‘She is divine,’ said Carlotta.
‘She’s like her mother,’ said Chris.
‘No, I see some of you in her.’
‘Thankfully none of my looks,’ laughed Chris, as he ate the last of the crust on Alexia’s plate.
He refilled her glass with wine. ‘So tell me, Carlotta, why did you need to whore yourself out to Berconi for sponsorship of your little horse show?’
Carlotta felt rage welling within her. ‘Excuse me?’ she asked, her face flushing.
‘You heard me. Why did you need to lower yourself to Berconi when you knew one, he is married and two, he is a competitor of Pajaro. Don’t you think that’s flying a little close to the sun?’
Carlotta stood up. ‘Way to ruin the night, Chris. I don’t need to hear this bullshit from you,’ she said, picking up her things.
‘Well, who are you going to hear it from then?’ he asked casually. ‘The problem with all you de Santoval women is that you don’t want to hear the truth. You in particular.’
‘Fuck you,’ said Carlotta, as she walked to the door.
‘I would love you to but first answer my question,’ he said.
‘What?’ Carlotta’s face was aghast. This man was crass and rude and she hated him again. Any peace between them was shattered and she considered how to get him fired.
‘Don’t get all uppity with me,’ said Chris, standing up and walking over to her. ‘I am just wondering why you would deliberately sleep with a man who is married and could if he wanted ruin Pajaro. A man who no one in New York trusts,’ added Chris. ‘Was it to piss off Leon? I don’t think he cares now.’
Carlotta’s rage came to the surface and she slapped his face. ‘Do not speak to me like that. Ever. Do you understand?’
Chris rubbed his face thoughtfully as Carlotta stormed out of the apartment. He turned and saw Alexia in the doorway of her bedroom.
‘Uncool Dad, uncool,’ she said, and then wheeled herself backwards and slammed the door, the echo reverberating around the apartment.
Chris sat back down with his wine. Why did he say those things to Carlotta, just as the olive branch was extended between them? Now Alexia was pissed off with him too. He rubbed the side of his head with both hands and then it came to him. He was jealous, fuck it, he was jealous of Berconi and Carlotta. He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts of her but all he could think of was Berconi inside her and it made him want to punch someone – Berconi.
16
Grace sat on the plane excited. She had always loved flying. ‘How did you get first class tickets?’ she asked as she buckled up her seat belt.
‘My friend is a pilot,’ Frank said.
‘For a bike courier, you sure do have some well-connected friends,’ said Grace, laughing.
‘I know,’ said Frank, as he went through the magazines the hostess had laid out for them.
‘Vogue?’ he asked.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking it from him.
Frank had offered to take care of everything to get her and him to LA to meet with Calypso Gable and she had let him. She thought they would be flying economy on the worst airline available. Instead, here they were sipping champagne and flying first. Life was filled with surprises, she thought. When she had told Violetta about Frank and Calypso, Violetta wasn’t disdainful of Grace seeing a courier at all. ‘The heart wants what the heart wants,’ she had said to her sister mysteriously.
Grace didn’t have time to ask any more. She had spent most of the night at the office and then called into the hospital briefly to see Birdie, who still had Spencer beside her reading a Henry James novel.
‘Henry James, huh?’ said Grace as she rushed through.
‘Yes, Violet mentioned that Birdie liked his works, so I thought why not,’ said Spencer amiably.
‘You are too good,’ said Grace as she kissed her mother and Spencer and went back to her apartment.
She had picked up Frank in a town car and taken him to the airport. He met her on the street where they had first met for coffee in Soho. Probably too embarrassed for me to see his apartment, thought Grace sadly.
