My family means everything - Jenny's Life - Part 33

Finally the day Jenny Drake has anticipated for alomst a year has come, the state track championship finals. She, Tara and Cindy Craven have spent the last half day improving their friendship as they prepare for what is expected to be an unforgettable finals race.

Unexpectedly, as least to Jenny, Pete Pertovsky's dad has showed up at the finals. Jenny prepares herself for a conversation with the head of a family she suddenly has become way too connected with.

Jenny could feel chills flowing through her body. She had not really imagined a meeting with the father of Pete Pertovsky. The number of interactions she had with members of the Pertovsky family seemed to be mounting though. From a chance encounter with Pete at the mall the night she and Drew went on their only date, through the horrid scene at Pete’s house following Cassie’s assault, the encounter at the regional track meet, the harrowing escape at Martika’s house and yesterday’s brush with Karina Pertovsky, it seemed her life was rapidly becoming entwined with the Pertovsky family. It was a trend she hoped would soon end.

“I must tell you I am most pleased to finally meet you,” Oleg said in a strange tone of voice. Jenny got the feeling he was genuinely impressed by something in her, but dismissed that thought as she went on full alert, expecting some serious words.

“I tell myself Oleg you must meet this girl. I want to know what exactly it is that makes my Karina and my Pete worry so much. What about a little eighteen year old girl could be so scary? I have to say you seem no threat to anything my family holds dear,” Pertovsky said, a sly smile on his lips.

“Perhaps you underestimate me,” Jenny said. There was that out of body experience voice again. Where does that come from, she wondered.

“Miss Drake I am a businessman and my success depends on me being able to size up my competitors in advance of our interactions to make sure I understand what makes them tick. This way I can take advantage of their weaknesses and make sure my success is guaranteed. Rest assured I am a master at this process and always get what I want.”

“I am a competitor too, Mr. Pertovsky. Being a top competitor in any area requires you do the homework. I have done that and I think I understand you and your family very well.”

“Perhaps. Let me make sure you have no illusion about what is going to happen involving my son and your brother. To do this I must give you a history of Oleg Pertovsky. You have some time, I assume?”

Jenny looked over her shoulder at the gathering area for her team and saw no one looking her way. She was not positive about the order of the races, but thought she would be good for a half hour or more. She wasn’t relishing that much time with this man, but there was a process to be completed and she wanted to get her shots in.

“For years I struggled to make my way in Russia. There were dealings with the KGB, the Russian military, mobsters and crooks that tempered my resolve. I learned how to survive, but saw there was a rough road ahead. I brought my Karina and Peter to this country to make a better life. I have worked for many years to build my company into a strong competitor. I feel I have succeeded in that task. Now as I reach an age of maturity I find myself ready to hand off some of my business interests to another. Of course I mean my son, Miss Drake.”

Jenny held steady as she listened to Pertovsky, wondering how much memory was left on her IPod, which recorded every word. She had rearranged the songs to free up memory to allow her to swap music with Cindy Craven, but so far they had not taken the time to do so.

“It may go without saying, but I cannot elevate Pete to take over these positions if he is in prison,” Oleg said, the smile missing for the first time in the exchange.

“What are you saying?” Jenny replied.

“I am saying that my family matters more to me than anything. I will do anything for them.”

“So will I,” Jenny said, looking the man straight in the eye.

“Yes, I know that is true,” Oleg nodded. “You have been a regular visitor to see your mother at the Wendfield suite. Such a horrible shame she is in such a bad condition. It would be regrettable if she was unable to rejoin your family in perfect health.”

Jenny swallowed hard as she wondered if this was a threat. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, Miss Drake, you do. There is no one who has a 4.228 grade point average and numerous offers for full academic scholarship that would not understand what I just said. Tell me Miss Drake, your father pays for your family’s health insurance, no?”

 

“Yes he does.”

“He is used to being paid with bills that have the picture of Ulysses Grant or Benjamin Franklin I think.”

Jenny did not bother countering Oleg’s illustration with an explanation of direct deposits that her father’s company used to deliver his pay. She understood the direction he was taking with this illustration.

“Yes. Fifty and one hundred dollar bills,” Jenny replied.

“I find these denominations annoying. I am sure the people who work in the Wendfield psychiatric suite prefer to deal with a bill carrying the picture of a president who brought this country through a world war. I know your President Wilson was quite popular at the time he was in office and I will bet they can still find him quite persuasive.”

New chills ran down Jenny’s spine as she considered the words from this man. Woodrow Wilson was the only president from the World War era with his face on a bill. She blinked as she considered the thought of Oleg discussing $100,000 denomination bills with her. More accurately he was implying that he could offer money to someone in Wendfield to make sure her mother never was allowed to leave.

“As I said Miss Drake I am very successful because I know what it takes to succeed in the business world. I will not allow anything or anyone to get in my way. It would be best for you to concentrate on winning your race and leave the social matters to those who have the skills.”

“Are you asking me to ignore the situation with Martika Kelly?”

Oleg smiled as he looked across the track at the competitors who were collecting for another preliminary race. He chuckled as he removed the sun glasses from his pocket and slid them on his nose to combat the sun, which was just peeking out from the morning haze.

“Miss Drake I do not ever ask anyone to do anything. I simply present the options and let them make their own choice. Those who do not assess the consequences adequately find that their chances for success are limited.”

Jenny began to tire of Oleg’s craftiness. He was very good at saying things in such a way that the threat was veiled. She knew she had to push him more.

“I will not stop trying to prove my brother is innocent, on that you can be sure!”

Again the smile disappeared from Oleg’s lips and even with the glasses shielding his eyes, Jenny could feel the intense stare from his eyes.

“Miss Drake there is only two people who can be tried for the crime you refer to and it will not be my son!”

“I cannot believe you traveled all this way to watch a track meet, “Jenny said trying another tactic.

“I flew up in my private jet this morning. I wanted to have this chat with you. I expected to be able to talk some sense with you, but I can see that was a foolish ambition.”

“You know in America it is still true that you are presumed innocent until proven guilty. My brother has the law on his side.”

“Even the law has its limits, “Oleg said. “Given enough presidents anything is possible!”

“I will be in this to the bitter end, Mr. Pertovsky, I can promise you that!”

“You are willing to lose everything for some girl you hardly know?”

Jenny was not sure if Oleg was referring to Cassie or Martika, but it did not matter.

“I believe in some of the most important words in our Constitution,” Jenny said. “I believe truth and justice will always prevail.”

“Your youth has made you idealistic. Life will change that so you are realistic,” Oleg said. “It is those with the money and power who succeed in America.”

“Veni Vidi Vici, right?” Jenny asked.

Oleg seemed stunned by the phrase, although Jenny finally remembered where the emblem on his lapel pin came from. It was the organizational logo she found on his corporation’s web site; the one with V.V.V. and Veni Vidi Vici underneath.

“You are playing with fire young lady!”

 

“So are you,” Jenny said spinning on her heel and making her way to her team site.

By the time she reached the collection of Reynolds girls her heart was thumping in her chest. Jenny felt a bit queasy, but had to shake it off as Coach Wendell notified her that her heat was next.

“This is unbelievable, but you, Tara, Cindy and Susan are all in separate heats. None of you will face each other before the finals. I guess that was purposeful to get the best match up for all the marbles.”

Jenny was thankful Tara had not been able to see her conversing with Oleg. Instead the other Reynolds co-captain was completing her third lap of her preliminary race. Cindy stood near the track, screaming encouragement and smiled at jenny when she approached.

“She is running very well,” Cindy said.

“I meant to tell her to hold something back for later,” Jenny said. “If she goes too hard it will affect her finals run.”

“I mentioned it,” Cindy said.

“Good. So you are next after me?”

“Yes. Susan drew the best spot. She gets to watch us set the marks and she can adjust her speed so that she qualifies but has the most energy left for the finals.”

“Well, we knew someone would get that advantage. We had a three out of four chance, but sometimes the odds roll the other way.”

“How do you feel?”

Jenny considered that question, but instead of thinking about her running attempt, she found herself wondering just how serious Oleg was about intervening with her mother. She wondered what in the world she could do about it and missed Cindy’s first attempt to regain her attention.

“Hello, earth to Jenny!”

“Huh? Oh I am good. I will be fine.” Jenny wondered if she was trying to satisfy Cindy or herself with these words. She knew she was not mentally prepped as she normally would be, but who could be with the mess her life had become lately.

She moved over to the grouping area with the other girls who were selected for the second preliminary race. She recognized only two competitors from the previous year, a junior and sophomore from schools on the opposite end of her state. She did not know their names, but knew no one in this preliminary had times anywhere near her best of the year. She wondered if the best of the year was in her range anymore. The mental ghosts of losing to Tara were beginning to grow.

Jenny wondered about Tara’s time as she saw her heat end. Kimbler crossed the line first, but did not collapse in the grass as she did after the race with Jenny the previous week. She wanted that to be confirmation that Tara had run conservatively to save her stamina. The thoughts scrambled away as she heard the command to move to the starting line. She worked hard to clear her mind of anything other than the race that lay in front of her. It was critical to her success.

Jenny reminded herself to do what she wanted Tara to do as she pounded down the track toward the first turn. As expected there was someone willing to push a hard pace, but Jenny was too much of a veteran to allow this to worry her. It was her usual pattern to start off on an even pace and increase it as she went. There was never a race since her sophomore year began that his strategy failed her, so now was no time to alter her approach.

She saw Tara and Cindy at the side of the track, cheering encouragement, although the cacophony of voices blended to make even Tara’s boisterous tones undistinguishable. Jenny felt pretty good and tried to estimate a total time based on her second lap split. She experienced an uncharacteristic hint of doubt as she calculated a finishing time that would be significantly slower than what she knew was in her reach. This feeling was quickly replaced by a determination to pick up her pace.

 

The distance between her and the two runners leading the race steadily decreased, which meant she was making some progress at regaining her championship form. Passing the first of the two competitors felt as good as any pass she had completed all year. Jenny believed she could threaten her personal best and perhaps Susan Blake’s record.

When she neared Tara and Cindy near the end of her third lap she saw Tara had a crude sign with letters scribbled on a piece of cardboard from the Gatorade drinks they had brought with them. It said only “Save Something!” She wondered what that meant as she noticed the steps between her and the girl leading this race were quickly disappearing. She wanted to sneak a peek at the timer beside the start finish line, but knew it would be a mistake as it was something all the best runners said they never did.

She concentrated on making her breathing even as she made her way through the first two turns. This was the best way to calm herself while still maintaining her pace. Some runners said they would repeat a song, others used different methods, but this was tried and true in Jenny’s career.

She was surprised to see Tara running around the back side of the track, with the crude sign still in her hands. Tara held the sign up again when she knew Jenny was focused on her and shook her head as if she was trying to convince Jenny to alter her strategy. Jenny thought again about the split she had heard and decided she was going to keep her pace.

The roar of fans cheering for the close finish found her ears as she pulled even with the other girl that had led this preliminary from the start. The girl turned her head slightly, telegraphing to Jenny she did not expect anyone to be there. Perhaps the girl wanted one race to call her own. The competitor in Jenny was wounded, not only from the knee injury, but from the race with Tara. The compassionate side of Jenny wanted Tara to know what winning felt like, but the competitor wanted to win. It did not matter that this was a preliminary race and most likely the top three girls would move to the finals, Jenny wanted to cross the line first.

The girl on her left seemed to be just as intent on this goal, matching Jenny stride of stride as they rounded the back side of the track and set their sights on the remaining quarter section of their race. From the stands it seemed as if the girls were one entity, both in perfect step with the other, presenting a wondrous spectacle as they moved gracefully down the asphalt toward their destination.

Again the ghost of the race with Tara returned as Jenny saw more of the girl beside her than she should if they were moving at the same speed. It was like a replay of her race with Tara. She could hear the girl’s exertion from grunts as she pushed herself harder perhaps than she ever had before.

Jenny knew she was going to have to make a difficult choice. She either had to go all out or shut it down. This was turning into one of those races that could totally zap your stamina and she was now wondering if she had made a mistake trying to overcome this girl. The consideration that she was thinking about this too much briefly stopped in her brain, but was quickly replaced by the decision to shut it down, and Jenny immediately broke off her sprint to cruise the remaining seventy five meters.

Tara and Cindy were the first ones to her, with Tara’s face holding a serious amount of concern. Her assumption was that Jenny’s knew was hurting and caused her to give up her attempt to win.

 

“What’s wrong?” Kimbler asked.                                                                             

“Nothing….Just saving something….," Jenny managed between short breaths.

“You picked a curious time for that,” Tara said. “Do you realize you were five seconds off Susan’s mark?”

“What?” Jenny said.

“Your half split was on pace. I don’t know why you decided to speed up like that, but I hope you have something left for the final.”

Jenny looked at the ground as she recalculated the numbers in her head and closed her eyes as the truth became clear. She had allowed the drama with Oleg to plague her even though it was not a conscious thought. Instead of being slower than her best run of the season she had been ahead of the pace. She pushed the pace ahead of Susan Blake’s record and could have bested the mark if she had not pulled back. She glanced over at the girl who had won this round, who was sitting on the ground with a portable oxygen tank and mask on her face with her coach ranting about how she had set a record but probably would not be able to compete in the final because she had tried to beat Jenny.

Jenny walked back toward the team as she wondered if she could clear her head successfully before the finals later in the day. She looked to her left to see Martika Kelly waving at her. She wondered if Martika’s dad was the man next to her and walked that way to find out.

“Hi”, Martika said from behind her sunglasses. Jenny was glad the sunglasses were intended for shielding only the sun this time and not questions about bruises on the pretty girl’s face. “That was a great race. I thought for sure you would win.”

“I have one more; that is the one that matters.”

“I saw Pete’s dad talking to you. What did he say?”

“I am sure you can imagine,” Jenny said, looking at the man to Martika’s side and trying to deflect the question as she did not want Mr. Kelly to become curious.

“Did he threaten you?” Martika asked.

Jenny could not answer this time, but immediately locked eyes with the man standing four feet from her. He looked silently at her, awaiting her reply. It seemed the question would have to be answered in some way.

“Yeah,” Jenny said. “He did threaten me. Well more like my mother.”

Martika turned to look at the man, pulling her sunglasses down to peer over top of them and shot the man a knowing look. She cocked her head as if she was asking a question and waiting for his response. The man simply nodded and crossed his arms behind his back.

“I need to introduce you to a friend of my family,” Martika said with her glasses back in place and what Jenny believed was the broadest smile she had ever seen on the girl’s face.

“Friend?” Jenny asked. “You mean this is not your father?”

“Hardly!” the man laughed as his serious demeanor escaped his control.

“No Jenny, this is someone who can help you too.”

Jenny knew her face resembled the confused look of a puppy when it encountered a situation completely foreign. She had no clue what Martika was hinting at and it was totally obvious.

“Jenny Drake, this is Marcel Raymond. Well I guess I should say Special Agent Marcel Raymond of the F.B.I.”