Nacho Figueras Presents (6 page)

G
od, the equestrian set are sexy,” Billy said as they settled onto the warm bleachers and gazed out at the field the next day. “Look at them with the kinky accessories—the whips and the reins. What's that thing?”

“A riding crop,” Georgia said.

“Mmm, hot. This gear's all kinds of shades of gray. I can't believe it's taken me so long to realize this is the business my business should be in.”

Georgia laughed. “Why do I feel like we have this same conversation every six months? Last time it was car interiors.”

“You have to admit that the tight white jeans and tall, shiny boots are hot as all hell,” he said. “And look”—he clutched his chest—“leather knee pads! Be still, my heart!”

Georgia shrugged. “They're okay, I guess.”

Billy snorted and elbowed her in the ribs. “‘They're okay, I guess,'” he imitated her teasingly. “Like you weren't checking out the goods.”

Georgia laughed, caught. “Yeah, okay, maybe on the right guy they can be pretty spectacular.”

Billy nodded his head, “Sing it, sister.”

Soon, between the Bloody Marys they'd enjoyed at brunch and the pleasure of hanging out together, the pair were almost giddy with giggles. God, thought Georgia as she leaned against her friend, weak with laughter, she'd been holed up on the farm with her dad for so long that she'd practically forgotten what fun was.

She turned to Billy and kissed him on the cheek.

He touched his face, pleased and surprised. “What was that for?”

“That was for making me come down to visit,” she said. “And for just being you.”

Billy put his arm around her. “Aw, Peaches, it's been too long.”

As the teams took their positions, Georgia was completely unprepared to feel so impressed. She'd seen some Thoroughbred animals, but never a collection like this. The ponies were groomed to superhuman perfection, but beyond the gleaming neatness, they seemed like a different species of horse than any she'd ever known. Their eyes glittered with intelligence and restless competitiveness. Their muscles twitched under gleaming flanks as they strained against their reins in excitement. She had never seen ponies look so alive.

Georgia suddenly had an epiphany. She got it—polo and every elite thing it stood for—it was the game that horses of this caliber deserved. These ponies were born and bred and trained every day for this release. It was in their blood. Clearly, they wanted nothing more than to race onto that field and play.

The horn was blown, and Georgia surrendered to the thundering hooves and the solid click of stick on ball. Clueless as she was about the rules, and impossible as it was to follow anything the commentator said except the name “Del Campo,” she found herself completely absorbed. She couldn't believe the speed with which the players rode, or the height the ball soared. Billy had been right—the game was thrilling and undeniably sexy. The players and ponies blocked and marked each other mercilessly, dancing around the ball to gain control before storming down the field at top speed, sparks seemed to fly from the ponies' feet as horseshoes caught the light.

Alejandro was at the heart of it, the best of them all. He dove through the other players on a magnificent gray, man and horse in perfect communion, fused as a team. He was twisting and turning, galloping face backward to follow the soaring trajectory of the ball, all the while wielding his mallet like the right hand of Thor. All the pent-up energy that she'd noticed in the press tent yesterday suddenly made sense. This man was made to ride.

It took tremendous skill to move as nimbly as he did. Over and over again, he made the crowd gasp, taking huge risks, riding within inches of the other ponies but always managing to pull back just in time. It was riveting.

“It's really dangerous, isn't it?” she murmured to Billy, never taking her eyes off the field. “I mean, the speed—they could get seriously hurt.”

“Oh, polo players die on the field every year,” he answered casually.

Georgia turned to him, surprised. “Die?”

“Sure. I told you. It looks friendly, but remember when the game got started, it was played with the heads of your enemy. Polo's savage as all hell.”

There was a break as the players swapped out their mounts, and Georgia stood to applaud. Not only for the players, who were impressive, but for the brave-hearted ponies themselves. Georgia felt the animals were every bit the athletes their riders were.

The players leaped onto their fresh horses. As Rory swung onto his pony, something caught Georgia's eye, a sway in the gait of his incoming horse. She blinked, straining to see, but within seconds, they were moving so hard and fast it was difficult to be sure. Georgia glanced left and right, seeing if anyone else noticed anything off, but no one seemed to be concerned. Rory was quickly back out there, playing with giddy oblivion. While the rest of the crowd cheered another goal, Georgia craned forward as he and his pony raced past her. Her stomach clenched—there was that sway again.

Georgia looked to the sidelines, hoping to find one of the vets, but if they were in attendance, they couldn't be seen from where she sat.

Another goal was scored, and the players bunched in a shifting knot in the center of the field, fighting for control of the ball. “Do you see anything funny about the horse that Rory is riding?” she asked Billy.

Billy squinted at the field. “Looks fine to me. Should I?”

Georgia bit her lip. “I—I'm sure it's nothing.”

Billy patted her arm. “Rory's a pro, G. They all are. Plus the price they pay for those ponies? They'd notice if something was wrong.”

Georgia slowly nodded. Of course Billy was right. She was being ridiculous. These were among the finest players in the world. They knew their horses better than she did.

Still, she kept her eyes on Rory and his pony while Billy caught up with her New York life. Work, her dad, the animals. People often made the mistake of underestimating Billy. They saw his good looks and designer clothes and thought he was all flash. But he didn't miss a thing. He paid attention and remembered just about everything his friend had ever said.

“You haven't succumbed to that cheating, reheated suitor, have you? What's-his-name? Sam?”

“Yes, Sam. But no—”

“Ugh. I get bored just thinking about him.”

“You've never even met him.”

“Well, I know what you've told me—and he's all sorts of deadly.”

Georgia shook her head, ready to argue, but just then, Rory's pony stumbled on a tight turn. The horse righted herself immediately, but that was enough for Georgia. She felt positive that something was wrong. She looked wildly about again. Hoping that someone would step up. “Billy, I have to go down to the field.”

“What?”

“That pony—there's something wrong.”

She was up and moving before Billy could stop her, pushing her way through a crowd of women in silly hats, heading for the umpire who stood on the sideline.

She leaned down over the wall that separated her from the field. “Excuse me,” she shouted at the umpire, straining to be heard over the crowd. “Excuse me! There's something wrong with that horse!”

The umpire glanced over at her, an irritated look on his face. “Get back, lady,” he yelled. “Are you crazy?”

Georgia leaned over even farther, feeling that she might topple onto the field at any moment. “The horse—that Player Number One is riding on the La Victoria team—something is very wrong with it.”

The umpire shook his head, refusing to listen. Billy had reached her by now and was pulling at her shoulder. “Georgia! What are you doing?”

Georgia shook him off. She felt sick. She knew she was making a spectacle of herself, but that insistent diagnostic voice in her gut persisted, the one so stubborn that, when it kicked in, Georgia knew that either she was going to be right or totally humiliated trying to prove that she was right.

“Hey, you!” she yelled. “Goddamn it! Listen to me!”

The umpire had obviously decided to ignore her. She looked out at Rory and his horse again—her heart thumped—there was nothing else to do.

She climbed up over the wall and dropped down onto the field, landing with a solid thwack onto her rear. The umpire turned to her, horrified. “Holy shit, lady, what the hell?”

Georgia looked up at him and took a deep breath. “You need to call a time-out. And help me up while you're at it.”

A
lejandro lifted his head, squinting to see what the commotion was on the other side of the field. The umpires, two on horseback and one on the ground, were huddled around something—no wait—
someone
. Someone was on the field.

“
Que
mierda pasa!
” he swore, as he recognized the caramel curls and wildly waving arms of the woman standing on the green. “Time out!” he shouted. “Time out!”

The other players pulled up and looked at him in surprise. Players almost never called a time out—not unless there was a major injury or a necessary piece of equipment had broken.

He wheeled away from the others and galloped across the field.

“Stop being so idiotic and listen to me,” Georgia was yelling at the umpires. “That horse is going to be permanently damaged if—” She broke off and looked up at Alejandro as he rode up. Relief flooded her face when she saw who he was.

“Oh, thank God, Alejandro! These asses won't listen to me! Rory's pony, there's something wrong. It's her spine—maybe spondylomyelopathy. You need to get her off the field immediately.”

Alejandro frowned and looked over at Rory and his horse. “MacKenzie?” he said. “No, you're mistaken. She's in perfect health.”

Georgia stamped her foot in frustration. “No, she's not. She's got a sway in her gait, and if she keeps being ridden that way, she's going to have permanent damage. She's probably in terrible pain. She needs to be taken off the field and rushed to a hospital, right now!”

Alejandro stared at her for another moment. She looked up at him, her eyes imploring him to listen. “Please,” she whispered.

He reared his horse around. “Rory!” he yelled, racing across the field. “Bring in MacKenzie!”

Rory waved and started riding toward them, but halfway across the field, the brave pony's knees buckled.

“Damn it,” breathed Alejandro as he raced toward them. He sprang off his horse and grabbed MacKenzie's reins as the pony hit the ground.

“Find Gustavo,” he spat at Rory. He held MacKenzie's head, stroking her face. “
Bueno, bueno, shhh, tranquila.
Just hang on.”

Georgia ran up behind them and knelt at the pony's side, her fingers gently probing the pony's spine.

“I think she might need a fusion,” Georgia said. “How quickly can we get her to an X-ray?”

“Minutes. They're calling for an ambulance now.” He clenched his jaw as he saw the sweat foaming on the pony's neck.

“She's in pain. I should have acted sooner,” muttered Georgia.

Rory ran onto the field, carrying Gustavo's medical bag, which he gave to Georgia. “I couldn't find Gus,” he said to Alejandro.

Georgia tore the bag open and riffled through it, pulling a fresh pair of gloves from their packet. She loaded a syringe and looked up and met Alejandro's eyes. He looked back at her for a second, hoping to hell that he could trust this woman, and then gave a barely perceptible nod of permission, and she quickly found the vein.

Stress made the moment seem like forever but it was probably only seconds before the pony showed signs of some relief. As MacKenzie was being loaded onto the stretcher, Gustavo finally showed up. He strode over, Dr. Evan trailing unsteadily behind him.

“What the hell is going on?” Gustavo demanded.

Georgia briefed Gustavo quickly on her diagnosis and the dose of drug she'd given. Gustavo's face flooded puce. “You gave that horse a shot? Are you insane? Who told you to do that?”

Alejandro looked up at Gustavo. “I did,” he said icily. “In the absence of any alternative.”

“That's astoundingly irresponsible,” sputtered Gustavo. “She might have done irreparable damage!”

“That pony was in agony,” Georgia said in frustration. “I couldn't just stand by.”

She peeled off her latex gloves and held out Gustavo's bag to him. In outrage, Gustavo looked to Alejandro. Alejandro coldly nodded at him to take the bag, and then turned to board the ambulance. Gustavo made to follow, but Alejandro stopped him before he got on.

“You reek of booze,
amigo
,” he said quietly. “You're in no condition to take care of this animal.” He looked at Georgia. “Will you come? I'd like for you to talk to the vet at the emergency clinic.”

Georgia nodded mutely and climbed in beside him. The last thing Alejandro saw before the doors slammed shut was Gustavo's face, absolute rage in his eyes.

I
t was quiet in the waiting room. Georgia had briefed the emergency vets as soon as they had arrived, and Alejandro had filled out all the paperwork, telling the senior surgeon to do whatever was necessary to help his horse.

Alejandro leaned back and closed his eyes. The ambulance ride, the interminable wait, it all hurled him relentlessly back to the night of Olivia's accident. He remembered the medevac helicopter that had transferred him with his wife from the farm. Valentina's little face, her nanny's arms around her, as she looked up at the chopper in flight.

It had been a nightmarish ride, listening to the medics radio ahead about Olivia's condition. “Pupils fully dilated. Nonresponsive.” He remembered willing his wife to make it, calling on every ancestor in memory and every last remnant of his childhood Catholic God, as the lights of the city finally came into view and they landed on the hospital roof. He'd climbed out of the cabin beneath the helicopter's whirring blades and followed his wife's gurney into the bright, cold light.

He opened his eyes and glanced over at Georgia. Her pretty face was pale, her shirt was torn at the shoulder, and there were grass stains all down the front of her pants. She smiled wearily at him. There were purple shadows under her hazel eyes. “I think she'll be all right,” she said softly. “I think she'll compete again. We caught it in time.”

He shook his head ruefully. “You caught it in time. Not me.”

“Well, you were playing, so of course you couldn't see, and Rory—”

“Rory shouldn't have been riding her. She's my pony, but I loaned her to him. I thought that it might give him a little inspiration. I wanted the win. I should have been paying better attention.”

Georgia frowned and looked as if she was going to say something else, but she was interrupted by one of the veterinary assistants, who emerged in scrubs to tell them that things were going fine, but that it was a bit more complicated than they first thought, and it would be several hours before the surgery was over.

Alejandro turned to Georgia. “You should go home. I'll call you a car.”

“I'd rather wait, if you don't mind,” said Georgia. “I want to make sure that the pony is all right.”

Alejandro was surprised to feel relief. He realized that he actually wanted her to stay. She shivered, tucking her hands under her arms.

He shook his head. “I thought you said you were from New York? How can you be cold in Florida?”

“This air-conditioning's colder than snow, I think.”

“At least let me get you something to eat and something warmer to wear. We can't have you sitting here freezing to death.”

She looked around the antiseptic waiting room and laughed. “How are you going to manage that?”

He smiled. “I know a place nearby.”