by Ann Hunter
HIS CHANCE
It just so happened, Alex’s birthday was the same weekend as Promenade’s race. And despite the occasion, Joe still wouldn’t let her ride him in morning workout, or even just take him for a spin.
It was hard watching Dejado swing up on the big colt’s back and stride off to the track. They weren’t even going that fast, just a jog to keep Promenade loose.
“I can handle that,” Alex tried to relay to Joe, but he just waved his hand in that swatting the annoying bug thing he did.
“Can’t risk it,” he said.
Alex sighed and walked away, but not without Joe barking, “And don’t even try sneaking rides from other trainers.”
Killjoy.
She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder to him. He tipped his hat to her. “I’m watching you, kid.”
Brooke probably would’ve agreed with him, anyway, Alex told herself. Just because it’s your birthday, don’t expect entitlement. It’s business, not personal.
Knowing that didn’t fix it though.
At least she got to take over most of Promenade’s care when Dejado was done riding. She bathed the colt, walked him til he was dry, brushed him down, put a light stable sheet over him, and noted how striking he looked in North Oak’s red and silver colors. But she was still sort of bummed. She couldn’t help staring at the hollow of his back where she hoped to sit one day, hoisting a trophy over their heads, with a blanket of roses over her lap.
When Hillary showed up to take her back to the hotel for the night, Alex blew a raspberry against the pink of his velvety nose, and noogied the whorl between his eyes. “Night, Pro.”
She was quiet on the ride to the room, leaning her cheek against her hand near the car window.
“What’s up?” Hillary asked.
“Nothing.”
“Which means something. Fess up.”
“I’m just down that, no matter what I do, I feel like I’ll never get to ride Promenade. I’ll never be good enough for Joe.”
“Why? What does Joe say to you?”
Alex sighed. “That he can’t risk it. Like I would hurt Pro or something.” She looked at Hillary. “But I would never— ”
“I know.” She placed her hand on Alex’s knee. “There’s a lot riding on the race tomorrow. It’s our last opportunity to get him into the Breeders Cup. You’ve got to give him his best chance. And maybe that’s you, and maybe it isn’t. Trust that Joe wants what’s best for Promenade as much as you do.”
“Okay.” Trust. It wasn’t exactly her forte.
Alex stuck close to Hillary and Laura as the crowds began to swarm Keeneland. Some of the top rising two-year-olds had come for the Breeders Futurity with the same goal as Promenade; to spring into the Breeders Cup Juvenile in a few weeks. For some, it was their last hope too.
Mr. North arrived an hour or two before the race, and Alex was relieved to be whisked from the crowds with Laura and Hillary to North’s private box. Even though it was much quieter in the suite, she still fidgeted in her seat, and picked at the skin around her cuticles. Part of her wanted to be on the backside waiting with Promenade for the walk to the receiving barn, and the other part wanted to stay in the seclusion of this room.
Hillary and North’s conversation remained professional, if not a little terse, causing Alex’s muscles to tense. She blamed herself for their current relationship.
Laura sat beside her, smoothing out her pencil skirt, and offering her a soda. Alex took it, but set it aside on the coffee table next to her chair.
They both turned when the door opened. Dejado entered with neatly combed hair, slacks, a white shirt, and blue tie. Laura smirked at Alex and wiggled her eyebrows, which only made Alex give her a little shove.
Mr. North put his arm around Dejado’s shoulders, put a drink in his hand, and pulled him to the window. “If it isn’t our man of the hour. You know we wouldn’t be here without you.”
Dejado rolled his glass between his hands, smiling humbly. “Thank you, sir.”
Alex grimaced. Without him. Wasn’t she part of the team, too? She doubled over, elbows on knees, like she’d taken a punch to the gut. She stared at her feet, wriggling her toe through the hole in her shoe.
“He’s one of the longshots,” North grumbled as the horses made their way to the gate.
Alex looked up. “I don’t care. I believe in him.”
They turned to her, even as she stared at the tote board and the dismal odds on her winless juvenile colt. She rose and crossed to the window.
“My last birthday wish.” Alex dug into her pocket and pulled out some change she had been carrying around. She gave it to Hillary. “Promenade to win.”
Dejado grinned, reaching for what little cash he had. He gave it to Hillary as well. “Me too.”
Laura hurriedly reached into her purse and gave her mother several dollars. “Me three.”
Hillary smiled, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. She shrugged like it wasn’t a lot to lose, even though Alex knew they sometimes struggled. “Let it ride.”
North swilled his drink, then set it aside, the ice clinking in the glass. He snatched the money from Hillary with a glare and left the room.
She stared at him in disbelief.
Laura went to her mother. “What do you think he’s going to do?”
“If I were him, I’d bet against us,” Hillary said softly.
“That’s illegal,” said Dejado.
Alex listened to them murmur amongst themselves. Her fingers tightened into a ball, and she squared her shoulders. “Whatever happened to giving someone their best chance?”
She knew they were staring at her, even though her eyes were locked on Promenade. Who cared what North did with their money? It was only money. There was always more to be had, especially in horse racing.
She glued her sights on Promenade as he loaded into the gate, and became aware of Laura, Hillary, and Dejado’s reflections gathering around her at the window.
“They’re all in line,” the announcer’s voice echoed. “A little rattle from Dimity’s Pride. Waiting for him to settle down.”
Alex took a deep breath, and held it.
“Away they go,” said the announcer. “Off to an early lead is Over The Line and Black Scotch, followed by The Marquis and Thunder Rush. Two back to Dimity’s Pride, Promenade, and Son of a Gus. Wind Runner trails the field. Thunder Rush creeping up on The Marquis as they hug the rail for the first turn. The opening quarter mile done in twenty-five flat. Dimity’s Pride now trying to get up in between horses, but not without being closely flanked by Promenade. Still no show from Wind Runner. Over The Line keeps a three-quarter lead on Black Scotch and Thunder Rush. Promenade creeping up on The Marquis to his outside, reeling off the half-mile in fifty and change. Son of a Gus dropping back to keep Wind Runner company. Thunder Rush trying to get his head in between the leaders, and The Marquis is fighting back. Dimity’s Pride fizzling, trying to hold off Promenade. Black Scotch surging ahead, taking the lead by two lengths. Over The Line trying to turn over the engine, but The Marquis is closing in fast. Thunder Rush turning it on now. They swing for home and here comes Promenade. He surges past Over The Line, The Marquis can’t shake him. Thunder Rush storming toward Black Scotch. Promenade is coming late from fourth, now third, and dancing into Black Scotch’s lead! Who will it be?”
“C’mon baby!” Hillary yelled.
“Y’got this, Pro,” Alex hollered.
The announcer’s voice was hoarse. “Here’s the finish with Promenade flying from the outside. It’s Promenade! A tremendous run from deep in the pack to pull off his first win.”
Dejado crowed, excitedly hugging Alex who looked at him awkwardly, completely taken out of the moment. He had an Oh, you probably thought that was weird uncouth-realization expression and let go, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.
It was weird, but Alex chucked him on the shoulder, even as Laura took her into a choke hold and danced around. “He
did it! Steak tonight!”
“I thought you were a vegetarian,” Alex coughed.
Hillary grabbed their hands, with Dejado trailing behind. “Time to get our picture took, ladies and gentleman.”
Mr. North was already down in the winners circle, ready to accept the trophy. Promenade was led in, and the rest of the team joined up. Alex took Promenade’s reins, stroking his cheek, oblivious to the crowd and camera for once.
The announcer chimed, “Bred and owned by North Oak Farms in Kentucky. Trained by Joseph Hendricks. Enrique Diaz in the irons. The final time: one minute, forty-six and three-fifths seconds.”
The colt snorted and danced, worked up from the showdown. His jockey got him to stand still for the one second they needed for a winners photo.
Alex beamed up at Promenade. They were going to the Breeders Cup.
KATIE DID
“And to make it worse, Dejado asked if I ever think about him, and I told him if I had a dollar…”
“Oh boy,” Katie laughed.
“Yeah. He gave me a dollar and told me I’m not allowed to spend it. I should hide it somewhere so I don’t have to look at it. I’m forced to think about him.” Alex took a breath that hurt her chest. “I don’t get it. Even Promenade loves him. They act like they’ve been buddies forever, when I’m the one who’s been with him since he was a baby. ”
“Do you even like boys?”
Her question felt like the time Dejado had asked Alex similarly. Like she was being tested out or something. “I… guess? I don’t know.” Carol smiling at her, her face surrounded by bluebells in the grove, flashed through her mind. Alex bit her lip. “Why do you ask?”
Katie jogged beside Alex on the school track. “I have a dog, two cats, a turtle, and a fish. And in my experience, animals are excellent judges of character. They see what we don’t. Your colt probably likes him for a reason.”
Alex grimaced. “Food,” she said flatly.
“Something more than that,” Katie replied without a skip in her breath. “Maybe Promenade knows something you don’t yet.”
Alex glowered, not wanting to admit she was probably right.
“Do you still have it?” Katie asked.
“What?”
“The dollar.”
“Oh. Yeah,” Alex answered guiltily.
Katie ran backwards, the light catching in her eyes. Alex caught a glint of amusement. “So if you don’t like him,” Katie said, “not even a little bit, why are you still carrying around his dollar?”
She batted Alex on the arm suggestively, and twirled around. “Race you.”
Alex missed the beat, caught off guard by her reasoning, and her touch. Who was this girl anyway?
Since they had started talking on the first day of school, Alex had invited Katie to sit with her and Carol at lunch. Carol didn’t seem to mind at first, but then she started getting weird.
Alex kept stealing glances at her, trying to figure out what was going through that brilliant brain of hers. What was bothering her since their duo had become a trio. Even Laura and Brooke had reassured Alex that it was good to have a broader range of friends; normal even.
Pah. Normalcy.
Katie started out quiet, but as she got more comfortable with Alex and Carol over the next few weeks, she became a babbler, hogging much of the conversation at the table. Alex didn’t think it was on purpose, just Katie being bubbly.
Alex didn’t know why, but she couldn’t help but join in. Soon it became this impulsive “Katie this”, and “Katie that” whenever they weren’t around eachother. Carol kept getting grumpier the more Alex blabbered about their new friend. But Alex couldn’t help it. She shared more classes with Katie than Carol this year. Alex and Katie were even developing a friendly rivalry during track. Alex loved it, but she didn’t love watching Carol become… not Carol.
Finally one day, Alex couldn’t stand it anymore and stopped Carol in the school hall after Carol gave Katie an evil eye when she passed by.
“Okay, what the heck is going on?” Alex asked.
Carol’s glare bored into Katie, even though the other girl was oblivious. “I guess this is payback for hanging with Dejado.”
“What?”
Carol looked at her. “All I hear anymore is Katie, Katie, Katie, Katie. When are we going to spend time together? Where did we go?”
“I don’t,” Alex stammered. “I don’t understand.”
Carol choked up a little. She tipped her head against the lockers. “I’m jealous. Okay?”
“Of what?”
“It’s been us for so long, and she just… comes crashing in. I don’t know where I stand with you anymore. Especially after what we’ve been through this summer.”
She felt… threatened? Alex swallowed, her heart sinking. “Carol.” She linked their pinkies, looking at her earnestly.
“I can’t imagine my life…” Was she really saying this? After all this time. After Ashley. “No one could ever replace you.”
NOBODY ELSE
“You’re asking to miss school again.”
Alex wanted to be there. Needed to be there. For Promenade. This was the biggest race he’d ever been to. Alex knew the ins and outs of the Breeders Cup, and her colt didn’t. Maybe her reasoning was silly, but she knew she’d feel better if she could be with him leading up to the race.
“Please,” she begged. “It’s just an extra day or two. We normally go up the night before anyway. Right?”
Hillary and Cade exchanged that same look Alex had seen before they agreed to let her go to Keeneland. So maybe, just maybe, there was hope.
Hillary folded her arms. “I’m going to have to say no this time.”
“Sorry, Sport.” Cade patted Alex’s shoulder as he passed on his way to the den.
“We’ll go up the night before like usual,” Hillary said.
Alex dragged herself upstairs, and flopped face-first onto Laura’s bed so she didn’t have to inhale the strong scent of nail polish while Laura did her nails.
“I heard,” Laura said.
Alex mumbled into her duvet, then lifted her head as though some brilliant cataclysmic thought had struck her. “What if…”
“What?”
Alex looked at her. “What if you and I went tomorrow night?”
Laura squinted as she carefully swept the tiny nail polish brush over her toenail. “Sounds like a blast, but… No.”
Alex groaned, face planting again.
“It’s only one day, Sparklepants,” Laura said. “You can go twenty-four hours without seeing him. I mean, you’ve waited this long. What’s one more day?”
Everything.
There had to be a way to get to Churchill Downs early. Alex couldn’t take no for an answer. So when she saw Brooke loading gear into the trunk of Joe’s hideous old Cadillac, she knew she had to take a chance.
“Are you headed up to Louisville?” she asked.
“Yeah, Pop’s short a few hands. One of the jockeys he was using took a spill, so he needs my help.”
“Could I catch a ride?”
“What did your folks say?”
Alex chewed her lip, responding hesitantly, “Not yes.”
Brooke continued packing gear. “Sometimes I think about doing stupid stuff, but then I think mmm, better not.”
“Don’t you miss Dejado? That apartment must be awfully lonely.”
“Don’t use that card against me, Al.”
Alex started making smooching noises until Brooke’s scowl warned that she was about to knock her one. Brooke took a deep breath, biting back, “Thoughts become actions.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Are you sure you’re not the one that wants to see him?”
“Please. Why would I want to hang out with that goofball? The only him I want to see is Promenade.”
“I don’t know if I love you enough to get into that much trouble, shortcake.”
“Ugh,” Alex grunted. “Why are you bein
g such a stick, Stick?”
Brooke folded her arms, leaned against the car, and glared at her.
“I’ll hide in your trunk if you don’t say yes,” Alex said. “And if I suffocate, and I know I will with all your sweaty gear, you’ll really be in trouble.”
Brooke turned her face skyward and groaned. “How are you such a thorn in my side?”
Alex grinned.
Brooke leveled her gaze on her, and jabbed a finger into Alex’s collarbone. “When Hillary comes to kill me, I’ll make sure she points the gun at you.”
Alex sucked in a breath. “That’s not funny.”
Brooke smirked, getting into the car. “It’s hilarious.” She buckled herself, and leaned out the window. “Just remember, I never said get in the car.”
Alex turned, pretending she didn’t know who Brooke was talking to, then sidled into the seat beside her. “Thank you,” she said as the old engine rumbled to life.
Brooke planted her palm on Alex’s face. “You’re not in the car. I never saw you get in the car. Please stop talking.”
Alex grinned. “I love you too, Princess.”
***
Enrique Diaz, The jockey who guided Promenade to the Breeders Futurity win, was impressed enough with the colt that he agreed to ride in the Breeders Cup Juvenile when Joe offered him the job.
But in the eighth race at Churchill Downs, two days before the Breeders Cup Juvenile, Enrique’s mount stumbled, sending him flying, summarily landing him in the hospital with a broken arm.
Joe smacked his cap against his leg. “The Breeders Cup is in two days, and we don’t have a jockey.”
“How hard can it be?” North shrugged. “Who doesn’t want to ride in a million dollar race?”
“The best in the world are coming, and by most standards, that colt’s still green.”
“Nonsense, Joseph. I’ll put a call in, and every agent in my book will be clamoring to put their rider on him.”
Joe shook his head. “You’re dreaming, son.”