Seize the Night

“Steady as she goes.” Remi took the vodka out of his hand and chugged it.

“Whoa, Nellie.” Merrick grabbed it back. “We’ve got five hours left on this flight.”

“Sorry,” she said. “Take it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you seem real fucking fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re the world’s worst liar?” Merrick asked. “You’re stressed about seeing this Julien guy again. Yes?”

“A smidge,” she said. “A skosh.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

She shook her head. “Not if you won’t let me have your vodka.”

He gave her the vodka. “Sip it and talk. You can’t say something like ‘Julien and I started this rivalry’ and sashay off all dramatic-like without telling me the story.”

“It’s a humiliating story,” Remi said.

“Miss?” Merrick addressed the passing flight attendant. “I’m going to need some popcorn.”

“Merrick.”

“Talk,” he said. “And don’t leave out any juicy details.”

“I’m leaving out all the juicy details,” she said. “You get the bare bones.”

“Is there boning involved in the bare bones?”

“Near boning,” she said, wincing. She took a steadying breath and focused her attention on the hum of the airplane engines. It comforted her, the sound of the engines reminding her she was thousands of miles and years away from the time and place of her greatest humiliation.

“Go on...” Merrick said.

“This was back when I was in college—just graduated, actually. Winter graduation. I’d come home for Christmas, and Mom and Dad dragged me to a big Christmas party at The Rails.”

“That’s that huge horse farm in Versailles, yes?”

“Yes, bigger than Capital Hills and Arden put together.”

“Got it. So it’s Christmas. It’s a party. You’re what? Twenty-one?” Merrick asked.

“Twenty-two,” she said. “It was a formal party, so I had an excuse to buy an awesome dress. Jade strappy thing.”

“Did it make your tits look good?”

“You could have seen them from space,” she said.

“I approve. Continue, please.”

“Anyway,” she said and paused to sip Merrick’s vodka. She hated the stuff but needed a little liquid fortification. “I was there about an hour before I saw this gorgeous guy. He was standing on the other side of the room talking to a big, hotshot Kentucky basketball player. So I assumed he was a University of Kentucky student, probably a freshman. He was drinking a glass of white wine, and he looked so handsome in his tuxedo. He had messy red hair. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.”

“Gross.”

“Do you want to hear this story or not?”

“Tell.”

“Julien was so beautiful that I had to chug a whole glass of wine just to work up the courage to go talk to him.”

“And you did, and he was smart and funny and nice and all that boring shit women love?”

“All that and more,” Remi said. “We walked through the house together. Gorgeous house. Every room decorated in a different Christmas theme. It was like something out of a fairy tale or a movie. I’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it. The night was perfect. Ever have a moment so perfect that you know you’ll remember it the rest of your life while you’re still living in the moment?”

“Never,” Merrick said. “But it’s a good dream. Too bad dreams lie.”

“It felt like a dream, but it wasn’t. This was real.”

Remi closed her eyes and found herself once more in that house on that night. She and Julien stood by the fireplace mantel lined with a dozen yellow candles in antique brass candleholders. The room was filled with antique toys and a tree that soared all the way to the cathedral ceiling. The silver and gold stars on the tree reflected the dancing light from the fireplace. She’d never been the sort of girl who believed in love at first sight. And then she met Julien and that night, that one perfect night, she believed.

“This guy must have been special,” Merrick said.

“I thought he could be.” Remi knew she was the world’s worst liar. Might as well tell the truth. “I didn’t know how special he was, because he only told me his first name—Julien. We talked about everything and nothing. I don’t even remember what we talked about except that he made me laugh and asked me questions like he wanted to know everything about me. Before I knew it, there we were, standing under the mistletoe.”

“Best kiss ever?” Merrick asked.

“Best kiss ever,” she agreed, remembering how Julien’s lips had shivered lightly at the first gentle contact. The gentleness quickly turned to passion, and before she knew it, her arms were around his back and his mouth was on her neck, at her ear, at her throat. Every Christmas since then she’d thought of Julien. The lights, the tree, the scent of pine and candles brought the memories back. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t imagine spending Christmas with Brian Roseland. Christmas was already claimed by Julien and that one perfect night he’d been everything she’d wanted but never thought to ask for.

“I’m guessing the inevitable happened,” Merrick said.

“We found an empty guest room. I thought I remembered locking the door behind us.”

Merrick cringed. “I see where this is going...”

Remi nodded, her face flushing at the memory.

“We kissed for a long time. Julien seemed a little nervous, and I didn’t want to rush things since we’d just met. But then he unzipped the back of my dress and I unbuttoned his shirt...and his pants...and then.”

“And then?”

“And then while things were happening, he said something weird and I stopped.”

“Weird? What? Did he deny the Holocaust or something?”

“He said...‘This feels better than I ever dreamt it would.’”

Merrick cocked his head to the side.

“Ever dreamt it would? You mean he’d never had a girl do the thing on him before? I assume you were doing the thing.”

“Oh, yeah. I was doing the thing. With gusto. And when he intimated that no woman had ever done the thing on him before, I sobered up and asked him how old he was.”

“Oh fuck,” Merrick said.

“Merrick, I was half naked on a bed with the virginal barely-seventeen-year-old son of one of the most powerful families in Thoroughbred racing.”

“Oops.”

“Two seconds after I told him we had to stop, the door opened. My dress was down, his jacket was off, his shirt was open, his pants were unzipped...and his mother saw it all.”

Merrick’s eyes went comically wide. Remi would have laughed but for the pain the memory still caused her.

“How bad was it?” Merrick asked. She appreciated that he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation instead of making Mrs. Robinson jokes.

“Bad. Julien’s mom had had a little too much Christmas punch. It turned into a screaming match that everyone at the party heard.”

“Oh, that’s bad.”

“Very bad. My parents showed up and started defending me. His parents called me every ugly name in the book. My father told Julien’s father, ‘Sir, control your wife.’ And five minutes later, my father and his father were fighting. Like physically fighting. Dad gave Mr. Brite a black eye and Mr. Brite gave Dad a bloody nose. It’s a miracle no one called the cops.”

“Damn.”

“The moms pulled the dads off each other, but that almost turned into a catfight until Mr. and Mrs. Railey showed up and calmed everyone down. Poor Julien was begging everyone to just shut up and leave us alone so he and I could talk. Instead his parents dragged him—literally dragged him away from me—and he’s apologizing to me the entire time. ‘I’m so sorry, Remi. I should have told you. I’m so sorry...’”

She could still hear his humiliated words ringing in her ears.

“And that started the feud?” Merrick asked.

“That was the beginning. My parents were furious at the Brites for making a scene and accusing me of seducing their baby boy. The Brites were furious at my parents because my parents blamed Julien for lying to me about his age. He didn’t lie, for the record. I didn’t ask him his age. Never occurred to me to ask until it was almost too late. And I just stood there in shock, saying nothing and feeling like I was going to puke and trying to get my dad not to kill his dad. I didn’t get to talk to him, tell him I was sorry, tell him goodbye, even. It was awful.”

“You didn’t do anything illegal,” Merrick said. “You were only twenty-two. And legal age in Kentucky is sixteen.”

“Do I want to know why you have that legal factoid memorized?”

“Nope,” he said. “So you never saw Julien again?”

“My parents forbade me from contacting Julien. I haven’t seen him since that night. Not even at any of the races.”

“Where did he go?”

She shrugged and tried to pretend that she had never looked for him and wondered that same question. Every race she’d looked for him.

“He disappeared. And that was that. Except his family still hasn’t forgiven me for almost seducing their son, and my family still hasn’t forgiven them for publicly humiliating me—us, really—at the party.”

“Have you forgiven him?” Merrick asked.

Remi smiled. “Julien didn’t do anything wrong. And while his mom was going batshit crazy on me, calling me every possible variation of slut, whore and harlot, he stood up to his parents and defended me.”

“‘Harlot’?”

“I believe the words ‘blonde Jezebel’ were also employed. Julien told her off. He told everyone off.”

“Like a man. I approve.”

“He’s twenty-one now. I keep thinking I should...but it doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

Merrick looked at her with searching serious eyes.

“You miss him,” he said.

Remi didn’t bother to deny it. “I had a perfect moment with him. You don’t get many of those in your life.”

“This was four years ago? You’d think your families would be over it after four fucking years.”

“Judging by all the smack talk in the news, they aren’t. In that SI interview, Mrs. Brite called us the ‘white trash’ farm.”

“Classy.”

“Dad called the Brites ‘stuck-up snobs.’ I’m really hoping Julien hasn’t read that article.”

“So what are you going to do when you see Julien again? Jump him?”

Remi laughed at the ludicrousness of the suggestion. She hadn’t seen him in four years, and the only reason she was seeing him now was to tell him their parents might be fixing races? Hardly cause for an erotic reunion.

“I’ll do what I should have done years ago. I’ll tell him I’m sorry.”

After what felt like a year in the air, the plane landed. They checked into their hotel and Remi gave Merrick the night off. It was Saturday, after all. And all she wanted to do was sleep and recover from the flight. Merrick, however, had other plans.

“Vive la France, remember?” Merrick grabbed her by the upper arms and forced a kiss on each of her cheeks. “When in Paris, do as the Parisians do.”

“What do the Parisians do?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m hoping it involves getting Parisian drunk and getting Parisian laid. Not necessarily in that Parisian order.”

“I’m not drinking with you. Or any of the other options. Can’t we go to bed? Not together?”

“We need to find this Brite boy of yours. My sources tell me he’s a short Parisian cab ride away. Let’s seize the Parisian day, Boss.”

“It’s night.”

“Then let’s seize the Parisian night.”

“Are you going to put ‘Parisian’ in front of every noun until we leave?” Remi asked, as Merrick hailed a taxi.

“That would be a Parisian yes. I mean ‘oui.’”

Remi managed not to murder him during the ten minutes between their hotel and Julien’s building.

The cab stopped in front of a nondescript three-story building. He paid the driver, which Remi thought was an unusually gallant gesture until she noticed Merrick was using her credit card. They stepped onto a side street off the Rue de Furstenberg.

Merrick half-escorted, half-dragged her to the door. “I think this is it. My sources tell me this is it,” he said. “And by ‘sources’ I mean the Brite family housekeeper.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can’t imagine any of the Brite family staying in someplace so normal. Well, normal for Paris, I mean.”

“This has to be it. I paid ten whole dollars for his address.”

“Your sources are cheap dates,” Remi said. She rang the buzzer and dusted off her high school French.

“Bonjour?” came a woman’s voice through the speaker. Woman? At Julien’s house on a Saturday night? Remi hadn’t planned for a girlfriend.

“Bonjour,” Remi said, trying not to be bothered by the elegant voice. “Julien Brite, s’il vous plaît?”

“Your accent is terrible,” the woman answered in English.

Remi laughed. “It’s French by way of a Kentucky high school. Is Julien in?”

“He might be,” the woman said in a clipped tone. She had something of an accent too but neither French nor Kentuckian. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of his. I hope. My name is Remi Montgomery of Arden Farms. And—”

“Come up, please,” the woman said before Remi could even finish her speech.

She looked at Merrick, who smiled at her in return.

“Look at you, Boss,” he said. “You’re famous.”

The door buzzed, and they headed up the stairs to an apartment on the third floor.

Remi knocked and a woman opened the door. She looked about mid-thirties and was clearly of Indian descent, even though her clothes—a boatneck shirt, white scarf and stylish slacks—were pure Parisian chic. And she was beautiful beyond words. So beautiful even Merrick had gone speechless—something of a miracle.

“Oh, holy Parisian shit,” Merrick finally said. So much for speechless.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked.

“You’ll have to forgive Merrick here,” Remi said, slapping Merrick on the back—hard. “You’re beautiful, and he’s a horrible person. Bad combination.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Salena Kar. I work for Julien. You’re Remi Montgomery?”

“She is,” Merrick said. “And I’m Merrick Feingold. I work for Remi. It’s like destiny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Salena asked as she waved them into the apartment. Remi noticed Salena was barefoot, so she slipped off her own shoes and set them by the door.

“I work for her. You work for Julien. It’s like we belong together, right?” Merrick asked.

“Are you in love with me?” Salena asked, seemingly nonplussed by Merrick’s enthusiasm.

“Not yet, but give me five or six minutes and I’ll get there.”

Salena nodded gracefully.

“Take your time,” Salena said. She showed them to a living room. While the apartment building had appeared cramped and unremarkable on the outside, inside Remi discovered Julien’s home, while not grand, was the perfect mix of classic and cozy.

“How can we help you, Miss Montgomery?”

“Please call me Remi. I’m sorry for the intrusion. I need to talk to Julien for a few minutes, and then we’ll be gone.”

“I’ll get him for you,” she said. “He’s in his office.”

The woman started to leave the room but paused and turned back around. “He’s mentioned you before,” Salena said. “Lovely to put a face to the reputation.”

“Bad reputation,” Remi said, trying not to blush or wince.

“Quite the opposite,” Salena said. She gave Remi a knowing smile and left the room.

“What do you think she does for Julien?” Merrick whispered after Salena had disappeared through a door.

“I don’t know. She might be his assistant, so she probably does for him what you do for me.”

“Annoy the piss out of you constantly and make you wish you’d never set eyes on me?” Merrick said.

“Among other useful tasks.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” Merrick said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “Can I have her?”

“She’s a human being. I can’t buy her for you.”

“If you loved me you would help me,” he said in a desperate whisper, staring at the door Salena had just passed through.

“I don’t love you.”

She started to pat him on the knee but paused mid-pat when Julien Brite stepped into the doorway of the living room.

“I have to say,” Julien began, a crooked smile on his face, “I’m really glad my parents aren’t here right now.”

He looked at her, and Remi felt something catch in her chest at the sight of him leaning in his doorway, his arms crossed, and amusement glimmering in his dark eyes.

“We made sure they weren’t going to be visiting you before we booked the trip,” Remi said. “And hello. Nice to see you again.”

“Really nice to see you again,” Julien said, still smiling. He wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt, no shoes, no socks.

“How have you been, Julien?” Remi asked unable to stop staring at Julien. She hoped he didn’t mind. He hadn’t lost all his teenage lankiness, although his shoulders were certainly broader. His hair had darkened to a deeper shade of red and was longer now and artfully mussed. He looked older, definitely. But more than that, he looked chiseled, as if he had walked ten thousand miles across a desert and the wind and sand had worn his adolescent innocence away.

“I’m not dead,” he said and laughed as if he’d made a joke. “So I’m good. You?”

“Great. Good. Also not dead.”

“You’re a little far from home, aren’t you?” Julien asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Remi said as she finally stood up and walked over to him. “Merrick said you’d moved to Paris, and I thought—”

“—Paris, Kentucky,” he said. “How do you think I tricked my family into letting me move here?”

“Smart,” she said.

He smiled again and held out his hand to her. Remi took it and a slight tremor passed through her body when her hand met his. The last time she’d touched him had been far more intimate than a handshake.

“I’m really sorry to show up on your doorstep,” she said, Julien’s hand still in hers. “I was afraid if we called first, you’d tell us to shove it.”

“I am embarrassingly happy to see you again,” he said, and Remi was embarrassingly relieved to hear it. “Mom said you’re Arden’s manager now?”

“Your mother told you about my promotion?”

“Oh yeah,” Julien said, as Salena appeared in the doorway behind him. She put her hand on his hip to indicate she needed to pass by him, and he shifted the necessary six inches. The subtle gesture spoke of an intimacy between them, Salena touching his hip like that and his instant understanding that she needed him to move out of the way for her. Maybe Salena and Julien were more than mere employer and employee. “Mom keeps me up on all the Bluegrass gossip whether I want to know it or not. I know about your promotion. I know that your parents bought a satellite farm outside Versailles. I know that’s your assistant Merrick Feingold sitting on my couch staring at Salena. You went to Harvard?” he asked Merrick.

“I did.”

“What’s a Harvard computer nerd doing working at a horse farm?” Julien asked, sounding both casual and suspicious.

“I have no people skills. It was either Wall Street or animals. And when you work for Remi Montgomery you have the sexiest boss in the world.”

Merrick winked at her. It was an I’m goading him for your sake wink. She appreciated that.

“And how did you know I was a Harvard computer nerd?” Merrick asked. “Did my mother call you to brag?”

“Mom told me that Remi hired some Harvard computer genius who knew nothing about horses to be her assistant. And that he creeped everyone out because he wore black sunglasses all the time and was weird.”

“Is ‘weird’ code for ‘Jewish’?” Merrick asked. The sunglasses in question were currently sitting on his head.

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