Polo

33

The rain had stopped, giving way to a glorious evening with a huge apricot-pink moon and clouds rising like an indigo tidal wave on the horizon. Orion was lying on his back with the Dog Star above him. It was hard to tell the other stars from the lights of the incoming planes. The air was as soft as a shawl round Perdita’s shoulders.

‘Isn’t Palm Beach the most heavenly place in the world?’ she said, taking Luke’s hand.

Red was waiting for them at Cobblestones, the famous polo bar. Early diners were devouring huge steaks, veal and french fries, or mountaineering through vast salads in the front room, which was very light, decorated in ice-cream colours with some rather crude paintings of polo games on the walls.

‘Don’t think my father would fork out two million for any of those,’ said Red, sweeping them into the darker bar at the back. He was already very high and giggly, drinking green devils, a lethal concoction which included vodka, crème de menthe and cointreau. Immediately he ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon for Perdita and Luke. Luke bought a packet of crisps for Leroy, who sat on a bar stool as close to his master as possible.

‘You’ll have to drop that ball now,’ said Luke, ‘if you want a potato chip.’

‘I gotta job for that brute,’ said Red. ‘I’ll buy him a dozen polo balls if he eats Auriel’s Yorkshire terriers. She ordered them tuna-fish sandwiches on the airplane and they threw them up just as we were landing.’

Then, taking Perdita’s arm, he spun her round towards a square doorway concealed in the back of the bar.

‘That, my darling, is the famous disappearing door. When husbands barge in here looking for their errant wives, the lovers nip out through that door. And that’s the phone where all the players make assignations with people they shouldn’t. I don’t know why they don’t install a second booth for Juan O’Brien and Jesus.’

A crowd had soon gathered round them, congratulating Perdita, admiring Red’s blue blazer with the green silk braiding, and asking him what the hell had happened.

‘Auriel gave me a Ferrari today in the colour of my choice. I chose red to match my hair and my bank balance. I couldn’t just leave her and fly back.’

‘What we all want to know,’ asked Bobby Ferraro, the great American player who was so strong no horse ever answered back and who was playing for the Kaputnik Tigers in Luke’s charity match, ‘is what’s she like?’

‘OK,’ said Red. ‘Got more stitches in her face than I have in this coat, but OK.’

Over the laughter, Bobby Ferraro insisted: ‘No, what’s she like in the sack?’

‘Pretty good,’ said Red, grinning. ‘Takes some getting used to. First time she gave me a blow job, her wig came off in my hands. I haven’t been so embarrassed since they repossessed my helicopter.’

Everyone yelled with laughter.

‘You’re a shit, Red,’ said Luke, shaking his head.

He had tried to call Angel to get him to join them, but Angel was still out carousing.

‘Miguel and Juan are hopping you’ve brought this greaseball over,’ said Red. ‘They wanted another cousin they could manipulate. They’ll give him a hard time. So will Bibi. She’s got awful bossy.’

‘Not when she sees Angel,’ said Perdita.

Luke turned to talk to Bobby Ferraro, who was handsome in a chunky Neanderthal way.

‘Bobby’s known as All-Brawn because he’s so thick,’ Red told Perdita. ‘Comes from Montana. They turn the ponies out at night there. If the wolves don’t catch them, they know they’re fast enough to play polo.’

He yawned; his fingers drummed on the bar. He was getting restless.

Unnerved, Perdita blurted out: ‘What did you read at university?’

‘Dirty books mostly.’

‘Sorry – what did you major in?’

‘Underwater basketweaving.’

‘Oh, stop taking the piss.’

‘Howdya like my ponies?’

‘Fantastic!’ Perdita’s face brightened. ‘I’ve never ridden anything like them. Spotty was terrific and that bay mare with the four white socks in the last chukka was like a Porsche with four legs, she came round so fast. I nearly came off her each time. What’s her name?’

‘Haven’t a clue,’ said Red. ‘My father owns them. Juan and Miguel school them. I just sit on their backs.’

‘Aren’t you interested in horses?’

‘Not particularly. A polo pony isn’t an animal, it’s a means to an end.’

‘I disagree,’ said Perdita coldly. ‘So does Luke.’

‘Luke loves them too much for his own good,’ said Red dismissively. ‘Eats his heart out when he sells them on.’

He ordered another green devil.

‘I wouldn’t,’ said Luke. ‘And will you please lay off on Saturday night.’

‘Christ, it’s only a charity match,’ snapped Red.

‘But it’s my first game with Hal, OK? And I want to win.’

‘I hear Hal’s found God,’ said Red. ‘That’s one helluva pass.’

Luke grinned. ‘Is Auriel coming to watch you on Sunday?’

‘I guess so,’ said Red. He seemed abstracted. ‘Where are we going to eat – Charlie’s Crab?’

Luke yawned. He’d been up at five and jet lag had finally caught up with him. The adrenalin pumping in the match had given way to aches and pains. All he wanted to do was to go home, talk to his horses and fall into bed, but Perdita was obviously dying to go out on the town.

‘I’ll pay,’ said Red. ‘As long as you pay for the drinks here. I owe them so much, they won’t give me any credit. Let’s go.’ He got off his bar stool, and then got back on again. ‘Second thoughts, let’s not.’

Following his gaze, Perdita noticed a girl with tousled dark hair in a flame-red dress, telephoning with her back to the room. Although she had picked up the receiver, it was plain she was only pretending to telephone. After a few minutes she looked round and gave a start of surprise.

‘Hi, Lucy,’ said Red softly. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Hi, Red. Where have you been hiding?’

She had big brown eyes, a face and body so olive-skinned, soft and supple that they looked as though they’d spent their life in linseed oil and she smelt of dollars and Diorella.

‘This is Perdita,’ said Red. ‘My brother Luke’s just brought her back from Argentina. She played a blinder this afternoon. Stood in for me and scored four goals.’

‘That’s great,’ said Lucy, who seemed to be laughing at some private joke and not remotely interested in goals.

Suddenly Perdita felt de trop. She had a feeling Lucy had something to do with Red not getting back for the match. She turned back to Luke who was being chatted up.

‘My Daddy owns a chunk of Florida,’ a stunning redhead was telling him. ‘You’re a seriously good polo player. Are you as good in bed?’ Luke was just laughing.

Perdita was furious. ‘Don’t be fatuous,’ she said to the redhead. ‘Just bugger off.’

‘I was only asking.’ The redhead flounced off.

‘Silly cow,’ said Perdita crossly, then added to Luke, ‘Chessie was telling me about Cassandra Murdoch.’

Luke looked at her steadily. ‘So?’

‘That you went out with her for a long time and she’s absolutely heart-broken.’

‘She doesn’t deserve that. She’s beautiful,’ said Luke.

‘Why did you dump her then?’

Luke’s gaze was unflinching. ‘Because I met you, I guess.’

Perdita felt herself blushing. ‘But there isn’t . . .’ she began.

‘I know, but it wasn’t fair to Cass.’

At that moment a waiter sidled up and whispered something to Red and Lucy.

‘Oh Christ,’ gasped Lucy, the colour draining from her face, ‘my husband’s just come in. See you, darling,’ and, pecking Red on the cheek, she shot out of the famous disappearing door. Instantly Red shot round the bar to the darkest corner and engaged an eager brunette and her disgruntled boyfriend in conversation.

‘I guess my brother’s been playing fast and Lucy,’ said Luke.

A second later a man with a blazing red face and upturned white hair stormed into the back bar, flanked by two enormous heavies.

‘Jesus,’ muttered Luke, putting three fingers through Leroy’s collar. ‘Red shouldn’t tangle with that.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘Winston Chalmers,’ said Luke. ‘Best lawyer in town; on his fourth wife; specializes in getting off very rich, very guilty people.’

‘I’m sure there’s some mistake, Mr Chalmers,’ said the manager, who was trying to block his advance. ‘Mrs Chalmers hasn’t been in for days.’

Winston Chalmers pushed him away as easily as a bamboo curtain. ‘Luke Alderton,’ he bellowed. ‘I want to see Luke Alderton. I know the fucker’s here.’

‘Sure I am,’ said Luke.

‘You know my wife, Lucy.’

‘Never met her. First time I clapped eyes on her was this evening,’ said Luke, getting to his feet and towering over Winston Chalmers. ‘Seems a nice lady.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Chalmers. ‘Get him,’ he ordered the heavies.

The next minute one of the heavies had hit Luke across the room. Then, as he struggled to his feet, the second heavy helped him up and hit him again in the stomach. Then the first heavy came in with a punishing right to the side of the head, knocking Luke to the floor again. Then he gave a yell as Leroy buried his teeth in his arm. No one moved in the bar except Perdita.

‘Stop it, you bastards,’ she screamed, snatching up a bar stool.

‘Don’t be silly, honey,’ said the second heavy, trying to wrench the stool from her. ‘We’re bigger than you.’

‘And call off this fucking dog,’ screamed the first heavy, reaching for his gun.

Perdita put down the stool and grabbed Leroy’s collar. ‘Drop,’ she screamed, ‘drop.’

‘Drop,’ mumbled Luke, raising himself a couple of inches.

Leroy dropped. Luke collapsed back on to the floor.

Winston Chalmers stepped over him, kicking him in the ribs. ‘Tell your friend,’ he said to Perdita, ‘to stay away from my wife. If he contacts her again, he’ll get acid in that ugly mug of his.’

‘He is not ugly,’ screamed Perdita, running after them out into the parking lot with Leroy barking at her side. But they had jumped into their big Cadillac and were screaming off past a bank at the end of the road, inappropriately named Fidelity Federal.

Going back into the bar, Perdita found Red chucking a bucket of water over Luke.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ she screamed. ‘Didn’t you hear Luke saying he’d never met her before this evening? And now he’s out cold and he’s got to play on Sunday.’

She knelt down beside Luke.

‘Luke, lovie, are you OK? Call an ambulance,’ she shouted at Red.

‘I’m OK,’ groaned Luke, feeling his jaw, ‘but I swear I’ve never met that woman before in my life.’

‘I know you haven’t,’ said Red, starting to laugh as he pulled Luke to his feet. ‘Whenever I call her up, I keep getting Winston, so I say I’m Luke Alderton.’