More footage from the free dance: the choreography is formal, but the way Katarina and Heath perform it makes even the most balletic movements carnal. Anytime they’re in close proximity, it looks as if they’re on the verge of kissing. Anytime they separate, they look desperate to hold each other. With every glance, every touch, every step, they convey longing and desire.
Jane Currer:Ice dance can have a certain sensuality to it, yes. Many programs express the beauty of the love between a man and a woman. But what Ms. Shaw and Mr. Rocha were doing bordered on vulgarity. It was impossible to watch them without picturing…
Producer(Offscreen): Picturing what?
Jane Currer:Well, you know.
Another interview with Lee Shaw, now in a brightly lit television studio. “Come on, man,” he says, scowling with disgust. “I don’t wanna think about my little sister that way.”
Ellis Dean:That program wasn’t figure skating, it was foreplay. Only Shaw and Rocha could make Mozartthatfilthy.
Garrett Lin:I don’t think they planned it. They just got caught up in the moment.
Ellis Dean:Maybe Heath got swept up in the moment. But Kat? That bitch knewexactlywhat she was doing. And it worked.
They hit their final pose: echoing their initial positions, only now they’re close together at the center of the ice and his arms are around her. The crowd roars their approval, but Katarina and Heath barely seem to hear them. Katarina spins in the circle of Heath’s arms and kisses him on the lips. The cheers grow louder.
Jane Currer:I suppose that sort of displaywouldappeal to a French crowd.
Kirk Lockwood:Yes, they played up the sexual tension. But their technique was fantastic too. They hit every element with precision. Perfect timing, clean edges. The only obvious error was their combo lift lasting too long; anything over twelve seconds, there’s a required deduction.
Slow motion footage of the penalized lift: Katarina swings up to sit on Heath’s shoulder in an elegant pose, then drops down so he’s holding her, one hand cradling the back of her neck. Her legs extend, held up by her core strength, creating a graceful arc as they spin.
Kirk Lockwood:It didn’t even look like a mistake. It looked like they couldn’t bear to let each other go.
Katarina and Heath sit together, waiting for their scores. When the marks appear, they embrace again, even more passionately. They seem unaware of the cameras.
“No crying in the kiss and cry for these two!” Kirk Lockwood crows from the commentary booth. “We’ll have to wait and see what the French and the Russians lay down, but those numbers will be tough to top. It’s official: Shaw and Rocha are back.”
Chapter 48
“That was quite a comeback,” the reporter said, holding her audio recorder aloft. “How did you manage to turn things around in the free dance?”
Heath and I sat behind a long table on the dais at the front of the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy’s press room—right in the center, the place of honor.
Reserved for the gold medalists.
“I don’t know,” Heath answered. His hand was on my thigh, hidden by the table skirt. “We were just feeling it today, I guess.”
Volkova and Kipriyanov had to settle for the silver, while Moreau and Emanuel got the bronze. Genevieve, at least, seemed ecstatic about the result. I could barely remember what that felt like, to be genuinely excited over third place.
“We had our doubts about skating to something so traditional,” I said. “But eventually we worked out a way to make it our own.”
The reporters hung on our every word as if the other skaters weren’t even there. I’d spent so many years mired in anxiety over speaking to the media, but this was almost fun.
“Have you been in touch with your coach yet?” another reporter asked me. “She must be thrilled for you, after the recent struggles you’ve had.”
“Not yet. But I’m sure Sheila will be proud of us.”
I was sure of no such thing. If she’d been there, she would have toldus to stick with what we’d done in practice, to show the judges we could be subtle and refined.
But Sheila was thousands of miles away. And people didn’t want Heath and me to be “subtle” or “refined.” They wanted a grand, epic love story. They wanted raw, rip-your-clothes-off passion. They didn’t simply want us to be lovers—they wanted us to besoin love, we’d burn the whole world down to be together.
By truly connecting with each other, we finally connected with the music. It was the best we’d ever skated, and we had the gold medal to prove it.
I smiled out at the sea of reporters. Heath’s hand slid higher on my thigh.
“Next question.”
