference, because boy or girl, young Bond is a brilliant athlete and more, a caring, sensitive human being.
The reigning queen may or may not be able to continue, but the sport of cycling can rest assured that the Bond clan will be represented. Whether we should call the heir Prince or Princess is of little import, so long as we can continue to enjoy the ride.
As he was editing what he’d written, Keith fought back wave after wave of guilt. He’d never intended to ruin anyone’s life, but given the content of this article that seemed inevitable.
When the phone rang he quickly looked at the clock and realized he’d been up all night working as it was nearly 7am. He picked up the receiver, “Hello?”
“Davis? Tompkins here.”
“Yes sir? Is something wrong?”
“You could say that. We need all hands in the office in one hour. Be there,” before Keith had a chance to respond, his boss had hung up.
“I wonder what the problem is?” He asked. “Did I get scooped?” He ran in and took a shower, dressed in mere minutes, and was on the streets of Manhattan on his bike before 7:30.
Just before eight he opened the main doors into the magazine offices and was greeted by a throng of nervous staff members. He looked toward Tompkins’ office and could see his editor in the midst of a heated telephone conversation.
Not intending his question for anyone in particular he asked, “What’s going on?”
The receptionist, a girl named Carly for whom Keith had forever harbored a bit of a crush replied, “I heard a rumor that we’ve been sold.”
“Sold?”
“From what I’ve heard, one of those huge publishing houses is buying out our publisher. It’s safe to say everyone’s a bit on edge.”
Turning his attention away from Carly, Keith looked in the direction of Tompkins’ office just as he was coming out.
The room suddenly became silent as the mass of employees waited to find out why they’d all been called into the office early.
Tompkins began, “Some of you may have already heard that our parent company is being taken over by Time Warner. I’ve called you all in to let you know that it’s true.”
There was a spattering of applause rise up from the crowd, which Tompkins quickly squelched. “You may not think that’s such great news when I tell you the rest of my news.” He paused for a moment to let the ominous nature of that statement sink in before continuing, “It seems we are to be merged with Sports Illustrated.”
The applause sprung up once again with that tidbit. Tompkins raised his hands in an effort to quiet the crowd. “Some of us will be offered positions with SI, while others may be given jobs with other publications. And there will be some who unfortunately will be let go.”
The silence that greeted that last statement was deafening. “On your desks you should find envelopes which will contain either your new assignments or your severance. This is all effective immediately. They want us all cleared out of this office by five o’clock today.” Once his announcement was done, Tompkins turned around and went back to his office, where he set a box on his desk and began packing up some personal items.
Keith looked around the office and saw the stunned faces looking back at him. He couldn’t really explain it, but for some reason he wasn’t sad about the news. Maybe it was because he felt he’d been given a second chance concerning the Bonds’ story. Since he hadn’t turned in his draft, as far as SI was concerned the story didn’t exist, which meant he didn’t have to ruin those poor peoples lives after all.
When he made his way to his desk he instantly found the envelope and upon opening it learned that he was to be assigned as a copywriter for Parenting magazine. He found a box under his desk but disregarded it as it would be too difficult to take on his bike. He got his backpack out and started packing up his personal items. Less than an hour later, he was ready to leave when Tompkins called out his office door, “Davis? Got a minute?”
Keith made his way toward his former boss’s office and before he’d had a chance to sit down was asked, “So, I guess you won’t be getting that big chance after all. Sorry son. That’s just the way things go sometimes.”
“I know sir. Thanks for the opportunity.”
“I hadn’t gotten to ask you when you got back. Find out anything interesting?”
Keith thought for a moment and decided this would be an easy way out of his predicament, so he replied, “Didn’t really pan out, sir. Just a bunch of unsubstantiated rumors that turned out to be false.”
“That’s what I figured,” said Tompkins. “Too bad, I thought you might be on to something.”
“Me too, sir. So what’s next for you?”
“I’m being offered early retirement with fully vested pension. My wife would kill me if I said no,” he began to laugh.
“I’m being assigned to ‘Parenting’,” Keith said as the laughter, which he had joined in with subsided.
“Kid, I know you’re a little down about things right now, but trust me. You’re a good writer. You’ll get another chance. I’m sure of it.”
As both men stood up Keith extended his hand toward Mr. Tompkins, who took it as they shook. “Thanks for the opportunity sir,” Keith said as they parted.
“Don’t forget, you’ll get another chance. Just hang in there. Now go get your crap packed up before they start throwing us out on the curb.”
Keith left the office and returned to his desk, where he picked up his now full backpack and headed out the door toward the elevator. Once in the lobby, he went to the security guard’s desk and was allowed into the locked closet where he had always stored his bike.
“Looks like I won’t be back,” he said to the guard.
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“We were sold and they’re shutting down ‘Sports World’. Merging with Sports Illustrated and closing our offices.”
“Sorry to see ya go. You folks were good to everybody in the building. We’ll miss ya.”
“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Keith said as he rolled his bike out the door onto the street. Once outside he mounted up and pedaled his way home.
Twenty minutes later, he was pushing his bike through the door to his apartment. Once the door was closed behind him he took off his backpack and set it on the sofa, then headed over to his desk where his computer was still displaying his story about the Bonds.
He momentarily considered just deleting the story, along with all his notes and research documents, but then decided against that idea. He saved the file first on his hard drive and then to CD, then opened Outlook and clicked on the ‘Write Message’ button. He put in Jenny Bond’s email address and started trying to figure out what he wanted to say:
Jenny,
I have what for you may be considered good news. I was informed today that my magazine has been sold and is being merged into Sports Illustrated. I had not completed the story yet, and now have no intention of doing so. I just wanted to let you know that you have nothing to fear from me.
I will warn you that much of what I found in preparing this article was easily found. You and your family might want to consider preparing for the inevitable.
I’ve made a CD backup of my research and the draft of my story. I’ve attached to this email a copy of said story so you can have some idea just exactly what you can expect to eventually come out, because with a story this big, it’s not going to be a matter of if, but rather when.
Good luck to you in your rehab and impending return to racing. To your husband Dave, who I immensely enjoyed speaking with, and to Drew, whoever he ultimately decides to become, my best wishes.
Keith Davis
Jenny read the email three times and the article twice before she managed to unglue her eyes from the computer screen. She was visibly breathing a sigh of relief upon discovery that her family’s lives weren’t about to be turned upside down by the contents of that story.
As she closed the document and got up from the screen, she looked around the empty room. Yes, they had dodged the issue this time, but how long would that luck hold out? Like he said, there’s no way this doesn’t come out eventually.
She called Dave and informed him of the news, and when Drew and Juliette came home they were filled in as well. On the surface, things in the Bond household more or less returned to normal. But in the back of each of their minds was forever more the thought that it was now only a matter of time before their world would be turned upside down for real.
Monday morning Keith pedaled his way to the offices of ‘Parenting’ magazine to begin his first day of work. With each pedal stroke, he hoped he might possibly be wrong this time and the Bonds might never have to worry about exposure. But each time, reality would shove it’s way back in and remind him that it would in fact only be a matter of time before their lives became the cover story they seemed destined to be.
The End