The A Circuit

by Georgina Bloomberg

  “Oh, please.” Callie rolled her eyes.

  Meanwhile their father was scowling. “Grow up, Tommi,” he snapped. “Nobody does that.”

  “Oh, right. All those pro riders are just figments of my imagination, right?” If her family was going to turn on the sarcasm, Tommi could match them snide remark for snide remark.

  “Well, she still has plenty of time to decide,” Tommi’s aunt spoke up, clearly trying to defuse the tension. “No need to worry about it now, when she still has her whole senior year to enjoy.”

  Mr. Aaronson was still glaring at Tommi. She met his eye, not backing down. Not this time.

  “So can you really make a living riding horses?” her uncle asked.

  Her stepmother sipped her wine. “A girlfriend of mine once dated a jockey,” she said. “He did fairly well for himelf, I think. Had a lovely place in the Berkshires.”

  “That’s different,” Callie said. “Tommi doesn’t ride racehorses.”

  “Right, right,” her uncle said. “Hey, what’s that old joke? You know—how do you make a million in the horse business?”

  “Start with two million.” Grant chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one.”

  Tommi finally tore her gaze away from her father’s. “Whatever,” she muttered. “I guess my trainer’s nice car and huge farm are just figments of my imagination, too. Because clearly there’s no money in show horses.”

  “Speaking of racehorses,” Callie said, as Mrs. Grigoryan bustled in to clear the plates for the next course, “the senator got invited to speak to some constituents’ group next month, and the only place big enough is the local racetrack, so …”

  She was off and running again. Tommi sneaked a look at Grant, who was listening with apparent fascination just like everyone else.

  “Another weekend, another show,” Zara said as Mickey pulled the car up to an elegant stone barn on Saturday morning. The fields off to the right were packed with horse trailers of all shapes and sizes, from two-horse bumper pulls behind SUVs to huge custom rigs.

  “Have fun, Z-girl.” Mickey glanced at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Text me when you’re ready to cut out, and I’ll come get you.”

  “Sure you can’t stay to watch?”

  “Sorry.” Mickey shrugged his skinny shoulders. “Got to get back to the city. Your dad’s got a lot going on today.”

  “So I heard.” Zara frowned. This would be her first time showing with her new barn. Was it really too much to ask for someone to come watch her ride?

  Yeah. Apparently it was. Back home, she’d never lacked for a cheering section. Even when her parents couldn’t make it—which was more often than not—there were always plenty of friends, admirers, and assorted groupies who were more than thrilled to come cheer her on. But those people were all back on the West Coast. Her dad had some kind of publicity deal going on this week, her mom was still off in Vancouver shooting some lame-ass old-farts-in-love movie, and so Zara was on her own.

  Whatever. It beat sitting around the new apartment, so she might as well make the best of it.

  She found her way to Pelham Lane’s show stalls. When she got there, one of the grooms was just leading Ellie into a stall. It was that quiet, shy young one who always seemed to be scuttling around like a mouse—what was his name? José or something?

  “How is she?” Zara asked, stepping over to give the mare a pat.

  The groom unclipped the lead rope and shot Zara a tentative smile. “She’s fine,” the groom said in his soft, accented voice. “I just groomed her so she’d be ready for you later.”

  “Cool, thanks,” Zara said. “She looks great. You been grooming for long?”

  The groom looked a little surprised by her friendly question, which amused Zara. Did she have that much of a rep already? Whatever—she liked keeping people on their toes.

  “Yes,” the groom blurted out. “I mean no. That is, I’ve worked with horses for many years, but only a few months here. I mean, for Mr. Vos.”

  “Javier!” A girl with bulging brown eyes and wavy dark hair rushed in with her show collar flapping. “Is Miles tacked up yet? Jamie wants me to start warming up for my eq course, even though I thought I still had like half an hour.”

  “I think Max is doing it, Miss Marissa, but I’ll find out.” Javier—oh right, that was his name—rushed off down the aisle.

  The girl shot Zara a look. “Oh, hi,” she said, sounding distracted as she fiddled with her collar. “Are you showing today?”

  “Yeah, supposedly.” Zara was about to elaborate, but the other girl was already hurrying off.

  “Good luck!” she called back over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Zara muttered, though the girl was already out of sight around the corner.

  She wandered down the aisle, feeling out of place and unwanted. And those sorts of feelings always pissed her off, made her want to do something crazy just to get people to look up out of their own stupid little worlds and notice her.

  Then she spotted someone pushing a wheelbarrow into an empty stall nearby. It was that cute part-time mucker, Sean. She hadn’t really talked to him since their first meeting, but he always shot her a little smirk or wink when they passed each other at the barn.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” she said, leaning against the stall door. “How’s the shit business going?”

  “Shitty.” Sean shot her a lazy grin. “But why don’t you come in here and find out for yourself? Or are you the kind of girl who’s afraid of getting her hands dirty?”

  “Do you really want to know what kind of girl I am?” Zara stepped into the stall, easing around the wheelbarrow until she was beside him. “Because I’m thinking I already know what kind of guy you are.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Sean lowered his pitchfork, wiping his free hand on his jeans. “How would you know that?”

  “I have my ways.” Zara leaned closer, already feeling the rush. Seeing the way he was looking at her. Knowing he wanted her. It was the most powerful feeling she knew, even better than nailing a big jumper course.

  “I’m starting to figure out what kind of girl you are,” Sean said, his voice a sexy growl. “And I think it’s the kind I like.”

  He dropped the pitchfork and reached for her, pulling her to him. She relaxed into him, pressing her body against his. His hands were already wandering by the time their lips met. Cool. Zara liked a guy who got right to the point; she wasn’t the type to waste time either.

  “Excuse me! Am I interrupting something?”

  The disapproving voice snapped Zara out of the moment. She pulled her mouth away from Sean’s and glanced back to see Jamie standing in the stall doorway looking annoyed.

  Oops. She felt Sean jump away quickly.

  “Sorry, boss,” the mucker muttered. “We were just, uh, talking.”

  “Right. Maybe it’s time to stop, uh, talking and get back to work.” Jamie glared at him for a second, then turned to Zara. “I was looking for you. Marissa said you were here, and I wanted to talk to you about the show, since it’s your first with us.”

  “Okay, whatever.” Zara quickly tucked her shirt back into the waistband of her breeches, then shot Sean a look. “Later.”

  Sean didn’t answer, already digging his fork into the soiled shavings. Zara shrugged and wandered out of the stall. Jamie was waiting in the aisle.

  She expected him to say something about what had just happened, but he didn’t. “I showed Ellie in the First Years yesterday to prep for your division today,” he told her instead. “I thought you could start off in the Children’s Hunters later this afternoon.”

  “The Children’s?” Zara echoed. “I haven’t done that in like two years. Low jumps annoy me.”

  “I realize you’re experienced at 3’6“. But you and Ellie are still getting to know each other, so I’d like to see you ease into things. If all goes well you can move up to the Juniors next time.”

  Was that a whiff of disapproval in his eyes? Zara knew Jamie had wan
ted her to do a couple of lessons last week before the barn had packed up for this show. But she’d been busy, what with moving to a whole new city, unpacking, getting familiar with NYC, and reconnecting with some people she knew there. She hadn’t had any spare time to ride.

  That didn’t mean she needed to go back to Children’s. But it didn’t seem worth arguing about.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “Children’s it is. This time.”

  Jamie nodded and checked his watch. “There’s a major holdup at the hunter ring, so I have a little time right now,” he said. “Why don’t we do a quick lesson? Your division isn’t going until later, and Ellie could stand to stretch her legs.”

  Zara almost said yes. Riding would help her feel less out of place, and it would be fun to give her new mare a whirl before showtime.

  Then again, she wasn’t sure she should let Jamie win so easily. Yeah, he was a hardass. But she was no pushover, and maybe it was better to start letting him know that. He needed to understand exactly who worked for whom in this relationship.

  “No thanks,” she said with a casual shrug. “I don’t need a lesson to ride some dinky Children’s course. It’s not like this is my first show.”

  “But—” he began.

  “If Ellie needs exercise, you can deal with it,” Zara cut him off. “If you’ve prepped her right, we’ll be fine this afternoon. Right?”

  Jamie hesitated, the shadow of a frown crossing his face. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say a word, a frantic-looking pony rider rushed in with her red-faced mother at her heels.

  “Jamie, OMG!” the small rider exclaimed. “I think Goldie just threw a shoe! And Kate said I’m supposed to start warming up soon, but I can’t find her anywhere, and what if Goldie is, like, lame or something?”

  Jamie turned to face them. “It’s okay, Gigi,” he said soothingly. “I’m sure Goldie is fine, and you won’t miss your class. Just ask Miguel to call the show farrier, and …”

  Zara didn’t hear any more. Taking advantage of the distraction, she made her escape.

  “Oh, man,” Kate muttered, unwrapping the big bay horse’s right front leg for the third time. She’d already done the other three legs, but for some reason she just couldn’t get this one to lie right.

  The horse shifted its weight, letting out a long sigh. He was an older jumper who tended to stock up after jumping if he didn’t get either wrapped or turned out.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Kate said, glancing up. “I’m a fumble-fingers today.”

  She shook out the wrap and started again, feeling frustrated with herself. Shows always made her a little tense—there was so much to do, and even less time than usual to do it—but normally she thrived on the pressure, embracing it to help herself keep moving and get things done. But today she’d stalled out on what should be a quick, mindless task. What was wrong with her?

  She started yet again. This time she was almost finished when she noticed a bulge halfway down.

  “Aargh!” she cried, yanking the wrap loose yet again.

  “Kate? Is that you?” Summer hurried around the corner. “Thank God! I need someone to come clean the schooling-ring gunk off my girth.”

  “I can’t, Summer.” Kate was too annoyed with herself to be patient. Besides, even Summer should be able to manage to wipe down her girth herself. “I need to finish this first.”

  “So finish already.” Summer shot a dismissive look at the wrap. “How long does it take to wrap a leg?”

  Kate didn’t bother to point out that Summer probably wouldn’t be able to properly wrap a leg if she had all the time in the world. Instead she just gritted her teeth and started again. This time she was hardly halfway done before she had to give up.

  “What are you doing?” Summer complained.

  “It’s not laying right,” Kate said. “It needs to be even.”

  Summer rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me? You’re getting just as OCD as Jamie about that stuff.”

  Kate froze, stung by the comment. Was that really how she came across to other people when she did stuff like rewrap a leg ten times until she was sure it was right? Kate had always thought of herself as a perfectionist. But now, for the first time, she wondered if maybe that was how her mother thought of herself, too.…

  She squeezed her eyes shut, not liking where those thoughts were taking her. Pushing them aside, she quickly did the wrap again, this time trying to ignore the tiny imperfection in the edge, which even Jamie would never notice.

  “I’m done,” she told Summer. “Just let me put this horse away, and I’ll come deal with your girth.”

  EIGHT

  Summer’s girth was sparkling clean, and Kate had moved on to picking out stalls when Jamie found her. “Got a minute?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “Sure.” Kate’s mind immediately flashed back over the past hour or so, wondering if she’d done something wrong—missed a tack change, screwed up a medication.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, but you did a great job with the new Irish gelding in the schooling classes yesterday,” Jamie said.

  Kate couldn’t help feeling flattered. Jamie was pretty stingy with the compliments, at least with his ambitious juniors. The nervous adult amateurs got plenty of praise whether they found eight perfect spots or accidentally rode the course backward. But Jamie expected Kate, Tommi, and the rest to perform at a certain level, and usually only mentioned it if they went above and beyond.

  “Thanks,” she said, thinking back to her rides on one of Jamie’s sales horses. “But it was mostly him. I could’ve done a lot better. I totally biffed the approach to the second line, and reacted too slowly when he cut in on the turn—”

  Jamie waved a hand to silence her. “Listen, I don’t have much time before I have to book it to the pony ring,” he said. “But I’m impressed by how hard you’ve been working on your riding. I think you could do really well in the Big Eq.”

  For a second Kate wasn’t sure what to say. The Big Eq? Sure, she’d done an equitation class here and there, but she’d never even dreamed about competing seriously in the highly competitive 3’6“ junior equitation classes commonly known as the Big Eq. Did Jamie really think she was that good? Good enough to put her riding up against people like Tommi, Summer, Fitz—people who’d been showing with top trainers on top horses for their entire riding careers?

  Even if he did, it didn’t matter. Eq horses were like a species unto themselves, quieter than jumpers, more adjustable than hunters. The price even to lease a good one was stratospheric. There weren’t enough hours in Kate’s entire life to work off that kind of money.

  “I—um, thanks,” she said. “But I’m not sure—”

  “I’m serious about this, Kate,” Jamie said before she could go any further. “And I think I have the right horse for you. Fabelhaften.”

  “Fable?” Kate had ridden the big, flashy gray in five or six lessons so far. He was a well-trained Hanoverian who’d already had a successful career as a third-level dressage horse and a somewhat less illustrious one as a hunter. He’d come to Jamie’s barn to be sold when his current owner moved overseas. Fable was a dream to ride, though Kate had already discovered that he had a few quirks, like a strong sense of justice and an unpredictable and athletic buck.

  “You handle him well and seem to bring out the best in him,” Jamie said. “I think you could be just the rider to help me turn him into an eq specialist.” He smiled. “And he’s just the horse to take your riding to a new level. Maybe even help you qualify for a finals or two.”

  “Wow,” Kate said, still having a little trouble taking this in. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll give it a try,” Jamie said. “That’s all I ask.”

  “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

  “Good girl.” Jamie checked his watch. “Gotta go. We’ll talk details later.”

  He raced off toward the rings, and Kate wandered in the
other direction, her mind spinning. Big Eq. Her. Could it really happen? It sounded as if Jamie was saying Fable would be her eq horse—her way to compete regularly and really learn the ropes. And with the owner who was trying to sell footing all the bills, she wouldn’t even have to figure out how to swing entry fees.

  She turned the corner and almost bumped into Fitz. He was standing in the aisle giving Marissa a back rub while an Asian girl Kate didn’t know leaned against the wall nearby.

  “Hey, Kate,” Marissa said. “What’s up? This is my friend Susan.”

  “Hi.” Kate flashed the other girl a smile, noting her expensive-looking beaded cami top, short shorts, and strappy sandals. Not exactly riding attire. “Are you here to watch Marissa ride?”

  “Yup. Here to watch. And I’m definitely enjoying the view.” Susan shot a look at Fitz.

  Fitz didn’t seem to notice. He dropped his hands from Marissa’s shoulders and cracked his knuckles.

  “Dr. Feelgood is closed for business,” he announced with his usual rakish grin. “I’ve got to jet. Later, ladies.”

  “Bye, Fitz!” Marissa and her friend singsonged.

  Kate recognized the look in Susan’s eyes. She’d already fallen for Fitz’s charm. Chances were pretty good she’d be a notch on his Gucci belt before the end of the show.

  But that wasn’t any of Kate’s business. She hurried past, wanting to steal a few minutes of alone time to think about Jamie’s offer. She’d just rounded the corner at the end of the aisle when Fitz caught up with her.

  “Yo,” he said. “You okay? You look kind of—I don’t know, like worried or something.”

  “I do?” She forced a smile. “Probably just lack of sleep.”

  He trailed along behind her as she headed into the equipment stall to grab a bucket. “Nope, not that,” he said. “Seriously, is anything wrong?”