Puss 'N Cahoots (21 page)

J
oan felt like she stood at a turnstile, so many people passed through Barn Five, most of them clients, friends of clients, prospective clients. By five-thirty, even before the greatest crush of people, she felt slightly wilted.

“I'll do the shake-and-howdy for twenty minutes,” Harry offered. “You sneak off and drink a nice tall iced tea with a sprig of mint. That will refresh your spirits.”

Joan wryly smiled. “You sound like my mother.”

“How is Mother?”

“Hasn't spoken to me since she learned about the pin.” Joan brightly smiled as another person came forward. “Well, Mr. Thompson—”

“John, please.”

“This is Mrs. Haristeen, and there are drinks and sandwiches in the hospitality room. Dad will be here shortly.”

The square-built, middle-aged man smiled back. “Thank you.”

As he walked into the room, Joan whispered, “Looking for a roadster. Dad called me and told me he'd be here probably before Dad and Mom got here. I don't have but so many roadsters. That's Dad's thing.”

From time to time, Paul enjoyed donning the silks to whiz around the ring, although he'd decided to take it easy this Shelbyville, which proved a prescient decision.

As if on cue, both women looked down toward Charly's barn by the practice ring. They saw Charly, his hand wrapped in Vetrap, a sky-blue thin ice pack underneath. He and Renata stood just outside the barn to the side.

“Hmm.” Joan squinted. “Looks intense.”

Harry noticed their shoulders raised up, faces flushed. “Yes, it does.”

Spike, sitting behind them on the grass for a breath of fresh air, heard the whole thing.

“Shouldn't you put that in a bucket of ice?”

“I need to use my hand, Renata. Remember, there's only Carlos. The rest of the help ran like rabbits when INS raided.”

“Guess I would, too.” She reached for his hand, gently looking at it. “Good you put the Vetrap on, it will keep the swelling down. Charly, how can you ride like this?”

“I have to. I have to win.” His chest expanded and he breathed hard, for it hurt even to have her hold his hand. “Look, this can't wait. I have to know something. Did you work as a call girl in New York and L.A.?”

Stunned, she stammered, “No. I was a messenger. I rode a bike. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Booty. When I threatened you Wednesday and said, ‘I know about you,' he called in some chits. He said you worked for a high-class escort service.”

“Charly, if that were the case, don't you think it would have hit the tabloids sometime during my career? It's ridiculous.”

“You could have paid people off.”

“Not the tabloids.” She dropped his hand. “How could you even listen to such trash?”

“You're in a hard business, and thousands of beautiful women think they can achieve what you've achieved, Renata. And most of them don't come from solid backgrounds, if you know what I mean.”

Fire flashed in her eyes. “You mean they're poor, they're from broken homes—like me. Trash, in fact. You think because someone started life on the short end they have no morals?”

“I think the kind of narcissistic ambition it takes to be an actress could lead any woman into anything.”

“Jesus Christ, look who's talking. Narcissus!”

“Oh, come on. It's not the same. I would never have had to rent my body to get ahead in this world.”

“Well, Charly Trackwell, I never did, either, and I come from hunger. I worked hard. I took jobs that allowed me to study, but I never sold my body, and I never would. I can't believe you. I can't believe you would even consider such slander.” She told the truth.

He wavered. “It's been a rough week. Maybe my judgment is shaky. But he seemed so sure.”

“Then tell him to give you names and numbers. I will call them myself. Actually, I won't. I'll have my lawyers call them, and I will sue their sorry asses into next week. I wouldn't mind suing Booty, either, but he needs to say it to my face.” Her face, crimson, betrayed her emotions.

Spike moved forward until he was three feet behind Charly.

“You'd sue?”

“You bet.”

Charly exhaled deeply. “I'm sorry.”

The fact that she would sue convinced him Booty did make it up.

“Have you thought that he's trying to throw you off tonight? He wants this win.”

“He also threatened to tell everyone, media included, about that and that you stole your own horse for publicity's sake.”

A long cold moment followed. “Did he?”

“Said he'd tie you, me, and Ward up together. Ruin your career.”

“He can try.” Renata had steel in her spine. “He has to prove it. If he doesn't, he winds up in court. Do you need me to help you since you can't use your right hand?”

Surprised at this shift of subject matter, Charly blinked, then shook his head. “I can manage.”

“Good. I'm going to pay a call on Booty Pollard, and when I'm finished, he'll have lost his focus for the five-gaited stake.”

Charly smiled slowly. “Renata, you could make any man lose his focus.”

“Only if he has a set of balls,” Renata sharply replied, then added, “Would you have honored your proposal if I had been a call girl?”

His eyes looked downward, then up to hers. “No. I can't have a whore for a wife.” He didn't consider that he was a thief.

“There are all kinds of whores, Charly. You might qualify yourself. I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

Now his face turned red. “Because I thought you were? Come on, it's not such a far putt.”

“No, that doesn't upset me as much as the fact that you wouldn't marry me if I had made a mistake like that.” She glanced down at Spike, who was paying rapt attention, then up to Charly. “To love is to forgive, to accept. You don't truly love me. You only love yourself. I deserve better.”

She left him standing there, his hand throbbing even more, and she moved fast toward Booty's barn.

Joan said to Harry as they watched her, “Trouble in paradise.”

“I'd say that Charly's goose is cooked.” Harry still hadn't mentioned Renata's intent to move back to Charly's barn and was glad she hadn't.

“From the looks of it, Booty's in for a blast.” A devilish moment overtook Joan. “I can't stand it. I'm going to have to promenade by Booty's barn.”

Just then Mrs. Murphy and Pewter shot out in front of them, Tucker and Cookie immediately behind.

“Curiosity killed the cat,”
Cookie opined, her little tail nub straight up.

“It's Mom and Joan who are curious. I'm going as a guard,”
Pewter half-fibbed.

The small contingent, twenty yards from the front of Booty's barn, heard Renata's rising tone. Booty's responses were lower.

The two women looked at each other, the corners of their mouths turning upward. If nothing else, it would be a reprieve from the week's events, a comical interlude, so they thought.

“Oh, come on, I was trying to rattle his cage,” Booty said soothingly.

“By throwing filth at me?” Renata was so angry that Miss Nasty cowered on Booty's shoulder.

“He's in love with you. What better way to hurt him?” Booty didn't smile when he said this.

“First of all, you disgusting toad, he is not in love with me. He's only in love with himself. Secondly, you've slandered me, and if you ever say anything like that again, I will sue you. I will drive you to your knees, because I won't give up. I keep a powerful law firm on retainer for just these kinds of cheap shots. So, Booty, you either give me your sources or you get down on your knees.”

By now Joan and Harry stood at the door. They couldn't help themselves.

Booty, facing outward, saw them, and a helpless look crossed his face.

Miss Nasty was so scared, she threw her skirt over her face.

“If you wear a paper bag with holes in it for your eyes it would be easier,”
Pewter jeered.

The monkey pulled down her skirt, glared at the gray cat. Anger overcame fear.
“I hope you eat poisoned mice.”

“Who cares what you think or say? Liar. Big liar. You don't have Joan's pin. You don't have any sparkles. All you have is a bunch of dumb dresses and hats.”

Before Miss Nasty could respond with an appropriate vulgarity, Renata pulled out her silvered cell phone and hit a button for automatic dial.

“Who are you calling?”

“My lawyer. You have three rings before she picks up. So on your knees or you'll be in court, and I swear, Booty, I will drag it on and on until I bleed every penny out of you. You forget, I have the resources to do it, and the will.”

Too late, Booty realized he'd underestimated Renata. He dropped like a sack of grain. “I'm sorry. I was wrong. I made it all up. I don't have any contacts. I will never say anything like that again.”

She stepped toward him, placing her forefinger hard on his Adam's apple, pressing as he choked. “Keep your word, fool.”

Tears welled in his eyes from the soreness at that pressure point. He coughed as Miss Nasty threw her arms around his neck.

Spinning on her heel, Renata beheld Harry, Joan, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, Tucker, and Cookie. “I have witnesses. He slandered me. He apologized. If he reneges, I'll have him for breakfast.”

She walked by them with such energy the little group felt a breeze.

Booty, hand to his throat, stood up.

Harry noticed a darkening mark on his jaw. “You're toast.” At that moment her admiration for Renata reached the stratosphere.

Tears still in his eyes—he had no idea that one finger could hurt so much—he shook his head, rasping, “It was a joke.”

“Booty, you aren't Mr. Popularity today.” Joan put her hands on her hips.

“Screwed up.” He wiped away his tears.

“Big-time.” Joan left and the rest with her.

Pewter called over her shoulder,
“Liar, liar.”

Miss Nasty, still hugging Booty, didn't reply.

It took two minutes to get back to Barn Five, where Harry and Joan found Renata calmly drinking a Schweppes tonic water, popping a quinine pill with it.

She lowered the bottle. “I'm glad you saw that.”

“I am, too.” Joan laughed. “I only wish I'd had a picture.”

“He accused me to Charly of being a call girl before I made it. And you know what else?” She laughed derisively. “Charly believed him. Believed him!” Her magical hazel eyes seemed lit from within, the contained emotion was so strong.

“I'm sorry.” Harry couldn't think of anything else to say.

Joan did. “He's a shit and you're well rid of him.”

As Joan rarely used profanity, this electrified the women and animals.

Paul, hearing this, stuck his head out of the hospitality room. “Joan.”

“Sorry, Daddy. I'm glad you're here.”

He nodded to the others, then turned back to Joan. “You weren't raised with loose talk, girlie.” He then ducked back in to Mr. Thompson.

Joan whistled low and walked toward the back end of the barn, the rest in tow. “Glad Mother wasn't in there. I'd have to put smelling salts under her nose.”

“Being a Southern lady takes a boatload of discipline.” Harry laughed, for she, too, had been strictly brought up.

Renata, on the other hand, heard profanity on a daily basis and had to learn to talk and act like a lady. She made a telling comment. “At least someone loved you enough to correct you.”

“I was loved a lot!” Harry laughed, lightening the mood.

“Renata, you know how much is at stake in this show. Booty and Charly fight at every show. Maybe they don't hit each other, but they try to get under each other's skin, push the other into a bad ride. It's silly, but then again, it provides entertainment back at the barns and practice ring, as well as the show ring.”

“Got that right, but I'll be damned if Booty is going to smear my name to do it.”

“Would you sue him?” Harry was leery of lawyers and courtrooms. She believed the Spanish proverb “Better to fall into the hands of the devil than lawyers.”

“Unto my last breath, and I would hurt him in other ways. I'd take every client he had out of that barn, one way or the other. His revenue stream would become a trickle and then dry to dust.” She stopped a moment. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry on a lot of levels. I've caused you both time and trouble. I'm not always like this. These last couple of years I've been slipping and sliding. Not just in my career. I need to come back to my real self.”

“Your real self is pretty impressive,” Joan wryly commented.

Renata tossed her head; her hair swung back over her shoulders. “I come from a different place than you all do. It taught me a couple of things that maybe you know and maybe you don't. But I'll tell you, if you let one person push you around, sooner or later everyone will try. It's harder being a woman. You have to bite a man bad, then he realizes you've got fangs and he backs off. We're just a bunch of animals. If you look weak, you die. That's how I see it.”