Thorns

by Feliz Faber

  “And you?” Will asked Nic, who answered with a shrug.

  “I’d been fired, remember?” he said casually. “Jéro had connections. He helped me find a new job. It just happened to be in the States.”

  There—they did it again. Increasingly mystified, Will noticed a quick side-glance from Louis, which caused a barely discernible wince from Nic.

  Following a hunch, he said, “What became of Mr. Collins, anyway? Is he still in the horse business, too?”

  “As an owner, yes,” Nic said. “But he hasn’t been active since—when was it, Louis? ’84, I think. Took a heavy fall in a race that ruined his leg. He joined Michelle’s business then. Have you ever heard about CODE fashion? That’s them. Or was, anyway, until they split up. Jéro lives in Paris most of the time, but still comes here on occasion to see his horses run.”

  Had he heard about CODE? Will almost laughed out loud as his mind flashed back to a picture of himself, sitting in a dingy fast-food joint and staring down at the famous brand label on a cellophane wrapper; proof that Francis wanted more from him than a pleasant roll in the hay or three. He was about to open his mouth and blurt a remark on that score, but caught himself. Time and place, you idiot. Then the coin finally dropped on him and he sucked in a breath. “Do you mean… your grand-cousin is Michelle Collins-Desmin, the founder of CODE? Wow. Must be great for your PR to train Mr. Collins’s horses.”

  Another silent glance passed between his hosts, this time partly amused, partly pained, and then Louis turned his crooked smile at Will. “Actually, we don’t. Train his horses, I mean. Remember what we talked about earlier, the issue with Goya? It was Jéro who insisted on the full payment. Michelle didn’t care much one way or another; she was happy to be rid of La Thillaye. I think she mostly took the settlement to spite Jéro, since they were already getting divorced back then.”

  Will took a moment to process this. “What a sad outcome. No wonder you’re estranged now, though.”

  Nic drained his glass and stifled a yawn behind his hand. “I’m sorry, but would anyone mind if we called it a day? It’s late, and tomorrow’s going to be busy for all of us.”

  He hadn’t looked overly tired a minute ago. Will couldn’t quite figure out what had brought on that sudden need to retreat, but he couldn’t very well refuse either. He considered his wristwatch. Realizing it was past eleven already reminded his body of its own long day. “Of course. What time do you start in the morning?”

  Louis stood, gathering the wine glasses. “Too early for normal people, I’m afraid,” he said with a wink at Will. “We’ll leave for training at Le Touques racetrack shortly after six. You’re welcome to watch the morning gallop, but only if you’re not too jetlagged. If you’d rather sleep in, I can leave a note with Kim. Think you’ll be ready for breakfast at, say, ten? We’ll be back by eleven anyway.”

  “I’d like to watch the training. I’ll be there.” To his surprise, Will swayed when he got up from his comfortable seat. Nic’s hand shot out. The steadying grip on Will’s upper arm was surprisingly strong, considering the state of the man’s hands.

  Will gave a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Nic. Seems I had more than I thought, after all. Good night, and thank you again for having me.”

  “You’re welcome, Will,” Nic replied, but his polite answering smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Or so Will thought, but he wasn’t sure if he wasn’t just seeing things here. Hands occupied with the wine glasses and the empty bottle, Louis gave him a parting nod. “Bonne nuit, Will. See you tomorrow.”

  After returning the nod, Will turned and left. On his way out, he had the distinct feeling that two pairs of eyes were drilling holes into the back of his skull.

  FIRST thing when he reached his room, Will called Francis.

  “LeBon.” That dark, silk-smooth voice instantly calmed Will’s lingering uneasiness, even from hundreds of miles away.

  “You could’ve warned a guy,” he said without preliminary.

  Francis’s soft laugh warmed Will further. “I’m fine, thank you. How was your trip?” Over the line, Will could hear distant voices, which reminded him Francis was in a different time zone.

  “Where are you? Is this a bad time?”

  “Not really, but I’m at the office. Let me close the door.” The background noises silenced abruptly. “I’m all ears, William. What should I’ve warned you of?”

  “Well, Louis for a start. Why didn’t you tell me he’s drop-dead gorgeous? And Nic is—I don’t know, seems to me like he’s constantly on alert, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure him out.” Will kicked off his shoes and got comfortable on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

  Francis softly hissed in a breath between his teeth, the way he sometimes did when he was culling his words before speaking. “I guess I must plead guilty as charged. I know they can be a bit overwhelming, but I didn’t want you to meet them with preconceived notions. Now I’m anxious to hear how it went.”

  After Will related the course of events, Francis hummed contentedly. “I’m impressed. That’s good, I’d say. You’re making progress with them.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Will said. “Francis, what is it they don’t want me to find out?”

  There was a short pause, then Francis spoke again, a trace of wariness in his voice. “What makes you think there is such a thing?”

  It was Will’s turn to pause. “You listened to what I just said, didn’t you?” he asked eventually. “Right after I mentioned that darned race, they clammed up like oysters. All that blah about Louis’s family relations, interesting as it was… I’m getting a feeling they tried to distract me. Besides, you knew they were lovers before Kentucky—didn’t you think I needed to know that? So tell me, what else did you not bother to mention?”

  Will counted three breaths until Francis answered. “It wasn’t my story to tell but theirs, and I wanted to let them get there at their own pace. You… really, I’m impressed how much trust they’ve already placed in you.”

  “It’s you they trust, not me,” Will shot back.

  Francis sighed, sounding exasperated this time. “Can’t deny that. But I do trust you, William.” He paused then, and the line fell silent, long enough that Will took the phone off his ear and frowned at its screen, wondering if they’d been cut off. But no, all systems up and running, so to speak. He put the phone back to his ear.

  “You still there?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Francis said, the single syllable conveying an impression of wonderment that had Will puzzled in turn. “I trust you,” Francis repeated slowly, still sounding strangely amazed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be there.”

  Might’ve been his tone, might’ve been the jetlag that had Will worn-out and wide awake at the same time, but all of a sudden, he found himself yearning for the man with absolute, unreasonable acuity. “This would be so much easier if you were here. And so much better,” he blurted out. A moment later he could’ve bitten his tongue off. What had gotten into him?

  Fortunately, Will’s soap-opera moment seemed to have slipped Francis’s attention, or at least he chose not to comment on it.

  “This is your show,” Francis said instead, sounding a lot more like himself once again. “It’s quite obvious so far that you don’t need me to hold your hand, William.”

  “I’d rather you hold something else of me,” Will retorted.

  The mattress was soft and the bed way big enough for two. Will let his free hand drop to his lap to cradle the soft bulge there in anticipation of more of their usual brand of suggestive banter.

  “Mmm-hm. That particular subject matter certainly deserves some more delving into,” Francis said, making Will grin with his sudden stiltedness. He loved those little cameos of what he’d silently named Francis’s lawyer self, especially since he usually got to shove Mr. Stick-up-the-ass right back into the doghouse where he belonged. However, Francis’s next words all but wiped the grin off Will’s face. “I think we should discuss the i
ssue further once you’re back, don’t you agree?”

  “What happened?” Will asked, slightly alarmed. Had someone just come into Francis’s office? Quiet whispering and a rustle of paper in the background confirmed Will’s notion. “I can call back, if you want.”

  On Francis’s end of the line, a door clicked shut, and Will heard him clear his throat. “I dislike saying this, but actually, I’d rather you’d wait until you’re back, William. No offense, but I’ve got something big here I need to cope with at the moment. If you really need to reach me for something, please leave a message, and of course I’d appreciate cc’s of anything you write, if you’d be so kind.”

  A cold shower couldn’t be quite as effective as this. “What the hell, Francis?” Will choked out, the warm fuzz in his chest congealing to a lump of ice in a matter of seconds.

  “I’ve got to go now” was Francis’s answer. “Sorry for that. Take care, okay?” Just before the call ended, Will thought he heard a soft “I’ll be damned,” and then the line fell silent.

  Will listened to static for a while. What the hell indeed? Okay, Francis had walked out on him several times for work already, but none of these occasions had come close to the brush-off he just received. What had just happened? Things had been fine only minutes earlier, and now this.

  Had Gary been right after all?

  Will’s hand, still holding the phone, dropped to his chest.

  “You goddamn son of a bitch,” he whispered into the dark room, not sure who exactly he was referring to—Gary, Francis, or even himself.

  Seven

  INEVITABLY, Will got acquainted with La Thillaye’s four-legged inhabitants, and sooner than he’d have preferred. Actually, he came face to face with a horse almost first thing the next morning.

  He woke to noises from the backyard under his window, hooves on gravel, horses snorting and neighing, and human voices chattering in French. Head throbbing slightly as a reminder of last night’s wine, Will squinted into the dim early-morning light filtering in through white muslin curtains. His cell phone clock read 6:05 a.m. He dropped back on the pillow with a groan. Those people had to be insane, getting up this early.

  But the sounds and smells from outside called to him. Every breath carried a message—sweet rain on damp earth, a salty tang of sea air, the ripe smell of horses and manure, a hint of diesel exhaust. A trace of coffee in the mix was what finally convinced him it was time to get up after all.

  However, even though he showered and shaved in record time, he’d obviously missed the party. The big kitchen was empty when Will entered it a few minutes after six thirty, and there were no noises to be heard from outside anymore. On a heavy, well-used table in the far corner sat about a dozen used bowls and teacups, with paper slips, pens, and a pair of black full-fingered gloves strewn in between. A teakettle was still steaming on the kitchen island, but the burners were out. To Will’s delight, the industrial-size coffeemaker on one of the workbenches burbled away, percolating fresh coffee. The aromatic smell alone worked wonders on his still drowsy spirits.

  The coffeemaker coughed and gave a last low hiss. With no one around he could’ve asked, and unwilling to go hunting for a mug through the wooden cabinets, Will washed one of the cups from the table under the faucet and helped himself from the coffeemaker’s glass jug. Leaning back against the corner, sipping his brew, he looked around the homey kitchen that apparently doubled as some kind of conference room.

  Next to the table, a doorway opened into a vestibule with a back door to the stable yard. Will had come into the house that way yesterday, past a narrow staircase and an overflowing coatrack at the opposite wall.

  The door rattled as if someone was kicking it. Perhaps someone with their hands full had problems getting it open? Will put his cup down and went looking.

  He pushed the door handle down, opened the door, and got a whiff of warm, damp, hay-scented horse breath right up his nose. He froze, staring at the big brown animal that filled his field of vision. Apparently unfazed, the horse stared back, then shook its head and snorted, spattering him with greenish slobber.

  With an undignified yelp, Will slammed the door shut as he jumped back. He tripped over something, thrashed his arms, clutched at air and then at fabric that gave with a tearing sound before he caught his feet. An instant later he found himself sitting on the floor, half-buried under a mound of coats and Wellingtons while still trying to figure out how he got there.

  “Will! What happened? Are you hurt?” Will looked up to find Nic standing beside him. A worried look on his face, Nic reached out for him, and Will hauled himself back on his feet by Nic’s hand.

  “Only my pride,” he grumbled, stepping free of the remnants of the coatrack. He felt something wet on his face, wiped it away, and looked at his horse-slobber-coated fingers with disgust. “Yuck.”

  Nic’s lips twitched. “I reckon you’re not actually up this early because you’re so keen on meeting our horses—or are you?”

  “No… yes….” Will gave a soft sigh. “Apparently I suck at making good first impressions.” For lack of alternatives, he wiped his fingers at his pants seat, glad he’d worn jeans today.

  With an amused chuckle, Nic shook his head. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed. Come, help me pick up this mess, and I’ll introduce you to the horse you just spooked.”

  “I’m sorry—” Will started, but Nic cut him off with a gesture, now openly laughing at him, and said, “Don’t worry, she won’t hold it against you. She has people savvy.”

  Nic’s equanimity as they worked together to straighten the rack and put coats, oilskins, boots, and riding helmets back went a long way to put Will at ease again. And he could almost hear Francis’s deep, velvety voice making fun of him about this mishap. The thought warmed him all over.

  “There, that’s better.” Nic smiled at Will, who wasn’t exactly sure if Nic was referring to him or to the state of the coatrack. The horse trainer turned toward the kitchen, talking as he went. “Louis and the others are already at Le Touques. Kim is in town buying bread. She should be back any minute now. I’d offer to cook breakfast for you, but I have a horse I need to get ready. Can you make do with coffee for now?”

  “Thank you, but I already had some. I hope you don’t mind,” Will said.

  “Not at all. Fais comme chez toi, make yourself at home.” Nic sounded somewhat distracted as he looked around the room. “Ah, there.” He picked up the gloves from the table and pulled them on. “This cold is a bitch on my hands. Couldn’t tie a proper knot to hold a horse, obviously,” he explained. “I trust you’ve recovered by now?” He winked.

  “I’ll live,” Will said, slightly miffed. He pointed at the papers. “What are these?”

  “Training plans and form estimates for our horses. Louis and I roughly plan the training ahead for a week or so, but we compare notes with the grooms every morning in order to give each horse its proper workout.” He cast a look at the big old wall-mounted clock above the table. “Will, I’m sorry, but I really need to get a move on. Make yourself comfortable, will you?”

  Will raised an eyebrow. “Umm… didn’t you say you’d introduce us? The horse and me, I mean.”

  About to leave, Nic stopped and turned, cocking his head. “I rather meant that as a joke, seeing as you don’t seem really comfortable around horses. You ever been within touching distance with one before yesterday?”

  Bracing himself a little, Will thought briefly about second chances at first impressions and shrugged. “I’ve recently exchanged bodily fluids with one. Can’t honestly say I enjoyed the experience, but don’t you think we should meet properly?”

  A slow smile spread over Nic’s face, ending up as a full-out grin. “I think I’m starting to get what Francis sees in you,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, then. We won’t keep her majesty waiting, now will we?”

  OUTSIDE the open stable doors, rain was pouring down in a fine, all-pervasive spray. Inside, the horse was now safely tether
ed to a ring in the wall. Will leaned against the wall across from the open stand, hands deeply in the pockets of a parka he’d grabbed off the infamous coatrack. Beyond the stand, the spacious entrance area narrowed down to an aisle between a double row of stalls, each with a sliding door to the inside and a Dutch door leading out. On the other end of the stable building, another set of open barn doors allowed a glimpse at pastures and white fences. Further down the aisle, a grizzled groom whom Nic had introduced to Will by the name of Jean-Yves, and a tall blond named Rémy were busy between the stalls with pitchfork and wheelbarrow.

  The horse’s name was Dauphine, Crown Princess, and there was indeed something of a regal air about her, Will thought. Turned out that getting up close and personal with a horse wasn’t as bad as he’d feared after all. Following Nic’s instructions, he’d offered her a horse treat on his outstretched palm; she had graciously accepted it, her snout soft as velvet against his skin. Now, she stood still except for an occasional swish of tail or a shift of weight as Nic rubbed her dry, taking the human’s ministrations as her due, or so it seemed.

  “What are you getting her ready for?” Will asked.

  Nic picked up a folded horse blanket from a crate next to him and started to shake it out. Will grabbed a corner to help, earning him a nodded thanks from the other man.