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As soon as her car is gone, Donnie’s slow, heavy steps lumber up to my door. I open it before he knocks.
Any hope I had of him taking my side dies the moment I see his face. Mr. Wiggins—bless his little soul—lets out a low, rumbling growl.
“I’m sorry, Lolly. I really am. I don’t know what happened between you and Stephanie, but…”
I let the uncomfortable silence grow, even though it feels like part of me dies with each millisecond. If he’s going to fire me, he’s going to have to be the one to say it.
“You’re going to have to clear out. By Friday. I can’t afford to lose a client like Stephanie. If she goes, her pal Jessica goes. If Jessica goes...”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “I get it.” And I do. Even as my entire throat closes in on itself. Everyone who isn’t independently wealthy is relying on the people who are to pay their way. Donnie can find another me—another girl desperate for a chance to get her foot in the door, desperate to put in time and learn the ropes and maybe make it. Finding another Stephanie is much harder. “I’ll be out by then.”
I close the door on Donnie and start making calls. There are at least seven, maybe eight, polo clubs within a thirty-mile radius. I call every single one of them. At every single one, the answer is the same; the second they hear my name: No. Stephanie has paid me back, all right. Just not in cash. The girl works fast. She must have had her assistant on it as soon as she stomped away from me.
Then, of course, there’s Mariano. He owes me. I held up my end of the bargain, helped him snag hisdate.My phone sits in my palm so long it’s almost welded to me, but in the end even Mr. Wiggins agrees. I can’t make that call. What would I say? ‘Hi, babe. Me here. Now that we’ve locked lips, how about you give me a job?”
By the time I dial Alicia, I’m sobbing so hard I can’t even speak.
“Just tell me you’re okay. Tell me I don’t need to call 911.” Alicia has been around horses long enough to know there are about a million different reasons a horsewoman might call, sobbing.
“No 911.” I can only just gasp out the words.
Alicia lets out a long sigh. “Phew. You had me really scared there. Now tell me it’s not Teena.”
“Not Teena.”
“Okay. Good. It’s going to be fine. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. Anything else we can fix—”
“My polo career is over!” If I were talking to anyone but Alicia, the way my voice comes out as a wail would be incredibly embarrassing. But it’s Alicia. She was with me when we got the news my dad—who I hadn’t seen in over a decade—died. She was with me when I had to put Jinx—Mr. Wiggins’ predecessor—down. And she was with me when I found out Penny—the horse I rode all through college—had torn her suspensory and would never gallop again. The girl has seen me ugly cry.
“Impossible.”
“Totally possible. Already happened.” As I jam my clothes into my suitcase, I bypass all the Mariano details which are too, too much and tell her what Stephanie did, what she’s already gone and done. Mariano shredded the precious confidence and self-worth I’ve been coaxing and nurturing, Stephanie just decimated my future. They’re both ugh-max. “She’s called every barn—Every. Single. One. I’m as good as blacklisted.”
“But—how can she?”
I don’t know how to answer that, so I sob into my bestie’s ear for five solid minutes.
“What are you going to do?” She’s kind, which is almost worse than being crop-whipped by Stephanie. But she doesn’t need to ask. We both know what the next step is.
I roll my collar off my neck and stare at the red mark Stephanie left on my shoulder. What comes next is an insult far greater, but it’s my only choice. At least, the only rational choice if I’m going to keep riding.
“When did you last talk to The Raging Harridan?”
My throat has closed up and I can’t answer.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, my bestest bestie…”
Then don’t say it if you know.
“But give her a chance. She’s on your side. If you’d just—”
Yeah, no. Youwantmy mother to be on my side, but there’s the matter of her believing I was a liar, so we’re done here.I don’t say any of that. I can’t. I’m on the brink of choking on unspoken words.
“Lollz? Truly? Give it a try at least? She might surprise you.”
Mr. Wiggins crawls into my lap and snuffles under my boobs. In another life, he’s an emotional support dog.
“Sorry, sweetie. I get it. I’m with you, no matter what you decide. At least let herhelpyou, okay?” Alicia isn’t kidding. She knows how much this call is going to cost me.“Alba gu bràth!”
