rhetorically and
flick a hanging sheet of paper.
“The name is Sean. If you’re interested in
anything in Los Rancheros, I can be of some help.” I shake his
hand.
“Sadie.”
“So you are looking in the neighborhood,
then?” he prompts.
“Yes, do you live here?”
“Yes, of course. We are in the Welcome
Center, after all.” I raise my brows.
“Well, I didn’t know if you needed a pass to
get in. These people are hell to visitors.” He laughs.
“That’s the truth. What is it you’re looking
for, then?” I hesitate.
“Well . . . I thought I would look for
horseback riding lessons, if there was anyone giving any. I don’t
see anything on the board, though.”
“For yourself?” I balk.
“Oh, hell no. For six-year-old girls. One for
sure loves horses, I don’t know about the other, but she would die
if I got her on one.” He puffs out his chest and I can’t help but
smile.
“Well, are you a resident, then?”
“I am.” I lie. “Do you give lessons?”
“I haven’t before, no.” I lose the smile.
“But in this case I might be inclined for a horse enthusiast.”
“Do you have well behaved horses? Their
guardian isn’t fond of them, and might have my head if something
happened to them.”
“We have only the best, Ms. Sadie. I assure
you. They’re actually my employer’s horses, but I help run the
stables and would love a chance to exercise them some.”
“Who is your employer?” His eyes go flat, so
I hold up my hands. “Just wondering if they would take offense to
you leasing out their pets.”
“Who did you say you were again? And whose
children are you to be bringing on the premises?” he asks more
cautiously. I debate the question, wondering if I should give out
Batty’s name to just anyone. Fuck it.
“Finnigan Brennick. He’s a—”
“Oh, you don’t say.” He laughs in relief.
“Everyone knows Finnigan Brennick, a good Irishman on the cover of TIME, and all.” My hackles rise in alarm. Sean holds up a
hand.
“I take care of Deklan Thomas’s horses, of
Rolling Bridges.” Of course I know who Deklan Thomas is, he’s only
the lead singer for Fandy’s band. I laugh at the irony.
“I’m Sadie Dinah. We’re doing a talent show
with Fandy, Triple Threat .”
“OH!” he says loudly, getting several
people’s attention. His voice is lower when he leans in. “I’ve
heard him talk about it while at the house. That’s fantastic. Of
course, have the wee ones come over. I’ll have to clear it with the
couple, of course, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Hmm.” I still think Deklan has a problem
with me in general, much less at his house, since the last time he
saw me I was beating my band member with a bottle of water. I do
remember his wife, though. Very tattooed and pretty. “Let me give
you my number. If they’re okay with it, let me know. They have a
lot of activities after school, so it would have to be Fridays
after school.”
“That would work perfectly.” He pulls out a
phone. “We’ll swap information and be in touch, how’s that?”
“Sure.” In for a penny, I guess.
I get in the car and drive to pick up the
girls from school. Even though I picked up clothes from my house,
I’m still wearing the clothes I got a few weeks ago. The
lightweight jersey, maxi dress I’m wearing today is one of my
favorites. I love wearing flip-flops, too. If anyone I know sees
me, they will probably fall over in straight shock.
When I pull up in the Charger, I yawn and
reach for my phone, already anticipating the line. I go through
multiple emails from my assistant Jacque about my parents, and
several from record label executives. I hear the bell ring, letting
the kids out of school, and try to send off a reply to the
producers about the at home visits we want to take to some of the
contestants hometowns when I hear yelling. Not kids excited to get
out of school yelling, but angry yelling. I look up and check the
mirrors first, thinking it has to
flick a hanging sheet of paper.
“The name is Sean. If you’re interested in
anything in Los Rancheros, I can be of some help.” I shake his
hand.
“Sadie.”
“So you are looking in the neighborhood,
then?” he prompts.
“Yes, do you live here?”
“Yes, of course. We are in the Welcome
Center, after all.” I raise my brows.
“Well, I didn’t know if you needed a pass to
get in. These people are hell to visitors.” He laughs.
“That’s the truth. What is it you’re looking
for, then?” I hesitate.
“Well . . . I thought I would look for
horseback riding lessons, if there was anyone giving any. I don’t
see anything on the board, though.”
“For yourself?” I balk.
“Oh, hell no. For six-year-old girls. One for
sure loves horses, I don’t know about the other, but she would die
if I got her on one.” He puffs out his chest and I can’t help but
smile.
“Well, are you a resident, then?”
“I am.” I lie. “Do you give lessons?”
“I haven’t before, no.” I lose the smile.
“But in this case I might be inclined for a horse enthusiast.”
“Do you have well behaved horses? Their
guardian isn’t fond of them, and might have my head if something
happened to them.”
“We have only the best, Ms. Sadie. I assure
you. They’re actually my employer’s horses, but I help run the
stables and would love a chance to exercise them some.”
“Who is your employer?” His eyes go flat, so
I hold up my hands. “Just wondering if they would take offense to
you leasing out their pets.”
“Who did you say you were again? And whose
children are you to be bringing on the premises?” he asks more
cautiously. I debate the question, wondering if I should give out
Batty’s name to just anyone. Fuck it.
“Finnigan Brennick. He’s a—”
“Oh, you don’t say.” He laughs in relief.
“Everyone knows Finnigan Brennick, a good Irishman on the cover of TIME, and all.” My hackles rise in alarm. Sean holds up a
hand.
“I take care of Deklan Thomas’s horses, of
Rolling Bridges.” Of course I know who Deklan Thomas is, he’s only
the lead singer for Fandy’s band. I laugh at the irony.
“I’m Sadie Dinah. We’re doing a talent show
with Fandy, Triple Threat .”
“OH!” he says loudly, getting several
people’s attention. His voice is lower when he leans in. “I’ve
heard him talk about it while at the house. That’s fantastic. Of
course, have the wee ones come over. I’ll have to clear it with the
couple, of course, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Hmm.” I still think Deklan has a problem
with me in general, much less at his house, since the last time he
saw me I was beating my band member with a bottle of water. I do
remember his wife, though. Very tattooed and pretty. “Let me give
you my number. If they’re okay with it, let me know. They have a
lot of activities after school, so it would have to be Fridays
after school.”
“That would work perfectly.” He pulls out a
phone. “We’ll swap information and be in touch, how’s that?”
“Sure.” In for a penny, I guess.
I get in the car and drive to pick up the
girls from school. Even though I picked up clothes from my house,
I’m still wearing the clothes I got a few weeks ago. The
lightweight jersey, maxi dress I’m wearing today is one of my
favorites. I love wearing flip-flops, too. If anyone I know sees
me, they will probably fall over in straight shock.
When I pull up in the Charger, I yawn and
reach for my phone, already anticipating the line. I go through
multiple emails from my assistant Jacque about my parents, and
several from record label executives. I hear the bell ring, letting
the kids out of school, and try to send off a reply to the
producers about the at home visits we want to take to some of the
contestants hometowns when I hear yelling. Not kids excited to get
out of school yelling, but angry yelling. I look up and check the
mirrors first, thinking it has to
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