Page 73 of Tangled Up In You

“Seriously?”

Steve and Maggie glanced at each other and laughed. “That’s just what they do here,” he said.

Gavin nodded. “Okay then. My first time golfing will be in the Swiss Alps. On snow, no less.”

Sophie gave Gavin’s hand a quick squeeze. “It’ll be his first time skiing, too.”

“I thought I’d give snowboarding a chance, actually.”

“Ugh, I tried last winter,” Maggie said, “and I fell so hard that my tailbone was bruised for a solid month!”

“Your record label has insurance on you, right, Gavin?” Steve asked with mock seriousness.

“Dad,” Sophie said in a reproachful singsong and they all laughed.

Dinner gave way to fireside drinks in a separate, cozy lounge area of the hotel, and Gavin found he was enjoying Sophie’s parents. They had adopted a much more accepting attitude toward his and Sophie’s engagement since the first time he met them. And they were keen on having a good time while treating him and Sophie as equals.

As the conversation moved on, however, it became clear that this relating as equals stance wasn’t a recent byproduct of Sophie now being a grown-up. They mentioned in off-handed ways how they had raised Sophie to be independent from the start—due to both their demanding work schedule and their general parenting philosophy—and that they wanted her to feel responsible for and in charge of her own life.

Gavin saw how this had created an odd distance between Sophie and her parents. They were respectful and caring with each other, but with a layer of removal. It reminded him of Shay’s emotionally vacant parents in a way, though to a far lesser degree. He guessed Sophie recognized something of a kindred spirit in Shay because of this, which explained her fondness for him.

And Gavin understood on a different level why she had committed herself so deeply to him. She was desperate to hang on to the one person in her life who had shown her she was needed.

42

GAVIN

Money 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.

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