18
GABRIELA
The words that came out of his mouth were presumptuous, boorish and shocking. So I’m not certain why my “bean” as he called it, began to throb its own bass beat as soon as they left his mouth. He led me to his office which had a viewing window that looked down on an indoor arena, and an elegant dressage rider going through her training sequence atop a roan colored mare.
“What are we doing here?” I asked.
“You’re my jockey. I own you.” said Carlos.
“Don’t be an i***t. That’s not how it works, we’re on the same team. The winning team.” I reminded him, turning to see him lock the office door behind us, return to where I stood, and slide to the ground so he sat on the floor so that he sat cross-legged between where I stood and the viewing window.
“What are you doing?” I asked
