Page 24 of Shining Through

“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 inTheWizard 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.”

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