The a Circuit (16 page)

Grant checked his watch. “I told some friends we might meet them at the new club over on Eleventh Avenue,” he said. “James and some of the gang from the Hamptons. You up for it?”

“Wow, I haven’t seen most of those guys for eons!” Tommi laughed. “Is Duckface going to be there?”

“If we’re lucky.” Grant grinned, already stepping toward the curb to hail a cab.

A few minutes later they were flashing their fake IDs at the entrance to the club. It was still early, barely ten o’clock, but the place was already packed. People were six deep at the bar, and hip-hop blared out over the crowded dance floor.

“Wow, it’s going to be hard finding the guys in all this.” Grant looked around. “See them anywhere?”

“Not yet,” Tommi said, standing on her tiptoes to get a better view. “I …”

Her voice trailed off. She didn’t see the friends they were supposed to meet. But she’d just spotted two other familiar figures dancing at the edge of the floor, limbs intertwined and bodies grinding to the throbbing music.

“What?” Grant asked, noticing her look. “Spot them?”

“Nope, just some other people I know. Last time I saw them together they were in almost the same position, minus the music.”

Grant looked confused. “Huh?”

“Never mind. It’s just some people from the barn. I should go say hi.”

She pushed her way through the crowds, heading toward the couple. Fitz saw her first.

“Tommi!” he exclaimed, peeling his hands out from beneath Zara’s skintight tank top. “Hi there.”

“Hi. I thought that was you two.” Tommi glanced at his partner. “Hey, Zara. Is Fitz showing you around New York?”

Zara smirked. “Something like that,” she said, smoothing down her shirt. She cast an interested eye over Grant. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Grant.” Tommi introduced both the others. “Fitz, you probably remember Grant from back in the day. He went to Dalton until he left for Europe a couple of years ago.”

“Sure. Good to see you, dude.” Fitz stuck out his hand, and the two guys shook.

“Europe, huh?” Zara tilted her head, gazing up at him. “Where were you?”

“Mostly Germany and Switzerland,” Grant began. “My grandmother’s parents were from Geneva, and …”

Tommi didn’t hear any more. Fitz had just given her a tug on the arm, pulling her slightly away from the others.

“Whoa, thanks for rescuing me,” he muttered, shooting Zara a look. “That girl is relentless!”

Tommi gave him a skeptical look. “Since when does the mighty Fitz Hall need rescuing from a woman?” she asked, only half joking. “Usually they’re the ones who need rescuing from you.”

“Ha-ha.” He smiled weakly. “Seriously, Zara and I didn’t come here together or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had plans to meet up with some buddies of mine, and I guess maybe she overheard me talking to them on the phone back at the barn. Because I turned up, and wham! There she was, like some kind of Fitz-seeking missile.” He laughed self-consciously, shooting Zara another look to make sure she wasn’t listening.

“Hmm.” Tommi wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. And normally she wouldn’t really care. But she couldn’t help remembering the way she’d caught him looking at Kate.

But Kate had no interest in him. She’d said so. So why stress about it?

Just then she heard a shout. Several people were rushing toward them, waving wildly. Tommi grinned, forgetting about Fitz.

“Duckface!” she shouted.

For the next few minutes, she was lost in the chaos of their gleeful reunion. By the time she looked around again, Fitz and Zara were gone.

Then a new song started, and one of the girls in the group let out a squeal. “I love this one!” she cried. “Let’s dance, people!”

Tommi laughed as the other girl dragged her out onto the dance floor with the guys following. Soon she was grooving to the music—her fall, her new business deal, Zara and Fitz, and everything else forgotten as she just let herself go and had fun.

FIFTEEN

It was one of those mornings. Zara slept so late that she felt light-headed when she finally woke up. Then again, that might have had something to do with the six or seven mojitos she’d sucked down last night.

“Ugh,” she mumbled as she glanced at herself in the mirror over her dresser. Good thing Fitz couldn’t see her now.

Then again, so what if he did see her with one eye crusted shut and her hair frizzed halfway to Connecticut? Even looking her best, she couldn’t seem to close the deal with him. Once again, he’d seemed into her for a while last night, then pushed her away before things could go too far.

But whatever. She wasn’t too shy to throw herself at a guy if she thought he was hot. But if he decided not to catch her, she wasn’t going to beg. There were too many guys out there to waste her time with that crap.

By the time she showered and got dressed, her stomach was grumbling. She padded downstairs in her bare feet. Several people were sprawled around the main room—Zac’s head roadie, a couple of record company interns, a backup bodyguard or three. The usual.

“Where’s my dad?” she asked Zac’s assistant publicist, Phil, who was puttering around with the TV remotes.

Phil glanced up. “Oh, you’re up,” he said. “Zac’s at a photo shoot up in Chelsea.”

Figured. The one day she had nothing to do, he hadn’t bothered to wake her up and invite her along.

Zara wandered into the kitchen, which reminded her of Frankenstein’s lab—all industrial stainless-steel appliances and pressed concrete. She opened the huge custom fridge and stared inside, waiting for inspiration to strike.

She was still standing there when Vic slouched in. He was in his midtwenties and a constant presence in the entourage, though Zara wasn’t sure what he did, exactly, other than smoke pot practically 24-7.

“Zara,” Vic said, tapping his cigarette over the sink and flipping back his lank blond hair. “You’re here.”

“No, I’m not. Dude, you must’ve smoked something extra potent this morning.”

An easy grin spread across Vic’s ruddy face. “Good one, dude,” he said.

Zara rolled her eyes. Vic was a walking stereotype. “Isn’t there anything to eat in this place?” she complained. “I can’t wait till Zac gets over this dumb-ass macrobiotic phase. A girl can’t live on sprouts and brown rice.”

“Bo hid some Fruity Pebbles behind the miso,” Vic offered. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“Score!” Zara yanked open a cabinet and found the cereal. “Thanks, Vic.”

Vic leaned against the counter, watching her pour herself a bowl. “Going to that horse barn of yours today?” he asked, taking a drag on his cigarette.

“Nah. No point. Nothing going on today. We’re taking the weekend off from showing, since there’s this big-deal show coming up next week.”

“Cool. Doesn’t that mean you should be, like, practicing or whatever?”

“Got better things to do,” she muttered, digging into her cereal.

Vic shrugged, tamped out his ciggie, and wandered out. But his comment had started Zara wondering. Were the other junior riders at the barn today, even though there was no show and no lesson?

Probably, she figured. Kate would be making like a busy little bee, since it was her job and all. And it was pretty obvious that Tommi took riding überseriously. She wouldn’t win so much if she didn’t, expensive rides or no. She was probably there schooling one of her horses, or maybe one of Jamie’s.

Then there were people like Fitz and Summer. Did they really get off on riding the way the other two did? Or were they just passing time, having fun showing until something better came along?

She chewed her cereal, thinking about that. Which category did she fit in to? She knew what most people would guess. Were they right?

Frowning into her bowl, she wondered if she should head out to the barn just to see what was going on, maybe take Keeper for a quick hack or something. Had to be better than moping around here all day.

Just then she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out, she checked the number. She didn’t recognize it, but answered anyway.

“Zara? It’s me, Kalindi.”

It took Zara a second to place the name. Oh, right. Kalindi was a girl she’d met at a party a few nights ago. NYU student. Weird but cool, with rich parents and an encyclopedic knowledge of NYC hot spots.

“What’s up?” Zara said.

“I’m fiending for some new shoes,” Kalindi said with a laugh. “Want to go shopping?”

Zara smiled, feeling oddly relieved. “Hell yeah,” she said. “Where should I meet you?”

“Steady, pal,” Kate murmured as the horse she was holding shifted its weight. The barn’s regular farrier, Burt, was pounding a horseshoe into shape on his portable anvil nearby. Burt was a fireplug of a man with arms the width of Kate’s thighs, a hearty laugh, and a relaxed way with the horses. He’d just taken a break from a long, funny story about the latest horse-purchase-gone-awry at another show barn to reshape one of the bar shoes that helped keep this particular horse comfortable and sound. Traveling constantly from barn to barn as he did, Burt was a font of mostly reliable gossip.

“So then the client told the trainer she wasn’t paying her commission unless she got the thing resold within the week,” Burt said as he lifted the horse’s right front leg and checked the fit of the shoe. “Trainer hit the roof, of course—and who could blame her? We’re talking her next three or four farm payments, probably.”

“Wow.” Kate was still amazed sometimes when she realized how much money there really was in the A circuit world. The horse she was holding, for instance—he was getting older now, and Jamie was trying to convince his owner to step him down from the 3’6“. But in his prime, the gelding’s sale price could have paid Kate’s college tuition for four years at any school in the country. Easily.

Burt had moved on to the horse’s hind shoes—and another story—when Kate saw Fitz walking down the aisle toward them. He had one hand behind his back and a playful grin on his face.

“Hi,” she greeted him. “You here to get some extra schooling in before we leave for Hounds Hollow?” The upcoming show was on her mind. For one thing, it was the reason Burt was here today instead of his usual Monday appointment. Plus the big, ultra-prestigious show would be her first time riding Fable in the Big Eq. Nothing like diving in headfirst.

“Partly,” Fitz replied, stepping over Burt’s rolling shoeing box. “And partly to give you these.” He pulled his hand from behind his back, presenting her with a bouquet of dandelions. “I picked them specially for you.”

Kate accepted the humble bouquet, not quite sure whether he was teasing her or flirting with her. Knowing Fitz, probably both.

“Um, thanks,” she said. The horse she was holding turned his head to sniff at the flowers with interest.

“Hey! Don’t eat Kate’s flowers, you pig!” Fitz chided.

Kate glanced up as Javier appeared at the end of the aisle. The groom was leading one of Fitz’s horses, fully tacked up in his jumper gear. “Looks like Chip is ready for you,” she told Fitz.

“Wow, that was fast. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Javier wanted to keep me from talking to you.” Fitz shrugged. “Could be true. What guy wouldn’t have the hots for Kate the great?”

Luckily Kate didn’t have to come up with a response to that. Fitz was already loping off down the aisle, tossing a quick “See you, buddy” to Burt on his way.

Burt finished tacking the shoe on and straightened up, watching Fitz disappear. “Uh-oh,” he said.

“Uh-oh what?” Kate had gone back to watching the horse she was holding.

Burt shook his head. “You better watch out for that one, Katie. That boy has a rep already. What I hear, he’s loved ’em and left ’em at barns and shows all over Zone 2. Parts of Zone 1, too.”

Kate shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “Fitz and I are just friends,” she mumbled.

“Really? Good.” Burt stared at her closely for a moment. “ ’Cause you’re too nice a girl to get mixed up in that business.”

He went back to his work—and his story—and didn’t mention Fitz again. But Kate was still thinking about the farrier’s comments as he finished for the day and packed up. As she led the last horse toward its stall, she passed Tommi coming out of the tack room, carrying a saddle.

“Hi,” Tommi said with a smile. “What are you looking so thoughtful about?”

Kate hesitated, instantly flashing back to their chat over lunch the other day. Why was everyone suddenly so interested in her love life these days, anyway? Didn’t they think she could handle herself?

Besides, what she’d told Tommi—and now Burt—was true. She wasn’t interested in Fitz as more than a friend. Was she?

For a second she allowed herself to picture it. Her and Fitz a couple. Going out on dates. Hanging out together at the shows. Holding hands as they walked down the barn aisle, then maybe ducking into an empty stall to steal a quick kiss …

She immediately shut down those thoughts, feeling foolish. Burt was right; Fitz had a reputation for going through girls like a horse went through sweet feed. Fast and hungry. How could she even imagine she might be anything more to him than yet another conquest?

“It’s nothing,” she told Tommi, forcing a smile and jiggling the horse’s lead to keep it from barging ahead. “Just thinking about Hounds Hollow, that’s all. Speaking of which, I’d better get going—I’m supposed to be helping Elliot clean out the trailer right now.”

“Tommi! Over here!”

“Excuse me,” Tommi murmured. She eased her way around a pair of twentysomething hipsters who were arguing with the hostess of the popular Upper East Side bistro she’d just entered. Grant was sitting at a tiny table along one wall, waving at her. She held her breath as she squeezed between tables, customers, and bustling waiters to reach him. “Wow, this place is packed!” she exclaimed as she sat down.

“Yeah, so much for missing the Saturday crowds by doing a late lunch.” Grant glanced at the oversize clock on the wall above the kitchen door. It read a few minutes past 2:00 p.m. “Guess everyone was out till the wee hours just like us.”

Tommi winced. “Yeah, I’m still paying for that.”

“Hangover?” Grant grinned.

“Maybe a tiny one.” Tommi smiled back. “But it’s worth it. That was fun last night, wasn’t it? It was great seeing the old gang. Duckface is as crazy as ever. And I can’t believe Parker and Court are an item now!”

“I know, right? I didn’t even think Parker liked girls.” Grant chuckled. “But yeah, it was a blast. It’s been way too long since I got to hang out with such fun people. Especially you.”

At that moment a waitress rushed past, pausing by their table just long enough to drop a couple of menus. Tommi was grateful for the interruption. She recognized that look Grant had just given her. It meant maybe she hadn’t done such a hot job of keeping things casual.

Then again, she hadn’t been focused on that last night. After an intense week at the barn she’d needed a chance to blow off some steam, and she’d done just that. That hadn’t left much mental energy for worrying about her relationship with Grant.

She would have to deal with that. But not now.

“So how late did you sleep in this morning, anyway?” Grant quipped after the waitress raced off again. “You sounded a little funny when I called you at ten thirty. I was afraid I woke you up.”

“Not even close,” Tommi said. “I was already at the barn by then. If I sounded a little distracted, it was probably because I was riding.”