Tangled Up In You (Rogue #1)

Chapter 42

42

GAVIN

M oney was on display everywhere at the Snow Polo World Cup. It was obvious in the fur hats of the trophy wives mingling under crystal chandeliers in the white VIP tents, the free-flowing top-tier champagne, the lunch prepared by renowned chefs, and the branding done by BMW, Cartier, Maserati, and more. The social aspect of it, with guests milling about on AstroTurf-covered platforms and chatting rather than watching the match, was such an annoyance to Gavin that he finally grabbed Sophie’s hand and pulled her away. He kept moving until he had reached the free general public grandstand seating. Instead of finding a spot on one of the benches, he went to the waist-high barrier at the edge of the field of play and stared intently at the action.

The “field” for the polo tournament was a frozen lake centered between snow-capped, tree-lined mountains rising high and craggily into the sky on one side and the sand-colored resorts and other buildings of St. Moritz on the other side. Under clear skies and bright sun, the polo ponies raced the length of the stark white field, urged on by their riders who wore vivid blue or red jerseys, creating a stunning vista. The two teams of four players chased a red ball, swinging their mallets with concentrated grace.

The action came their way and they watched as two opposing players strained for the red ball. Their horses were exceptionally well-trained, forging ahead at the command of their riders in a “ride-off.” It was a move Gavin had learned about earlier from the announcer where one player attempted to push the other away from the line of the ball, even as that meant their horses’ flanks collided at high speed. The impact was quick and the riders expertly righted themselves without ever losing balance or focus on the two neon-yellow and black-striped goalposts.

“Brilliant, that,” Gavin said, his heart racing by witnessing the tussle so closely.

“You’re loving this,” Sophie told him with a playful nudge.

“I’m not ashamed to admit it.” The halftime was called and he watched as the players guided the horses off the field for the short break. The loudspeaker commentary was replaced by upbeat music to keep the crowd rallied, though the hip-hop selection was oddly dated.

“My parents really like you, you know?”

He glanced at her. She wore a fitted white North Face jacket that had a bright teal zipper, the color of which matched the wide cotton headband that pulled her hair back while warming her ears. He knew that behind her sunglasses her hazel eyes would have turned a brilliant green. Her smile for him lingered and he wanted to please her, but he couldn’t stop from saying what he really thought.

“Your parents are full of contradictions, aren’t they?”

They had spent the last two days playing snow golf, snowboarding, bobsledding down the oldest naturally refrigerated bobsleigh track in the world, going on horse-drawn carriage rides, eating gourmet meals, and generally living the high life. Which was all well and good, but under the surface, Gavin had been absorbing the way her parents tried to act as if they weren’t buying into it all and it rubbed him the wrong way.

A look of confusion replaced her smile. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, you know. They’re as rich as all these people but they were trying to set themselves apart by making fun of it at dinner the other night. But it’s bullshit, isn’t it? They’re just joining in with a wink and a bloody nod.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just, I mean, look at their place in Malibu. Look at that excess and exclusivity.”

“They worked to get what they have. They didn’t start out with that kind of money. It’s not generational wealth like all of this.” She gestured to the luxury hotels nestled into the hills behind them.

“Okay, fine. But they’re still so phony with things.” There was a part of him that knew he was projecting, that he was simply exorcising the anxiety he’d been harboring about his own status changing so rapidly. Rogue had become a sensation, flush with cash and fame. He was nervous that it would all too quickly turn him into what he and Conor often described as one of “them.” That is, once a threshold of success and money was attained, artists could no longer really identify with who they had been at the start of their career. He dreaded this change, fearing it would take hold before he ever really got a chance to create the kind of music and art he knew he could.

“Just because they are amused by all of this?”

Her question was reasonable, but he ignored it, too fired up. “It’s like a game to them, isn’t it?”

“What about you playing games?” she challenged. “What about you just breezing by the truth of your mother? You tell my parents you ‘lost’ her as if she were dead and leave it at that. You’re not exactly being honest, are you?”

His mother had come up during one of their outings and, as was his habit, he had glossed over it. Sophie bringing it up now sent him on the defensive.

“It was the truth and you know it. I lost any mother I had at age seven. The reason for that, whether she left me or died, doesn’t fucking matter much in the grand scheme of things, does it? So don’t you question me on how I tell my story. You don’t get a say in it.”

The effect of his rebuke was immediate. She seemed to deflate, her usual brightness diminished. He recognized his hypocrisy as a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. Hadn’t he repeatedly pulled her close to him precisely because she knew and understood his story? And here he was trying to claim she had no right to what he had begged her to be a part of. But he didn’t see any way to fix it now. Christ, this had all started because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Let’s just leave it—” he started.

“No,” she said.

He waited for more but the only thing to break up the silence between them was the signal sounding the resumption of the match. The crowd in the grandstands behind them came to life as the players rode out onto the ice on fresh ponies.

“No, you don’t get to silence me,” she finally said. Her manner had changed again, her back straighter now, a determined set to her face. “I know up until now this has been your burden to bear, and that it’s torn you to pieces,” she said. “But you don’t get to tell me I don’t have a say.”

He looked away, uncomfortable with her rebuke because he knew she was right. But she wouldn’t let him avoid this. Or her. She pulled her sunglasses off and then reached for his so that she could look deep into his eyes.

“Don’t push me away,” she said. “Let me be a part of your story. Because I’m in this with you. Now and always. Let me help with the weight of it all.”

The simple plea hit him hard and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, relieved at how fiercely she held him in return.

“I love you so fucking much, Sophie. I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” she replied.

“I’m sorry I went after your parents,” he said, pulling away. “I’m just not comfortable around all of this … excess. And as much as they pretend otherwise, your parents are. I don’t to want to become blind to it, or fucking joke about it to make myself feel better about it. I can’t be the songwriter I want to be if this is where my life is headed.”

“I get that, Gavin. I do. But no matter how successful Rogue becomes, you won’t become one of them.” She nodded toward the VIP tent. “It’s not who you are or ever will be. You’re a true artist.”

He was stunned silent by how clearly she could see him. He hadn’t told her about this particular fear but she still knew exactly what had gotten him so riled up.

“Fuck me if I ever let you go, darlin’,” he said, “because I’d be the stupidest person alive.”

She kissed him hard. “That’s never going to happen.”