I sipped, confused. Yes, my accent was a mish-mosh. The fact that she found it convincingly Americanthrilledme.
“Right now, I’m traveling,” I tried to sound my most North American. “Sort of a nomad. I’m in London competing.”
“In what?”
“Equestrian. I’m an eventer,” I said. “Horse trials. We have a big competition coming up—my coach and his riders.”
“Ah,” she said. “Really?”
I nodded.
“My ex-girlfriend from a million years ago rode, but just for fun. They say stay away from horse girls, but I seem to have a thing for them.”
Yes. Definitely flirting.
I flushed bright red. “Well… I am one. Always was, so…”
“So you ride. But music, what are you into?”
I winced. “I’m not sure. I don’t know much about music, which issuperembarrassing because I have this cousin who is a… singer.”
I knew if I said too much, she’d know who my “cousin” was and I’d out myself. I left it ambiguous to keep a low profile, treasuring my anonymity.
“Oh, well, cool. What does she sing?”
“She’s classically trained.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
She’s working on an EGOT.
“Well, I am not. I did go to school, but that was for production. I then promptly dropped out to produce, though, for what that’s worth.”
“So is that what does it for you?”
“Nah,” she said. “Gingers do.”
It took me a minute to realize she meantme. And in that minute, Jaz returned, holding out her mobile phone.
“Hey, Jen says they made it. Let’s go.”
I looked at Jaz, then Mary, “I think I’m out.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I like thevibe.”
I hoped she’d get a clue.
Jaz rolled her eyes. “I will make an excuse. Text me, bitch!”
“I will,” I called.
“Who is that?”
“Another rider,” I answered. “We were supposed to meet a Brit, but like… I don’t honestly like her. She’s a friend of my sister-in-law’s but I find her sort of grating.”
