Off Balance (Ballet Theatre Chronicles Book 1) Read Free Page A

clutching his BlackBerry and keys. “Let’s go,” he said.
    She looked up from the report she was editing. “You did it? Like that?”
    “It’s big, Alice. Big, big, big.” He grinned at her, then made shooing motions with his hands. “Come on, already. I can’t guarantee how long he’ll be there.”
    “Where? Who?”
    “The lounge at the Ritz-Carlton. The who? Only Andy Redgrave.”
    Her mouth formed a silent O.
    He chuckled. “Yes. My sentiments exactly.”
    “I’m ready.”
    “Then let’s do it.”
     
    The Redgrave Foundation, like its eponymous billionaire founder, was notoriously elusive and difficult to conduct business with. But its allure was irresistible: five million dollars of its considerable funds reserved for the California arts annually. Last year the San Francisco Symphony had received $1.2 million. The WCBT had received a form rejection.
    Gil’s plan now, he told Alice as he drove, was to wander in, strike up a conversation with Andy and bring up the name of a friend of a friend he’d dug up. Andy was a theater person—Gil’s former domain, where he still had influential friends. This mutual friend was a sure connection, Gil insisted.
    “So why am I here?” Alice asked.
    “Well, you’ll be Plan B.”
    “What is Plan B?”
    “That part I haven’t figured out yet.”
    She clutched the door handle tighter. “Jesus, Gil. I don’t know about this.”
    “Trust me here,” he said as they pulled up along the Ritz-Carlton’s front drive. As a team of valets hurried over to their car, Alice drew in a deep breath. She had to trust him; there were no other options at this point.
    The lobby was predictably opulent, replete with chandeliers, marble floors, elaborate vases of flowers. Half a dozen staff members stood at attention, poised to offer immediate assistance to guests. Alice took a seat on a cream brocade settee just outside the lounge as Gil went on in. A few seconds later she picked up his soothing baritone. A murmur of conversation followed and, to Alice’s relief, a rumble of laughter. She waited another minute, rose and entered the lounge.
    Gil spotted her and waved. Beside him sat Andy Redgrave. Early forties, Alice guessed, lean, receding silvery-blond hair, elegant in a fitted charcoal suit, looking every inch the powerful billionaire player. He was not handsome in the same way Gil was; his face was too angular, but it served to highlight his posh bearing, the arresting nature of his pale blue eyes.
    Gil made the introductions. Alice accepted Andy’s offer to join them for a drink, a glass of white wine the server produced even before she could settle into her high-backed leather chair. Sipping her wine, she listened to the others talk. The two men across from Andy remained largely silent, listening to Gil recount an anecdote about Gil and Andy’s mutual friend.
    "So, we both know Joel," Andy said afterward. "I've just learned Alice is your associate. But I didn’t catch what organization you two work for."
    He hadn’t told Andy yet. She couldn’t believe it. Her toes curled in fearful anticipation.
    "The West Coast Ballet Theatre Association." Gil offered Andy his most winning smile.
    "In what capacity?"
    "Oh. That would be development."
    Andy's own smile faded. “I hope you’re not here to try and talk business.”
    “Not in the least,” Gil assured him. “We know your organization’s submission guidelines.”
    “Good. Because otherwise I’d feel compelled to ask you to leave.”
    “I can fully appreciate that.” Gil kept his tone confident, but Alice saw behind his eyes the first flicker of insecurity.
    It was time for Plan B.
    Fast.
    “Actually,” Alice blurted out, “Gil and I are here to settle a bet. He didn’t believe me when I told him my great-great-grandfather and yours might have done business together.”
    Gil stared at her, baffled.
    Andy looked her way as well. “Your great-great-grandfather. And he would be…?”
    "Elijah