“Why don’t you go ahead and fill me in, Trey. I already know I’m scheduled to work over at the Belle. Are you punishing me for some reason?”
“Not that I owe you an explanation, but to answer your question, you're not being punished. I simply must make appropriate decisions in the best interest of the business and minimize any risk of re-injury to you.”
"I'm sorry I snapped," I replied. “It’s just that I know that with the races starting this weekend and all, the rest of the group can probably use all of the help they can get prepping the horses. I can be of more assistance at the stables than anywhere else. I can make sure that I don’t over-do it.” My voice was soft and sweet. “Please, Trey?”
“I know what you're trying to do, Tylar,” he said, firmly. “It isn’t working. You'll start your assignment over at the La Vie Belle on Monday. Ray will fill you in on the details sometime before then. This is non-negotiable, understood?"
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied rolling my eyes and not bothering to hide my irritation. “What about Derringer?”
“What about him?”
“Can I at least take care of him when I’m off the clock?”
“No,” he answered. “I want you to distance yourself from the horses until your follow-up appointment with the doctor.”
“My discharge papers don’t say anything about my not being allowed around horses.” There was silence on the other end. I heard soft music in the background.
Where is he?
“Hello? Are you there?” I asked.
“Ah yes, I’m sorry. This really isn't a good time to discuss the details of your schedule. I’ve made myself clear from the company's standpoint, and I believe that you're clear on what's to take place on Monday, correct?”
Just then, I heard a female voice speaking to Trey. His attempt to cover the mouthpiece was less than perfect. The voice sounded like the same one I remembered from the hospital. Charlotte. It sounded as if she was saying something to him about dinner being served, did she say “Don’t keep me waiting, baby?”
Trey shifted his voice back to me, “Are you there?”
“I am,” I replied coolly.
“So you're clear on what I expect and that you'll adhere to your schedule on Monday.”
“Right. Monday,” I repeated. “Yep, I'm clear about Monday.”
“Okay, then,” he said. “Please rest up until then.”
“Will do," I lied.
Tomorrow was Friday and I had no plans to “take it easy.” I needed to busy myself with the horses. Since I wasn't officially assigned to the Belle until Monday, I was still technically following the rules. I'd get a good night's rest and be back in action tomorrow.
Chapter 8
My sleep was restless. The phone call with Trey left me with a cluttered mind. I was tossing and turning until finally blessed sleep came, but with it, a disturbing dream tagged along.
It spawned from a memory of when I was 13 years old.
It's a particular Saturday. Mona and Laurie have picked me up from my house to spend the usual Saturday night with Laurie
We've been hanging out at a video arcade about a block from her house the past few Saturday evenings. Mona lets us walk down there and then she picks us up promptly at 9 p.m. Laurie and I are both interested in boys, but the problem is, we both like the same boy. His name is Kyle; he is fifteen years old and, to us, he seems practically all grown up.
Laurie talks her mom into letting us stay later tonight at the Video Palace. She lies and says it's her friend Vanessa's birthday, and her parents are hosting a party there. Mona buys it and we're clear to stay there until eleven. Laurie tells her Vanessa's parents are giving us a ride home.
“How easy was that?” Laurie laughs, as we are getting ready in her room.
“Is there really a Vanessa?” I ask.
“Of course there is,” Laurie replies. “You always use a real name with something like this. And the good part is Vanessa is going to be at Video Palace when we get there. She has used the same story with her parents.” I'm amazed at Laurie’s skillful manipulation.
“Is Kyle going to be there, too?” I question nervously.
“Of course he is, dummy,” she answers. She sees the look of despair on my face.
“Look Ty,” she says, “I know that we both like him. We're best friends, too. There is no way that we should let a boy come between us, right?”
I nod, not sure where this is going.
“Here's what I suggest,” Laurie continues, in her most grown-up voice. “Let’s just see how things shake out. I mean, other guys will be there too. Vanessa’s boyfriend is bringing some of his friends. Maybe I'll meet someone better than Kyle. Maybe you will. Either way, no boy is worth ruining a friendship over.”
“I agree, Laurie.”
“Pinky promise?” she asks, offering her pinky up.
“Pinky promise,” I reply, linking my right pinky with hers.
Mona drops us off at the Video Palace. Once inside, the music is blasting. A taller, blond girl approaches us almost immediately--Vanessa. She has more make-up on than even Laurie. I guess her to be sixteen years of age at least. They click immediately, giggling at what they pulled off. Laurie introduces me to Vanessa, and then quickly asks if the guys are here yet.
“They’re out in the car waiting for us,” Vanessa answers, smiling mischievously.
“Cool,” Laurie says, turning to me. “C’mon Ty, we be partying!”
“You mean we aren’t staying here?” I ask.
“No way,” Laurie replies. “You heard Vanessa; the guys are out back in the car waiting for us."
“But who's old enough to drive?” I ask.
“Vanessa's boyfriend, Justin,” she responds.
“Oh Laurie, I don’t know. I don’t think this is a good idea. Your mom might find out. She’ll tell my mom. We’d both be in a lot of trouble.”
Laurie looks at me as if I've grown two heads.
“What are you worried about?” she demands, incredulous that I'm not gung-ho on the whole idea.
“Do you really think either of our moms gives a damn about where we are or what we're doing?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” I ask.
Immediately her whole demeanor shifts. I feel like I'm from another planet by the way Laurie is staring at me. She lashes out. “What exactly do you think DATE night is?”
I stare at her wondering what the hell she's getting at here.
“You're really clueless aren’t you?” she asks without venom in her voice this time. It’s as if she suddenly feels sorry for me. I’m not sure which is worse. “Here’s the deal,” she continues, “What we have waiting for us in a car are several really, really hot guys, including Kyle. Vanessa’s guy, Justin, is driving. They are willing to take us to a house where we can get a buzz going, and then you know, whatever happens, happens. Are you in?"
“I don’t think so, Laurie,” I answer firmly.
“Well, now what?” she asks, throwing her arms up, totally exasperated with my ignorance and my unwillingness to follow.
“Hey, not to worry,” I respond lightly. "My house is four blocks from here. I'll go on home. Just tell your mom I didn’t feel well and left Vanessa’s party early and went home when she picks you up tonight.”
“But it’s your mom’s DATE night,” she whines, emphatically. “My mom will bust my ass if she finds out.”
“That’s too bad,” I reply. “I just know that my mom wouldn't appreciate my going with you and this group and getting involved in that kind of stuff.”
“Oh really?” she snickers, not attempting to hide her amusement. “Let me know how that works out for you, Tylar,” she snaps.
I walk home and quietly let myself in. It's only 8:30; not even dark yet. The dining room is dark. I can see that the dinner dishes are still on the table, left exactly as they were when Mom and her boyfriend finished dinner. I step into the kitchen and switch the lights on. An empty bottle of wine is on the cou
nter. It looks like Mom cooked her infamous roasted veal with baby red potatoes and spinach salad. All the candles are snuffed out.
I busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen and dining room, and then go into the family room to watch some television.
By eleven, I really need to pee and go to bed. There's no getting around it. Hopefully, mom and her boyfriend are now asleep. I haven’t heard them upstairs. I make my way quietly up the thickly carpeted stairs.
I go into my room, careful to be quiet, discarding my jean skirt and halter-top, putting on my favorite silk plum shorts and matching camisole pajama set. I really need to wash all of the make-up off of my face so that Mom doesn’t see it in the morning, but my first priority is to pee. I pad quietly down the hall, past the closed door to my mom’s room. All quiet so far.
I go into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind me and switching on the light. Deciding that it's just too gross not to flush the toilet even though it might wake Mom, I do it. I go over to the sink and wash my hands. As I'm lathering up with soap to scrub my face, the bathroom door opens abruptly. It's Mom, dressed only in a red corset and panties. She slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind her softly. She is livid.
“What the hell are you doing home?” she whispers loudly. “Why aren’t you with Laurie?”
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I just didn’t feel well and I left the Video Palace to walk home.”
“Does Mona know you did this?”
“Yeah,” I lie, “she wanted to drive me but I told her I needed the air.” I can tell that Mom doesn’t believe me. She glares at me.
“Look,” I say, “I’m sorry. I can fill you in on it tomorrow. I'm just getting ready to go to bed.”
“Forget all of that, just get down to your room now and get to bed,” she hisses.
I’m not about to argue with her. She's definitely pissed. As I pass her open bedroom door I hear a man’s voice call out.
“Maggie, what the hell's going on out there?”
“Nothing sugar,” she croons, “just my sissy coming home earlier than expected.”
“Well get your tight little ass back to bed,” he orders. “Or have Sissy come in and join us."
A look of pure hatred crosses my mom’s face in that moment. I scurry down the hallway, shutting my door and climbing swiftly beneath my covers. Within a few minutes, I can hear Mom’s bed squeaking in the familiar rhythm, followed by her moans, and skin slapping skin. I drift to sleep much later, having blocked out the noises from the next room by putting my stereo headset on.
I’m not sure how much later it is when I abruptly awaken to the presence of someone else in my room. My first thought is that Mom is ready to lay into me because her date had gotten angry and left. I realize that's not the case when I feel someone kneel down on the bed beside me and breathe whiskey-laden breath into my face. It’s Mom’s boyfriend. I don’t even know his name. He’s new.
My eyes widen in horror. I try to scream. He anticipates my reaction, clamping a meaty hand across my mouth tightly.
“Now, now, little sister,” he says thickly. His breath smells like something rotting in a trashcan. “No need for you to start making a fuss, you hear? I just want to spend a little time with you now.” I struggle against him with all of my strength. He does not move his hand from across my mouth. He's strong, pinning my upper body down with his forearm and elbow. His free hand lifts the sheet that's covering my lower extremities, leaving my bare legs up to my silk plum shorts exposed to his lecherous gaze. In the dark, I can only see that he has a thin face. His hair is light, maybe blond or reddish blond. It looks stringy. The rest of his features are indistinguishable with no light in the room with the exception of moonlight sifting through the blinds.
"Oooh, that’s nice.” He pulls my silk shorts down viewing my private area. I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I squirm and thrash, while trying my best to bite his hand.
“Oh shit! You little bitch,” he snarls as I manage to draw blood from his hand with my teeth. I pull my legs up far enough to slam into his chest as he is leaning over me. His fist slams into my face full force. I see stars. My body falls back. I'm disoriented; I can’t move. I'm on the cusp of unconsciousness.
I feel his fingers reach into my silk shorts ripping them off of me with one swift motion. I'm paralyzed with fear. I pray to pass out. His rough fingers move to my private area savagely pressing his fingers within the folds, pinching the center so that I jump as if an electrical volt has shocked me.
I'm frozen with fear; unable to move. Where the hell is my mom? I close my eyes, deciding to play possum. He puts one of his fingers up inside of me; it hurts. He is running it in and out, in and out. His fingernail scratches me. I whimper in pain. He mistakes it for pleasure.
“I see you like this," he laughs. “This makes your big sister hoot and holler. I’m guessing you ain’t had this done before.”
I'm sick and nauseated. I can only guess what horrible thing he is planning next. It’s not long before I figure it out. He takes one of my hands and wraps it around his erection.
“Squeeze this gently,” he instructs.
I nearly vomit all over him, I'm sick with fright. From somewhere in the depths of my being, I find the strength and power to draw my knee up with all of the force I can muster and plant it firmly into his crotch and abdomen.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he screams, rolling out of my bed, onto the floor of my room. I find my voice and scream bloody murder.
“Mom! Mom!” I scream hysterically, “Help me!”
Mom rushes in, screeching at him.
“What the hell? What'd you do to my girl?” The man on the floor isn't capable of speaking coherently, still writhing in pain. I think I hear him vomit.
“She's not part of our deal, you simple son-of-a-bitch! This is going to cost you an extra hundred.”
Chapter 9
I sprang up in my bed, beads of sweat covering my forehead. My heart raced in my chest; I heaved for air; scrambling to get my bearings. I realized I was no longer tangled up in that nightmare. I was in my room at my cottage. The familiar hum of my window air conditioner was soothing. This was the first horrible dream I'd had since the hospital. I wanted to be done with them. This nightmare had left me more anxious than the other. It was different. I wasn't the observer in this one; I was a full participant. It was more like a re-living of a situation I didn't remember.
I climbed from my bed and went into the kitchenette. The clock on the microwave read 5:48 a.m. No point going back to bed. I made myself a light breakfast and set about getting dressed for the day. I located my empty laundry bag and dumped the contents of my dirty clothes basket into it, cinching it closed. I needed to leave a note for Ray who would be stopping by early, according to Trey.
Hi Ray!
Trey phoned me last night and generally filled me in as to my revised duties starting next week. He asked that for today I sit tight since my new assignment doesn’t start until next Monday. I’ll get with you sometime over the weekend and you can fill me in on the details. Heading over to the Belle to do laundry before the machines are all taken. After that, I’ll just hang out and try to stay out of everyone’s way.
Talk to you later!
Tylar
I walked quietly down the path to the stables, relieved to see that no one had yet reported in for work. I couldn’t pass the barn without visiting Derringer. I walked over to his stall and rubbed my hand gently up and down his beautiful black muzzle.
“Here you go, handsome,” I crooned, offering him the carrots; he ate them from my palm happily. I continued rubbing his neck until he finished.
I headed over to the Belle with my laundry. Once I get them loaded and running, I decided to kill some time by walking over to the stables.
The stables and paddock area at the Belle were much larger than those over at the Sinclair estate. The Belle boarded a lot of horses that were not owned by the Sinclair family. This track held races for quarte
r horses, paints, and appaloosas.
I strolled through the paddock area to see some of the horses that would be competing in this weekend’s race. As I continued scanning, I noticed one of the Sinclair horses, Jezebel, didn’t have a jockey assigned. The sheet listed Andy Graham as her trainer. I'd seen Andy around with Jenna. Maybe it was time to pull in a favor from Jenna.
I got her on the phone.
“Hey Ty! How are you doing, girl?” she asked almost too cheerfully.
“Cut the crap,” I replied dryly.
I heard a gasp at the other end of the phone. Before she could utter another word, I got to the point.
“Hey aren't you friends with Andy Graham, Jezebel’s trainer?”
“Yeah, why?” she countered.
“Well this is how you're going to make it up to me for missing a whole week’s pay.”
“Go on,” she replied, piqued.
“I noticed that there wasn’t a jockey listed for tomorrow evening’s fourth race for Jezebel. What’s the story?”
“All I know is that Andy’s ex-girlfriend was the jockey and once they broke up she told him to go flip shit. As of yesterday, he believed they'd have to scratch Jezebel from the race because she won't reconsider. It’s no big deal, the horse is a long shot. Andy’s only worried the Sinclairs will be pissed because he didn’t have a back-up plan.”
“He does now,” I said. “Jenna, you call your friend Andy. Tell him he has his jockey for Saturday night.”
“Who?” Jenna asked.
“Me!”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she exclaimed. “You're not a jockey. Besides, don’t you have to be certified or something?”
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