“This is it?” I asked Chris, grabbing his arm before he headed in.
“Bar looks not so good,” Roman said, red-faced. “Looks changed. Maybe new owner?” He pulled out his smartphone, comparing the number on the curb to the one on his phone.
“Well, ladies and gents, we might as well play a round of pool and grab some drinks! I know I’m in need of a refill,” Chris said to the hesitant group still getting out of the limo.
“Not so sure—” I started, but he was already on his way in. I followed, passing through a cloud of cigarette smoke from the half dozen or so middle-aged men hanging out on the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the bar.
Roman’s spirits returned once he spotted the pool tables. “Let’s go! Two tables, two groups. Boys against girls!”
Since I was terrible at pool, I sat at a booth with Dana and Walt Fitzpatrick, a horse trainer couple I’d met earlier at dinner. They’d taken sixth and eighth places in the show. Soon I learned Dana and Walt ran a small training business in Wyoming. They’d been in the business for over thirty years, one of those couples that had figured out not only how to stay together, but how to work together, how to compete on the same circuit together. It was possible. Nice couple, married, no kids, working their butts off to make ends meet. They still showed in Grand Prix, though they said it was getting harder and harder. Their dream, just like everyone else’s, was to compete in the Gold Cup.
“How about a drink?” Walt asked.
“One margarita for me.” I held up my finger, a little bit in defeat. This wasn’t the evening I’d had in mind.
Walt signaled the waitress over. The waitress-slash-bartender, a remnant from the eighties, strode over. She blew up her teased bangs, which had seen one too many bottles of bleach, eyeing the laughing group at the pool tables through her turquoise-lined eyes. She took our order but made it clear we weren’t welcome, and had no business intruding on her space.
“How did it feel today, Brynn?” Walt asked.
“Besides it being the best experience I’ve ever had?” I smiled at the memory of going clear. “I keep thinking I might wake up tomorrow and find out it never happened. I can’t imagine what it would be like to win first place.”
Across the bar, the group roared with laughter. We all turned in time to catch Chris helping Star out with a shot, leaning over her, his arm on hers as he guided her cue. I stared, ready to go intervene, but the waitress returned with our drinks, blocking my view.
I sat back, grabbing my margarita glass.
“You did good,” Dana said. “You’ve had quite the year. And you should be proud. Keeping your father’s business going and all. It’s not something everyone can do. Plus I overheard at the banquet one of your old clients misses you—or her daughter does, anyway.”
“What?” I spilled a bit of my drink on my dress.
“I don’t know the woman, but her name was something like Catherine, or Cory.”
“Corinne?”
“That might have been it.” Dana looked over at Walt. “Walt? You remember? Anyway, the mother hushed the daughter up, but the girl went on how she missed the trail rides, and having fun at your folks’ place. The point is, you’ve done well. And jumping like that today, showing everyone up like that. It was good.” Dana smiled.
“I think it will all sink in tomorrow.” My head reeled. Did Kennedy miss the ranch? Did she miss me? I licked a bit of salt off the edge of the margarita glass, then took a sip.
“Well, pinch yourself. You did it.” Dana lifted her glass to me. “And some ain’t too pleased.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” She laughed. “Girl! Wake up! You’ve got a lot to learn. Most of the good ol’ boys here have been at this game since before you were born. You think they wanna be shown up by some twenty-three-year-old? And a girl at that?” Dana sucked on the olive from her martini. “Hey, I’m not ashamed to admit it. They’re not the only ones. Frankly, I know I’m jealous.”
“Plenty of girls show now. Look at Vivian,” I said.
“Yup. That is true. Doesn’t mean the boys like it. You’ve just gotta learn how to play the game.”
I followed her gaze to where Derek and Roman were high-fiving. Vivian leaned back against the wall, eyes narrowed, a cue in her hand, tapping her foot, staring at Chris and Star.
“I have to say, he’s managed all right given the rumors flying around about him,” Walt said.
“Rumors? Ha! If only,” Dana said. “I happen to know there’s a lot of truth in them.”
I practically choked on my margarita. After everything that had happened in the last few months, I’d practically forgotten the warning Vivian had given me as I left Chris’s apartment.
Dana continued, “My girlfriend rides with the mayor’s wife, the one he screwed.” Then seeing the look on my face, she said, “Oh dear. You didn’t know?”
Walt cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure she’s heard.”
All eyes turned to me, and I focused on my margarita glass.
“You have to know by now. How he went off with Alison to New York? They’d had a short affair. She bought him all kinds of toys and high-end clothes and shoes and a couple of weeks later she found him with a young girl, barely of age, back at the barn.”
I felt my fingers grow cold, the glass practically slipping through them.
“Oh dear. You didn’t know. Yeah. She got just a bit pissed.” Dana gave a laugh. Not an unkind one, but as if she were laughing at a kid. “That’s an understatement. What a stupid move on his part. Alison had a chat with her husband who met Chris at the barn and the next thing you know, Chris was hightailing it back to California to his mommy. Well, all that’s in the past now. He’s likely learned his lesson. What’s most important is your future.” Dana squinted at me, leaning forward, taking a hold of my hand. “And all you have to do is prove it wasn’t just luck.”
Through a fog I heard myself say, “It wasn’t luck.” I stated it as a fact, though my head reeled with the fact that Chris had an affair with a girl, correction, a woman. A mayor’s wife. He wasn’t here because of the argument with his mother, nor because he thought we’d make a good team. It was because he had been chased out of town.
“Here’s to skill! And to Brynn!” Dana raised her glass in a toast.
“To Brynn!” Walt said, raising his. I raised mine, but my arm felt deflated and weak. I clinked my glass to theirs, then took the longest swig I’d ever had, letting the mellow sensation fill me.
The Escalade wound through the narrow roads of the Del Mar hills.
“Next party, you see, will be better,” Roman said, laughing. “No more bad bars, yes?”
“Sounds good, Roman. Sounds good,” I said, gazing out the window, ignoring Madison’s red panties staring me in the face as she made out in the back of the limo with one of the riders. Lights from lower Del Mar twinkled like stars below.
When we pulled up to the gates of a mansion up in the hills, the rows of neatly lined cars edged the curving driveway like beads on the edge of a purse. Cadillac, Lotus, Mercedes, Ferrari, Mercedes CLK, Porsche, BMW X6, Lexus . . . a luxury car showcase. Any one of those cars would pay for two years’ worth of hay at the ranch. I considered staying in the limo, letting Chris go on his own, but the way he held my hand in the limo, and the way he brushed my hair aside and grazed my shoulder with his fingertips, so gently, with such affection, I couldn’t believe for a moment that any of the rumors were true. My head swam with alcohol, and even though I knew I should confront him about what I’d heard, I knew I wouldn’t be able to form a decent thought in this state. I told myself I’d deal with it in the light of day.
A young valet held out his hand to help me from the limo. The sweet scent of pot wafted toward me from the group of valet boys standing farther away. As we all walked up the wide marble stairway toward the glass carved doors, I held on tight to the cold marble handrail, more wobbly on my high heels than when we had left the hotel, my head spinning from
all the drinks I’d had. A fleeting sense of guilt washed over me, remembering Jason’s rule, and my promise to him, but then the front doors came into view.
“Wow, this is incredible,” I said to Chris. Music and laughter drifted toward us from inside.
“Now this is sick. About time. I practically fell asleep back in that hearse.” Derek ran to catch up to Roman and Vivian.
I leaned against the balustrade, surveying the view while Chris and Roman rang the doorbell. The Pacific Ocean, now only a patch of darkness in the distance, joined the black sky—save for the scattered drifting boats flickering like fireflies.
A man with short-cropped blond hair who looked like he was in his late twenties had his arm around a girl at least six inches taller than him. Her body belonged on the cover of Sports Illustrated. She wore a strapless mini dress; a butterfly tattoo appeared to take flight on her shoulder. The man embraced Roman, slapping him on the back. “Roman! Mój kolega!”
They exchanged some words. Then he saw the rest of us. “Friends of Roman’s, friends of mine. Pool in back. Drinks in kitchen. Come, come, friends. Night still not old!”
The few of us hesitant ones followed like a small group of children about to start first grade, hanging back, holding on to each other. Dana’s and Walt’s eyes were wide, their mouths agape. I was impressed, but they were doubly so—bet they didn’t get too much of this scene back in Wyoming.
I could barely see into the room through the hundreds of people crowded into the lower level. A grand staircase stretched before us to the second story. A huge room opened on the left, ceilings at least thirty feet high. The lights were turned down, the music up. A group of young girls danced on a makeshift stage, their skin shimmering like ripples on a mountain lake at sunset, reflecting the incandescent and black lights. Their colorful shorts and bikini tops were adorned with beads and gems, scarcely covering their sparkling skin. Fog encircled them like a cloud.
I heard Star’s loud piercing voice. “Chris, ready to dance?”
“Where’s Madison?”
Star shrugged, and I didn’t answer. I wasn’t here to babysit. If she was old enough to go out, then she should be old enough to take care of herself.
But Star looked around, then pointed to the dance floor. “She’s already dancing.”
“Good. Brynn, let’s go!” Chris grabbed my arm. “But first, a shot!” Out of nowhere shot glasses appeared and someone lit the liquor on fire. Chris placed his palm over it, and extinguished the fire inside the small glass. “Drink!” I hesitated, but as he took his palm off, I swung the green liquid to the back of my throat. “Absinthe,” I heard him say when I scrunched my face up at the sweet licorice flavor and the burn of alcohol. I enjoyed it for a moment until Jason’s stern face floated before me, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Oh, stop judging me,” I said to the illusion. “You’re probably out with Mai somewhere, doing God-knows-what.”
The beat from the large speakers filled me to the core, the bass rocking my insides, vibrating through me, making me drift higher in my haze than I’d ever felt. This was definitely the biggest dance party I’d ever been to. And the most beautiful bodies and faces I’d seen in one place. To my left a male couple ground against each other. To my right dancers twirled, crouched, legs and arms moving faster than the strobe light, and I caught glimpses of silhouettes, like cutout paper shadows.
I followed Chris through the thick crowd, bodies jamming us closer, perfume mixed with sweat. We found a small spot to dance, and suddenly we were the only ones in the room. I finally had Chris to myself. I let myself go. We danced for minutes, or hours, but I still had plenty of energy, and I didn’t want it to ever end.
Chris leaned in and said something, but I only saw his lips move.
“What?” I yelled.
“Need another drink?”
“Yes!” I said, laughing, leaning on him. He looked so sexy with his black button-down shirt and navy blue slacks. His blond hair fell in unruly clumps, and I brushed it off his forehead.
“I’ll be right back!” he yelled toward me.
I nodded, allowing the beat of the music to carry me. I closed my eyes, permitting my body to move in ways I never knew it could. I felt free. Free from judgments, the haters, the piercing eyes, always questioning, asking, wanting. No Derek, no Jason, no Mom, no clients.
I felt joy. Like I was finally accepted. Chris was here, and we were on our way up. My body didn’t even belong to me anymore, as if I knew how to dance, when I’d always sworn I couldn’t. “Set me free,” the dance song said, and I let go, my eyes moist from the tears of joy I finally felt I could cry.
One song blended into the next. Then another. I danced in a trance, my arms waving, my legs moving. I glanced up expectantly for Chris, desperately in need of a glass of water. I stretched tall, but my tall was shorter than most of the crowd. I couldn’t see Chris’s blond hair anywhere. Someone pushed me from behind and suddenly I felt like a prodded animal in a cage. The heat, the crowd, the siren from the song now made my stomach clench. The sound screeched in my ears, the vibrations too strong, my eardrums ready to burst. Where the hell was he?
A drink sprayed my arm, spilling across my dress. I wiped at it, getting syrupy stickiness on my hands. I raised my arm to block the strobe lights from my eyes. Someone brushed at the silky fabric, but I pushed the hand away. I shoved through the dancing crowd toward the back of the house.
Every height and size of man seemed to swarm the bar. Except Chris. I thrust the sudden flutter of my heart aside, telling myself I was fine.
The back wall of the house opened to a stone-covered patio. An outdoor kitchen and barbecue gleamed under the moon, and a fire pit threw orange and red flames into the sky. Chill music greeted me as I stepped across the stone patio, and I welcomed the coolness of the air. I folded my arms around my chest, my fingers sticky against the spilled cocktail. I stumbled over a patch of grass as I made my way to the emerald-green pool below. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces, and saw none. I moved to the poolside lounge chairs, and sat, my head spinning.
I leaned my head back against the cushion, gazing up at the sky. I closed my eyes, but that only made the world spin faster, out of control. I opened my eyes again to see drunk partygoers jump into the pool.
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” A deep, mellow voice pulled me out of my daze.
“Uh-huh.”
“Almost as beautiful as you,” the voice continued.
A man in his midfifties sat on the lounge chair facing me.
“Am I supposed to fall for that? Swoon? Blush?” I asked. “I don’t think I have to tell you how cliché that sounds.”
“Well I can tell you this. Everyone around here is fake. Fake tits, fake teeth, fake smiles. But you”—he waved a hand up and down—“you’re the most real thing I’ve seen all night.”
“Thanks.”
“Here, you wanna do a line?” He pulled a gold case from his pocket.
“No thanks, uh . . .” I squinted, trying to remember if he’d given me a name.
“Steve.” He reached his hand to shake mine.
“Steve. No thanks, Steve.” I closed my eyes again. He was old enough to be my dad. I thought of my morning sessions with Jason and the serenity of the cool air filling my lungs during sun salutation. Getting up at six would be impossible tomorrow; now I knew why his no-alcohol rule was so important.
Water droplets splashed my arm as someone jumped in the pool. I looked up at the couple playing in the pool. I raised my eyes higher to the other side. My heart sped up. Chris! I sat up to wave, but then . . .
He leaned down. He was kissing a woman. His hand up the slit of her dress. Moving. Searching. Her toned legs wrapped around his waist. I clasped my hand over my mouth, blinking, wishing the image away.
Vivian.
I stumbled up, just as Vivian’s eyes made contact with mine. I could have sworn there was a spark of victory in them.
“Hey, n
eed some help?” Steve asked as I tripped over his feet.
“I’m fine.” I walked as fast as I could up the winding path to the house. Inside, the crowd hadn’t thinned, and making my way to the front door felt like moving through quicksand. I spotted the exit, but I couldn’t get to it. The dark room, the lights, the strong scent of sweat. Nausea percolated. I placed my hand over my mouth, grabbing onto a column, swallowing the sour taste of vomit. As soon as it subsided, I rushed to the front door. I stepped out and breathed in the fresh air. Slowly, the nausea passed, and I walked carefully down the stairs. Fog had rolled in off the ocean. I clung to the marble handrail, my hand slipping along the cool stone. The moisture in the air clung to my eyelashes.
“Where’s the limo?” I yelled toward the stoned group of valets.
“What limo?” one of them asked.
“The big white one. We came in a huge group.”
“Don’t know, lady. Maybe ask one of your friends?” the boy said. I think he was trying to be helpful, but I waved him away.
I walked down the circular driveway toward the street. The limo was nowhere in sight. I dug around in my clutch for my cell, checking and rechecking the small compartment, but the smooth familiar shape of my smartphone wasn’t there. “Shit!” I yelled out loud. I must have dropped it, either back in the limo, or at the party somewhere.
I stumbled again. In frustration I pulled at the thin straps of my heels, yanking them off, letting them twirl in my fingers. The cool, wet concrete of the street soothed my burning feet. I walked along the curving hills for a while, but soon realized I’d spent the last of my money at that dive bar and hadn’t brought any credit cards.
“Unbelievable,” I said to myself. I sat down on the curb, hanging my head in my arms, willing the world to stop spinning. I had never drunk this much before.
I wrapped the thin silk of my dress around my legs as best as I could. I imagined Jason appearing. He’d find me, pull me into his strong arms, then take me home and tuck me into bed.
But he wouldn’t be caught at a place like this. I wondered where he was now. In bed with Mai?
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