Zac’s lawyer glanced up as she wandered past him. “What?” he demanded, looking harried.
“Nothing. Can’t I walk around my own house?” Zara retorted. “Or aren’t I allowed to move without my babysitter’s permission?”
The guy had already turned his attention back to his computer. “Save the pity party for someone who cares, Zara,” he muttered.
Zara scowled. Who the hell did this pointy-headed loser think he was, anyway? But before she could muster up enough energy to react, the buzzer sounded.
“That must be Cousin Stacie,” Zac called to her. “Come on over and help me welcome her.”
“Do I have to?” Zara muttered.
Zac ignored her, striding toward the door. One of the guys had already hit the button to buzz the visitor in, and within minutes she was there.
Cousin Stacie was pretty much what Zara had expected. Blond ponytail. Tidy khaki shorts and a polo shirt. Uptight expression. The works.
“Hi, Cousin Zac!” Stacie exclaimed in a voice just as perky as her ponytail. “It’s so awesome to finally meet you! My mom’s always telling stories about all the trouble you guys got up to when you were kids.”
Zac chuckled. “Don’t believe a word of it, darlin’,” he said with a wink. “Your mom’s always been one for tall tales.”
Zara rolled her eyes. Stacie turned just in time to see, though her expression didn’t change.
“And you must be Zara,” she said.
“I guess I must,” Zara said.
Zac shot her a warning look. “Easy, Little Z,” he said. “I’m sure you and Stacie will get along just fine once you get to know each other.” He turned to Stacie with a wry smile. “She seems to think I’m being unreasonable by not letting her stay all alone at age sixteen.”
Stacie chuckled. “Hey, that’s totally normal. At sixteen, I thought I was ready for anything, too.”
Okay, Zara so wasn’t going to stand around and listen to this. Who did this Stacie chick think she was? At best, she might be four or five years older than Zara. And had probably seen way less of the world, growing up in Upper Dipshit County out in the middle of nowhere.
“Excuse me,” Zara said. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Hey, Little Z!” Zac called after her.
Zara didn’t even slow down, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming her bedroom door behind her.
She spent the next hour in her room, lying on her bed listening to music and waiting for someone to come check on her. But nobody showed until almost five, when Mickey knocked at the door.
“Gettin’ ready to leave, sweetheart,” he said in his raspy voice. “Your dad wants you to come down and say good-bye.”
Zara thought about refusing. If it had been anyone else asking, she probably would have. But she liked Mickey—he was her favorite member of the posse—and so she climbed to her feet.
“Whatever,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”
Cousin Stacie was watching as the bodyguards hauled the last of the luggage out of the apartment. She turned as Zara plodded down the steps, but didn’t say a word.
“There you are.” Zac sounded distracted as he hurried over. “We’re off. All the digits and schedule and crap are written down in the message center, so just call if you need anything.” He bent and planted a quick kiss on her curly dark hair. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m gone, okay?”
“How can I?” Zara shot a sour look toward Stacie.
Zac ignored that. Or maybe he hadn’t even heard it. Zara couldn’t tell.
“Ready, guys?” he shouted with a grin. “Let’s motor!”
The remaining posse members let out a whoop. Moments later, they were all gone.
Zara walked over to the window to watch the line of limos and vans pull away from the curb. When they’d disappeared around the corner onto Broome Street, she turned away. Stacie was standing there, staring at her.
“Listen,” Stacie said. “I think we should sit down and have a little talk about how the next few weeks are going to work.”
“Maybe some other time. I’ve got a really ugly headache all of a sudden.” Zara headed back upstairs, ignoring Stacie’s tentative calls.
Zara locked herself in her room, then flopped onto her bed and pulled out her phone. No way was she hanging around here with Stacie Poppins bossing her around. No. Way.
“Zara? Hi!” Grant sounded pleased when he picked up the phone. “What’s up?”
“Was just going to ask you the same thing,” Zara said. Tucking the phone between her head and shoulder, she wandered over to the mirror to see how much work she had to do to make herself look presentable. “You doing anything? ’Cause I’m bored. Want to hang out?”
“You mean right now?”
She smiled at the note of surprise in his voice. Yeah, it was pretty obvious this guy was used to hanging out with girls like Tommi. Girls who expected to make plans ahead of time, and who probably wouldn’t even let a guy hold her hand on the first date, let alone anything more.
“Hell yeah, right now,” she said. “You got something better going on?”
“No, now’s great,” he said. “Just tell me where to meet you.”
A few minutes later, dressed in her best sexy-slinky clubwear, Zara stepped to the edge of the landing overlooking the first floor. Stacie was nowhere in sight. A second later Zara heard the ice maker in the kitchen clunk.
Good. Maybe she’d get away clean.
She hurried down the stairs. Just as she closed the front door behind her, she heard Stacie calling her name.
But she ignored it. Maybe now Cousin Stacie would get the hint about exactly how these next few weeks were really going to work.
FIVE
Tommi stepped to the end of the diving board, bounced once on the balls of her feet, then sliced cleanly into the sun-warmed water. She kicked a couple of times to propel herself forward, then surfaced, reaching up automatically to push back her wet brown shoulder-length hair.
Alex watched from one of the teak lounge chairs as she hoisted herself out of the water and reached for a towel. They were the only two still hanging out by the free-form pool overlooking the beach. It was almost six, and everyone else had gone inside to get changed for dinner.
It had been a hot day and hadn’t cooled off much yet, so Tommi wrapped the towel around her waist, leaving her upper body and Luli Fama bikini top to air dry. Then she grabbed her watch, which she’d left on a table.
She groaned when she saw how late it was. “I can’t believe it’s time to go already.”
“So don’t go.” Alex reached up, grabbed her hand, and pulled her onto the lounge beside him. “Stay one more day.”
“I wish I could.” Tommi smiled at him. His hair had dried in funny little peaks, making him look impish and adorable. “But I’m showing tomorrow, remember?”
“Yeah, I know.” He reached out and pushed a stray strand of wet hair out of her eyes. “And showing’s important to you, and there’s the whole Legs thing with your dad. I totally get that. It’s just been so cool getting to know you, I wish you could hang out a little longer.”
“Me too,” Tommi said, meaning it. The past two days had been amazing. That incredible kiss on the beach the first night hadn’t been a fluke, and neither had the great time they’d had together on the drive out. Alex was everything she liked in a guy—smart, funny, ambitious, a little snarky, and totally into her. He even still seemed interested in hearing about the horse stuff, which was more than Tommi could say for most of the guys she knew.
For some reason, thinking about that reminded her of Grant. To be fair, he’d shown at least a little bit of interest in horses. He’d even come to a couple of shows to watch her ride. But that was different. Anyway, she couldn’t help being relieved that he’d had to miss this house party due to a doctor’s appointment and a family party. Otherwise things could’ve been pretty awkward.
She forgot about Grant as Alex scooted closer. “Sure
you can’t give this show a pass? Just this once?” he wheedled.
“I can’t. Seriously.” Tommi smiled, flattered that he was trying so hard to change her mind even as she mentally calculated how long it would take her to drive back to the city. “For one thing, I promised this girl Zara from my barn I’d drive her down there tomorrow. She’s kind of counting on me for a ride.”
“Zara?” he echoed. “Wait, why does that name sound familiar? Did you mention her before?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Tommi shrugged. She’d talked a lot about the barn, though she couldn’t remember if Zara had come up. “She only moved to the barn earlier this summer. Before that she rode in LA—she’s the daughter of Zac Trask and Gina Girard.”
Alex sat up straight. “Zac Trask?” he said. “As in the singer Zac Trask? Seriously?”
“Yeah, that’s the one, fanboy.” Tommi couldn’t help smiling at his reaction. “Want me to get his autograph for you?”
Alex laughed. “Sorry, yeah, guess that came out a little geeky,” he said. “It’s just, you know, Zac Trask. Actually though, I met him this one time last summer at a party over in Amagansett. Seemed like a cool guy.”
“I guess.” Tommi’s eyes wandered to her watch. “I’ve only met him once myself. But listen, I really should get going soon, or—”
“Yo, lovebirds!” Duckface came out onto the back deck and waved at them. “We’re taking a vote. Indian food or Thai?”
“I could go either way,” Alex said. He glanced at Tommi. “What about you? The new Thai place is really good. And you’ve got to eat, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got to sleep, too,” Tommi said, laughing as he tugged on her arm, pulling her to her feet and toward the house. “And if I stay here for dinner, I won’t get home until way late.”
“Pretty please? For me?” He stopped and faced her, smiling hopefully.
She hesitated, knowing she should stay firm. That would be the responsible thing to do, the adult thing. But looking into his eyes, remembering how much fun they’d been having, she couldn’t make herself do it.
“Well … I guess I do have to eat,” she said.
“Woo-hoo!” Alex grabbed her in an impulsive hug that turned into a kiss. Tommi didn’t even remember that Duck-face was still outside until she heard him let out a wolf whistle. She pulled her face away from Alex’s, both of them laughing.
“Come on,” Tommi said. “Let’s go in and vote.”
The two of them strolled into the house hand in hand to join the debate about where to eat. Tommi was trying to enjoy the feeling—this tentative-new-couple stage was one of her favorite parts of a relationship. But she was distracted by the sense of time passing. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Every minute that went by was one less she would get to sleep tonight.
“Tommi?” Courtney waved her hand in front of Tommi’s face. “Wake up. You’re the deciding vote.”
“Huh?” Tommi blinked, realizing she’d spaced out while the others were talking. “Oh. Um, Thai sounds good.”
Half the crowd cheered, while the rest groaned or cussed her out playfully. Alex leaned closer and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Excellent choice, Miss Aaronson,” he said.
“Thanks, Mr. Nakano.” She smiled at him, suddenly annoyed with herself for stressing out over something so stupid. What was the big deal? She was young and enjoying life. A little lost sleep shouldn’t even be on her radar.
“Easy, tiger,” Zara murmured as she felt Grant’s hand slip inside her clothes. “We don’t want to put on a show for the driver.”
“Why stop now?” The cabbie, a skinny guy with an Eastern European accent and a sarcastic streak, glanced at them in the rearview. “I was about to start filming this for YouTube.”
“We’re paying you to drive, not to crack lame jokes,” Zara reminded him. She glanced out the window, forcing her eyes to focus until the dancing, swirling lights settled down into their normal patterns and she could see that they were only a couple of blocks from the loft. Wow, how many drinks had she had, anyway?
Not as many as Grant, at least. The boy was seriously drunk. He was already groping at her again, mumbling a bunch of crap about how she made him feel. If only his prep school friends could see him now! She smiled at the thought.
“So tonight was fun,” she said, grabbing the armrest as the cab swerved around a stopped car. The driver leaned out the open window and let out a torrent of curses in whatever language he spoke.
“Yeah, it was great,” Grant slurred, clumsily running his hand up her leg. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Zara.”
“I’ll bet you haven’t.” She smirked, feeling good about how the evening had gone. Grant was sweet, and she just loved corrupting a sweet guy.
“Here we are, young lovers,” the cabbie announced, skidding to a stop in front of the loft. “Now get out of my cab before I have to disinfect it.”
“Give it a rest, dude,” Zara said. “Listen, make sure this guy gets home, okay?” She gave him Grant’s Upper East Side address, hoping she was remembering it right. But whatever—guys like Grant always landed on their feet, right? “Trust me, he’s got the cash to pay when you get there.”
“Whatever.” The cabbie shrugged, turning up the radio.
Grant seemed to clue in to what was going on. He grabbed Zara, turning her to face him. “Wait. When will I see you again?” he asked.
Instead of answering, she grabbed him for a good-night kiss. He cradled her face with one hand and her ass with the other, bending her back against the car door. Zara put everything she had into it—drunk or not, she wanted him to remember this. Then the cabbie started muttering under his breath and Zara pulled back, straightening her skirt.
“I’ll call you, okay?” she said. “See you.”
She hopped out of the taxi before he could respond, slamming the door shut. A second later the cab peeled away and sped down the street.
Zara swayed a little, catching her balance on her high heels. Okay, yeah, she was definitely a little drunk. But whatever. She could handle it.
She staggered into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor, wondering what Nanny Stacie was going to say when she walked in. Actually, she was sort of surprised some kind of NYPD missing-persons squad hadn’t been waiting for her outside the building. Stacie totally seemed like the type to panic and call in the cavalry.
The elevator slid open, spitting Zara out onto the landing. Wow, her head was really pounding. Or was that her head?
She blinked, realizing there was music coming from behind the loft door. Loud music.
“Huh?” she muttered, fumbling for her key.
When she let herself in, the first thing she saw was a buff guy in his early twenties dancing in the middle of the room with his shirt off. And his pants, too, actually. All he had on was a pair of silk boxers.
Then she looked around and saw three other guys she’d never seen before. One was sucking down a beer and playing Grand Theft Auto on the plasma TV. Another was digging through Zac’s liquor cabinet. The third was on the couch with his tongue stuck down Zara’s cousin’s throat.
“Hey!” Zara said loudly. “What’s going on?”
“Zara! You’re home!” Stacie shoved the guy away. “Dude, people in New York are, like, sooo friendly!” She giggled as the guy grabbed her and nibbled at her earlobe. “Quit it! I mean it!”
She pushed him away again and stood. The khaki shorts and dorky polo were gone; Stacie was now dressed in a sparkly cami and a skirt even shorter and tighter than Zara’s.
“Listen,” she said, her voice sounding kind of melted around the edges. Even in her own condition, Zara could tell the girl was wasted. “Sorry about earlier, okay? I was just, you know, giving Cousin Zac what I figured he wanted to see, you know? We cool?”
Zara just stared at her cousin for a second. Her babysitter. The person who was supposed to keep her out of trouble. Then a smile spread across her face as she got it.
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re so totally cool.”
Kate yawned, then checked her watch. One thirty a.m. The showgrounds had cleared out hours ago except for their little corner of the temporary stalls. All the lights were on in their aisles, and Kate, Miguel, and Max were slumped on a bench right outside the tack stall.
Jamie appeared at the end of the aisle, leading an exhausted-looking liver chestnut gelding, a children’s hunter belonging to one of the younger girls in the barn. Miguel climbed to his feet. “I’ll take the next turn,” he offered.
“Thanks.” Jamie handed over the lead. For once, he looked less than perfectly groomed. His shirt was untucked, his normally flawless dark hair rumpled.
Kate was sure she looked just as bad. They all did. A colicky horse could do that to you.
“Is he any better?” she asked Jamie as Miguel disappeared with the horse.
“Still no poop.” Jamie stifled a yawn and leaned against the wall. “But listen, you should probably head back to the hotel—you too,” he added, glancing at Max. “No sense all of us staying up all night. Miguel and I can handle it.”
Kate shook her head. “I’m not that tired,” she lied. “Besides, I want to help.”
Colic was the catchall name for equine stomach troubles, and the bane of a horseman’s existence. This particular horse had a history of minor gas colics, and usually recovered quickly. But this time the vet had come and gone, tubing with mineral oil to try to clear out a possible impaction, and still the gelding hadn’t passed any manure. Kate knew there wasn’t much point in trying to sleep. Not until she knew that the horse was going to be okay.
“I’ll stay too, boss,” Max put in. He stood up, stretching. “Might as well muck stalls while I wait my turn.”
Kate nodded. “And I never did get around to organizing the meds trunk,” she said. “Think I’ll take care of that now.”
Soon she was straightening vials of Banamine, Robaxin, and all the other drugs that kept the hardworking show horses happy and sound. But she wasn’t really seeing them. She was worrying about what might happen next. What if it wasn’t just a gas colic this time, but a twist or serious impaction? What if the horse crashed right here, thrashing so wildly from the pain in its belly that it made things even worse? What if it died in front of them, before they could even get it to a clinic for surgery?
My Favorite Mistake Page 6
