Chapter Nineteen - Nolan
“Where are we going?” Ivy asks when we’ve been traveling on the freeway for about thirty minutes.
“Del Mar. Do you like the races, Ivy? The horses are running. So we’re gonna go on down there to the club and have some brunch before post time.”
“I can’t go like this,” she says, pulling on my t-shirt.
“We can stop by my house and you can change first if you like.”
“Yes,” she says quickly. “Please. I actually love horses. I’ve been riding since I was six. And I’ve been to the races before. It’s a fancy affair.”
“It doesn’t have to be. All kinds of people go to the races.”
“Not to the Club.”
I shrug. “They know me. I have a box there. I go all the time in the summer. In fact, you can see the track from my house. So if I don’t feel like going down there, I just walk out onto the master bedroom terrace and enjoy it from afar.”
“Wow, that must be some house.”
“You’re gonna see it for yourself. We’re only minutes away.”
I pull into the private Boca Del Mar neighborhood and Ivy’s eyes go big as she checks out the houses. “Holy crap,” she says. “You’re really rich. I mean, I see the Porsche and you do own that resort. And I know about the clubs. But this is something, Nolan. I’m breathless.”
“You haven’t even seen the view yet, Ivy. You know what’s funny about this house?” I ask, pulling up to my gate and activating the remote control.
“What?” Ivy asks, as we wait for the gate to open.
“I didn’t even want it.” I pull the car forward and Ivy is craning her neck to get a glimpse of the house as we weave around the lush landscaping.
“Why not?” she asks, her head tipping up as I park in front of the house. “Wow,” she breathes. “It’s huge! What’s wrong with this place?”
I get out and go around to her side, opening her door and giving her my hand to help her up from the low-profile car. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it. It just wasn’t my thing. But Mysterious owned it before me, and he said he needed the cash. But he didn’t want to sell it to strangers because he likes the races too much. He said he’d be by to watch them in the summers. But he never comes.”
I lead her though the glass front doors, and immediately, there is only one thing to look at.
The ocean.
Well, and the racetrack. You can’t help but notice it, since it’s directly below my house and I have a clear view of everything. The grandstands are filled with people already, even though the races don’t start for hours. The infield is all grassy and ready for the winners who will come, race by race, to be celebrated with trophies and prizes. It’s filled up with lots of people on the big race days, but that’s not today. And the tracks. One turf, one dirt.
“You know why people go broke at the track, Ivy?”
“Who goes broke?” She doesn’t even look at me. Her fingers are pressed up against the glass doors, like she’s trying to get closer to the ocean and the track. This magical place where you can hear thundering hooves and crashing waves in the same instant.
“Gamblers, owners, trainers, whoever. The track is filled with the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor, all going broke together. And you know why?”
She drags her gaze to me and says, “Why?”
“Because they’re addicted. Not to gambling. Not the way a poker player is. They’re addicted to this sport in a way that has nothing to do with money. They’re addicted to that.” I point down. “The track. The smell of the dirt and the grass. And the horses. The sleek coats and the silks of the jockeys. It’s a different world down there. A different life. And people get addicted to it.”
“Are you addicted?” Ivy asks.
“If you only go once, you’re OK. You know? But if you go back, it’s over. The life…” I slide the patio doors open and the sea breeze rushes in, blowing long wisps of hair that have escaped her ponytail as she steps outside. “It is pretty cool. I didn’t think I’d be into it when I said I’d take the house off Pax’s hands. But I really do love it. I love the sound of the races. The trumpet guy? You know, that guy who blows that horn before the race starts? I live for that in the summer now. It sucks in the winter when the seasons ends and everything quiets down. And I’ve been over there hundreds of times in the past few years. So, yeah. It got me too. But I’m not a gambler. So I’m not going broke paying for the Club or the box. And I’m not an owner. I’m rich, but truthfully, you gotta be some special kind of rich to want to throw away millions of dollars a year on this sport. It never pays out.”
Ivy is caught up in my imagery for a few seconds. And then she says, “Why did your friend have to sell it? Was he in debt?”
“Who knows,” I say. “Who knows why Mysterious does anything. He never came back to visit, the asshole.”
“What does he do? I don’t know if I can recall his face.”
“Nah, he hates being photographed. And what does he do? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it’s not something typical. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Your friends all seem to be atypical.”
“Can’t help it,” I say with a shrug. “We got wrapped up in that shit and even though we were never that close before it all started, we got close after. But once the charges were dropped, we fell apart. Just wanted to forget, mostly. I still talk to Perfect. And I hear that Match and Mysterious both talk too. And Corporate shows up every once in a while asking if we’re hiring and need him to find anyone. But then Perfect found a girl last year and, well, he’s settling down. So we were all at a party for him a few weeks back and that’s where Corporate put me on his bachelor hit-list.”
“And you think he chose me?” Ivy points a finger at her chest. “Why?”
“You’re beautiful,” I say, tucking that blowing strand of hair behind her ear. “And smart. Even if it’s not business-school prodigy smart. You still went to Brown, right?”
Ivy laughs nervously, but nods her head. “I really did go to Brown. That’s why I knew about you guys. It’s been a while since all that happened, but it’s like an urban legend on campus for the freshmen. Some Greek Week ritual.”
“Jesus, fuck. Please tell me it’s not about gang-rape?”
“No. Nothing like that. I think it’s a team-building thing.”
“Really?” I can’t help but be interested.
“I don’t know all the details, but they break all the fraternity rushes into teams of five now. And each team has to complete the Rush Week Challenge together. They either all win, and get accepted, or they all lose, and don’t.”
“Hmm. Interesting. But enough about the past. Let’s talk food. You want to go to the club? Or…”
“Or?” She laughs. Nervously. “I have another option?”
“Well, we can see the races from here. There’s really no reason to go out. I can make you breakfast and we can eat on the terrace. And then we can talk business for a little bit. How’s that sound?”
It sounds pretty fucking fantastic to me, but Ivy hesitates.
When I got in my car and started driving off, all I kept thinking about was how I fucked her. How I was the first ever to fuck her. And she never said a word. It blew my mind. I have never had a virgin before. I’ve never had anything other than someone’s sloppy seconds.
It intrigues me. That I could get to know her better. Date her. Keep her for myself. Me and only me.
What a fucking prize, right?
And even though I have no clue what Corporate was thinking when he set all this shit up, I don’t much care.
I think I’d like to be the only man Ivy Rockwell ever fucks.
It’s a dangerous thought. Dangerous. That’s how Claudette described me to Ivy. But once I get an idea in my head I’ll usually do whatever it takes to get my way. Even if it means bringing her here. Taking her places. Getting her addicted. Just like the people down there on that track. You don’t get addicted to one thing or another. You get addicted to all of it. You get addicted to the life. I want her to be addicted to my life.
And it’s working, isn’t it?
One look at her face as she gazes down at the ocean and considers my offer tells me all I need to know. It’s working all right.
I’ve got her right where I want her.