Free Rush for the Gold: Mystery at the Olympics by John Feinstein Page B

media,” he said.
    “It’s okay, he’s with me,” Susan Carol said.
    The security guy looked confused but held firm. Steviechecked around for Mike Unger, but he had disappeared, no doubt to round up Phelps after his race. There was a lot of noise coming from the pool deck, so he figured Phelps was in the water.
    Magnuson jumped in. “Hey, fellas, cool it,” she said. “This is her boyfriend—right, Susan Carol? The other kid reporter you told me about? It’s fine for him to walk with us.”
    “No, it’s not,” said a voice from behind them.
    It was—of course—Trevor James.
    “Rules are rules. He’s in here on a media badge, he abides by the same rules as anyone else.”
    Now Susan Carol looked frustrated. “Don’t you make these rules to protect the athletes? So we aren’t harassed? This is my boyfriend. I promise you, he’s not harassing me.”
    “We make these rules for the safety and security of everyone. There are no exceptions, even for swimmers’ boyfriends,” said James.
    “For goodness’ sake, this is a swim meet, not the White House,” Susan Carol responded.
    “What would you know about the White House?” James said in a sneering tone.
    “I’ve been there!” Susan Carol said, clearly trying to remain calm—though the “I’ve” came out as “Aahve.” “I interviewed the president. So did he”—she pointed at Stevie—“and we were treated a lot more politely there than here!”
    “I really like this kid,” Magnuson said. She turned to Trevor James. “You want to pick a fight right here with yournext glamour girl? Or you want to walk away and cut your losses?”
    Stevie decided he really liked Christine Magnuson.
    James seemed torn but said, “Fine. We’ll discuss this further in the morning.”
    He stormed off, forgetting, it seemed, that he needed to keep the rest of the media in line. The world’s best swimmer would be arriving in a few minutes.
    When they got to the end of the hallway near the locker rooms, Kelleher was standing there with a tall, middle-aged man who was also wearing the USA Swimming uniform.
    “Susan Carol, I’m sure you’ve met Chuck Wielgus,” Kelleher said. “Stevie, Chuck is the executive director of USA Swimming.”
    “Then he needs to do something about Trevor James,” Stevie said, still angry.
    Wielgus frowned. “Was there more trouble after Bobby left to come find me?”
    “Oh yes,” Susan Carol said. “It was outrageous.”
    Stevie loved both the fact that she said “outrageous” and the
way
she said “outrageous.”
    “I’m truly sorry,” Wielgus said. “Trevor’s new at all this. Mike always handles the media, but I guess he needed some help because of the throngs around Michael Phelps. I told Bobby I would find out what happened as soon as we wrap things up tonight.”
    “How did Michael’s race go?” Susan Carol asked.
    “He won pretty easily,” Wielgus said. “Slow time: 1:56plus, but he looked pretty smooth and easy.” He smiled. “It was
not
as impressive as what you did.”
    Susan Carol gave him The Smile. “I got a little bit lucky,” she said. “I’m not sure Christine knew I was closing in on her. She’ll be watching for me next time.”
    Wielgus laughed. “Still, 57.88 is 57.88, and your coach told me you didn’t taper at all.
    “Look, my apologies for all the confusion tonight. I’ll take care of it. The back door and the locker room hallway are open again, and everyone will get all the time they need with the swimmers after their swims tomorrow and Sunday.”
    “That’s great,” Stevie said. “And I think you might want to talk to Mr. James about his attitude toward the media.”
    Wielgus nodded. “Actually, Steve, I think I need to talk to him about a lot of things.”
    Susan Carol headed to the locker room to shower while Stevie went to the media room to write. Bobby walked with him on his way back to the interview room to listen to Phelps. Stevie was going to write about the