A RARE BREED
By Mary Tate Engels
Published by Mary Tate Engels all rights reserved.
Copyright 2010, Mary Tate Engels
Cover by www.digitaldonna.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be re-sold or given away.
PROLOGUE
Brit led the way, as usual. "Come on. The top brass will never know. They're tied up in a meeting at the lawyers' that's sure to last all afternoon." Juggling two paper bags from Deli Delite, she strode into the empty boardroom with a brashness that reflected a new confidence she'd never had before. Her two best friends followed, protesting mildly, but still willing to go with her.
"Brit Bailey, have you lost your mind?" Ana Evans stepped solemnly onto the thick carpet. "We shouldn't be bringing food in here." Her voice sounded small and hollow against the vast, windowless walls.
Kelly Carlson ambled the length of the room, dragging her fingers languidly along the sleek mahogany table designed to seat twenty. "Enter into the inner sanctum," she said in a wavering falsetto voice. "A place where men make the decisions and women take the minutes."
"And make the coffee," Ana added with a groan.
"There will be no coffee making today. This pleasure is all mine." Brit smiled mysteriously, her green eyes shining with devilment. They all knew that the room was off-limits for all but high-level management meetings. For the secretaries to bring in lunch was unthinkable. But that forbidden element made this little excursion all the more exciting as Brit began unloading the gourmet sandwiches she had ordered for the three of them. "I even got our favorite black walnut chocolate chip cookies for the occasion."
"What occasion?" Dark-haired Kelly returned slowly from the other end of the room. "Are you and Michael getting married?"
"Heavens no!" Brit objected quickly, tossing her blond curls. "Can't I buy you lunch once in a while without getting the third degree?"
"Sure," Kelly said. "But you never have any more extra cash than the rest of us. How did you suddenly get so flush? Rob a bank?"
Brit gestured at the food she had placed at one end of the table. "Please have a seat, ladies. I’ll tell you in due time. This is a celebration. Let me do my thing."
Kelly took a seat and pushed an errant dark strand back from her forehead. "How long do we have to wait before you tell us?"
"Soon. Don't rush me." Brit grinned and proceeded with her plan. "Have you ever thought about what you'd do if you won the Lotto?"
"Have a blast!" Ana, who was busily unwrapping her sandwich, stopped and stared at Brit. "Did you win it?"
"No, no. Nothing like that." Brit folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, barely able to contain her news. "Indulge me for a minute. What would you do if you had the money for . . . oh, most anything you've always wanted?"
Ana didn't have to consider it very long. "If you want to fantasize, I'd go shopping. I'd buy myself a completely new wardrobe, strictly designer-everything. I'd get some of those comfy Italian shoes made of leather so soft they feel like hand-knitted slippers. I'd have matching accessories . . . no, wait! I'd buy really fine jewelry to add the finishing touch. Then, I'd march into Richard W. Brookbank's office, looking like a million bucks, and quit my job. That's my ultimate fantasy!"
"Yeah, new clothes would be great," Brit murmured. "What about you, Kelly?"
"If I had the bucks, I'd buy myself a brand new car." Kelly's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as she talked. "It would make me feel so . . . powerful to walk into a showroom and slap down the cash and drive away in my very own car. No negotiating, no monthly payments, nobody else's trade-in problems." She looked at Ana with a satisfied smile. "Then I'd quit my job."
Everyone laughed at Kelly's determination.
"What about you, Brit?" Ana asked, then before Brit could answer, continued. "Knowing you, you'd go for it all. Fabulous clothes. New hair style. French manicure. New sports car. Everything at once!"
Brit grinned. "Why not?" Then she twisted one blond curl thoughtfully. "What if I said I'd like to go back to college and finish?"
"Why would you want to do that?" Kelly asked.
"Because I'm bored with my job, and I feel stuck. I'm ready for a change. And a challenge."
"You're quitting this rat race, aren't you, Brit?" Kelly asked seriously.
She shrugged. "I'm weighing my options, as they say."
"Okay, I'm dying to know," Ana demanded. "Tell us now!"
Brit sighed. It almost sounded like a fairy tale when she said it aloud, but she couldn't contain her excitement any longer. Her friends deserved to know. "I've been notified that a production company in Hollywood wants to make a movie of my great-grandmother Bonnie's book. Since my parents divorced before Mom's car accident, my inheritance included the family's rights to the book. No one dreamed anything would ever come of that little book."
"A movie!" Ana squealed. "Oh, my God, a movie!"
"What little book?" Kelly asked.
"Long Ago and Far Away." Brit pulled a thin worn book from her purse and shoved it across the table. "Gran Bonnie wrote an account of her life as a trader with the Navajo and Zuni Indians somewhere in New Mexico. The book was published about fifty years ago, made a little revenue for her, then went out of print. Everyone forgot about it, especially me. No one was interested until Dances with Wolves was such a big hit movie. Then some producer started looking at this as a pioneer woman's adventure, love story. At least, that's what my agent says."
"Agent?" Kelly picked up the book and started curiously thumbing through it. "You have an agent? Neat."
"Yep. She negotiated reprint rights with a major publishing house, so the book will come out about the same time as the movie. The advance was quite nice." Brit dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.
"Did they pay you for the movie?"
"They paid a nice chunk for an option to make the movie. Then, what we're asking for is a fee plus percentage of profits and any videos, they might make in the future. But the best part is that they're willing to hire me as consultant on the movie. I’ll be paid for doing something interesting for a change."
"And the opportunity to shop in those fancy shops on Rodeo Drive isn't a bad perk, huh?" Ana teased.
"You've got that right!" Brit said with a laugh.
"This is absolutely incredible! Almost unbelievable." Ana took the book and opened to a photograph in the front. "Is this her picture?"
"Yep. Great-grandmother Bonnie Gatlin."
"She's very pretty. Looks a little like you, Brit, with this blond hair."
"She was a remarkable lady. Her husband died after only a few years of marriage, leaving her with a young child and in charge of a trading post. She made friends with the Indians and eked out a living there instead of giving up and going back to Kentucky."
"Sounds like she was a good old-fashioned feminist," Kelly said.
"Hers is really a beautiful love story," Brit explained. "Bonnie fell in love again after her first husband died. I'm sure that's what the movie will concentrate on. Her other love."
"Listen to this," Ana said, reading from the book.
"Within a week after we buried John, I began receiving gifts of food on my doorstep. I was grateful to my anonymous benefactor, for it was mid-winter, and I had no way of getting anything on my own. One evening near dark, I heard a noise outside the cabin. I was determined to see who was out there. So I grabbed John's rifle and flung open the door. There stood a tall Indian with dark hair to his shoulders and dressed only in a breechcloth. He was certainly magnificent."
Ana paused, and the other two urged in unison, "Go on!"
"We stared at each other for a moment, eyes meeting, surprise in both our faces. I remembered
him as a man from the Zuni village. His name was Knife Wing. Even though I was still holding that rifle aimed at his middle, he calmly put a slain wild turkey on my doorstep and walked away. I knew immediately that he was a rare breed of a man."
Ana looked up with a faint smile. "How utterly romantic."
Brit took another bite of sandwich and tried to act nonchalant. "Bonnie's other love was no ordinary man. He was a Zuni Indian."
"Well, I can tell you one thing," Kelly said, as she rose from her chair. "When this movie debuts, I’ll be the first in line. It sounds like a wonderful love story. I'm very happy for you, Brit."
"Me, too. It couldn't have happened to a more deserving person. Don't forget your old friends when you make it big in Hollywood!" Ana joined Kelly to hug Brit warmly.
"I’ll never, ever forget you!" Brit promised. The next day, she quit her job to pursue the new challenges of her life.
Chapter One
Brit and Michael argued as they wove through the crowded Las Vegas Airport. They were an attractive couple, both blond and athletic, both in their late twenties. They looked like an ideal beautifully matched couple, but they weren't.
Maybe it was a good thing that they were heading in different directions. It would give them time to think about their relationship. Michael was returning to San Diego where he managed a small electronics store. Brit was heading for Hollywood where she'd be special consultant on the movie of Great-grandmother Bonnie's life.
Coming here had been a bad idea, Brit now realized. Somehow Michael had convinced her that Las Vegas would do it for them, would make things better between them. They would have fun, see some shows, win some money, and forget their conflicts. But Michael had been wrong. The whole weekend had been a disaster. And that, she knew, had more to do with them than with gambling.
Still, Brit had learned some important things about herself. And about Michael. He had loved every moment of every wager. He had even stayed at the tables one entire night trying to win back what he had lost earlier. He could not bear losing. Why couldn't he understand that was the nature of betting? The odds favored the house. That was what she hated about it. She felt she didn't have a chance.
Brit tried to pretend that it didn't matter. But it did. She simply couldn't help it.
"Lighten up, Brit. It's just money."
"Just money?" She gritted her teeth. "How can you be so casual about it?"
"I'm not. I still think if I had a few more days, I could double my winnings. I could probably pay for the trip."
"Fat chance."
He halted and glared at her. "I'll pay you back, okay? I should have known that letting you pay for everything was a bad idea."
"Letting me? I don't recall too much objection on your part. Anyway, that's not the point." She shook her head for emphasis and the soft curls of her new hairstyle rearranged themselves around her face. "Flinging money into a bottomless pit is not my idea of fun, Michael. Now I know."
"You're too uptight about it." He turned and continued shouldering his way through the crowd, a suitcase in one hand, his airline ticket in the other.
Brit followed, lugging a hefty shoulder bag with a Gucci label. "It's my pesky middle class values that keep getting in the way," she insisted. "Work hard. Save your money. Do the right thing. Don't take risks."
"Sounds boring to me." He checked his ticket against the posted gate number and motioned. "This is it. Looks like they'll be boarding soon."
Brit sighed and lifted her face for the perfunctory airport kiss. Dutifully following her cue, Michael obliged. At his bland touch, the hope in her ever-optimistic heart dwindled, and she fluffed her blond hair self-consciously and looked down, as if embarrassed that others might be watching them.
"You know what? You've lost your sense of fun, Brit," he admonished, brushing her nose playfully with his finger. Then, before she could respond, he looked behind her, momentarily distracted, and whispered, "I’ll be damned! There's Yolanda! I recognize her from TV!"
Brit turned just in time to see the recently popular comedian moving quickly through the crowd and disappearing behind a door. "Hmmm, so it is."
"See where your money gets you, Brit?" Michael asked as if this were proof of his claim. "It puts you in a position to see and do exciting things, in the company of famous people. Maybe next time we can try Tahoe. I believe I can really win big there."
"Well, we'll see," Brit murmured, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before she wanted to gamble again. There must be other, more exciting—and more satisfying—things to do with her money. "I think they're boarding your plane, Michael."
"Right. Don't have too much fun without me in La La land. See you in a few weeks. We'll celebrate your birthday in style. Call me tonight."
"As soon as I get there." Brit nodded, trying to pretend. But she was no actress. Maybe it was time to be honest . . . with Michael and with her.
He headed for the ramp and, before he disappeared, turned to wave. Brit responded by raising one hand and wiggling her fingers. At that moment, she knew, knew beyond a doubt that she didn't love Michael. In a way, it was a relief to know, to finally admit it, if only to herself. More and more, they had been growing apart, their opinions increasingly distant. She wondered if her new lifestyle and more specifically, her newly acquired money had changed her. Or possibly, him. No, she refused to believe that. Their problem was love, or the lack of it.
Pondering the best way to end this relationship, Brit headed for her charter to L.A. This was another thing she couldn't get used to. When there was no room on any regular flights from Vegas to L.A., Michael had suggested that she charter a flight. So she had reserved a seat on a helicopter which made routine trips to and from L.A. Since she'd never flown in a helicopter, Brit was looking forward to the experience. Yes, she admitted privately, there were some advantages to having money, but they had nothing to do with the rich and famous, as Michael claimed.
"There'll be another couple on the flight, ma'am. I think you'll be thrilled when you see who it is," the ticket agent said when she approached the desk.
"Oh?" Brit dug out her credit card and tapped her fingernails impatiently on the counter. She did not feel particularly chatty after her encounter with Michael.
The agent grinned proudly. "It's Yolanda. I got her autograph."
Brit nodded politely. "How nice." When he finished with the paperwork, she followed him through a side door and was whisked across the tarmac in a little car to join a small group gathered beside a helicopter.
"Hi, I'm your pilot, Frank Scofeld, and this is Mr. and Mrs. Romero."
"I'm Brit Bailey." She shook hands with the pilot, then turned to the couple and recognized the comedian and TV star Michael had pointed out a few minutes ago in the airport.
"I'm Rudi." The big red-haired man nodded toward his wife. "And this, of course, is Yolanda."
Both Rudi and Yolanda were large people, both of them towering above Brit, who was not short at five feet five. Rudi's hair was curly, making his head look massive, and he sported a thick red mustache. Yolanda was nearly six feet tall and she wore her dark hair in a shoulder-length bob.
"Nice to meet you both." Brit smiled cheerfully at the couple as the wind whipped their hair around. Wouldn't Michael get a kick knowing that she'd chartered a flight with Yolanda and her husband? Ana and Kelly would be fascinated with details of how Yolanda wore three sparkling diamond rings on one hand, and her husband wore a string of gold necklaces and gold bracelets.
"What time is it?" Rudi conspicuously checked his Rolex watch. "How long will this take?"
"About an hour and a half to two hours," Frank answered.
"We have to get to L.A. as soon as possible," Yolanda explained with an impatient sigh. "I want to have plenty of time to rest this evening. Tomorrow will begin early because we start shooting the show's new season. And, after all the cash we lost in Vegas, somebody's got to get to work."
"I know what you mean," Brit responded, thinking o
f her own losses at the gambling tables.
"Honey, you couldn't possibly know the kinds of financial pressures I have in this business." Yolanda scoffed indignantly. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."
"Yeah, babe, course it is," said Rudi, squeezing her shoulders in a quick hug with his huge arm. "Look at all the fun we're having. Every day it's something new and exciting."
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "This is fun? I'm hot. Can we get this show on the road?"
"I'm ready when you folks are," said Frank, rubbing his hands together.
The four of them boarded the chopper and, within minutes, were whirling aloft. Brit sat in front with the pilot, leaving the Romeros to banter in the passenger section alone. The helicopter lifted, hovered briefly, and then moved forward over the sprawl of Las Vegas beneath them. The city was much larger than Brit had thought, for there was more to it than the gambling strip.
Majestic music blared into the earphones and blocked the loud thrump-de-thrump of the helicopter's rotor blades whacking the air. Once they were moving in flight, Frank flipped the earphone switch so they could all communicate. "Folks, there's shrimp cocktail and champagne in the cooler. Any questions before we go back to music?"
"Got any beer?" Rudi asked.
"Yep. Help yourself."
"Oh, Frank!" Yolanda motioned to the desert floor beyond the city. "This poor San Antonio gal never had a chance to see the Grand Canyon. Are we going to fly over it?"
"No. The canyon's out of our way to the east."
"How far out of the way?"
"About a half hour, one way."
Rudi spoke up. "You want to see the canyon, babe? It's not too much trouble, is it, Frank?"
"It'll put us off schedule. I thought you folks were in a hurry."
"Not that much. What's an hour? Right Brit? You don't mind, do you? Just a quick swing by the giant hole to show Yolanda?"
Brit shrugged. She had never seen the Grand Canyon from this view. "Go ahead. I'm not in a great hurry."
"I knew you'd be a sport, Brit-babe. Can I get you a beer or something?"
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