Maybe Baby (14 page)

“I haven’t met them,” I replied honestly. “They're traveling in Europe.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “just like they do every July and August. So I guess it’s just you and Trey holed up there, huh?”

“No, actually it’s just me there for now.” I didn’t want to get into the long story about the drama in the pool, nightmares, my crazy mother, or the rest. I figured I would get there soon enough. I had no clue as to how I could explain my relationship, or non-relationship, with Trey. I wanted to shift the conversation away without being too obvious.

“So, you know Trey?” I asked.

“Well yeah, I guess,” she answered, snapping her gum. “I mean as well as anyone could know him I suppose. He’s like three or four years older than me, but yeah, I remember summers back when I was in high school. He was away at school most of the time, Oxford I think. He has two older brothers too, but they are like way older. In their late thirties or early forties, if I had to guess. They operate wineries out on the west coast. Napa Valley. I think Trey was maybe a surprise when he came along. He’s not like his brothers from what I know. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, the Sinclairs have all of this money and they set the two older boys up in Napa Valley with vineyards that made them multi-millionaires. Then along came Trey, and with him, it’s like he didn’t want that kind of life. He gets the schooling abroad and all of that, but being a lawyer sure doesn’t pay what his brothers are making out in Napa. I heard he simply told his parents he didn’t want it. Then all that stuff happened with his fiancée getting hurt real bad.”

“What happened?” I asked, trying to sound like I wasn’t all that interested.

“She broke his heart! I know it had something to do with his horse. She wanted him to put the horse down; he wouldn’t do it. I just heard bits and pieces from Aunt Becky, so I don’t know the whole story.”

Oh my God, I thought, why would someone want to have Derringer put down? I couldn't imagine such a thing.

“When did all of this happen?” I asked.

“I dunno, maybe three or four years ago. Hey, for being his bitch, you sure don’t know much about his deep dark secrets do you?”

“Did you say ‘his bitch’?” I asked, eyes widening.

“Relax, it’s just an east-coast term,” she laughed, taking the water hose that was used to clean the wine bottles before filling and spraying it across my back. I shrieked in surprise when the water hit.

“Lunch break!” Gina announced. We climbed the stairs and emerged outside into the early afternoon sun. “Do you want to eat up at the restaurant?” she asked. “We get our lunch for free.”

It hadn't occurred to me what I'd do for lunch when I left this morning. I was used to eating at my cottage while working over at the stables. Since lunch was free; problem solved.

“Sounds good to me, wine bitch,” I said, laughing. Gina actually looked shocked when I said that and then we both dissolved into giggles. I considered that being around all the fermented wine was somehow having some mood-altering effects on both of us. I was so glad I had someone like Gina to work with.

We headed into the main visitor’s center. The restaurant was up on the second level. It was 12:30 p.m. so there was a crowd. Gina weaved her way through to the back of the room where a single table was located next to the kitchen. “For Employees Only,” a small tabletop sign read. Jenna and Rodney were already sitting there.

“Hey Ty. Hey Gina,” Rodney greeted as we joined them.

Jenna spoke to Gina, and then turned to me as if I was her long lost friend. “Tylar, how
are
you?” she asked, as if she was sincerely concerned.

“Jenna, you’ve seen me since I’ve been out of the hospital–I’m doing okay.”

“Oh,” she said, pausing, “I really wasn’t talking about the concussion, I was referring to your, uh, well, for lack of a better word, ‘humiliation’ at the race last weekend. I mean you and your Jezebel being scratched like that when you were so close to winning the high stakes. It’s just a shame!” she remarked. “I suppose that comes with the territory.”

Gina and I exchanged glances with one another.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s no secret what everyone's saying. I mean, surely, you know?”

“Know what?” I demanded, my voice taking on an edge.

“You’re Trey’s Twinkie.”

“What the fuck's a Twinkie?” Gina blurted out, laughing at Jenna.

Yeah, I second that question

Jenna rolled her eyes, and then acted as if she was reciting the definition from Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary:

“Twinkie: (n) young, innocent beautiful female that has no nutritional value; a snack to tide one over until the real thing comes along."

I resisted the urge to jump over the table and slap her. Wow, one morning with Gina had already changed me into an east coast girl. I got up from the table, not wanting to spend one more minute in the company of such a nasty bitch.

“I’ll see you back in the cellar, Gina. I've got a phone call to make.”

I hurried outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket and called Trey’s phone. Of course, I got his voicemail. I didn’t care. At the moment, he was responsible for my being cast into “Twinkiedom,” and he was going to get his fair share of the crap.

“Trey it’s me, Tylar. You have my number. My message will be extremely brief: I AM NOT YOUR FREAKING TWINKIE!” I pushed the end button and strode back to the wine cellar, still seething.

Twinkie my ass!

I reported back to the wine cellar, putting my apron on and starting back to work. Gina came in just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” she said, “don’t worry about that bitch Jenna. She's just jealous. I mean, you know that right?”

“What could she possibly be jealous about?” I asked, putting a new roll of labels onto the round spindle.

“Uhh hello? You landed the second most gorgeous, sexiest man in the western hemisphere?”

“Who’s the first?” I asked.

“Why, my Ian, of course!”

We both laughed.

“No really,” I said, “it’s not what you think with Trey and me. I've not landed him at all. He’s just got this sort of protective older brother kind of thing going on with me, you know?”

“Sure, I understand,” she replied, smiling. “It’s not all that unusual. I think they call it incest?”

“No seriously,” I explained, “it's not like that. He feels totally protective of me on account of something that occurred recently. If you don't believe it, stay at the manor with me this week. You'll see that I have my own room, and there's nothing going on. I won’t hear from him because of a big trial starting tomorrow. Now is that
really
how a guy treats his
Twinkie
?”

We both started laughing. The rest of the afternoon went quickly. Gina took me up on my offer to stay at the manor, saying that wealth had its advantages. I was eager to find out. We decided it would be fun to go swimming and maybe have a barbeque outside. Gina and I decided to walk back to the manor after our shift. I let her know that I needed to stop off at my cottage to get some more clothes, since it was on the way. We took the trail and walked through the woods, coming out at the bank of cottages on the Sinclair estate.

I didn’t go into much detail about why I wasn't staying at my cottage, only telling her that someone had left a menacing item there. I grabbed my backpack and put more underwear and sleepwear into it. I packed my swimsuits and the rest of my toiletries and make-up.

Gina was looking through my stack of CDs in the living room. “You have some good music here,” she said. “Here open your backpack, let’s take these with us.”

We headed out the door. Gina stooped to pick up a piece of paper on the floor we hadn't seen coming in.

“This must be yours,” she said, handing the folded piece of paper to me. I opened it and read the note, written in inky, block letters:

SISSY, I MISS THE SWEET TASTE OF YOUR CUNT. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? DON’T WORRY, I'LL FIND YOU.

“Let me see,” Gina said. I handed her the folded paper.

“Shit,” she said, handing it back to me. “Is this the reason you don’t stay here?” I nodded. “Aw jeez, I’m sorry about nosing into your business like I did this morning. I totally understand why you can’t stay here with some maniac stalker fucking with you like this. It’s good of Trey to worry about you and make sure that you’re safe. He’s a good guy, ya know?”

I nodded, still numbly holding the paper. This latest communication was clearly meant to terrorize me. Who did this?

“Listen,” Gina said, as we locked the cabin behind us, “I’ll ask Aunt Becky to bring my clothes over. We’ll hang out; find something fun to do to take your mind off of this, okay?”

I nodded again.

Gina got settled into a guest room in the east wing at the main house. She did have her own bathroom, but it wasn't nearly as luxurious as Trey’s badass bathroom. I retrieved Trey’s bathrobe and went over to his suite to take a shower. Everything in his suite was clean and orderly. I was disappointed that the room didn’t smell like his aftershave anymore. Once I returned to my room, my cell was ringing. It was Trey.

“Hello,” I answered, bracing myself for his anger over the message I'd left on his phone earlier.

“Hey there,” smooth and silky said.

“Hey,” I replied, now suddenly shy and composed. I sat on my bed, knees up under my chin, wondering what I could say if he mentioned my angry message. Maybe he wouldn’t ask.

“Tylar?”

Here it comes, get ready.

“Uh huh,” I answered.

“You're many things to me. When I think of you, I think of the way you make me laugh at times; other times how you make me crazy. I think of your gorgeous eyes, and how you affect me when I least expect it. But I swear to God, I've never, ever thought of you as a Twinkie. I don’t even know what that means!”

“It’s something that Jenna's spreading around about me. I’m your Twinkie, which I guess is some younger, more attractive version of a bimbo.” I answered, the tears brimming. “It’s not important,” I said in a small voice.

“It was important enough for you to leave a screeching message on my phone this afternoon. You’re neither a “Twinkie” nor a "Bimbo" to me, got it? I’m surprised that you let Jenna get to you like that anyway,” he said.

I didn't answer him because he was right, I shouldn't have let the bitch get to me like that.

“Are you there?” He heard my sniffle, confirming that I was still on the phone.

"Is something else bothering you?"

“There was another note left for me at my cottage.”

“What were you doing back at your cottage?”

“I needed to pick up some more clothes and stuff. Gina—you remember Gina, Becky’s niece?”

“Vaguely,” he responded, still very irritated with me.

“She went with me so I was safe. It’s just kind of creepy, you know?”

“What did the note say?” he asked.

“Something vulgar and that he missed me and would find me.” I could hear Trey catch his breath. “Anyway I invited Gina to stay here with me this week is that okay with you?”

“No problem, sweetie,” he replied, his tone now gentle and soft. “I'll let Thatcher know to keep an eye out for anyone lurking around as well."

“Thank you,” I said. I still had Trey’s robe on, but the scent of him was starting to diminish. I had his voice, but only for another couple of minutes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, sensing my despair.

“I’m fine,” I squeaked.

“Obviously you're not,” he said. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“I don't know. I guess I didn’t like the way we parted this morning,” I admitted.

There was a long silence from the other end of the phone.

“Hey, I've been thinking about you today. You don't totally fall off my radar while I'm gone."

That was something. He'd given me something; I felt a connection again. “I’m getting ready for bed. Are you?” I asked him softly.

“Well, I have some depositions to review before I turn in, but I’m in for the night if that’s what you mean.”

“Can we sleep together tonight?” I asked. “By phone?”

“How does that work exactly?” He seemed genuinely interested.

“We just put our phones on our pillows or beside us in bed and go to sleep.”

“Let’s do it, then. I'll leave my phone on; you do the same. You go to sleep. When I’m ready to go to sleep, I'll kiss you good night over the phone, how's that?”

I smiled into the phone and nodded. “Okay, Trey. Good night.”

“Sleep well."

Chapter 16

I was plugging my phone into the charger just as Gina bustled into my room. It was only 6 a.m., but she was freshly showered and dressed for the day.

“Get your lazy ass up,” she greeted me, a cup of coffee in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. I didn’t know Gina smoked.

“It’s only 6 a.m. We don’t have to be there for three hours. I'm going to lay back down for a bit. You aren’t going to light that are you?”

“Of course not,” she said, as if it was illogical for me to even think that. “I quit two years ago; it’s just I still like the feel of a cigarette in my hand when I’m having my morning coffee.” She took a long drag off of the cigarette, slowly exhaling invisible smoke, and then followed it with a sip of her hot coffee.

“Check this out,” she said, “Aunt Becky said if we want, we can start our shift earlier and then be outta there earlier. I figure if we get there by 7 a.m., work through lunch, we can be out and heading to town by 1:30. The day will still be young, as they say.”

“It sounds good to me,” I said, suddenly energized, bouncing off the bed and getting dressed. Thatcher was more than happy to drive us over to the Belle. We officially clocked in at 6:47 a.m. Gina showed me how to operate the corking machine and she handled the filler tank. We both did some labeling. I started assembling the corrugated partitions that fit into each wooden case to keep the bottles from banging against each other during transport. Tomorrow we would finish with the Applewood Rose, and the tanks would need changing out to the house merlot. That would be the last of it.