Seize the Night. Tiffany Reisz
higher-up, then? A secretary?”
Remi shifted uncomfortably as her parents smiled for the dozens of cameras in the Winner’s Circle. Even Shenanigans seemed to be smiling.
“Well...I guess we can talk to Julien Brite,” Remi said and a tiny tremor passed through her body as his name passed her lips.
“Which one’s Julien?”
“Julien is the son. He’s the youngest in the family.”
“Never heard of him,” Merrick said.
“He’s not in the business,” Remi said. “Not sure why. I don’t even know where he lives now.”
“You know him?”
“Sort of.”
Merrick narrowed his eyes at her. “You sort of know him? Can you trust him?”
“He’s the only member of the Brite family who doesn’t hate me. I think.”
“He sounds like our guy, then. You want to find him and go talk to him about this stupid rivalry?”
“Oh, he already knows about the rivalry,” Remi said with a heavy sigh. “But yes, he’s probably the only one in the Brite family we can talk to.”
“I’ll find his number,” Merrick said. “We can call him.”
“No calls,” she said, making the decision at once. “On the off chance he does hate me, let’s not give him a reason to hang up on us.”
Remi stepped away from the rails and headed toward the clubhouse.
“So we show up on his doorstep and beg for help?”
“Can you find his doorstep for me? I’ll do the begging.”
“On it, Boss. But if Julien isn’t involved in the business, how do you know he knows anything about the rivalry?” Merrick asked. The crowd ahead parted for them. The people in the grandstand might not have known who she and Merrick were, but the clubhouse crowd certainly did. Tyson Balt, the owner of Verona Downs, eyed her warily. The feeling was entirely mutual. And up in the boxes she saw Mr. and Mrs. Brite giving an interview to a reporter as a camera recorded their every word. She glanced up at them. They glared down at her with unmistakable loathing.
“Because,” Remi sighed, “four years ago, Julien and I accidentally started it.”
Vive La France
On Friday morning, Remi and Merrick boarded an airplane. Halfway through the flight Remi realized she’d been digging her hand into Merrick’s knee for the past two hours. Flying didn’t scare her. She’d spent too many years on the back of high-jumping horses to be afraid of a little altitude. But even after four hours of smooth sailing, Remi remained a rapidly fraying knot of tension.
“Boss? You okay?” Merrick asked as he signaled the flight attendant for another drink. He was having way too much fun in first class, much more fun than she was. “I mean, I don’t mind that you’re squeezing my knee so hard I can’t feel my calf, but there are other body parts I could direct your attention to, if you’re interested.”
“Steady as she goes.” Remi took the vodka out of his hand and chugged it.
“Whoa, Nellie.” Merrick grabbed it back. “We’ve got five hours left on this flight.”
“Sorry,” she said. “Take it. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you seem real fucking fine. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the world’s worst liar?” Merrick asked. “You’re stressed about seeing this Julien guy again. Yes?”
“A smidge,” she said. “A skosh.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
She shook her head. “Not if you won’t let me have your vodka.”
He gave her the vodka. “Sip it and talk. You can’t say something like ‘Julien and I started this rivalry’ and sashay off all dramatic-like without telling me the story.”
“It’s a humiliating story,” Remi said.
“Miss?” Merrick addressed the passing flight attendant. “I’m going to need some popcorn.”
“Merrick.”
“Talk,” he said. “And don’t leave out any juicy details.”
“I’m leaving out all the juicy details,” she said. “You get the bare bones.”
“Is there boning involved in the bare bones?”
“Near boning,” she said, wincing. She took a steadying breath and focused her attention on the hum of the airplane engines. It comforted her, the sound of the engines reminding her she was thousands of miles and years away from the time and place of her greatest humiliation.
“Go on...” Merrick said.
“This was back when I was in college—just graduated, actually. Winter graduation. I’d come home for Christmas, and Mom and Dad dragged me to a big Christmas party at The Rails.”
“That’s that huge horse farm in Versailles, yes?”
“Yes, bigger than Capital Hills and Arden put together.”
“Got it. So it’s Christmas. It’s a party. You’re what? Twenty-one?” Merrick asked.
“Twenty-two,” she said. “It was a formal party, so I had an excuse to buy an awesome dress. Jade strappy thing.”
“Did it make your tits look good?”
“You could have seen them from space,” she said.
“I approve. Continue, please.”
“Anyway,” she said and paused to sip Merrick’s vodka. She hated the stuff but needed a little liquid fortification. “I was there about an hour before I saw this gorgeous guy. He was standing on the other side of the room talking to a big, hotshot Kentucky basketball player. So I assumed he was a University of Kentucky student, probably a freshman. He was drinking a glass of white wine, and he looked so handsome in his tuxedo. He had messy red hair. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.”
“Gross.”
“Do you want to hear this story or not?”
“Tell.”
“Julien was so beautiful that I had to chug a whole glass of wine just to work up the courage to go talk to him.”
“And you did, and he was smart and funny and nice and all that boring shit women love?”
“All that and more,” Remi said. “We walked through the house together. Gorgeous house. Every room decorated in a different Christmas theme. It was like something out of a fairy tale or a movie. I’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it. The night was perfect. Ever have a moment so perfect that you know you’ll remember it the rest of your life while you’re still living in the moment?”
“Never,” Merrick said. “But it’s a good dream. Too bad dreams lie.”
“It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. This was real.”
Remi closed her eyes and found herself once more in that house on that night. She and Julien stood by the fireplace mantel lined with a dozen yellow candles in antique brass candleholders. The room was filled with antique toys and a tree that soared all the way to the cathedral ceiling. The silver and gold stars on the tree reflected the dancing light from the fireplace. She’d never been the sort of girl who believed in love at first sight.