The Michaela Bancroft Mysteries 1-3 (32 page)

"I know."

"Anyway, Kathleen and I were wonderful
together. We played some great gigs, then she met Hugh and got pregnant, and as
Hugh's restaurant business took off, our career nose-dived. I don't know that
many people in the biz anymore. As far as connections go, they're minimal at
best. I've been able to get Olivia some decent gigs here and there, but nothing
spectacular."

"Today's event is no small feat,"
Michaela said. "You should be proud of it. Olivia and her mom must be
thrilled."

"I didn't land tonight's event for Olivia.
Her father did it for me."

"Ah, now I'm catching on," Michaela
said. "It's obvious that you and him have remained friends after the
divorce. You've bought horses from him for quite some time, haven't you?"

Audrey nodded slowly. "True, but the divorce
only happened a couple of years ago and…"

"And Kathleen doesn't know you still deal
with Hugh. If she did, she wouldn't be too happy about it." Michaela knew
of Audrey's long history with the Bowen family.

"Bingo. Hugh wasn't exactly graceful in his
exit from Kathleen's life, but my friend was also no angel. No one was right in
that mess, and I do agree with Kathleen on one thing: That new wife of Hugh's
is no peach. She's a real pain and has driven quite a wedge between Olivia and
her father. The only reason I'm managing Olivia's career is because Kathleen
can't stand the idea of having her father involved in it. Olivia's dad can do
things for her career that I can't. He's got the money and he
does
have
connections. Today proves it, and Olivia has the talent to be a megastar, but I
can't take her there. And honestly, I don't think the girl wants to be one.
Olivia has her own dreams. She wants to be a jockey."

"Interesting," Michaela said. She could
hear the tension in Audrey's voice. Audrey's own dreams hadn't panned out, and
there were regrets. She'd always encouraged Michaela to go after her dreams,
just like her uncle had. What she didn't understand was that if Olivia did have
this dream of racing horses, then why was Audrey involved in the singing part?
"She's certainly petite enough. And, I'm sure she's grown up riding. Why
doesn't she pursue her dream? I admire it."

"It is quite a dream. You know it's not easy
for a woman riding in your circuit. Racing is probably even more difficult. The
sexism is ridiculous. A lot of owners don't think a woman can ride as well as a
man, and I've heard stories where an owner will let a woman ride the worst of
his horses. There are also some sleazy trainers and owners out there who will
allow a woman to ride for certain…favors."

"But Olivia shouldn't have to deal with that,
with her dad being an owner. She could ride one of his horses. Can't she talk
to him about this?" Michaela felt terrible for the girl.

"It's complicated, like I said. Olivia is
angry with her father over leaving her mom and remarrying. Kathleen is even
more pissed at him and she'd come undone if Olivia started racing. Yes, Olivia
can ride, but her mother won't hear of it. She is a complicated woman. She
worries like crazy about Olivia but then pressures her into a business the girl
doesn't want to be involved in. She's kind of pathetic. You'll see what I mean.
I think Olivia somehow feels responsible for her mother's happiness since the
divorce, so she keeps up the singing to please her."

"And you are caught in the middle."
Michaela figured that, because Audrey had been friends with both Hugh and
Kathleen for years and she adored Olivia, she felt totally stuck. "What
are you going to do?"

"I don't know what I can do. I do love Olivia
as if she were my own," Audrey replied. "But she isn't, and if I
cause a rift, not only will I lose my friendships with Hugh and Kathleen, I may
lose my connection with Olivia. So, you understand why when we see Kathleen
this afternoon, we don't mention anything about Hugh? She would be horrified to
learn we're going to his place, especially if the new wifey is around, and she
very well could be. I don't think she goes too far from anything that glitters,
and Hugh Bowen has plenty of glitter."

Michaela agreed that mum was the word. Audrey
sighed heavily as they pulled in to the front gates at La Catalina, causing her
to wonder if there was more on her friend's mind than what she'd revealed
during the drive to the races.

AS MICHAELA GOT OUT OF THE TRUCK WITH AUDREY, the
sights and sounds instantly made her smile. The blurs of bright color, people
chatting, laughing, the clip-clop of horses' hooves as they were lead into the
paddock for the preview of things to come, the drone of tractors dragging the
track, all of it spoke of great history and tradition. What was there not to
love about a sunny Southern California Saturday at the races?

"I need to check in with Olivia. She should
be getting ready for the show," Audrey said, taking Michaela's hand and
leading her like a child, which had always been her way. Michaela had only met
Olivia twice, but she'd heard quite a bit about her from Audrey over the years.
Olivia was getting ready in a room off to the side of the racetrack restaurant,
reserved for VIPs.

Michaela was a bit surprised to see a meek young
woman putting her makeup on. She knew Olivia to be shy. But this woman—girl,
really, from the looks of her—was pale and thin. Dark circles under her glassy
blue eyes made her look gaunt. Her long blond hair hung loose down near her
hips. Still, she was beautiful, with an almost haunting presence.
"Hi," she said, spotting them, an edge of sadness in her tone.

"Hi, honey. You look wonderful."

"Thank you. My mom says I need some more
shimmer and glimmer." She frowned. "She doesn't think jeans and this
blouse are appropriate," she said sarcastically, holding the ends of a
flowing-type blouse, which was white with a pattern of small red roses
throughout. It was on the hippy side of apparel. But it worked well for what
Olivia was about: a slightly artsy, folksy sort, like an Alanis Morissette
meets Tori Amos. Man, did Michaela want to run out and get her a cheeseburger.
No, make that a double double. The kid needed to put on some weight.

Audrey waved a hand at her. "What does she
know, right? You look wonderful. You remember Michaela Bancroft? You met her at
one of my Halloween parties."

Olivia nodded. "Oh, hey, hi." She
reached her hand out and shook Michaela's with the grip of a child.

"Olivia," Audrey implored, "that's
not the way you greet a guest."

"Sorry." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Good
afternoon, Ms. Bancroft."

Maybe it wasn't sadness Michaela detected in her
tone, but surliness. It had to be the fact that she was malnourished that made
her come off as irritable. "Please, call me Michaela. I feel so old when
someone calls me Ms. Bancroft. Plus, I feel like I've known you forever. Audrey
talks about you all the time. She's very proud of you."

"At least someone is." Olivia turned
back to face the mirror. She glanced back through it at Michaela.

"I'm looking forward to hearing you
sing."

"Whatever."

"Olivia!" Audrey said. She led Michaela
a few steps away and lowered her voice. "I apologize for her. She's not
herself these days. I don't know what has gotten into her."

Michaela waved a hand. "No biggie. She's a
kid. They have moods. Trust me, I'm not taking it personally."

"Hey, sweet thing." A young man who
Michaela thought she recognized breezed into the room past Audrey and Michaela,
and strode on over to Olivia. He held a large bouquet of red roses. "I
wanted to give these to you personally. They are from me and Marshall, and we
want to thank you for opening for me today. I know you'll be awesome," he
said, a southern twang icing his words. Audrey stepped between Olivia and the
man, her arms crossed. "Hey, mama, what you doing? I am trying to talk to
the little sweet thing there and why are you getting in my way? Do you know who
I am?"

"Steve Benz," Audrey answered, her lips
pursed.

Michaela knew she'd seen him before, maybe in some
ad or on TV. She wasn't sure. He looked like someone who should be on TV, with
his long brown hair, sculpted face, and pretty hazel eyes. They were pretty.
Hell,
he
was pretty. That much she was sure of. But his personality
sucked. What a pompous jerk.

"That's right. That is who I am." He
tried to step around Audrey.

"I'm Miss Bowen's manager, and I'll accept
those for her. Thank you. She is not interested in speaking with your manager,
Marshall Friedman, or you, for that matter. If you cannot leave respectfully, I
will call security."

Benz laughed. "Security. You are funny,
Audrey Pratt." He shook a finger at her. "Ah, you didn't think that I
knew who you were. I do and so does Marshall, and let me just say that your
days are numbered running this young lady's career. Like
sayonara
, mama.
Marshall will have her under contract in a week. You'll see."

"Steve, I think you should go," Olivia
quietly said.

"No problem, sweet thing. Knock 'em dead. See
you soon." He winked at her. Then he turned his attention to Michaela and
eyed her up and down. "Hmm, hey sugar, aren't you fine. Wanna ride in my
limo later?"

Michaela was speechless for about three seconds.
She shook her head, her eyes forming into slits as she eyed him back.
"You're kidding me."

"Oh, sugar, I would never kid about a thing
like that. We can go for a long ride around town. Maybe wind up in some swanky
Beverly Hills bar, then who knows. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I can tell by
the way you're looking at me."

Michaela cleared her throat. "You know,
Steve, as appealing as that sounds, I actually think I'd rather have dinner
with a horse." Okay, she knew it was probably one of the lamest comebacks
in history, but at that moment she was at a loss for words; the man was so
repulsive.

"You're into that, huh? I'm sure we could
arrange it."

"Get the hell out of here!" Audrey
yelled.

He set the roses down. "You'll be sorry you
talked to me like that. And you"—he pointed at Olivia—"will want to
jump on board. Trust me. Money is good, the gigs are good. We'll talk later.
Don't forget your roses, sweet thing. Bye, sugar." He looked at Michaela,
who scowled.

She couldn't help but feel the need to shower
after meeting Steve Benz.

Audrey turned to Olivia. "Have you been
talking with that guy or Marshall Friedman?"

Olivia shook her head.

"Olivia," Audrey implored.

"My mom did. Once. They've been trying to get
ahold of me."

Michaela watched Audrey's face turn a shade of
red. Anger didn't cross her friend's features often, but right now she was
sufficiently pissed off. "Olivia, those assholes will ruin you. I plan to
speak to your mother."

Yep, Audrey was mad.

"You think if you go and sign with Friedman
and do a record with Steve Benz, which is what I'm sure they're trying to talk
to you about, it will make your mother happy?" Olivia's eyes widened.
"If you do that, they will ruin you. They are all about the money. The
next thing you know you won't be able to live your own damn life. You have
dreams that I'm trying to protect. Still trying to make happen for you."

"That will never happen," Olivia
muttered. "You know it will never happen. God, I just wish everyone would
leave me alone. Everyone always wants something from me. Leave me alone!"
she yelled. "Nothing good will ever happen! My dreams are shit and you
know it!"

"Olivia." Audrey stood over her. Both
women were petite but Audrey's presence was strong and overpowered the girl.
"Those dreams will happen for you. Give me time. I am doing everything I
can."

"I want to be left alone. That's all I
want."

"That's not true. You can't be left
alone," Audrey replied. "Look what you've gotten yourself into
already, and this Benz character and his manager will only make matters worse.
They see dollar signs flashing in front of them and if you—if
we
—allow
your mother to dictate what you're going to do with your life, you will be miserable.
I am convinced of it."

Olivia shook her head, her eyes welling up. Tears
snaked down her face. Hmm, weren't the races supposed to be fun?

Michaela felt like an intruder on a conversation
that had likely gone rounds before. She decided to exit while Audrey and Olivia
hashed this out. Before leaving, she told Audrey she needed to go to the rest
room and asked her for her ticket. Audrey pulled it from her purse. "I'll
see you in Kathleen's box," she said tersely.

Michaela stepped outside the dressing room and
took a deep breath. The simple earthen smells of horse, dirt, and southern
California smog invaded her senses. Maybe it was time for a glass of champagne.
Not a usual indulgence for her, but wow, what a scene. She'd never seen Audrey
so intense or protective over someone. Maybe that was because she'd never had
children of her own. Michaela knew there was a strong bond between her and
Olivia. There seemed to be more to it than that, though. Oh well, it really was
none of her business. If Audrey wanted to share it with her, then she would.

She headed to the bar, feeling good that she
looked fairly close to the part of wealthy racehorse owner, trainer, or
something to do with racehorses, like the other ritzy patrons. She didn't
necessarily enjoy the dress-up-and-toot-your-horn crowd, but she also found it
worse to stand out in these groups. The more you fit in, the less chance you
had of actually being noticed. No, she felt like she blended in. Thanks to
Camden and her wardrobe and the fact that the two of them wore the same size.
Camden had insisted she wear a pretty, flowing, Anne Taylor spaghetti-strap
dress. It was a chiffon-type material with an empire waist, red on top and pale
yellow on the bottom with a red flower pattern. She'd also borrowed a pair of
red slingback sandals from Camden, but found them difficult to maneuver in.
With the Chanel No. 5 she'd sprayed on and the reapplication of the
blush-colored lipstick she wore for ventures out, Michaela couldn't help
feeling like she belonged, until she saw all the diamonds and pearls in the
line at the bar, not to mention the hats. Should have listened to Camden for
once. She'd told her to wear a hat, even showed her a simple, lovely pale
yellow hat that matched the dress perfectly. But Michaela wasn't a hat person,
unless it was a helmet for riding or a cowboy hat in the show arena. She saw
them as pretentious and…well, yep, pretentious. Hmm, maybe she should have worn
a hat.