Part 281: Do Or Die
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"So who was it?" Fraulein demanded as she followed Igor from one end of the lobby to the other. "Who gave that money to Au'jean's grandmother?"
"I cannot tell," Igor replied. "I swear I keep the secret."
"You went to the Board of Directors again, didn't you? Didn't you???"
"No. Is nobody from the Board of Directors. But that's all I can say." The anonymous donor was Uncle Vladi. When he heard that Au'jean's grandmother couldn't afford to go to the U.S. Nationals in Salt Lake City, he offered to pay her way. His sole condition was that Igor couldn't tell anybody where the money came from. Uncle Vladi didn't want Au'jean or Mrs. Nelson to feel as if they had to act grateful, or that they owed him anything in return. Igor understood, so he kept silent.
"I *will* find out the truth eventually," Fraulein warned him.
Igor shrugged and walked away. Why did Fraulein care so much about this one particular donation, anyhow? It was none of her business.
Tammy Sue was over by the snack bar, but she'd been mad at Igor ever since Justine arrived. Both Coreen and Lamar tried to intervene, but Tammy Sue told them she couldn't be friends with someone who "disrespected Fraulein in such a horrible way." Besides, she felt that Igor had sabotaged Kylie Yee's Olympic dreams by bringing one of her competitors to the Zug Island Skating Center.
To Igor, this made no sense at all. At his old rink in Moscow, he and Dmitra had trained side-by-side with various rival pairs for years. Right here at the Zug Island Skating Center, Mitzi was training two of the top three pairs in the United States. Kylie Yee hardly ever saw Justine, much less skated on the same ice with her. And what about Cindalee Gomez? Yes, she was injured again and wasn't going to Nationals. But Fraulein had been coaching both her and Kylie since they were little kids. So why should Justine's presence be a problem for her or for anyone else?
"If you ask me, Tammy Sue's using Kylie as an excuse because she's jealous," Lamar later told Igor.
"Jealous? Why?"
"Because of Justine. All women feel threatened whenever Justine's around. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about here."
Yes, Igor had noticed that Lamar's girlfriend, Ayanna, had been hanging around the rink a lot lately. But Lamar had actually slept with Justine once upon a time. Igor was Justine's coach. He wasn't going to sleep with her. Not now. Not ever.
And why should Tammy Sue be jealous? She was the one who was rumored to be dating her partner from Skating With Celebrities. He was an older guy, a former NASCAR driver. Igor couldn't remember his name, and Skating With Celebrities hadn't aired on TV yet, but the latest issue of SkateStarz included pictures of Tammy Sue and this aging, balding speed demon on the ice, looking cozy.
Coreen never mentioned the NASCAR driver in Igor's presence. Maybe he was just a casual friend of Tammy Sue's and she knew so little about him that he rarely entered her mind, much less her conversations. Or maybe the relationship really was serious and Coreen said nothing because she wanted to protect Igor's feelings. Either way, Igor was too proud to ask. He pretended he was so busy with his own skaters that he didn't have time to think about anyone else.
If only life were that easy.
Justine paged through fashion and beauty magazines during the flight to Salt Lake City, gazing enviously at the gold and platinum-haired models in their sexy, skimpy outfits. Igor told Justine that she could go blond again after Nationals, but he recommended that she continue to wear "appropriate" clothing until the Olympics were over. Not that Igor was the kind of coach who wanted to run Justine's life. But even before she came to Zug Island, she knew she had to dress and act a certain way to get the judges to take her seriously, especially when she was competing against the wholesome Vangie Ogilve and that damn stuffed rabbit she still carried around.
Vangie (and the rabbit) had appeared on a number of talk shows during the last four months, and she was already being featured in TV ads for the Olympics. But aside from one brief performance on "The Today Show", Vangie hadn't skated in public at all this season. She'd skipped the Grand Prix series and had even bowed out of the cheesefests. The official word was that Vangie hurt her lower back while practicing some complicated new catch-foot spin that she herself had invented.
"So Little Miss Bunny Wabbit's got a boo-boo," Au'jean Nelson responded when Igor told the skaters in his group what he'd heard about Vangie's injury. "I'm sure somebody will kiss her ass and make it all better."
Igor scolded Au'jean for saying that. It was the first of many times that Justine heard him tell her that she needed to watch her language. He also said it was poor sportsmanship for Au'jean to make fun of another skater's injury. This didn't stop Au'jean, of course. She simply saved her sarcastic remarks for those times when Igor wasn't around.
Thank God Au'jean was too young to be eligible for the Olympic or World teams. Training alongside her was already tough enough. True, Au'jean's work ethic and hyper-competitiveness drove Justine to push herself harder, but it was impossible to keep up with that kid.
Outside the rink, Justine mostly hung around with Mitzi McGuire. They went shopping together and once a week, Justine would go to the bar with Mitzi and allow herself no more than three drinks (four if it was just beer or wine coolers). It was a secret that Justine kept from Igor, just as right now he didn't know that she and Mitzi had treated themselves to a few drinks at the airport bar before boarding this plane to Salt Lake City.
Mitzi continued to drink on the plane, but Justine couldn't get away with anything like that—Igor was right across the aisle. "I can slip a little into your soda," Mitzi offered. "Igor's not looking."
"No, I'd better not," Justine told her.
"It's not like you're underage," said Mitzi. "And it's not like *he's* never been drunk before. You should have seen him back when he first came to this country."
"Yeah, you told me about that," said Justine. She'd heard about Igor's wild ways from other skaters long before she came to Zug Island. Now it seemed as if he lived like a monk, although Mitzi said he'd gone out with a number of different girls in recent years. Russians, mostly. Friends of Larissa's brother, Vladimir. Justine wished Igor would hit on her—he was *such* a hunk—but she knew he wouldn't risk his coaching career.
Of course, Justine hadn't gone without sex the way she'd gone without booze. Her sponsor came to visit regularly. And she knew a couple of minor league hockey players who were always available. Then there was Ivan Lyubovsky, Larissa's sixteen-year-old brother. He was competing at Nationals as a novice, so he was here on the plane with the rest of Igor's students. Every time he looked in Justine's direction, she played with her bra straps, just to see him blush. Oh yes, she would love to turn that boy into a man! She was pretty sure it was legal in most states, but she was also sure that she would get into trouble anyhow. Justine had come so far this past year. She wasn't about to do something stupid.
"So you'll be in Salt Lake City by the end of the week?" Leroy asked.
"Yes." Gladia Rathbone sighed into the phone. "I'll be there. With my husband."
"Your husband?" Leroy had not considered Douglas Rathbone as part of the package. His gut instinct told him that Cassandra should only see her mother, not her father.
"I cannot travel alone," said Gladia. "And Douglas wants to meet his grandchildren." She paused. "He found those pictures you left."
"What does he say about Cassandra's book?" Leroy wanted to know.
"Not much."
"Is he planning to talk to Cassandra about it?"
"I don't know. But he certainly doesn't want Cassandra embarrassing our family. Douglas is a proud man."
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, having Douglas here in Salt Lake City. But Leroy couldn't talk to Gladia any longer because Fraulein was coming. "I've got to go. I'll call you later." He hung up his cell phone and put it away.
"Who were you talking to?" Fraulein demanded.
"My mother," Leroy lied.
"What did she say to upset you this time?"
"Nothing. I'm not upset."
"Well, you don't exactly look calm."
"Why should I be calm? There are three spots on the Olympic team and there are four skaters who have a chance at getting them." Kevin Drake was a shoo-in. Stephen Geddes had been skating pretty well all season, qualifying for the Grand Prix Finals. Leroy, too, had qualified for the Finals, but he hadn't landed his quad in competition all season, whereas Stephen was landing them consistently. Woody Corgan was also landing his quads, even though he'd been coachless for over a year and his program component scores remained in the basement. Still, Leroy would be a fool to count him out. And what about some of those young skaters who'd just graduated from the juniors? One of them could skate the program of his life and Leroy would be left out in the cold.
He couldn't afford to screw things up, on or off the ice.
Cassandra hated to pull the kids out of school just as they were returning from Christmas vacation, but she had to drag them to Salt Lake City for two reasons. First, Cassandra's publisher wanted updates on some of the skaters she had interviewed for her book, and Nationals was the easiest place to obtain this information. Second, the American Skating Organization was paying a special tribute to its Olympic gold medalists, opening this year's National Championships with a ceremony. A red carpet had been laid out on the ice, and each U.S. Olympic gold medalist paraded in front of the audience, starting with the oldest skaters, the ones who had competed during Fraulein's era. Cassandra and Reece were in the middle of the pack, following a moment of silence for the late Dane Lelli, who died of AIDS in the early 1990s. Dane was the only Olympic gold medalist missing from today's ceremony. All of the others were here—even Dolly Bouviar, who normally did not appear in public unless the organizers paid her a hefty fee and agreed to a number of conditions that were subject to change without prior notice.
Cassandra supposed she should have felt proud to be among this elite group of skaters. The truth was, this ceremony meant nothing compared to her college graduation last month. After so many years of juggling school, kids, and a messy divorce, Cassandra had finally accomplished her goal. She had earned her bachelor's degree. Larissa flew into town for the ceremony and sat in the audience with Britannia and Alasdair and Bob Cunningham. Reece couldn't make it that night, but he sent flowers. And of course, Eliot was there. He, too, sent Cassandra flowers.
Unlike every other recent college graduate in the Detroit area, Cassandra did not have to worry about finding a job. The first installment of her book advance had come through, and it was more than enough for her and the kids to live on for several years. However, Cassandra did have a summer job lined up at an adult education center. She would be assisting the women who headed the center's literacy department.
Although Cassandra normally would have skipped this gold medal ceremony, her publisher and agent both advised her to attend. Her book would be on the market later this year, and she needed to be visible. And she supposed she should let the kids watch Leroy compete at Nationals, since she was *not* taking them to Japan for the Olympics next month.
It was funny how Britannia did not protest Cassandra's decision. She usually wanted to travel to every one of Leroy's competitions, and of course Cassandra was the mean mother if she said no. But this year, Britannia hardly ever mentioned the Olympics or skating, except for an occasional remark about how Code of Points was ruining the sport. For years, Cassandra had longed for the day when her daughter would lose interest in skating, but unfortunately Britannia had lost interest in everything else, too. Now that Cassandra was finished with school and only had to do revisions on the book, she hoped to spend more quality time with both kids. Lord knew that Leroy hadn't been doing much with either of them lately.
Leroy, of course, was also among the Olympic gold medalists at the ceremony. He stood at the very end of the line, next to Sonja Wang. To Cassandra, the difference between the two couldn't have been more pronounced. Sonja had moved on after winning her Olympic gold medal, whereas Leroy was desperate for another one. Because of the judging scandal, the Olympic gold medal he won four years ago was forever tainted. He wouldn't be happy, though, if he won again. With or without a "real" Olympic gold medal, Leroy would turn pro and spend the rest of his life terrified of being outed. Somewhere along the line, he would marry some woman and make her life miserable. Cassandra could see that coming. Leroy did all he could to make sure the whole world knew he was "dating" Liddy Bell, short of announcing it on Oprah while jumping up and down on her couch.
Glancing at the empty space ahead of her, Cassandra wondered if Leroy would die young like Dane Lelli. Indeed, Cassandra imagined she would bury both of her ex-husbands before the kids were grown. Even if Mitch remained drug-free, the damage was done. And Leroy... God only knew what was going to happen to him. Nothing good, that was for certain.
Despite everything Leroy had done, Cassandra felt sorry for him.
"And do you have a girlfriend?"
Ivan thought he was well-prepared for this day. He'd had a strong season this fall and he felt he had a good shot at winning the Novice Men's title here at Nationals. He did make one stupid mistake in the short program, but his main rival "Gayden" Cayden Poley made even bigger mistakes in the long program. So now Ivan had a National title. True, it was only novice level, but Nationals was Nationals.
The press normally took little interest in the novice events. Most of them didn't bother to show up for the post-competition press conferences. But Ivan was Larissa Lyubovskaya's little brother. That made all the difference.
Larissa had given Ivan plenty of advice on how to handle reporters. So had George Kahuna. Although George was not Ivan's skating agent (Ivan didn't need one at this point), he had gotten Ivan a couple of modeling jobs. The first one was a back-to-school ad for gym bags and the other was for a sports drink.
Ivan had already answered questions about being Larissa's brother and about modeling, school, and what he liked to do off the ice. But when the girlfriend question popped up, Ivan couldn't remember what he was supposed to say. All he could think about were Justine Auberon's bra straps. He knew his face was turning red. Thank God he was sitting at a table, so the reporters couldn't see (or take pictures of) what was happening below his waist.
"I like a lot of different girls," Ivan finally blurted out. The reporters laughed, so Ivan figured he did OK. He was especially pleased with his performance when he ran into Vangie back at the hotel.
"Who are all these different girls that you like?" she demanded.
"Huh?" Ivan didn't think she'd care. He hadn't spoken to her since last spring. When Ivan found out that she had taken some other guy to her high school prom, he made himself forget about her. And he thought that she had forgotten about him.
"I heard about what you said in that interview," Vangie told him.
"Yeah?" One-word answers worked best when a girl like Vangie was involved.
"So who are the girls? Is it somebody from Zug Island? It has to be, because you don't go to school anymore!"
Ivan was *not* going to tell Vangie about Justine. Or about Florrie Parsons, who was looking good these days with her wavy dark hair and her deep brown eyes with the green flecks. Then there was the strawberry blond ice dance coach with the thick glasses who worked at the Lahser Skating Club. The woman had to be Larissa's age or maybe older, but every time Ivan went to pick up Alexandra after her skating lessons, he couldn't take his eyes off that woman. And yeah, he still kind of liked Kylie Yee even though her parents wouldn't let her have anything to do with him.
"So who is it?" asked Vangie.
Ivan shrugged.
Vangie pouted and hugged her stuffed bunny. "I thought we were friends."
"Well, yeah, we are," Ivan told her. "But it's not like we were going out or anything. I mean, I'm sure you talk to a lot of different guys."
"Not really. I did go to my prom with this guy named Tony. But he's just an old family friend—our fathers grew up together. He's not my boyfriend or anything like that." Vangie took one hand off the bunny and put it on Ivan's wrist. "You have no idea what kind of stress I've been under, trying to get ready for the Olympics with an injury and all. And my sister has been horrible to me—horrible!"
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Ivan. "But you did make it to Nationals. And I'm sure you'll make the Olympic team."
"You honestly think so?"
"Well, yeah. There's three spots, right? One for you, one for Justine, and one for... somebody else."
"I hope so." Vangie looked as if she might cry. "I'll just die if I don't make the Olympic team. All my life, that's been my only dream! What will I do if I don't make it?"
Was Vangie really so afraid of not making the team, or was she acting phony like the girls at Zug Island often said she did? Ivan couldn't tell. But he patted her on the back, anyway. "You'll make it. Trust me, you'll make it."
"After the exhibitions," Leroy told Gladia. "I'll tell Cassandra that my mother wants to spend time with Axel before she goes back to Kentucky. I'll bring him up to my hotel room. You and your husband can meet him there."
"We want to meet Britannia also," Gladia insisted.
"That might be a problem," said Leroy. "Axel is too young to understand what's going on with Cassandra's book and all that. But Britannia has read parts of it. So I don't know..."
"It doesn't matter what the child thinks of me," said Gladia. "But please, try to convince her to be nice to her grandfather!"
"I'll do my best," said Leroy. "And maybe if things work out between you and Cassandra, the children will be part of your life—and your husband's."
"You're a fool if you believe that. But I do want Douglas to meet his grandchildren."
"And you want to convince Cassandra not to publish her book," Leroy reminded Gladia.
"Yes, yes..." Gladia paused. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the short program tonight?"
Leroy wanted to tell the old battle ax that he could handle his own skating career, thank you very much. But he cheerfully assured her that he was simply taking a rest before the big event.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Gladia replied. "Because it sounds to me as if you're so distraught over Cassandra's book that you cannot focus on your skating." She hung up her phone before Leroy could respond.
Good Lord, how he hated that woman! He hated her even more when she turned out to be right. Leroy fell on his triple axel and ended up in fifth place after the short program.
"You have got to concentrate!" Fraulein told him afterward. "I don't know where your mind has been all week, but it has *not* been anywhere near the ice! And I'm not just talking about the triple axel. The timing on your footwork was off. Whatever it is, you've got to snap out of it!"
"Cassandra's book," muttered Elsa. "He is worried about Cassandra's book."
"I know, I know," said Fraulein. "But we have to forget about that for now."
Leroy tried. He didn't really succeed, but fortunately seventeen-year-old Duane Carlisle (fourth after the short program) freaked out at the idea of possibly making the Olympic team and skated a disastrous long. And Woody Corgan skated like Woody Corgan. Leroy's long program was far from perfect, but he was good enough to place third overall, behind Stephen Geddes and Kevin Drake. He would be going to the Olympics for a third time.
But first, he had other matters to attend to.
"Is all right, Justine. Is all right." Igor tried to hide the disappointment he felt. After all that hard work, Justine made two major errors in her short program, popping her double axel and then stepping out of the landing of her extremely shaky triple flip.
But all was not lost. Vangie Ogilve had skated worse than Justine. Indeed, not one of the ladies performed a clean short program—except Au'jean. Incredible as it seemed, Au'jean was currently in first place.
"Look," Igor told Justine. "Leroy was fifth after his short, right? But he got third in the long. You can do that. You can do better even. Look at the points—second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. All very close."
Justine blinked back her tears and smiled. "Thank God for Code of Points, huh?"
It wasn't enough. Vangie's long program was nearly flawless, and even with the two-footed triple salchow it was ten times better than Au'jean Nelson's immature, juvenile (but clean) performance. But it didn't matter. Au'jean had built up such a big lead in the short program that Vangie still finished second overall. This wouldn't have happened under the old system. Damn that Code of Points!
And damn that Au'jean, smiling for the cameras, holding her head high like some kind of African princess as she told the press about how she knew going into the season that she was too young to make the Olympic team. "Sure, I'd like to go to the Olympics," she admitted. "But rules are rules. And anyhow, I still get to keep my gold medal."
Her gold medal. A nice piece of bling-bling for Au'jean to take back to the Dee-troit ghettohood. Vangie hoped someone would break into her house and steal it.
But Vangie had to be gracious in front of the media. When it came time for her to talk, she emphasized how much better she felt now compared to earlier in the season. "My short program still needs a lot of work. But I'm sure I'll be ready before I leave for Sapporo."
"And what about you, Justine?" asked one of the reporters. "You had trouble in the short program as well, but you made a remarkable comeback in the long. This whole season, in fact, has been a huge comeback for you. How does this make you feel?"
"Tired!" Justine laughed. "But on Monday morning, I'm going back to work. My coach and I have already talked about upping the technical difficulty in my long program. Every point counts!"
The reporters barely noticed the third member of the ladies' Olympic team, Camilla Wu, who had edged out Kylie Yee for fourth place. But finally, one reporter did ask Camilla, "What are your goals for the Olympic Games?"
Camilla looked the woman straight in the eye and answered in her usual flat, robotic voice, "I just want to skate my best and have fun."
"I thought Grandma and Grampa went back to Kentucky already," Axel remarked as Leroy dragged the boy through the hotel lobby, past Woody Corgan and his groupies, past Dolly Bouviar and her entourage (which included one poor guy who'd apparently been hired just to carry around her birdcages), past the fans who were arguing with an American Skating Organization official over whether or not Au'jean Nelson should be allowed to compete at the Olympics. "It's not fair!" one older woman yelled at the official. "The best skater in the United States cannot go to the Olympics! Or Worlds!"
Closer to the elevators stood that prissy little pansy who had finished second to Ivan Lyubovsky in the novice men's event. "Gayden" Cayden Poley, that was his name. Rumor had it that backstage after the novice men's medal ceremony, the fifteen-year-old went up to Larissa and introduced himself as "the other out gay skater." Leroy steered his son into the elevator and wouldn't even look into Cayden's eyes, although he sensed that Cayden was watching him.
"Yes, your grandparents did go back to Kentucky," Leroy told Axel once they were alone in the elevator. "You're meeting your other grandparents today."
"What other grandparents?"
"You'll see."
Gladia and Douglas Rathbone arrived at Leroy's hotel suite a few minutes early. "Are they here yet?" Douglas asked the instant Leroy opened the door. "Are my grandchildren here?"
Leroy stepped back and let the man walk through the door. Douglas Rathbone was too big—and too loud. Perhaps he spoke this way because he was old and hard of hearing. Or maybe he was one of those rough, tough guys who liked to yell in smaller guys' faces.
Axel was on the floor, watching TV. As he stood up, Douglas opened his arms and growled, "Hey there, big fella! Come say hello to your granddad!" The next thing Leroy knew, Douglas was running across the room, holding Axel upside down. He set the boy on the couch and fake wrestled with him. Axel, of course, loved every minute of it, especially after Douglas said he was "a lot bigger and stronger than I thought you'd be. How old are you now?"
Axel sat up straight. "I'm six."
"Six years old..." Gladia hobbled over to one of the chairs and began the lengthy process of sitting down. "And what shall we call you? Alasdair or Axel or something else?"
"I don't know. My other grandparents call me Al. So do the kids at school."
Leroy hadn't heard about that.
"Except this one third-grader," Axel continued. "He started calling me Alice. I got sick of it and I pushed him. Got in trouble for it."
Leroy hadn't heard about that, either.
Douglas nodded his approval. "So you took on a third-grader, huh? I bet that kid never bothered you again!"
"Nope, he never did!"
"So where's your sister?" Douglas glanced around the room. His eyes met Leroy's. "Didn't she want to come?"
"She'll be here later," said Leroy. "Cassandra took her shopping or something. You will see them both when they come up here to get Axel."
"Gladia tells me she's real smart," said Douglas. "You know, I've got connections at universities all over the country. When the time comes, you let me know and I'll make some phone calls and do whatever I can to make sure she gets a scholarship to a good school."
The man had never taken any interest in Cassandra's education. Why would he want to help Britannia? Was it guilt? Was it part of his scheme to get Cassandra to pull the plug on her book? Or was he just trying to show off.
Leroy guessed it was the latter, because Douglas started bragging to Axel about his football career. He'd even brought some old pictures—and a football. Although Leroy protested, Douglas began to play catch with the boy, right there in the hotel room. Meanwhile, a teary-eyed Gladia took out a camera and snapped one picture after another. Between shots, she turned to Leroy and said, "You have no idea what this means to us! No idea at all..."
"Something's wrong." Britannia's mother stuffed her cell phone into her purse. "Your father says we need to come up to his hotel room right away."
"What happened?" Britannia struggled to carry her shopping bags while keeping up with her mother's frantic pace. "Did Axel get sick or hurt himself or something?"
"I don't know—your father wouldn't tell me!"
When they got to Britannia's daddy's room, he was waiting for them by the door with a strange expression on his face. Britannia gasped. Something *was* wrong—she could sense it.
"Where is my son?" Britannia's mother pushed her daddy out of the way. Britannia followed her.
Axel was sitting on the couch, holding a football. He looked OK to Britannia. But who was that old man making his way across the room?
"Why, look at you!" he said, smiling at Britannia. "You're as tall as your mom! A grown-up lady, almost." He turned toward one of the chairs. Britannia hadn't noticed the old woman sitting there until now. "She's the spitting image of you, Glad! Even more so than her mom. All she needs is a poodle skirt, some bobby socks, and my old letterman's sweater!"
Britannia could not move. She could not speak. She could not breathe. She knew who these people were—Douglas and Gladia Rathbone, her mother's parents. But what were they doing here? Why were they in Britannia's daddy's hotel suite? Was he the one who brought them here?
No, Britannia's daddy would never do such a terrible thing! Sure, he didn't get along with Britannia's mother. And yeah, he was upset about the book. But he wasn't responsible for *this*!
Britannia looked at her mother. She was shaking all over and her face had turned dark red, almost purple. Then Britannia looked at her daddy. He wasn't smiling, but he had a certain twinkle in his eyes that made it all too obvious that he was enjoying this unexpected family reunion.
"How could you???" Britannia asked him. "How could you???"
TO BE CONTINUED...