Randy thanked him again, though again he wasn’t sure why, and that’s when Mrs. Duran called out, “She’s getting up.”
The mare nosed around her stall for a few minutes, then walked over to her hay and started eating. She drank a little water after that. Randy assured the Durans she’d probably be fine, and no sooner said, the mare raised her tail and passed some gas.
“Keep an eye on her throughout the night, just to be safe. If she’s quiet, leave her alone, even if she’s lying down.”
Mrs. Duran squeezed his hand tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so very much.”
Randy smiled and reached into his pocket for a piece of paper to write down his home phone number. “Call me if there’s any change. Don’t call my service. My pager’s out.”
In the truck and on their way, Randy adjusted the radio and looked at Dawn. “Are we still on for pasta?”
Dawn shook her head. “I’m not really hungry anymore.”
“What? You, not hungry? I don’t believe it. Are you sick?”
“Well, to be honest, my stomach is killing me. Would you mind just taking me home? It’s almost eleven and Beau is running tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Randy fixed his eyes on the road. “If that’s what you want. Fine.”
They rode in relative silence for a few minutes, until Randy’s escalating anger got the best of him. He should have let well enough alone. “What’s with this Bask-Fioritto thing?”
Dawn looked at him, her stomach cramping terribly. “Would you give me a break?”
“Sure...” Randy said. “Don’t talk to me. What the fuck do I care?”
Dawn sighed. A sigh that was to be the last of anything said or implied by either of them the rest of the way.
Randy parked in one of the visitors’ spaces in the garage at her apartment, and out of some sense of obligation to the way he was raised, escorted Dawn in the elevator to her floor. But that was as far as he was going to go. She’d already shot him down once tonight. He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to do it again. Stepping out ahead of her, he propped his foot to keep the doors from closing, and glared at her backside as she walked to her apartment. Bitch...
But then at her door, fumbling with her keys, she suddenly dropped her purse and doubled over holding her stomach, and he was off the elevator in a flash and at her side.
“Dawn! What’s the matter?”
“It’s my stomach, Randy,” she said, holding onto him and trying to straighten up. “I told you. It’s killing me.”
He bent down to get her purse. “Do you still have your appendix?”
She shook her head.
“What did you eat today?”
“I don’t know. The same as usual.”
When Randy took her keys and unlocked her door, she walked in past him and straight to the couch.
He sat down next to her. “Here, let me see.”
“No,” she said, and wouldn’t let him touch her.
“Dawn...” He pulled her hands away and gently felt around her stomach and her sides. “Does it hurt here?”
She nodded.
“And here?”
She nodded again. “Everywhere.” She’d broken out in a sweat, and with the next wave of pain, leaned forward and buried her face in her hands.
“Dawn.”
“Go away. Please. Go home.”
“No. Listen.” Randy hesitated, breaking out in a sweat of his own. “Is there a chance you might be pregnant? Because if you are, you could be...”
“No.”
“Dawn?”
“I said no.”
He felt the side of her face to determine if she had a fever. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”
“No, I think it’s the fruit.”
“What?”
“The bananas. I think I ate too many of them.”
Randy stared. “How many did you eat?” She’d eaten two that he knew of.
“Eleven I think.”
“Eleven?”
“Maybe twelve.”
“What?” Twelve bananas? Randy started to laugh, but then she looked up and he quickly attempted a very serious expression. “Had I known though,” he said, “I could’ve left you back at the Durans’ and...”
Dawn shook her head. “Randy, please. Granted, this may be a lot of things, but certainly not funny. So if you don’t mind...”
Randy smiled. “Fine. Are you going to be all right?”
When she nodded, he stood and still smiling, tilted her chin up and kissed her. “Do you have a hot-water bottle?”
“No, just an ice bag.”
“You don’t need ice,” he said, and thinking about how ridiculous this was, he started laughing again. “I can’t believe you would eat that many.”
“They were supposed to help. Tom bought them for me,” she said, in her defense. And this struck Randy as even funnier.
“Now that I can believe!”
Dawn rolled her eyes.
“Goodnight, Randy.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
Chapter Fourteen
When the alarm went off the following morning, Dawn stared at the clock as if it were a cruel joke. Up half the night with cramps, before any relief whatsoever, it seemed like only minutes ago that she’d finally nestled in for some rest.
Fortunately, once she was wide awake and had made her usual stop at the coffee shop, she started to come around. She stopped to talk to Charlie at the guard shack, then walked on to the barn, and was surprised to find Ben hadn’t arrived yet. “Where is he?” she asked Tom.
He glanced at his watch. “I don’t know.”
Ben was never late. Ever.
“Where could he be?”
“Maybe he’s having trouble with his truck.”
Ben showed up about fifteen minutes later, complaining about going to three all-night convenience stores before he found what he wanted, and handed Dawn a small brown paper bag.
She looked inside and sighed. It was a bottle of Kaopectate. First Tom and his bananas, and now this.
“Take some now,” he said, “and some more in a couple of hours. Read the directions.”
Dawn nodded, thanking him, and put the bag in her purse. The morning schedule followed its customary pattern from there. Beau’s stall was stripped, while Tom hand-walked him. The horses that tracked filed in and out from bath to walking machine. And along the way, Miguel stopped by with his agent. They wanted to be named on Cajun the next time he ran.
“Johnny rides him,” Ben told them.
“I know,” the agent said. “But we think we fit the horse better and can give him a better ride.”
“Better than what? He win last time out.”
Dawn smiled in passing. A race won is always a win to a racetracker, whether it be last year, yesterday, today, or tomorrow. Always in the present. Always in the now. A race isn’t won, you win it.
Several other agents came by then to check on their respective mounts. Gloria breezed in and out. And Dave arrived bearing donuts.
“Yes!” Dawn beat Tom for two out of the three custard-filled. He got his hand on the third just as she reached for it. They pushed and shoved at each other, laughing and threatening. Ben in turn, threatened both of them. And when this routine had run its course, the four of them sat down with fresh cups of coffee.
Beau meanwhile, pawed and carried on, but was ignored. Any attention would only make him worse.
“How is All Together doing?” Dave asked.
“Good,” Ben said. “Training like a pro. At this rate, she’ll be ready for the track in a couple of weeks. That’s if I can get a stall for her.”
“What?” Dave frowned. “With her breeding, I’d think they’d make one for her.”
Ben shook his head. “Don’t forget where you’re at. They don’t operate that way around here. Not even if I had Secretariat. It’s not the horse, it’s the asses you have to kiss over there.” He nodded in disgust in the direction of the secretary’s
office. “And I don’t kiss asses.”
“No, that’s what you have me for, old man,” Tom said. “I kiss enough asses for ten barns. Don’t you worry, we’ll get her in.”
They all laughed.
“Politics,” Ben said. “Politics.”
Dawn walked up to the kitchen a little while later to phone Linda, and got back to the barn as Tom and Ben were leaving to go enter a horse. No sooner had they gone, Johnny stopped by looking for Ben.
“Sorry, you just missed him,” Dawn said.
“Shit.”
“Can I help you with something?”
“No, I wanted to talk to him about riding some of his other horses.”
Dawn towered over the young man. “Don’t you have an agent?”
“No,” he said, smiling shyly and looking down at the ground.
“Don’t you think you should?”
Johnny shrugged. “All the good ones are taken. Sanchez is going to Hollywood Park and his agent said he’d take me on when he leaves, but that’s not for a while, so...”
When he stood there and just shrugged again, Dawn started past him. “Well then, if you’re going to do this yourself, maybe you should stop by sooner next time.”
He followed her into the tack room. “I couldn’t. I was galloping horses till the track closed.”
“Horses you ride?”
Johnny nodded at first, but then shook his head. “Some. They say they’ll ride you, but they always tell you that in the morning.”
“Do they pay you to exercise them if they don’t?”
“Yeah, right. Every day and twice on Sunday.”
Dawn smiled. Johnny wasn’t seventeen yet and already sounded like a seasoned veteran. “You want some coffee?”
“Thanks.” He poured himself a cup and taking a sip, eyed the box of donuts.
“Help yourself,” Dawn said.
“Thanks, but I gotta make weight.”
Dawn nodded.
“Will you tell Ben I was by?”
“Sure.”
Randy was next to pay a visit, and found Dawn leaning back in a chair with her feet propped on the tack trunk, catnapping.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiled sleepily. “Much better.”
He leaned close and kissed her, and when she didn’t pull away, kissed her again. “So are we still on for spaghetti tonight?”
“Uh...no, not tonight,” she said. “I forgot about...”
He should’ve known. “Okay, I’ll play your little game. Why not? Is your mysterious aunt coming to town?”
Dawn laughed. “No, what I was going to say was, I don’t know why I agreed in the first place. I hope it doesn’t jinx us. Ben always treats dinner when Beau wins and we always do steaks at The Rib.”
“I see.” Randy turned to walk out. “Well, have a nice time.”
Dawn reached for his hand, stopping him dead with the very lightness of her touch. “I was hoping you’d join us.”
“Isn’t it a private party?”
“No.” She shook her head. “So will you come?”
Randy hesitated, looking at her, and glanced away. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
Dawn smiled, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around his. “It’ll break up early. Ben doesn’t like to stay out late, his farm’s a good drive from here.”
Was there a promise in that? A promise they’d be together? Randy found himself searching her eyes. “You sound pretty sure he’s going to win.”
“Positive,” Dawn said, gazing at him. “Did you hear from the Durans?”
Randy nodded and sat down. “I called them this morning.” What’s this look? “The mare’s fine. No foal.” He paused, her expression going right through him.
Tom and Ben returned just then, with Tom talking a blue streak. “The fucking narcs are in the jocks’ room arresting them left and right. It’s all over the secretary’s office.”
Randy shook his head. “Who’d they get?”
“I don’t know, half of ‘em are on one thing or another. Shit, Fred Turner fell off his horse after a race the other day and asked the pony girl, ‘Where am I?’ Can you fuckin’ believe that? And Lucy don’t lie.”
Ben motioned for Randy to get up out of his chair, and sat down with a heavy sigh. “I sure as hell hope Miguel’s straight.”
Tom chewed on a toothpick. “Who are you going to ride if he ain’t?”
Ben peered over his glasses. “Now how silly is that? You just got done telling me you don’t know who got busted, so why would I try to pick out someone now?”
Tom bobbed his head. “Good point,” he said, and glanced at Dawn. “Did you eat all your bananas?”
When she nodded, Randy had to look away to keep from laughing. Seeing this, Dawn took him by the arm and headed outside. Ben called after them. “Join us for dinner tonight, Doc?”
Randy thanked him, said he would, and Dawn walked him to his truck. He got in, but left the door open so he could pull her close. She smiled, and with that look in her eyes he thought he’d seen earlier.
“What are you thinking about?” he said. “Right now?”
Dawn hesitated, allowing him to pull her closer. “I was thinking about your facial features.”
“What?”
Dawn laughed. “I’m serious. They’re perfect.”
Now it was Randy who laughed, and blushed as well.
“Did you ever have a beard?”
“In college once. Why?”
Dawn shrugged, turning his face from side to side with her fingertips. “I’ll bet you’d look good in one.” She kissed him lightly, brushing her lips against his mustache.
He smiled. “What time’s dinner?”
“Right after the races. We go from here.”
At the call for the third race, Beau was put in the ice tub, and his antics began. He sloshed and splashed, twisted and chewed the shank, and stretched his neck as far as he could to try and chew on Dawn’s boots, first one, then the other. Then he sloshed and splashed some more. At the ten-minute call for the eighth, Ben started over to the grandstand. Tom put run-down patches and Vet Wrap on Beau’s back legs. He and Dawn took him out of ice then and wrapped the cloth bandages that had been soaking in the tub, around his front legs. The bridle and rinsing his mouth came next, and they headed to the paddock.
Tom stayed out on the track with Red, while Dawn led Beau in, announcing his arrival as they passed the paddock judge. Ben was waiting for them in the fifth stall. He motioned to the jocks’ room. “They arrested two of them. It’s hard to believe that’s all.”
Beau took his usual stance, muscles quivering as the valet laid the saddle across his back, and kicked out sharply when his tattoo was checked, not once, but twice this time.
The jocks’ room door opened and out came Miguel, uncharacteristically first. He walked straight toward them, nodded to Dawn then Ben, and reached for the reins.
Ben stood back, watching him as he tied the knot. He’d already given him instructions about the race, nothing more needed said. And yet... When Miguel pulled tight on the reins and let them rest on Beau’s neck, Ben reached over and picked them up. The knot was tied too far to the one side, the left rein being at least five inches longer than the right. He tapped Miguel on the shoulder. “Look at me.”
Miguel turned to face him, but seemed to be looking past him, his eyes glazed over.
Ben waved to the paddock judge, and when he walked over, took him aside. “Find out who’s in the jocks’ room. I need a rider. Miguel’s not fit to ride today.”
“What?”
Miguel started to protest, but Ben wouldn’t hear any of it. “If you want a scene, fine,” he said in an angry whisper. “Otherwise, go back to the room. No, better yet, go to a hospital and dry out.” He turned his back to him, Miguel walked away, and Ben looked at Dawn. “The son of a bitch is higher than a Georgia pine.”
The paddock judge returned and gave Ben a list of who was left in t
he room, adding that they all wanted the mount. Ben stared off, thinking, and made a quick decision. “Send me out Johnny.”
“You won’t get the weight allowance.”
“Goddamn it, Jack, I know that! Just get Johnny out here so we can warm up.”
By the time Johnny came out the room, still fastening his jockey silks, the other horses were out on the track. Tom came through the paddock entrance astride Red, with an anxious look on his face. Circling from the other end, he came up in front of the stall just as Ben gave Johnny a leg up. He reached for the lead from Dawn and nodded to Ben as he led Beau out.
Dawn took her place on the fence, with Ben standing close beside her. It was three minutes to post as Johnny urged Beau into a slow gallop to warm up. Randy drove up and parked his truck by the track kitchen, got out, and sat on the hood to watch the race. Two minutes to post.
Miguel lay on a cot in the jocks’ room, trying to remember how many downers he took, and if he took enough uppers. The narcs had taken the room by surprise. And he, being no exception, had downed the pills he had stashed in his locker, and was clean. All he had to do was remember to throw them up when the narcs left.
“They’re at the post! And they’re off! Taking the early lead is Beau Born. Second is Bold Kazar, and a length back is Perfect Crime. Followed by...”
The crowd started cheering as Beau lengthened his lead down the backside, running comfortably on his own.
“Approaching the turn, it is Beau Born by five. Perfect Crime is moving up to challenge Bold Kazar for second.”
Dawn leaned as far as she could to try to see for herself.
“At the head of the stretch, it’s Beau Born out by ten.”
Ben glanced at the tote board. The fractions Beau was cutting indicated he should finish drawing away. Easy. But then the pack started to come on.
“In the middle of the stretch it is Perfect Crime taking over second and closing. Beau Born is out in front by six lengths.”
“Come on, Beau,” Ben whispered. “Come on.”
“With a sixteenth of a mile left to go, it is Perfect Crime challenging the leader. Bold Kazar dropping back to fourth. Fox Cleff has taken over third. And as they approach the wire, it is Beau Born and Perfect Crime! Head to head!”
Dawn held her breath.
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 18