Shining Through

by Elizabeth Harmon

  Sensing a juicy story, Brett leaned closer. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I met someone in Chicago. But don’t worry,” she added. “I’m keeping it on the down-low, so no one will have any reason to think that you and I aren’t... a thing.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’d hate to deal with family drama, should the truth come out.” His mouth twisted over the words “come out.” “No pun intended.”

  Rumors that they were a couple had been circulating for at least a year. They hadn’t denied them. It was a convenient cover to hide Brett’s sexual orientation from his devoutly religious parents. “So who’s the lucky guy?”

  “Daniil Andreev.”

  Brett sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “You’re not happy for me?”

  “Oh my God, Tabs. Let’s just say I’m concerned.” He twisted his mouth and crossed his arms. “Daniil Andreev isn’t exactly the poster-child for straight laced responsibility. He sat out a season on a drug suspension. Supposedly it was for weed, but you know how they all are over there.”

  She felt a stir of anger, dashed with anxiety. First Peter, now Brett. Was she being naïve to trust Russians... or just Daniil? “No, I don’t know how ‘they’ all are over there. And given your worries about being stereotyped, I can’t believe you’d even say that.”

  “Look,” he said, contrite. “I’m not judging him because he’s Russian. I have nothing against them as you well know.” During rehab following Brett’s most recent surgery, he’d met a handsome hockey player from Moscow with whom he had more in common than injured knees. “But this guy has a reputation for being trouble. Word is that his dad is in deep with both the Kremlin and the mafia. Think about all the nightmares Fiona’s dragged home. You don’t need those complications in your life.”

  Brett was right, she didn’t. Daniil hadn’t mentioned a word about his father though money obviously wasn’t a problem. But these were rumors. Just like the rumors about her and Brett’s alleged romance, they might not be true. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But Daniil was a perfect gentleman and there’s a lot more to people than what’s on the outside.”

  Brett nodded. “I hope you’re right. I just don’t want you to get hurt, Tabs.”

  “I don’t want that either. But he invited me to come and train with him and his coaches in Vancouver, and I said yes.”

  Wilshire Boulevard was clogged with cars much nicer than Tabitha’s decade-old Acura. There was a mystique about Beverly Hills life, even her bargain-basement version. But once skating was over, Tabitha would welcome a move to some normal place she could actually afford. Where would it be? What would she do there? Endless choices were as frightening as having none.

  One thing she knew. A gold medal in the Winter Games would bring more than enough endorsement money to pay for Samara’s school, and to buy land for Fiona, so she could go back to Missouri. If their lives had been disrupted during her skating career, she would make certain they were better off after it. With their futures settled, maybe then, Tabitha could decide about her own.

  A horn blasted behind her. The light had turned green. Tabitha turned right onto Sunset.

  If Rodeo Drive and Beverly Boulevard were where the stars lunched and shopped, the twisting roads that led to Beverly Park were where they lived. The first time Peter had brought her up to Olga’s house, she’d stared wide-eyed at the enormous homes behind tall locked gates. At the security checkpoint that led into Beverly Hills’ most exclusive neighborhood, a man in a dark suit came out to greet her. He cast a suspicious eye at the small dent in the driver’s side door.

  Tabitha smiled. “Hi, I’m Tabitha Turner. Olga Zelanskaya-Encarnacion is expecting me at four.”

  The man nodded and returned to the guard house. Tabitha’s hands felt slick on the steering wheel. A little part of her always dreaded that she would be turned away.

  She watched the guard as he spoke to someone on the phone. This seemed to be taking a long time. Suppose Olga had learned about her night in Chicago? She definitely wouldn’t approve, and Tabitha might be about to pay the price. Shame flamed her cheeks. When the guard signaled for her to lower the drivers’ side window, she braced for the worst.

  “Do you know the way to the house?”

  The knot between her shoulder blades loosened as the barricade rose. “Yes, I’ve been there.”

  The circular drive climbed higher, meandering past homes so large, they resembled hotels. Tom Cruise lived in one, a hip-hop mogul in another. Russian ex-pat Olga and her husband Miguel, an Argentinian energy and communications tycoon, added international flair. Tabitha pulled up to the twenty-foot stone pillars that flanked the entrance to a sprawling Tuscan-styled home. The wrought iron gates parted slowly, like the doors to the Emerald City in The Wizard of Oz.

  A wide brick piazza, adorned with miniature fruit trees and a fountain, fronted the house. As Tabitha pulled up, Olga emerged from the shaded walkway which ran alongside.

  “Tah-bitha, lovely to see you.” Olga wore a simple white silk t-shirt and jeans. Her platinum blond hair was in a ponytail, but the diamonds that glittered on her hands and wrist were anything but casual. She didn’t look happy, but then, Olga never did.

  She escorted Tabitha through the formal living room, to the back of the house. When they reached a casual seating area that overlooked the pool and rear gardens, Olga gestured toward the white sofa. “Please, sit.”

  Tabitha sat and placed her hands in her lap, one atop the other. It was a trick she’d learned from the skating associations’ media people, to not look nervous during interviews.

  “Your family is well?”

  She nodded. “My mother is working in customer service. My sister just started a new semester at USC.”

  “Oh? Did she receive a scholarship?”

  “A small one, for students from challenging circumstances. I’m hoping that if the season goes well, there will be endorsement money so I can help her with tuition. I’d also like to buy my mom some land in Missouri near her family.”

  “Is very noble that you want to help them. I remember what it was like to struggle,” Olga said. “Even as a pair skater, winning silver medal brought more money than I’d ever had in my life. Not that it was enough for me.” She smiled tightly, fingering the diamond tennis bracelet on her slim wrist. “It was why I pushed myself so hard. You’re much the same. I saw that quality, even when you were a young girl.”

  Tabitha nodded. “It’s why I concentrated on ladies’ instead of ice dance.” It probably wasn’t worth mentioning she’d enjoyed ice dance more. “I knew there would be more financial opportunity.”

  “You were also spared the complication of keeping a partner,” Olga said. “Most wise. If I could re-do my career, I would insist on skating as a single, rather than pair. But we don’t have re-dos, and what’s done is done. But your time is here and now, and you must make the most of it.”

  Her mentor let the words register. Tabitha shifted under Olga’s icy, astute gaze. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed. She looked down at her still hands. There was no avoiding the inevitable. “Did you see my programs at Star Spangled Skate?”

  “I did,” Olga said, briskly. “If you were any other skater, I would congratulate your bronze medal. But I know what you are capable of, and I didn’t see it when you skated in Chicago.”

  As terrible as Tabitha felt about her performance, Olga’s disappointment cut even deeper. Like Peter, Olga had championed her when she was nothing. After Tabitha missed the previous Winter Games, Olga’s support hadn’t wavered. She’d invested hundreds of thousands in Tabitha’s training. Did she regret it?

  “I know. I’m not fond of the Antigone program, though Peter feels I need a mature, serious free skate for the Games.”

  “I agree. In a field of young girls, this is a way for you to offer something they don’t. Is the problem the elements or choreography?”

  It would have been e
asier to blame that, but neither was the cause. She knew it, and Olga knew it. “It’s the character I’m playing. A woman who sacrifices everything for her family feels a little too close to home.”

  Olga gave her an arch look. “And you feel you have sacrificed everything?”

  She looked down at her hands. “I don’t mean financially. I couldn’t have stayed in the sport without your help. But at the same time, I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot of things. But when I stop to think about what I’d do if I weren’t skating, I don’t even know.” She sighed. “I’ve been aiming for the Games as long as I can remember. And now, that it’s right in front of me...” she shook her head. “It makes no sense.”

  Olga nodded. “When the prize seems so close, the mind can do strange things. Little doubts can grow into crippling big ones, and you think about changing something good for what you think may be better. That was what I did when I traded my first partner to skate with Valentin Egorov. I thought a more skilled partner would improve my chances to win. I never stopped to consider the negatives.”

  “It sounds like you’re saying I shouldn’t be so focused on winning.”

  “Not at all. But tunnel vision can be dangerous. It led me to hurt people I cared about. Things I couldn’t undo no matter how much I wanted to.”

  “You have regrets?”

  Olga gave another tight little smile. “I don’t regret that I won. But I regret that I hurt people who cared about me. In time, I realized that it’s more important to do what is right, rather than what is best.”

  “It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.”

  Olga sighed and nodded. “True. Fortunately, life has a way of balancing bad with good. My silver medal took me to Argentina, which led to starring in ‘Evita on Ice,’ which led me to Miguel. My former partners found happiness too. Valentin and his lover travel the world doing good by spreading money about. And the former partner who I hurt married the woman he skated with after me, and has found success as coach. In fact, I believe you met one of his students in Chicago, Daniil Andreev.”

  Tabitha stiffened as her heart raced and blood rushed to her face. “How did you know about Daniil?”

  Olga tilted her head, looking perplexed. “I know nothing about him. Only that Peter said Andreev was at the competition and you spoke at the party.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Tabitha said, cursing her guilty conscience, and over-reaction. “We both work with the same choreographer, Mikhail Zaikov. In fact, I have a chance to go to Vancouver on Wednesday, and train with Misha Zaikov and his father.”

  Olga raised her brows. “Oh? For how long?”

  “Through the competition. I’d hoped to go anyway, to support Brett, and watch Mia Lang before I have to compete against her in St. Petersburg.”

  Olga frowned. “Given that you must skate against her twice, at Petersburg Cup and a month later at Nationals, seeing what you are up against will be excellent motivation.”

  The comment struck a nerve. Even Olga saw Mia Lang as a potential threat, and questioned whether Tabitha was sufficiently motivated. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “And Brett is a good friend to you. As you are a good friend to him.” Her ice blue gaze seemed to cut through Tabitha’s defenses. “But not enough to make up for what you feel you are missing out on.”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Even when the mind is clear on a direction, the heart has its own ideas. Russians have proverbs for everything, so in this case I would say that there is season for business, an hour for fun.”

  “And this is the season for business.” Tabitha tried not to sound disappointed.

  “It is. But if a little fun helps you stay on course, that isn’t such a bad thing. Go to Vancouver if that’s what you need. Just be careful.”

  She let out a breath. Olga would not stand in her way. Not only that, she seemed to understand at least a bit of Tabitha’s confusion. “Thank you, Olga. And don’t worry, I’m always careful.”

  It was dark by the time Tabitha arrived home. The cucumber sandwiches Olga served with tea had done nothing to quiet her appetite, so she hoped Fiona was in a cooking mood. The cherry tomato plant her mom kept in the kitchen window had ripened. Maybe she’d make that pasta dish with fresh tomatoes, oregano and black olives. Over dinner, Tabitha would share her good news about Vancouver, and then she would pack and go to bed early. It sounded like the perfect evening.

  Fiona’s car was in its spot by the stairs that led up to the apartment. That was a good sign. But the trunk was open, which was definitely odd. Maybe she’d unloaded groceries and forgotten to close it. Stomach churning, she went upstairs.

  Inside the apartment, chaos reigned.

  The cherry tomato plant was in a box, along with the contents of their kitchen. The folding table and chairs where they ate were stacked by the front door. Boxes were everywhere, along with garbage bags and clutter. Fiona sat in the middle of the living room, amidst piles of record albums. She slammed a stack of Samara’s textbooks into a box with so much force, the floor shook. Tabitha didn’t need to ask what was happening. She’d witnessed this scene enough times.

  “We’re moving.” Fiona looked up with narrowed, angry eyes, “Last night, I told Ken it was over. This afternoon, he called me at work to say that he’d rented our apartment. He wants us gone by tomorrow.”

  “He can’t do that! We have a lease.”

  “No we don’t.” Fiona used the sleeve of her Malibu Beach t-shirt to wipe sweat from her face. “It expired last year, and he was going to raise the rent, but I convinced him to let us stay on month to month. Now the deal’s off. Get packed.”

  Tabitha looked around, flabbergasted and furious, that once again her life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. “Where are we going?”

  “A friend of a friend owns a building on Emerson with a vacant unit. It’s a one-bedroom and costs two-hundred more a month than this place, but it’s close to your rink.”

  Even a one bedroom apartment was better than crashing on a friend’s couch, or moving into a motel room, both of which they’d done. But it meant Vancouver was a no-go. Defeated, Tabitha trudged down the hall to the room she shared with Samara.

  Her sister was engrossed in sorting through the stuff she’d taken down from the wall. As Tabitha came in, she glanced up. “And how was your day?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Tabitha went to the closet and hauled her clothes to the bed. She’d expected to be packing tonight, but not like this. How weird to think she would have come home to a different apartment?

  There was no way she could waltz out of here to do something so frivolous, despite having convinced Peter, Olga and Brett. As much as she longed to break away from her family’s chaotic existence, it was all too easy to imagine that it would never happen.

  The sound of paper ripping made her look up. Samara had torn the large poster of Harry K and was wadding it into a ball. “You’re throwing that out?”

  “I’m tired of looking at it.” She wore a blank expression as she tossed it toward the overflowing wastebasket. The ball bounced off and rolled near Tabitha’s bed.

  “I’ll get it.” She gathered up the ball, along with a few other pieces of trash that littered the floor. An empty water bottle. A red sock worn through at the heel. She tossed them into the trash, then grabbed an empty box and returned to her bed. She tossed in her clothes, then the pictures from her wall.

  “Any word from Mr. Guyliner?”

  “Yeah. He was excited when I told him I’d worked everything out so I could come to Vancouver. Only now I’m not.”

  “How come?”

  “Are you serious? Look around! How could I leave now, with Fiona a mess, and you—”

  “Me, what?”

  “Did you get any of your homework done last night?”

  “Some. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because I don’t want you to flunk out! And we’re getting kicked out o
f yet another apartment! And—”

  “And you staying changes that how?”

  “But I can’t just waltz off to Vancouver like nothing’s wrong!”

  “Nothing is wrong! This is our life. Packing up our shit to vacate in twenty-four hours or less? I’d say we have it down to a science. You hanging around being all worried and responsible won’t make it any easier.”

  “But I could help. You could get your assignments done for class.”

  “Danté and Xtina can help. And I’ll get my assignments done. Seriously, do you think I’m going to jeopardize the career I’ve wanted since I was a little kid watching Pixar?” She gave an exasperated sigh, and turned her attention to the dresser.

  Tabitha sat down on the bed and stared at the collage she’d taken off the wall. Samara had made it from trash she collected at skating competitions, framed it, and given it to Tabitha for her fourteenth birthday. “You’ve spent your entire life coming in second to my skating. I don’t want to rob you of the chance to do something that you want.”

  Samara offered a rueful laugh and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. “Hey, if Fiona hadn’t dragged me along to all of your boring competitions, I probably would have gotten into worse trouble. Look, I’ve got this. Trust me to take care of things. You go to Vancouver, have fun with your bad boy and make me proud.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE’D PROMISED TO PICK HER up at the airport. Forty-five minutes she’d been on the ground and he still wasn’t here. Damn. She should have known.

  Tabitha scanned the lanes of traffic streaming past the arrival terminal. There were taxis, hotel shuttle vans, including one for the Hilton Bayfront, where she was staying. The hell with him. She could get downtown on her own. She raised her hand to signal the shuttle, but it blew right past. The driver didn’t even look her way.