Winter Circuit (The Show Circuit -- Book 2) (15 page)

“That’s exactly what he’s like,” I said.

“Believe me, I know. I’ve been there.” She was quiet for a moment and then added, “And the sex, right? Is it going downhill?”

I stiffened. Did I really want to talk to Mary Beth about my sex life with Chris?

Her voice turned soft and sisterly. “I don’t mean to get personal and I get it if you’re like TMI but I just know with me when he got all distracted with his career, I had to work to get it going again in the bedroom.”

I didn’t want to seem like a prude either, the girl who wouldn’t talk about sex. Zoe always made me out to be some total lame-o. I checked to make sure no one might overhear us. “I guess it’s been, not as great as at other times.”

“And part of that’s natural, right, I mean, when you’re first with a guy it’s like you’re doing it all the time and you can’t keep your hands off each other. Of course that slows down.”

God, I wished Mary Beth wasn’t Chris’s ex. I so needed someone to talk to about stuff like this. This was where Zoe had fit in my life. She had been my best friend—the one I opened up to about things. Right now I had no one. Who was I supposed to talk to about this kind of stuff? Ryan? No way. I could have called Van, I guess. She would have been the best person to talk to. I felt like Mary Beth and I could have actually been friends, if she wasn’t Chris’s ex. Could I still be friends with her? Maybe that would be the best outcome. We could all be so grown-up about it.

Mary Beth continued, “But I found it got better when I tried harder. He just needed a little something different, you know? Well, I’m sure you’ve starting taking measures on your own.”

Measures—what kind of measures was she talking about? I hadn’t been taking any measures. “Um, like what, I mean, do you mind me asking?”

“Of course not,” she said. “You might be noticing about me… I don’t really get embarrassed. I’m kind of an open book.”

That was the complete opposite of me, of course. So why did Chris like me? The question still plagued me. Did he like conservative-me, or wide-open-book MB?

Mary Beth lowered her voice. “Well, first of all there’s personal grooming. I got a Brazilian and let’s just say that was a big success.”

I felt my cheeks redden. And my stomach turn. I didn’t want to think of MB and Chris in the bedroom. What her lady parts looked like and whether it turned him on. But at the same time I needed to know, didn’t I?

“And then there’s positions and places. I tried to mix it up when I could. Surprise him. Like there was one time after a night class.” She went to a whisper, “I gave him a blow job in the VIP tent.” She made a
can-you-believe-it
face, her eyes wide.

I couldn’t believe it. Or I didn’t want to. I also couldn’t believe she and I were actually having this conversation.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m clearly not as bold as you are.”

She poked me playfully on the arm. “You’d be surprised at what you have inside you. Have a little fun. Shake things up a bit. I think you’ll be glad you did.”

I nodded. “Thanks—for being so honest with me.”

“Of course,” Mary Beth said. “You know, I wanted to hate you, but I actually like you.”

I let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “Me too.”

“You wanted to hate me?” she asked.

“I guess so,” I said. “Isn’t that kind of natural?”

“Because you thought I was going to be all trying to win Chris back?”

“Well, that’s what some people said,” I admitted.

Mary Beth shook her head as if she was disgusted with the whole horse show scene. “Yeah, because my main goal of circuit is to win Chris back.”

She said it sarcastically, but after it was out there I felt like the air was stuffy around us. Like the moment had kind of brought time to a halt. Was she kidding? Or actually dead serious?

“I’ll see you later,” she said, with an innocent smile. “I’ve gotta go get on.”

Chapter 18

Only, none of that was me. The rest of the week I couldn’t get Mary Beth’s words out of my head. Chris and I had sex on Sunday night and it was perfunctory at best. The whole time I was thinking how I should suggest we at least do it with me on top, or try with him from behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I had to do something. I had to change things up. Things couldn’t keep going this way. I desperately wished there was someone for me to bounce what Mary Beth had said to me off.
Zoe, damn you
, I thought.
I need you now
.

I’d read some disturbing things about Zoe on HorseShowDrama, which thanks to Dakota I now frequented way too often.

I sat reading about Zoe, feeling myself getting cold despite the fact that I’d turned the air conditioning to a warmer setting so it wasn’t freezing in the house. I knew Zoe had problems but was it really true that Donnie was beating her up?

I didn’t know what I should do with the information I’d seen on HorseShowDrama. It wasn’t my place to be concerned about Zoe but at the same time I didn’t feel like I could just turn a blind eye to hearing that she was doing drugs and in an abusive relationship. I was confused about what to do about Chris and what to do about Zoe.

At the show, things weren’t much better. I saw them all around—babysitters who were beloved by their young charges. Like me, they took care of a wealthy girl while her mom and dad were back home in another state or even just in Palm Beach but off playing tennis or golf, meeting with their money manager, having a massage, or grabbing lunch at the club. These women sat close to the girls on their golf carts or rode double on their mini-bikes to and from the ring. They ate together at the crepe place and watched together ringside. The minder helped her charge with her hair, helped her go over the course when the trainer was busy, and knew just what to say when her charge won or lost. Flash forward years and she’d be invited to her wedding and receive hand-signed Christmas cards year after year.

But not me. Dakota detested me. She stayed as far away as possible from me and when I was near she gave me looks that could strip paint. Intellectually I got that Dakota was trying to get rid of me just like she had gotten rid of all her minders in the past in the hopes that it would force her parents to come home and pay attention to her. I knew I should have felt terrible for her. But emotionally, I couldn’t help feeling hurt by all her conniving.

In the ring, Dakota’s circuit was off to a good start. She was consistently in the ribbons in the hunters and had placed in the low junior jumpers and even won a class with Tizmo. She seemed to have more talent for the jumpers. She had no problem going fast and slicing angles. In the eq, she usually had one or two hiccups that kept her just out of the ribbons but she was still young and the ribbon-winners of the eq at WEF were a veritable Who’s Who of the top eq riders in the country.

On Saturday of week 4, I was requested to take Dakota and her friends to watch the grand prix from the VIP tent. Of course all I could think about was how this was where MB had given Chris a blow job. That girl had gotten into my head. And with it came a nagging feeling. Had she meant to?

Dakota and her friends were dressed up like they were mini adults going clubbing. Shimmery tank-tops, tight toothpick pants, high heels, and designer handbags.

Chris hadn’t wanted to come watch the grand prix and honestly I couldn’t blame him. It was one of the bigger classes, a CSI-5 with close to 400K in prize money. He didn’t have a horse that could come anywhere close to being ready for a class like this and Lily hadn’t qualified either of her horses. She’d had four faults with both in the WEF Challenge round that served as the qualifier. I understood it would be painful for Chris to watch tonight. He said he’d probably watch the Live Stream at home. After his clear round at the Turf Tour, Arkos’s performances had been going downhill. Four faults, eight faults, four faults, twelve faults. Never any horrible jumps—just riding by Braille. If he couldn’t jump clean at 1.40 meters, he’d never jump a CSI-5. Logan was consistently placing in his classes but he wasn’t about to jump a CSI-3, let alone a CSI-5, so that left Chris with the promise of money from the Tellers, which still wasn’t near enough to buy a legit 5-star horse. I would have preferred to watch the Live Stream with him but because of the other girls’ mothers’ and minders’ schedules, here I was.

We got there early as the tent was just filling up. It was a good thing because soon the buffet line stretched to the entrance. Dakota’s parents had shelled out for one of the tables in the front of the tent with the best view of the ring. A waiter came and took our drink orders. The girls asked for diet cokes. In the line for the buffet, the girls people-watched and whispered comments to each other. I couldn’t help but look around too. This was the place to be if you weren’t at the in-gate with a rider. Some of the juniors the girls knew blew them kisses or waved to them as they walked by us. Others were so important in horse show terms that Dakota and her friends just stared after them. The ones they stared at were the young grand prix riders and the top juniors in their last year. Cassidy Rancher types in terms of celebrity recognition. A host of a daytime talk show whose daughter was a junior walked by on the way to her table. So did the movie producer father and his grand prix rider daughter, who were doubly recognizable because they were one of the only two African American families at the horse show.

Of course the girls didn’t really want to sit at the table with me, but they had no choice so I got the privilege of hearing their conversation.

It became clear that for them the class was less about the horses and the competition, and more about the guys. They paid attention to the young, hot, straight ones and disregarded the rest. Some of the guys they didn’t know well enough, like some of the foreign guys, prompted heated discussions about whether they were straight or gay.

They also commented on the young women who they’d heard were hooking up with or might hook up with the young, hot, straight guys. How they’d been seen at JoJo’s or The Players Club with a certain grand prix rider or leaving JoJo’s or The Players Club with a certain grand prix rider.

When McNair Sutter came in the ring, they oohed and aahed. Straight, hot, rich, young, single. Apparently he was the catnip of young equestrians. I knew Chris disliked McNair and all he stood for. Unlike Chris, McNair came from wealth and so he had the best horses. He stayed an amateur for quite a while, so he could win in both the amateur divisions on his younger horses and in the professional divisions on his more seasoned mounts. Only, after so many people slammed him behind his back and probably on HorseShowDrama did he turn pro. He was still a common topic on HorseShowDrama, though: McNair liked the ladies and had left many broken hearts in his wake.

“I saw him by the Tiki Hut before the class,” Addie said. “He is so gorgeous it’s not right.”

“I heard he hooked up with Adele Bonderman last Sunday night at Players,” Dakota said.

“Adele Bonderman?” Taylor nearly shrieked. “She’s not even that pretty.”

“He could have any girl on the entire show grounds,” Addie said.

“Starting with me!” Dakota added.

“And me,” Addie seconded.

“Not me,” Taylor said. “I’m all about Jimmy Sharpe.”

I couldn’t help myself from butting in. Until then I’d been pretending I wasn’t even listening, concentrating on my salad. “Jimmy Sharpe? He’s twice your age.”

“McNair’s only like five years younger than Jimmy,” Addie said.

Dakota gave me the evil eye. “Don’t pay any attention to Hannah, she has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Aren’t you Chris Kern’s girlfriend, though?” Taylor asked. Apparently this gave me status and authority on the topic.

“Yes,” I said.

“Chris Kern’s not all that,” Dakota said.

“I think he’s cute,” Addie said.

“Whether I’m with Chris isn’t the point,” I said. “You girls are thirteen. Those guys are in their twenties and Jimmy’s almost thirty.”

“We’re just talking about them,” Dakota said. “You need to chill out.”

Was it all just talk? I hoped so. But then that wouldn’t explain Audrina’s concern over Dakota’s behavior.

Partway through the class, the girls said they were going to talk to someone and were away from the table for quite a while. When they came back, they seemed louder, their cheeks flushed. I leaned close to Dakota and could smell alcohol on her breath.

“How did you get a drink?” I asked.