Winter Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 2) (18 page)

Then there was Dede, the masseuse. She was my favorite because she was a born teacher. She liked to work on the horses and talk about what she was doing. She didn’t just have me sit there—by my second visit she was showing me how to find a pressure point and hold it. She taught me how to do stretches with the horses and not just the lame old carrot-stretch trick. She taught me about their muscular system and which muscles were used most in which disciplines. She worked on dressage horses and event horses too. She had grown up riding, but locally, mostly Pony Club stuff. She was in her early forties and had a daughter in middle school. Her husband owned a construction company. She was one of those attractive granola types—the kind that looked good without make-up or fancy clothes. She wore athletic tank-tops, loose-fitting cargo shorts, and L.L. Bean boots.

We became friends and I talked to her about how I left school to be with Chris. I didn’t tell her everything that was going on with Chris but she knew a little bit about how I was trying to support him as he rebuilt his business. I catalogued to her what I’d done to be helpful of late—brought him lunch at the show, stocked his fridge, picked up his laundry.

I felt like maybe the things I was doing for Chris were helping. He was appreciative but so far it didn’t seem like he was much less stressed. And things between us were still slightly off. Chris had finally gone over to help Mary Beth with her horse, to be there in case he needed to call the ambulance. The hack-a-bit had worked wonders and MB had gone clean in the next class she’d shown in. She’d thrown her arms around Chris when she’d seen him next. The fact that I was with him didn’t seem to deter her in the slightest.

“Be careful you don’t just do things for him,” Dede warned. “You have to take care of you, too.” She pressed on Midway’s neck. “Ooh, come here,” she said to me.

She took my hand and positioned it on Midway’s neck. “Now, with measured force,” she said.

I hesitated. I swear Midway glanced at me like,
you’re doing massage now?

“You can do it,” Dede said.

I pressed and Midway did a funny little sigh-groan. He lowered his head, looking dreamy. I kissed him on the little perfect white spot on his lower lip. I loved to kiss him there. It was like that spot was designed for being kissed. Right then horses felt easier than men.

“You just made his day,” Dede said.

“If only I could make Chris so happy,” I said.

Chapter 21

Chris wasn’t big on the social events either but he said he did need to be conscious of the fact that being seen at charity events raised your public profile, especially if your sexy smile got snapped and blasted out in a post-party press release. Also, it was at events like these that you met and chatted with potential sponsors. You networked and made connections that might just land you your next grand prix horse. Too many charity events and you became a social-slut—you had to pick and choose the right ones and make sure to present yourself well and never get sloppy drunk, which apparently was a problem for plenty of people at these events.

Chris had chosen two events to attend this season. The first was the Great Charity Challenge, which was a participatory event for him because riders competed on teams to raise money for a chosen charity. It was also fun because the riders dressed up in costume. Some riders took it really seriously and outfitted their horse too. I was fine with the idea of Chris doing the Charity Challenge. In fact, I thought it would be fun. Until I found out he was on the same team with Mary Beth.

“She put together the team, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he told me preemptively because I’m sure he knew I wasn’t going to be happy.

“That sounds great,” I said, keeping my jealousy from bubbling up. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel jealous. I did. Super jealous. But the new me was supporting Chris. I was all about his career. I wasn’t going to let him see how petty I really felt inside.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes, this is good for your image. There’ll be pictures in
The Chronicle
and all over. It’s important.”

And there were pictures in
The Chronicle
and all over. And it probably was great for Chris’s image. But the night nearly killed me. To begin with, he hadn’t told me that he and Mary Beth were dressing up in coordinated costumes. The theme of the night was superheroes. Mary Beth prepared this whole Batman costume for Chris and a Catwoman costume for her. I had to Google it to be sure, but yes, Batman and Catwoman were hot for each other. Chris asked me if he could ride Logan and, of course, I said yes. Logan looked great. He had a black saddle pad with a Batman logo on it, and a specially designed black hood that had the logo on it too. Mary Beth’s Catwoman suit was skin tight and sexy, even on horseback. Lily was the third person on their team. She was dressed in a cute Batgirl costume. Now, couldn’t Mary Beth have been the asexual Batgirl and Lily have been Catwoman instead?

I watched the class from the spectator tent, smiling at people around me and concurring with them how great Chris’s and Mary Beth’s costumes were and how yes, Mary Beth was a doll for getting the whole thing organized in support of the Helping Hands Assistance Program. Their team didn’t win the grand prize but they did raise a fair chunk of change for Helping Hands. What a feel good night! Only, I didn’t feel good at all.

Mary Beth and Chris came up to the tent after the class and posed for more pictures. They had drinks and chatted with sponsors of the class. My face muscles hurt so much from fake-smiling. But I couldn’t let on how I really felt, least of all to Chris.

If the Charity Challenge wasn’t enough, a week later there was the EQUUS event that Chris and Mary Beth were co-chairs of. EQUUS was a great umbrella organization that awarded grants to horse charities ranging from therapeutic riding programs to thoroughbred rescues to riding camps for impoverished inner city kids. I couldn’t blame Chris for accepting to be a co-chair because it was such a great organization but I wanted things that kept him and MB apart, not brought them together.

“She asked me last year and I said yes and honestly I had forgotten all about it until a few months ago and I couldn’t back out.”

“I totally understand,” I said. “This is something you need to do.”

This event felt a little better because at least I would be going as Chris’s date. On a Monday, Linda went with me to the mall and I bought a very pretty dress and shoes at Nordstrom. Together they cost a week’s salary but I didn’t care. I had to look amazing at this event. More than anything, I had to look better than Mary Beth.

The day of the gala started out like any other. Put in the orders, get the horses to the ring, deal with Dakota’s moods. Linda had said I could go home early to get dressed—she knew how important this night was to me. I left around 4:00 and started my preparations. Shower, blow-out my hair, actually apply make-up. Then put on my dress and the heels I bought. Linda had loaned me a clutch she bought at Skiffington’s Boutique at the show.

I twirled in front of the mirror, waiting for Chris to come pick me up. I had to admit I looked good. I loved the dress I’d bought. It was a mesh, beaded fabric in a metallic gray color. The beads were frosty and sparkled a little and then the fitted waist tapered to a wispy, flared floor-length skirt. It was tasteful and a little sexy with a small opening in the back and a see-through part above my chest. I was ready.

I’d never seen Chris in a suit, let alone a tuxedo. Wow. He looked amazing. I hadn’t gone to my senior prom and this felt like my chance to go back in time. If I had gone to the prom, I’d never have gone with someone so stunning. He didn’t hand me a corsage, of course, but that was fine. He did tell me I looked beautiful.

“You look amazing too. Did you rent the tux?”

“I own it. Comes out a few times a year.”

Of course. This was the life Chris led. I wondered how many times he’d put on this very same tuxedo and picked up Mary Beth instead of me. I tried to stop my mind from doing the whole jealous thing. What did it matter what parties he went to before we were dating? Only when it came to Mary Beth, it all mattered.

“Who’s Mary Beth going with?” I asked.

“Andres.”

“But he’s gay, right?”

“Yeah, it’s not a date, clearly.”

Damn. Couldn’t Mary Beth move on and find herself another man? No, apparently she had to do the bring-your-gay-BFF-to-the-party thing. Keeping her options open, surely.

The tent was beautifully decorated in the theme of farm-to-table dining. Each table was numbered with a rustic chalkboard and had votives in large ball jars. The centerpieces were a mixture of whimsical wildflowers. There were a lot of faces I didn’t recognize. I guess they were mostly the older people who could afford the two hundred dollar ticket. I did recognize the wealthy, socialite mother of a former junior rider who had won everything a few years earlier, including the Maclay Finals. The mother must have had plastic surgery—I knew it was her, but her face looked distorted and off-kilter.

We arrived before Mary Beth and were enjoying ourselves, eating the delicious passed hors d’oeuvres of watermelon and chevre bites and tiny lobster clubs. It was one of the first times Chris and I had gone out together in a while and it felt good to be out of our barn clothes. Maybe this was just what we needed. He introduced me to a bunch of people as his girlfriend and that made me feel floaty. He also was introduced to several couples and each time I was pretty impressed by how good Chris was at making smooth, congenial small talk. People asked about the horses he had and he made them seem exciting and at the same time hinted that he needed to build up his string. With each wealthy couple he talked to, I could feel him hoping that somehow something he’d say would strike a nerve with them. That they’d be charmed by his manners and his determination and ask him more about his plans to buy an Olympic caliber horse. One older gentleman did give Chris his card, suggesting they meet for lunch sometime. “I’d love to hear more about your plans,” he said.

When we had turned away, Chris said, “Do you realize who that was?”

I shook my head.

“Harborview Investments? James Carp?”

I was still drawing a blank.

“Ask your dad. He’ll know. James Carp is one of the wealthiest men in the country.”

“So he could totally buy you a number one horse.”

“He could buy me five number one horses.”

“Does he own horses, or have a granddaughter who rides or something?”

“No. His wife is very involved with the charity so they came tonight.”

“Sounds promising,” I said. “You’re going to call him, right?”

“Oh my God, yeah.” Chris was smiling more than I’d seen him in a while. And it was contagious.

I’d seen Mary Beth come in with Andres but they hadn’t said hello to us yet. Andres was wearing a blue tuxedo with a shiny collar. On anyone else it might have looked ridiculous, but he was pulling it off. Mary Beth was wearing a coral colored halter gown with a jeweled collar. The two pieces of fabric that covered her fairly significant breasts crisscrossed at the collar while creating a peek-a-boo hole between her breasts. If I had been wearing said dress I would have been clawing constantly at my chest to make sure the fabric hadn’t shifted, revealing a loose boob. But Mary Beth seemed utterly confident in her dress and herself as she and Andres made their way over, causing a few heads to turn as they did. Some of those heads might have been men ogling Andres, but still.

MB leaned close and kissed me on the cheek first, then Chris—thankfully on the cheek too, although I noticed she kissed him awfully close to his lips. She smelled wonderful. “What are you all smiling about?” she said.

“Chris just met a potential sponsor,” I blurted.

“Oh, who knows.” Chris’s smile disappeared and I realized I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Really? Who?” Mary Beth said.

“If it was James Carp, don’t get excited,” Andres said. “He loves getting people all hot and bothered, having them drool all over him, and then never gives a cent away. Perpetual blue-baller.”

I wasn’t going to speak up again and risk saying the wrong thing. I wasn’t sure if we should admit to it being James or just brush it off.

“Whatever,” Chris said. “It doesn’t matter who it was.”

“Your dress is gorgeous,” I told Mary Beth. “Where did you get it?”

“This? Thank you,” she said nonchalantly. “Oh, just foraged in my closet.”

A photographer appeared and asked us to stand together. First the four of us and then Mary Beth and Chris alone. Andres and I stood back and watched as the woman took the photo. Chris was trying to smile but I could tell his hopes had been sunk a notch over James Carp. When I got him alone again, I said, “Andres might not be right. What does he know?”

“He knows everything,” Chris said glumly.

“Well, maybe this time James Carp will come through. You should still have lunch with him, don’t you think?”

“Probably not. Waste of time.”

“You can’t think like that. You have to stay positive… follow every lead.”

“How do you know what you have to do?” Chris said. “I’m sick of following every lead. None of them are working out.”

“That’s not true. The Tellers have pledged.”

“It’s not nearly enough.”

“But you’ll get there, I’m sure you will.”

Chris looked straight at me. “Hannah, your optimism is kind of killing me right now. Can we just grin and bear it, and get through this stupid evening?”

His response took the wind out of me. I had bought a four hundred dollar dress for this stupid evening, and I didn’t look nearly as good as Mary Beth in what she’d apparently pulled out of her closet, if that was to be believed. I knew it wasn’t Chris’s fault that he felt down about his prospects but I wanted this one night at least to feel like it could be happy for us. I had been trying so hard. This was my prom make-up.