Page 15 of Wild Eyes
Meli makes it all the way over again before clumsily pushing to stand. Once upright, she shakes her entire body, but the dirt still clings to her as she wanders over, eyeing Skylar inquisitively. Skylar stays frozen in place, and I wonder how she ever thought she could get close to a bear when a horse is clearly making her nervous.
However, she braves her discomfort and reaches out tentatively, letting Meli’s nostrils flare over her flat palm as the filly sniffs. Seconds later, Meli bobs her head, knickers, and wanders away, all calm and content, before stuffing her face into the hay I stocked in her feeder.
“See? She’s so happy. How could I begrudge her that?”
Skylar is laser-focused on the horse. “But is there a way to keep them clean?”
“I mean, sure. I could keep them indoors with a sheet all the time and muck their stalls multiple times a day. Keep ‘em locked up. But that’s not the life these horses are meant to live. These aren’t show horses—the odd one might be down the line. These are working horses, young horses. They’re lucky they getbrushed at all. I do it because I like the process and I know it feels good for them. We build trust this way, and I don’t care if they make a mess of it later. Can’t hold their nature against them.”
“Huh” is the only thing she says as she continues staring at Meli. Like what I’ve just said confuses her on a deeper level.
A ringing from her purse makes her jump and she’s immediately diving for it, scrambling to find her phone in what appears to be some sort of bottomless bag. When she pulls it out, her brow furrows, her eyes water, and her jaw tics.
Then she presses the button on the side to silence it and I watch her face transform into this fake mask of serenity. It’s too practiced. Honestly, it’s a little creepy. It makes me question every photo and interview I’ve ever seen of this woman.
“You can pet her while she eats if you want. She’s a sweet girl. I’ll go grab the bedding set and be right back.”
She nods but doesn’t give me her attention. Instead, she approaches the horse again with caution, and I decide to give her a moment to herself.
I dart into the house and don’t bother taking my shoes off. The floors are a fucking mess from the kids being here all week anyway. I’ll do a deep clean when they leave for their mom’s place this weekend. I rush upstairs, tug open the closet, and grab the red-and-white gingham set that Rosie used when she crashed in the bunkhouse. It looks like a picnic blanket turned into a bedspread.
As I’m stomping back down the stairs, I stop at the landing and glance out the window. Skylar has gone right up to the fence where Meli is eating and is reaching out for the horse’s forehead like she’s about to touch a hot stove or something. Her purse is dropped at her feet and she seems almost relaxed.
I swear, if I made a loud noise, she’d jump straight out of her skin. The girl is stressed. Anxious. It keeps me from outwardlyfan-girling over her. I think if I did, she’d bolt. So I keep my slack-jawed expressions locked up real tight.
It also didn’t occur to me that Skylar may not have spent time around horses. I just…assumed. Country music star and all that. It just seems like it fits her whole persona.
But based on the way her stiff, flat palm taps the star in the middle of Meli’s forehead, I realize I was sorely mistaken.
So I stand and watch. Her taps evolve into rubs as Meli continues happily munching on her hay. Soon, Skylar’s dainty fingers weave themselves into her forelock, and she combs it out carefully.
When she’s done pampering Meli, she reaches into her pocket and lifts her phone. She fluffs her hair, makes some weird duck pout with her face, and switches from vulnerable young woman to confident bombshell in the blink of an eye.
She talks into her phone while Meli munches behind her. With her perfectly combed-out forelock. Like that somehow made her more presentable. The recording doesn’t last long, and as soon as she puts the phone down, her entire body sags. Then she stares at the phone, most likely watching the video back, and her face falls.
I shake my head.
And not because I’m mad, but because I’m sad. I just witnessed a tender moment evaporate behind a shiny veneer. I watched vulnerable Skylar morph into starlet Skylar. And on the other side of that recording was an empty version of the girl whose eyes flashed with so much life on that back road.
Another shake of my head has me jogging down the stairs and back outside to the paddock. “You done with whatever it is you’re doing?” I ask, noting the way she’s still frowning at her screen.
“I just…I need to do another take. I don’t like this one. I look gross, and I’ve sweat all my makeup off. I need a filter.”
My eyes race over the woman before me. She looks like a lot of things to me, but gross isn’t one of them. “A what?”
She finally glances up at me. “You know, a filter. For my face.”
My head tilts as I work out what the hell this girl could be talking about. She has the kind of face people would show their plastic surgeon as inspiration.
“What’s wrong with your face?”
She sighs heavily and turns her attention back to her phone. “Apparently, I’m looking old.”
“Old? How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Yeah, fair. That is super old,” I reply solemnly.
