by Alina Adams
"Nothing. Nothing that's any of your business, in any case."
"I was just — "
"I know what you were doing, Bex. You're not my first television researcher, you understand. I know perfectly well what your job is. But I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to help you. Not this time. If you were hoping for a confession about how I broke into Lucian's office with the spare key he gave me and sabotaged his skates so that he would fall down, crack his head on the ice, and die all to avenge some long-ago romantic slight, I am sorry. What is it you call it in the television business? A story line? That story line will not be available for you to wrap up in a pretty ribbon and summarize in four minutes during your broadcast."
"I'm sorry," Bex said. Unlike Toni, she wasn't nearly as clear as to what exactly she was apologizing for. But clearly an apology was needed, nonetheless.
"You're certain that Lucian was murdered, Bex?"
"Certain? No," she admitted. "But, it feels that way."
"Well then, I wish you luck in getting to the bottom of this. You know, Lucian wasn't exactly everyone's favorite person. But he did have his good side. Please keep that in mind as you so untiringly dig for the bad."
For the next few hours, Bex hung out at the rink, finishing that part of her job that didn't include looking for murder suspects. She watched Gina, Chris, and Gabrielle run through the programs they were going to perform at the tribute. She took notes on their music choices and on each technical element so that the 24/7 commentators, Francis and Diana Howarth, would have all the key information in front of them once they arrived to host the on-air show.
Chris and Gabrielle, as a one-night-only ice dance team, were skating to "I'm Still Standing" by Elton John.
"I thought it was a pretty appropriate tune for a skater." Gabrielle sang softly, "I'm still standing after all this time/Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind."
"Referring only to skating, of course," Bex said.
"Yes, of course," she said, brightly. "What else could it possibly be referring to?"
Chris had picked a classical piece, or rather several of them, all vaguely familiar selections by Puccini.
When Bex inquired about the symbolism, he explained, "This was my first Olympic Long Program. The night I won my Gold medal, it was the happiest I had ever seen Lucian be. It was the happiest I'd ever been in my life, as well. I thought it was perfect for a tribute. Wouldn't you agree?"
As for Gina, her program was, according to Bex's earlier notes, supposed to be "In My Life" by the Beatles. But when Gina took her spot at center ice to rehearse, what came through the sound system was that Green Day song that was all the rage a couple of years earlier. At least, Bex was pretty certain it was Green Day. Ever the good researcher, she pulled out her laptop while Gina was still skating and double-checked before putting it down as fact in her report for Francis and Diana. A few clicks revealed that Bex had been correct on one count. The song was by Green Day. But her initial assumption about its title was wrong. It wasn't called 'Time of Your Life" (despite that particular phrase being repeated at least four times); it's actual tide was "Good Riddance."
Bex was about to ask Gina about the meaning of — and reasons for changing — her tribute number when she was distracted by Sabrina walking through the swinging doors and into the rink. Lucian's daughter paused at the elevated barrier, taking in the activity going on below in her father's name. She crossed her arms, resting her elbows on the rail, and continued watching without expression. The only time she so much as acknowledged the skaters was when Toni waved from the ice and Sabrina offered a perfunctory nod in return. When Chris also raised his arm in greeting, Sabrina pretended she hadn't noticed.
It was a bit harder for her to ignore Bex, seeing as how the intrepid girl-researcher chose to pop up right next to one of Sabrina's propped elbows and then get about as much in her face as she could to a person who was looking in the other direction.
Bex said, "This must feel so strange to you."
"Hmm," was all Sabrina deigned to reply.
Okay, well, then, let's try the opposite track. Bex said, "On the other hand, I guess being at a rink is like coming home."
Sabrina snorted. "Hardly."
"Really? I'd have assumed you grew up around the ice. All the other coaches' kids that I know — "
"My mother used to bring me. When I was very young. She helped Lucian teach sometimes. Did some choreography, especially for his girls. She'd set up a playpen in the corner and she'd have one of the skating parents, or even some of the girls, keep an eye on me while she taught. Soon as I could walk, though, I got as far away from the ice as possible."
"You didn't like spending the day with your mother and father?"
"When my father was at the rink, all his attention was on his students. And when my mother was at the rink, all her attention was on my father."
"Your mother must have loved him very much."
"She adored him. I never got why, but adore him she definitely did."
"Not like Gina, I suppose?"
Another snort. But Bex had obviously said something pleasing. Sabrina actually snuck a look in her direction.
Bex pressed on. "Sabrina, you mentioned before how you thought something was off between your father and Gina the night before he died."
"Yeah. They were both acting weirder than usual."
"Do you think maybe you could talk a little more to me about it? Maybe, if you described exactly what happened, you and I could — "
"I don't know exactly what happened. I wasn't there all night to watch them play Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I flew in that morning from the city, spent a couple of hours in forced bondage — sorry, bonding — with dear ol' Daddy and the stepmonster — here at the rink, of course; God forbid anyone should have been at the house to welcome me when I arrived — and then, soon as I could, I got out of there. I had a date for dinner. Thank God. Don't know how much Lucian and Company I otherwise could have taken."
Something wasn't adding up for Bex. "I thought you said you hardly ever visit your father."
"Yeah. So?”
"So you're only in town a couple of times every couple of years, and you had a date your first night here?"
Sabrina stared at Bex queerly. "Not that it's any of your business, but I happened to run into a former boyfriend that afternoon. We decided to go out and catch up on old times. What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing," Bex admitted. "It's just that in my business, it's important to make sure all the facts fit together. Or else it's impossible to see the big picture."
"Well, excuse me for living," she snapped. "What? Were you hoping to catch me in a lie so you could pin Lucian's death on me?”
Actually, Bex had been doing precisely what she said, making sure the facts she already had corroborated each other enough to form a whole picture. But if Sabrina wanted to discuss possible culpability in her father's murder, who was Bex to stop her?
"Like I explained, it's important to know where everyone was at a given time so you can reconstruct — "
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've seen CSI. I know the drill." Sabrina turned away from Bex, towards the door. "Look, you don't believe my story? Check it out at the source. My boyfriend, he just walked in." She finished completely turning her back on Bex so she could greet the man then entering the rink. She pointed to her boyfriend.
Craig Hunt.
He'd just walked in, a few inches behind Jeremy, who was carrying his skate bag over one shoulder. Craig carried the garment bag with Jeremy's costume for the show.
Sabrina all but jumped for joy and gave a little squeak when she saw them and, blowing by Jeremy completely, sprung up on her tiptoes to give Craig a kiss. On the lips.
He seemed surprised by the gesture.
But not as surprised as, over Sabrina's shoulder, he was to see Bex.
Craig raised his free arm to gently set Sabrina back down on the ground, detaching his lips in the process. Discombobulated by the
rejection, Sabrina looked around to where Craig was staring. She realized that it was Bex and proceeded to peer suspiciously from one to the other. Well, that made two of them.
The only one looking more confused than Bex, Sabrina, and Craig was Jeremy. But, unlike the rest of them, he decided not to pursue the issue.
"I'm going to get ready for my run-through, okay, Dad?" Jeremy asked.
Craig nodded.
Jeremy gave the assembled adults one last look, shrugged, and moved on.
Bex wished she could do the same thing. But the odds of that happening weren't seeming so good.
Someone had to speak first. Bex hoped it wouldn't prove to be her. Nothing that she could think of to say at the moment struck her as particularly productive.
Craig said, "Hey, Bex."
Not exactly productive. But non-inflammatory. She could go with that. For now. "Hey, Craig."
"You know each other?" Sabrina managed to make her four-word statement sound like a question. No, better, a four-page accusation.
"Yes," Craig said.
"And you and Sabrina know each other." Bex hoped her own, longer phrase didn't sound nearly as accusatory. Unless it should have.
"Yes," Craig said. "From a very long time ago. High school."
"It wasn't that long," Sabrina trilled.
For the first time since she and Craig started dating, Bex felt vaguely smug about her relative youth. For her, high school actually wasn't that long ago. Which she hoped, under the circumstances, was a point in her favor and not against.
She said to Craig, "But I thought you grew up in Connecticut."
"I did."
"So how…"
"Lucian didn't move to Colorado until I was in college," Sabrina explained. "I went to high school in Connecticut, too. You can imagine what a shock it was for me, running into Craig here of all places. I had no idea his little boy skated."
"Yeah," Bex said. "Jeremy is really good. He can do two quads, you know."
Discussing Craig's son's mastery of the Quadruple Toe Loop and Salchow seemed to be the safest avenue to pursue.
"Well, that's just great," Sabrina said, dismissing Bex even as she was pretending to address her. She told Craig, "You said you and Jeremy would be here this afternoon for the rehearsal, so I thought I'd stop by and say hello."
"That's nice," Craig agreed.
"I was thinking, maybe afterwards, you and I — "
Bex didn't need to hear the rest of the invitation. She stomped off.
For the next half hour or so, Bex pouted. Not visibly, of course. Bex was much too professional and mature to allow her feelings to surface while at work. But even as she conferred with the camera crew about where would be the best spots for them to set up based on the notes she'd taken diagramming the various skaters' performances, Bex kept one eye on Craig chatting with Sabrina. And she pouted. On the inside.
When Toni called a break, Bex did, too.
She picked up her laptop and headed inside to the snack bar area, meaning to look busy typing away. She'd barely opened the lid and rebooted when Craig sat down across the table from her and said, "You're pouting."
"Am not."
"Bex..."
"Am not."
"This is silly. I ran into an old friend. She suggested dinner. Jeremy was going out with the other skaters that night, so I said sure. We had a nice time reminiscing about the not-so-good good old days, and then I took her home."
"You went on a date."
"Let's try this again. I ran into an old friend. She suggested — "
"A date."
"Bex..."
"You know, I didn't say no. When you proposed. I may not have said yes, but I didn't say no. We're not over." Bex swallowed hard. "Are we?"
"You're acting silly. And jealous."
"So?"
"So. It's cute."
"Are you sure you don't mean juvenile?"
"You know, Bex, the one who keeps having a problem with our age difference isn't me. It's you."
"What does Jeremy think?”
"About what? Sabrina? He's never even met her."
"About me."
"He likes you; you know that. He's always liked you."
"He liked me when I was some skating researcher who came down to his rink to ask him questions for a TV show. He liked me when I was hanging out with his dad — at least, I think he did. How much do you think he'll like me if he knew you asked me to marry you? Does he know?”
"No. Jeremy's had enough happen to him this past year. I have no intention of upsetting his life any further until I know exactly where we're headed."
"So I'm right. You think this will upset him."
"Upset in the sense of change his life? Absolutely. I intend for it to. I intend for it to upset all our lives. But upset in the sense of being unhappy about it..."
"That high school you and Sabrina attended must have been for the gifted and talented. You're awfully good with words."
"Actually, words are more your area, Bex. You're the one skilled at using them to hide behind."
"So did you have a good time? With Sabrina?”
"It was a pleasant evening."
"Just like old times?”
"Not exactly."
"Meaning what?”
"Meaning, it was good to see that Sabrina has calmed down since I first knew her. She was very..." Craig struggled to select just the right word. "Intense in high school. Tightly wound. She seems to be doing better now. I gather she's very successful professionally. Has a nice life in San Francisco. I'm happy for her."
"What was she so wound up about in high school?”
"Oh, some usual things. Some not so usual. Grades, popularity, college. It's all the same wherever you go. Then again, her mother had died a few years earlier. I know that was hard on her. And, of course, she and her father didn't get along very well. She really had some strong feelings about him then."
"Seems like she's still got some pretty strong feelings about him now."
"Oh, no. No, this is nothing. In high school, there were times I honestly thought Sabrina wanted to kill him."
"Really? How do you know that?”
"Because she asked me to help."
CHAPTER TWELVE – SABRINA
Sabrina started plotting her father's demise even before he returned from the World Championships following Eleanor's death. Her first plan involved calling Interpol — or whoever was in charge of security in Europe — and telling them that Lucian Pryce was a registered Fascist, or maybe a Communist, bent on overthrowing their government. She ultimately decided against that particular scenario when she guessed that the word of an American teen might not carry that much weight in international circles, and that even an arrest wouldn't necessarily lead to Lucian's guaranteed death. He'd probably just get off with a warning or something.
Her next fantasy involved his plane crashing. Sabrina particularly liked that one because it would leave her a very media-friendly tragic orphan, deserving of sympathy as the daughter of two skating legends. She might even get to go on Oprah and meet Duran Duran. At the very least she might get to shoot one of those "I'm going to Disneyland" commercials.
Unfortunately, plane crashes were out of Sabrina's hands, no matter how many hints she offered up to God in the three days before Lucian's homecoming. Her father ended up landing safe and sound on American soil. Sabrina didn't go to meet him at the airport, despite knowing that there would probably be reporters there, shoving cameras and microphones in his face and asking questions about his marriage to America's late sweetheart. Even if Oprah herself came, Sabrina still didn't want to be anywhere near her father under the circumstances.
She could barely stand looking at him once he finally arrived at the house. "Are you all right, Sabrina?" he asked, pausing awkwardly in the hallway, suitcase on the floor between his legs, garment bag slung over his shoulder. For a moment, Sabrina actually let herself believe that Lucian was truly interested, that he really cared how she was
holding up after being in the room with her dying mother, watching her trying so hard to breathe, then, all of a sudden, not breathing at all.
She might have answered him; she might even have cried and told him the truth. But a moment later, the door behind Lucian opened. And Chris Kelly walked in.
Who cared if he technically lived there? Who cared if he, even more than Lucian, looked concerned about Sabrina's well-being? He shouldn't, he couldn't, he didn't belong there. Not today. Not after Eleanor. Not after what Lucian had said on TV.
"Why don't you ask your only reason for living these days?" Sabrina snapped to her father and stormed out of the room.
She slammed her bedroom door and sat up all night, waiting for one or the other to come up and apologize to her.
Nobody did.
The next morning, she got dressed, went downstairs, and upon Lucian's orders, climbed dutifully into the car for the ride to the cemetery for Eleanor's funeral. She didn't say a word to her father the entire way there. She didn't say a word to him at the church or at the graveside or on the way home. She didn't say anything to Chris, either, even when he sat up front with them in the family pew, or stood on the condolence line afterwards.
She wanted to scream, "She wasn't your mother!" but Sabrina knew it would do no good. Lucian was more Chris's father than he was hers, and that, ultimately, was all that mattered.
Afterwards, life at home fell into a routine. Sabrina and Lucian did their best to stay out of each other's way. He hired a housekeeper whom Sabrina neither liked nor disliked. A housekeeper meant that their place stayed sparkling clean, the bills were paid on time, and their meals were cooked — though Sabrina made a point of eating separately from Lucian. He continued to give Sabrina an allowance — via the housekeeper — meaning her personal needs were taken care of. He continued to travel frequently — especially during the fall and winter months — which meant keeping out of his way didn't prove to be much of a problem.
Inside, Sabrina felt like she was about to explode. At first, she thought her feelings were grief. Grief over her mother, grief over her life, grief over the mess her relationship with Lucian had devolved into. But after a while, she realized that it didn't feel exactly like grief. Sabrina wasn't sad or weepy or melancholy.... Sabrina was something else. She just didn't know what precisely.
