'Don't order me like I'm a horse to be moved from one place to another,' I said. 'You can apologize or you can kiss my ass.'
I waited, expecting an explosion, not sure what would happen after it came. Van Zandt looked at me, then looked away, and when he turned back toward me he was smiling as if nothing had happened.
'You're a tigress, Elle! I like that. You have character.' He nodded to himself, suddenly enormously pleased. 'That's good.'
'I'm so glad you approve.'
He chuckled to himself and took my arm again. 'Come along. I'll introduce you to Jade. He'll like you.'
'Will I like him?'
He didn't answer. He didn't care what I liked or didn't like. He was fascinated that I had challenged him. I was sure he didn't get much of that. Most of his American clients would have been wealthy women whose husbands and boyfriends had no interest in horses. Women who gave him undue credit simply because he was European and paid attention to them. Insecure women who could be easily charmed and manipulated, impressed by a little knowledge, a little Continental elegance, and a big ego with an accent.
I had witnessed the phenomenon firsthand many times over the years. Women starved for attention and approval will do a lot of foolish things, including parting with large sums of money. That was the clientele that made unscrupulous dealers a hell of a lot of money. That was the clientele that made dealers like Van Zandt snicker and sneer 'stupid Americans' behind the client's back.
Park Lane came out of the tent with Jill the groom in tow just as we were about to step into the aisle. Van Zandt snapped at the girl to watch where she was going, muttering 'stupid cow' only half under his breath as the horse dragged her away.
'D.J., why can you not find any girls with brains in their heads?' he asked loudly.
Jade stood at the open door to a tack stall that was draped in green and hung with ribbons won in recent shows. He calmly took a drink of Diet Coke. 'Is that some kind of riddle?'
Van Zandt took a beat to get it, then laughed. 'Yes-a trick question.'
'Excuse me,' I said politely, 'but do I look like I'm standing here with a penis?'
'No,' Paris Montgomery said, coming out of the tack stall. 'A couple of dicks.'
Van Zandt made a growling sound in his throat, but pretended good nature. 'Paris, you're the quick one with the tongue!'
She flashed the big grin. 'That's what all the fellas say.'
High humor. Jade paid no attention to any of it. He was looking at me. I stared back and stuck out my hand. 'Elle Stevens.'
'Don Jade. You're a friend of this character?' he asked, nodding at Van Zandt.
'Don't hold it against me. It was a chance meeting.'
The corner of Jade's mouth flicked upward. 'Well, if there's a chance, Tomas will be right there to take it.'
Van Zandt pouted. 'I don't wait for opportunity to come and knock on the door. I go and invite it politely.
'And this one came to steal your groom,' he added, pointing at me.
Jade looked confused.
'The cute one. The blonde,' Van Zandt said.
'Erin,' Paris said.
'The one that left,' Jade said, still looking at me.
'Yes,' I said. 'Apparently someone beat me to her.'
He gave no kind of reaction at all. He didn't look away or try to express his sadness that the girl had left. Nothing.
'Yeah,' Paris joked. 'Elle and I are going to start a support group for people without grooms.'
'What brought you looking for Erin in particular?' Jade asked. 'She didn't have very much experience.'
'She did a good job, Don,' Paris said, defending the missing girl. 'I'd take her back in a heartbeat.'
'A friend of a friend heard your girl might be looking to make a change,' I said to Jade. 'Now that the season has started, we can't be too fussy, right?'
'True enough. You have horses here, Elle?'
'No, though Z. here is trying to remedy that.'
'V.,' Van Zandt corrected me.
'I like Z. better,' I said. 'I'm going to call you Z.'
He laughed. 'Watch this one, Jade. She's a tigress!'
Jade hadn't taken his eyes off me. He looked beneath the stupid hat and past the chic outfit. He wouldn't be easily fooled. I found I didn't want to look away from him either. Magnetism hummed from within him like electricity. I thought I could feel it touching my skin. I wondered if he had control of it; could turn it on and off, up and down. Probably. Don Jade hadn't survived at his game without skill.
I wondered if I was up to matching him.
Before I had to answer that question, a more imminent danger swaggered into the picture.
'God in heaven! What kind of sadist put my class at this uncivilized hour of the day?'
Stellar's owner: Monte Hughes III, known as Trey to friends and hangers-on. Palm Beach playboy. Dissolute, debauched drunk. My first big crush when I'd been young and rebellious, and had thought dissolute, debauched, drunken playboys were romantic and exciting.
Sunglasses hid undoubtedly bloodshot eyes. The Don Johnson Miami Vice haircut was silver and wind- tossed.
'What time is it, anyway?' he asked with a lopsided grin. 'What day is it?'
He was drunk or on something or both. He always had been. His blood had to have a permanent alcohol level after all the years of indulgence. Trey Hughes: the happy drunk, the life of every party.
I held myself very still as he came toward us. There was little chance he would recognize me. I'd been a young thing when last he'd seen me-twenty years before-and the term 'pickled brain' didn't mean preservation of any kind. I couldn't say he'd ever really known me, though he had flirted with me on several occasions. I remembered feeling very impressed with myself at the time, ignoring the fact that Trey Hughes flirted with every pretty young thing to cross his path.
'Paris, honey, why do they do this to me?' He leaned into her and kissed her cheek.
'It's a conspiracy, Trey.'
He laughed. His voice was rough and warm from too much whiskey and too many cigarettes. 'Yeah, I used to think I was paranoid, then it turned out everyone really was out to get me.'
He was dressed to ride in buff breeches, a shirt and tie. His coat bag was slung over his shoulder. He looked exactly the same to me as he had twenty years ago: attractive, fifty, and self-abused. Of course, he'd been thirty at the time. Too many hours in the sun had lined and bronzed his face, and he'd gone gray at an early age-a family trait. He had seemed dashing and sophisticated to me back when. Now he just seemed pathetic.
He leaned down and peered at me under the brim of my hat. 'I knew there had to be a person under there. I'm Trey Hughes.'
'Elle Stevens.'
'Do I know you?'
'No. I don't think so.'
'Thank God. I've always said I never forget a beautiful face. You had me thinking I might be getting Old Timer's.'
'Trey, your brain is too drenched in alcohol for it to contract anything,' Jade said dryly.
Hughes didn't so much as glance at him. 'I've been telling people for years: I drink for medicinal purposes,' he said. 'Maybe it's finally paying off.
'Never mind me, darling,' he said to me. 'I never do.' His brows drew together. 'Are you sure…?'
'I'm a new face,' I said, almost amused at my own joke. 'Have you ever been to Cleveland?'
'God, no! Why would I go there?'
'I was sorry to hear about Stellar.'
'Oh, yeah, well…' he rambled, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. 'Shit happens. Right, Donnie?' The question had a barb to it. He still didn't look at Jade.
