by Alina Adams
Toni smiled at Mr. Sullivan. "Thank you for explaining the situation to us, sir. Would it be all right if we got back to you tomorrow morning with our decision?"
Mr. Sullivan said that would be fine.
"It's not fine," Lucian raged as soon as they were outside. "It's not fine and it's not right, and I don't care if your precious mother and daddy would think I'm acting like a hotheaded mick. I am a hotheaded mick, and that SOB was — "
"Just telling us the facts of life. He was being honest, and your beating his brains in won't change the situation one iota. At least Mr. Sullivan had the good manners to be frank with us. The other tours didn't even bother offering that much respect."
Lucian looked at Toni sideways. "You have a most interesting way of looking at the world, young woman."
"And that's why you love me," Toni reminded.
He conceded, "Among other things..."
Back at the Wright home in Harlem, Lucian refused to let go of the insult they'd been dealt. (Toni had long ago noticed that Lucian seemed to take much more offense at insults to her honor than she did; she supposed it was because he'd had less practice with it.) Lucian stormed, "We don't need them. We don't need any of them, you realize. We're National champions. We're Olympians. We can have a perfectly fine professional career without any of those bastards."
Toni agreed. "I've been thinking that, too. What if we forget about the traditional tours and — "
"Exactly. To hell with them. I bet there are dozens of kids, hundreds even, who would want to take lessons from Wright and Pryce. We could set up our own school. Here in the city, or someplace else. Both our names right out front. We don't need Sullivan and his provincial audiences to make money. We can — "
"Coach?" Toni asked.
"Of course we can. I've technically already been doing it — though don't let the USFSA know; they'll be out for my hide, for sure. And you, you're a natural at any damn thing you put your mind to. I bet we could be the best in the country within just a couple of years. That will show them. They think they can keep us down — "
"Lucian—" Toni interrupted.
"What?"
"Lucian... I don't want to coach."
"What are you talking about?"
"Coaching. I've never really been interested in it. Well, maybe some time down the road, when I'm older and the performing opportunities... But Lucian, I started figure skating because I love to perform. I love being at center ice, all those eyes watching me. And then the applause afterwards. I want to be a star. That's all I ever wanted from this."
"But, Sullivan said — "
"Forget Sullivan. Let's start our own show."
"Oh, come now..."
"Why not? If Sullivan and his ilk can do it, why not us? You just said I was a natural at anything I put my mind to."
"Actually, I said you were a damn natural."
"Even better."
"But what do we know about running an ice show?"
"What did I know about ice skating when I started? What did you know about coaching?"
"Where would we get the money?"
"We'd raise it."
"Daddy?"
"He likes a good investment as much as the next man. Besides, there are other people out there we can talk to. You said it yourself. We're National champions. We're Olympians. Our names mean something."
"And so do the colors of our respective skins," Lucian said.
"I haven't forgotten."
"If Sullivan thinks he couldn't tour the both of us around the country, what gives you the idea we could do it ourselves?"
"We should at least try."
"And if we fail? We'll be laughingstocks. If we fail, we will never get another decent booking. And as for the skating school... who would want to take lessons from a pair of renowned losers?"
"This isn't like you," she said. "When did you become a coward?"
"I am not a coward, Toni. But I am a realist. Always have been, you just never noticed. It was one thing when we were on the amateur scene. I had some control there. I understood the rules and I understood how to manipulate them. I always had a Plan B. I knew that once you and I reached a certain technical and artistic level, even the damn racist USFSA would not be able to ignore us. Not without consequences, anyway. And I knew that you and I could reach that level simply by working harder and smarter than anybody else. This is different. This is asking the money-paying public to go beyond centuries of voodoo prejudice – "
"Don't lecture me about centuries of prejudice, Lucian. Your 'No Dogs or Irish Allowed' barroom signs can't compete with my arsenal, so don't even try."
"My point exactly. Aren't we on the wrong sides of this argument?”
"No. Because my side is about not giving in. How do we know that we'll fail until we try?”
Lucian sighed. "There is a very, very, very narrow window of opportunity for skaters like us to cash in following the Olympics. In one year, it will be even narrower. In four years, no one will remember our names."
"Unless we give them something to remember."
"Like a coast-to-coast failure?”
"I never expected this from you," Toni said.
"And I never expected you to be so blind. And so stubborn."
"Stubborn — and a good degree of closing my eyes — got me this far. Why give it up now?”
"Because," Lucian said softly. "How about because I'm asking you to?”
She hesitated then. After close to an hour of arguing all the while knowing in her heart that she was absolutely right and nothing Lucian might counter could sway her, Toni hesitated. She'd had all her answers prepared for when Lucian tried to tell her what to do. She had nothing to offset his asking her.
"You're asking me to — "
"Yes. I am. For both our sakes. We had a plan, Toni. You and I were going to be married and we were going to have a professional career in skating. Together. Well, as it turns out we can't have one performing. But coaching — coaching, I'm certain, is still within our reach. But only if we act now. So I'm asking you, Toni. Come with me. Let's do what we always planned on doing."
"We planned on performing."
"We planned on being together."
"We still could be."
"No. Not your way. I won't risk looking like a fool."
"So it's your way or — "
"I didn't say that," he warned.
"You are asking me to give up my dream."
"I'm asking you to accept that it won't happen."
"You know, that's the first time you've ever said that to me?"
"This is a problem, Toni, that even I can't fix."
"I understand," she agreed. "But maybe I can."
He had nothing to say in response to that. And Toni, for her part, had nothing to say — to his dismay. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure somehow that everything was still all right. But it was as if one of them were standing in place, and the other swiftly being swept away. Toni figured it was a testament to how many years they'd spent working on moving as one entity, that, even now, she couldn't tell which of them it was that was standing and which one was disappearing. All she knew was that the distance between them was suddenly insurmountable.
As if he were already gone, Toni heard Lucian positing, "I guess you had better contact Sullivan and tell him you're taking the headlining spot on your own. He should be happy to hear it, I'm sure. A woman is always a better draw on these things than a man."
"No. I told you, Lucian. I've made up my mind. I am going to be a star on my own terms. I am not going to take crumbs from some second-rate tour and be grateful somebody's willing to have me. I'm starting my own show. In fact," she said, "I think you're the one who should call Sullivan. Take the solo spot. Even if it's just for a year or so. Nothing better than touring the country for getting your name out there. It will help the coaching career. I'm sure it will."
"We're both rather certain of ourselves, aren't we, Toni? We both think we know exactly what
's right and what's wrong and what everyone should do."
"That's why you love me, isn't it?"
"Among other things..."
Toni didn't speak to Lucian for six months after he left on Sullivan's tour. Her life was simply too busy. And hearing his voice, even on the phone, would have simply hurt too much.
She did as she'd promised. She attempted to start up her own skating tour. She didn't expect it to be easy, and on that count, the experience didn't disappoint.
While Lucian could make cracks about Toni turning to Daddy for funding, the fact was, even if Toni had made that her first approach, her father didn't have the means or the interest. He thought Toni's idea was as ridiculous as Lucian had and, when she revealed she'd turned down Lucian's offer to coach alongside him, agreed with her ex-partner that it was a strategic mistake on Toni's part. (On the matter of their broken engagement, he stayed mum. After all, if he'd pretended not to be aware of it being on, he could hardly comment one way or the other about it being off.)
Toni went looking for capital from alternate sources. Banks turned her down flat. Even Negro institutions like Carver Federal, Unity Bank, and Citizens Trust told her that they saw little profit to be made from subsidizing an ice show, especially one whose unique selling proposition was a black girl as the star.
She tried pitching the tour as a nonprofit and turning to companies that offered artistic grants to dance companies and the like.
"Figure skating isn't art," she was told.
Toni even attempted appeals in churches, suggesting that such a national ice show could be seen as a community event, an inspiration to young people, proof that they could be anything they wanted to be if they just put their minds to it.
"No, they can't," she was told. "And there's no point in your filling their heads with nonsense."
It was while getting her hair straightened at the same Harlem beauty parlor she'd been going to since her mother took her in the second grade, that Toni thought to turn to the women who both ran and patronized such institutions.
She pointed out to the owners that women were the primary audience for figure skating shows. So what better venue to spread the word about their salons? It took her months of literally going door-to-door to beauty parlors — black and white — in all five New York City boroughs before Toni collected enough sponsors to put on her first exhibition. "One Night Only!" the signs trumpeted; Toni neglected to mention that one was all she could afford. It was held in a barely upright 2,500-seat Harlem theater outfitted with artificial ice; Toni was the main attraction and five other girls of indeterminate color— two were Puerto Rican, one was Chinese, and another was something called a Sephardic Jew — served as a makeshift chorus line. She rehearsed them for four weeks; she designed and, with a little help from the other girls, sewed their costumes. She cut the music, hired and trained a lighting director, and wrote advertising copy. She made multiple appearances at every school, Scout Troup, Jack and Jill club, Ladies Auxiliary, and church that would have her, talking up the show, all but begging — all right, begging — people to attend.
Ultimately, they did. After expenses, Toni earned a whopping $3,786 profit. Less than twenty-four hours later, she'd poured it into another show in another town. She invested in her own sheet of artificial ice and proceeded to take it on the road. She toured the South and the Midwest and, even though people told her she was crazy, played three sold-out shows in Hollywood. There, everyone said the public turned out to see the novelty of her. Toni didn't care. They came, they paid, they watched, and they applauded at the end. She was a star.
click to see Video on YouTube
And on her own terms, at that.
She said as much to Lucian when they finally hooked up, by phone. She was in San Francisco, high off another successful engagement at Playland, a small outdoor amusement park in the Ocean Beach area. Her music had needed to compete with the pounding of the waves and the barking of overweight seals, but again, there were applauding audiences and bouquets of flowers and her picture in the newspaper. Lucian was back in New York, on a break from his tour and already coaching a couple of promising skaters part-time. He told Toni about one girl in particular. Eleanor Quinn, her name was. He said she had, in his opinion, incredible potential.
"And that's why you love her?" Toni guessed. She hadn't spent every day with the man for the past decade not to recognize the signs when she heard them.
"Among other things," he conceded. And then, 'Toni..."
"What?”
"If you'd consider—"
"No."
"Just come back and visit. See what we could have here."
"No, Lucian. I can't. I've got momentum now. People have heard of me. I've actually had to turn down two bookings because I could honestly tell them I was too busy. You're the one who taught me how important momentum is in this business. I can't let people forget who I am. So what if I'm just the flavor of the month? What difference does it make? I've got to stretch it out as long as I can."
He sighed. "Eleanor is a beautiful girl."
"I'm sure she is. And I'm sure you'll make her an incredible skater."
"Keep in touch, Toni," he asked. "Promise?"
"I promise."
And Toni did. She even fully intended to make it to Lucian and Eleanor's wedding when they invited her, if only a chance to skate at a 7,500-seat venue in Atlanta alongside several former World champions hadn't come up at the last minute. (She'd be filling in for someone more important, but as always, Toni didn't care what number she was on the guest list as long as she could be a part of it.) She sent her regrets and told everyone who asked that she was genuinely happy for the bride and groom.
She never did understand why no one seemed to believe her.
A few years later, Lucian didn't manage to make it to Toni's wedding, either. Eleanor was eight months pregnant with Sabrina and couldn't travel as far as New York from where they were then living in Seattle. They both sent their best wishes, though, and Toni, for one, had no reason to believe they weren't sincere.
Her husband-to-be, an accountant named Keith whom she'd initially hired to help keep her tour's books and make sure all her taxes were properly paid — and deducted — observed, "It's a shame. After everything you told me about him, I was really looking forward to meeting the great Lucian Pryce."
"You'll get your chance," Toni promised.
And he did.
After Toni's older son, Keith Jr., was born and she realized that, good intentions aside, there was no way she was going to manage hitting the road with a newborn who needed more accessories and support staff than her entire chorus line put together, Toni called Lucian, by then working at the Olympic Training Center in Connecticut, and told him, "I'm ready to coach now."
"It's about time!" he exclaimed.
For the next month, as Toni and Keith prepared to relocate (or, technically, since they'd never lived anywhere for more than a few weeks at a time, actually locate), everyone in skating whom Toni told about her new position would hesitate, lower their voices, and with a concerned hand resting on either Toni's shoulder or her knee, nervously ask, "And how do you feel about that?” (It was the 1970s; people's feelings were the main topic of conversation under any circumstances.)
"Fine..." Toni answered the first several times, unaware of the subtext that was making everyone look so concerned.
Then, when she got a clue, she asked, "You mean because Lucian and — "
"Yes, exactly," they gulped in relief, happy not to have to spell it out for her.
"Oh, Lucian and I are fine. We always were."
"Right," they said. "Of course. Be brave, Toni. We're all behind you."
Which was a nice thing to hear, she supposed. Even if she had no idea what they were talking about.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SKATINGANDSTUFF.COM MESSAGE BOARD
FROM: Sk8luv4ever Posted at 3:18 PM
My friend who skates at the OTC told me Jeremy Hunt is going to be in
the Tribute show. I can't wait to see him. I totally fell in love with Jeremy at Nats last year. He's got what it takes to be World Champion.
FROM: SkatingYoda Posted at 3:22 PM
«He's got what it takes to be World Champion.»
I beg to differ. Jeremy Hunt is barely 14 years old. The puberty monster hasn't gotten him yet. He could be a total flash in the pan as soon as he grows a little and loses all those precocious jumps of his.
FROM: SuperCooperFan Posted at 3:23 PM
Jeremy Hunt might have quads, but he skates like he's 10 years old. It's called MEN'S Singles, not BOYS.
FROM: LuvsLian Posted at 3:34 PM
And I'm sure your opinion about Jeremy has nothing to do with him almost beating your precious Super-Cooper at Nationals this year.
FROM: SuperCooperFan Posted at 3:35 PM
In your dreams. Jeremy didn't take a single judge away from Coop. That second place was a gift from the judges. And speaking of being biased, you only don't like Coop because he cheated on YOUR precious Lian.
FROM: Sk8luv4ever Posted at 3:37 PM
Does Jeremy Hunt even take from Lucian?
FROM: SkatingYoda Posted at 3:39 PM
No. He takes from Toni Wright. But I heard he was going to switch to Lucian this summer. Lucian coached Jeremy's bio dad, Robby Sharpton, so they thought he could work his magic on Jeremy, too, since they skate so much alike. Toni was furious about it. Her best students always end up leaving her for Lucian.
* * *
Toni said, "Do people still think that? Goodness, how many years has it been? Forty years after the fact, are you telling me people still think I'm carrying some sort of torch for Lucian after the man done me wrong?"
"Well, Toni, it's just that, the way everything happened — "
"Nobody knows what happened. Nobody but Lucian and I. Everything else has just been speculation and innuendo, and totally unfounded rumors. In fact, the truth of the matter is..."
Toni trailed off. Just when things were getting interesting.
"What? What's the truth of the matter?"
