for whatever happens,” advised Blanca. “However, I seriously doubt T.K. will show up. Besides, I would prefer to have you cool, calm and collected. Even I would freak out at the prospect of meeting T.K.”
Patrice laughed shortly. Blanca Mendes usually wasn’t intimidated by anyone.
“Okay, I won’t get my hopes up,” Patrice promised. “Thanks, Blanca. I’ll make that flight.”
“Of course you will, chica,” said Blanca, “because you understand that to get anywhere in this business one must be prepared to make—”
“—sacrifices,” Patrice finished for her.
“Call me after the meeting. We’ll go out and celebrate,” said Blanca confidently.
Patrice closed her phone and looked into the crest fallen faces of her family. She sighed heavily. “I guess you got the gist of that. I’ve got to leave this after noon.”
“Did I hear you say ‘T.K.’?” Keira asked excitedly, practically jumping up and down.
“That’s right,” Patrice told everyone. “I auditioned for the role opposite T.K. in a Western of which he’s also serving as one of the producers. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up for me in case I didn’t get the part.”
Cady put her arm about Patrice’s waist. “Oh, honey, we root for you no matter what. We know you have your head on straight and realize that when you don’t get a role you really want that it isn’t the end of the world. Maybe something better is waiting just around the corner.”
Patrice wondered what could be better than starring opposite T. K. McKenna, one of the biggest box-office draws in the world. It had to be something mighty good.
She smiled down at her mother and hugged her. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
She straightened and looked at them all in turn. “I’m sorry to have to cut my visit short.”
They all shrugged aside her apology, assuring her they understood.
The announcer’s voice rang out. “If the lady ropers would gather in the center of the stadium, it’s time to announce the winner of the competition.”
Keira grabbed Patrice by the arm. “Come on, I can’t wait to see Lucy’s face.”
Patrice, Keira and her parents walked back to the stadium while Patrice’s brother Luke led Billy One Star to his horse trailer where he would rub him down before putting him inside for the trip home, a ranch on the outskirts of Albuquerque.
Luke, twenty, was a junior in college but lived at home where he was being groomed to run the ranch when his father retired. The Suttons had been cattle ranchers in New Mexico since the late 1800s when an ancestor of Patrick’s, an ex-slave also named Patrick, had left Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in search of a better way of life. He’d married a fellow Louisianan woman and soon there were Suttons spread out over New Mexico. However, because of a scarcity of blacks Sutton offspring were obliged to marry Native Americans and Mexicans. Patrice’s father had quite a bit of Native American blood. Her mother hailed from South Carolina and was African-American. She had met her husband when she had taken a trip to the Southwest with girlfriends following her college graduation. The handsome rancher had swept her off her feet, and she had never returned to South Carolina to live.
Patrice closed her eyes as she relaxed against the airplane’s seat. Keira had gotten her to the airport with ten minutes to spare. Luckily, she’d had no bags to check. Blanca had worked her magic, and her transition from terminal to airplane had been flawless. She smiled. It had been fun competing in a rodeo again. She had not dreamed she would actually win the competition. Keira had been happier than she was when she was handed her trophy. The sour look on Lucy Lopez’s face had confirmed what Keira had said about her: she indeed had a bone to pick with Patrice.
Patrice was having none of that, though. After all, Keira was Lucy’s sister-in-law. For Keira’s sake, if not for anything else, there should be peace in the family. Patrice had stepped up to the microphone and said, “Thank you so much. It’s my pleasure to be here today, and I’m thrilled to have won. However, I think I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the wonderful women who also competed in the event, especially Ms. Lucy Lopez, who has been citywide champion for years now.” She offered Lucy her hand in congratulations. Lucy shook it, an astonished expression on her pretty face.
As Patrice left the stage, she overheard one of the other women say, “That was sweet of her.”
“We’re related, you know,” Lucy had said nonchalantly.
“Oh, yeah, how?” asked the woman, surprised.
“Her sister’s married to my brother, Jorge, the doctor,” said Lucy proudly.
Patrice had left feeling a bit hopeful about the future relationship of her sister and Lucy. Later, when she had told Keira about it, her sister had said, “That was just her public face. She still hates me. The test will come at the next family gathering.”
Family dynamics, Patrice thought. They’re so complicated.
Trevor Kennedy, or T.K., McKenna sat on the deck at his house in Malibu ostensibly watching the sunset but actually thinking of Malcolm, his baby brother, who had been killed in a car crash only a few months ago. Malcolm had lived with him. T.K. had given him a job as an assistant in order to keep an eye on him. Malcolm didn’t have any administrative duties. He simply accompanied T.K. wherever he went whether it was to the studio, to an appointment, or on location when he worked on a film. T.K., thirty-six, had been three years older than Malcolm, but it seemed that he was many years older because Malcolm had been mildly mentally deficient. His condition had been an accident of birth. He had experienced a lack of oxygen during his delivery. To someone who didn’t know him well, his mental state wasn’t very noticeable. Malcolm had been a healthy, happy man with a good heart and a great sense of humor. Where his mental deficiency showed was in his relationships with people. He was so easygoing, so trusting, oftentimes people took advantage of his naivety. If he saw someone who needed a meal, he would give him money to buy food. If he knew someone who needed money, he would empty his pockets. Many times he had been tricked out of money or possessions by unscrupulous so-called friends. When it came to women, Malcolm, who had been very shy, was like putty in their hands.
This was what was troubling T.K. right now. Malcolm had been dating a woman named Aisha Jackson before his death. After he’d died, Aisha claimed that she was three months pregnant with Malcolm’s child.
T.K. and his parents, Rose Kennedy McKenna and David McKenna, were not about to miss the opportunity to know Malcolm’s child if it were true, so from that point on, they took care of Aisha. She moved in with Rose and David, and it was agreed that after the baby was born a DNA test would be performed to confirm that Malcolm was the father.
T.K. had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that Aisha was lying, but until the baby was born, he had no way of confirming his suspicions. Some part of him hoped he would be proven wrong. He would like to be an uncle to Malcolm’s child. However, he’d encountered too many opportunists since fame had swept him up in its clutches to not be cynical.
His cell phone rang, and he looked at the display. It was his friend and business partner, producer Mark Greenberg. “Hey, Mark.”
“You will be able to make the meeting in the morning, won’t you? I’d like
