Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “Dusty won’t help me,” Linda said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Fuck him.”

  Ben held up his hands. “I’m done talking to you now, Linda. I want you off the racetrack, okay?”

  “Ben, I’ve got no money.” She swiped at her tears and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “None.”

  Ben stared at the walking machines between the barns. One was red, one was chipped-paint blue, one was more than likely green once upon a time but was now all rusty colored. The walking path was overgrown. It obviously hadn’t been used for a long time.

  “Ben?”

  He sighed and took out his wallet. He had four twenties and a ten. “Here,” he said.

  Linda looked at the money in his hand. “I don’t want your charity.”

  “It isn’t charity.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know, just take it. Go get a room and something to eat and think about what you’re going to do with your life.”

  “A room? And tomorrow, then what? This is all I know, Ben!”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do, Linda. I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re not my responsibility. This racetrack is. And you’re not welcome here anymore.”

  Linda took the money and had to wipe her nose again, and again. “Ben,” she said. “My little girl’s in the car.”

  Ben lowered his eyes to the pavement.

  “She’s only two.”

  “And the father?”

  “I don’t know.” She coughed and covered her mouth, trying to stifle her tears.

  “Come on,” Ben said, thinking she should come to the barn, sit in the tack room for a moment, get a hold of herself. But he had second thoughts instantly. She was a known liar, who knows what she could concoct. He looked around and far off in the distance up by the racetrack saw Tom on Red, coming their way. He appeared to be singing, in a good mood. Ben heaved a heavy sigh and waited.

  Tom approached them warily. Linda wiped her eyes as best she could and wouldn’t look at him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Ben stood thinking. “Can you go get Spears’ secretary.”

  “Why?”

  “Never mind. Linda, go around and I’ll have someone meet you at the clubhouse gate.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know her name.”

  “Wendy,” Tom said, staring Linda down.

  “Yes, Wendy. Bring your uh, little friend too,” Ben said, and walked away before Linda could object. Tom followed him on Red.

  “What’s that all about?” Tom asked, dismounting at the barn. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  “Speaking your language,” Ben said, handing Tom his cell phone. “Here, show me how to work this thing.”

  “What number do you want?”

  Ben paused. He didn’t know the number. “How would I know the number?” He shook his head. “I can’t think. There’s just too much. I think I’d actually be able to run a racetrack if I didn’t have all this other drama to deal with.”

  “What do you want her to go see that Wendy for?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Go on over there, get her in, and take her to the clubhouse.”

  “Her?”

  “Linda. Go on, go. You can get there faster than me. I’ll take care of Red, go on.”

  “Do you mind if I take off my chaps?”

  “No, but hurry. Here, give them to me. Go! And remember, take that Wendy with you. Don’t be with Linda alone.”

  “You concern me, old man.”

  “Just go!”

  Fortunately the woman was at her desk. Unfortunately, she thought Tom must surely be kidding. “You want me to do what?”

  “Actually it’s Ben who wants you to do this. I personally don’t want anything to do with the woman.”

  “Because…?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Tom said. “We need to get going.”

  Wendy reached for her keys and walked to the elevator with him. She hesitated boarding. “This is just too weird.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tom said. Then realizing she was obviously uncomfortable getting onto the elevator with just the two of them alone, he motioned to the stairs door. “I’ll meet you on the bottom floor.”

  “That’s really nice of you,” Wendy said. “But the clubhouse entrance is on the second.”

  Tom smiled. “I’ll see you there, then.”

  “You can ride down with me, I have mace.” She showed him.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “I have manners.”

  Wendy was waiting for him when he got to the second floor. When he touched the rim of his cowboy hat in greeting, she just looked at him for a moment.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Come on, it’s this way.”

  Tom expected Linda Dillon to be standing at the clubhouse gate entrance, waiting. She was not. He looked across the parking lot to see if anyone was pulling in off the street. Nothing, no one.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Wendy asked.

  He looked at her. “Do you see me laughing?”

  “Sorry. Who is this person anyway?”

  “Oh, just some….” He hesitated. “Someone who….” He motioned. “There she is.” She’d parked across the road and was walking to the gate carrying something in her arms, someone, a child. He stared.

  His first instinct was to go help her, but then again this was Linda Dillon, someone he despised. Wendy stood at his side, unsure of her part in all this, what to do. When the parking attendant seemed to be “giving Linda a hard time” Tom sighed. “Come on,” he said. Wendy walked with him.

  Linda looked up with mixed emotions in her eyes as they approached. “It’s all right,” Tom told the attendant. “Let her in.”

  The man looked at him. “Who are you?”

  Tom showed him his groom’s license. Not good enough. “Do you have a pass?” he asked Wendy?

  The child in Linda’s arms hid her face in the crook of Linda’s neck.

  “No,” Wendy said. “Not on me at least.”

  “How much?” Tom asked of the attendant.

  “Seven dollars.”

  Tom took out his wallet and paid the man. “Do you want help with that?” Tom asked Linda, of the obviously heavy diaper bag she was lugging as well.

  “No,” she said, and walked along with them to the clubhouse entrance. “Ben said to meet him here.”

  “Yeah,” Tom said. “I’m your welcoming committee.”

  Linda Dillon shook her head. “Fuck you.”

  “That’s nice,” Tom said. “Wendy, this is Linda. Linda, this is Wendy. And this little one,” Tom motioned. “This is…?”

  “Maria,” Linda said. “My uh…niece.”

  Tom took the diaper bag from her as they walked along. The child had dark wavy black hair, and the cutest little smile. She kept ducking her eyes behind Linda’s shoulder.

  Ben was waiting for them at the clubhouse entrance. He’d tried to get a table, but had no money. His name meant nothing to the maitre de. Wendy had little clout as well. Tom had to pay their way. “This is a joke,” he said, and motioned to a table by the window.

  “I’m saving that one,” the maitre de said.

  “For who?” Tom asked. “The owner of the racetrack?”

  They all sat down; Ben and Linda and the child on one side, Tom and Wendy on the other. The third race was about to go off.

  “They’re at the post!” the announcer said. The latch sprung!

  They all watched the race, Wendy included, one of the few she’d ever seen. It was a nine-horse field. The favorite won. And then here came the maitre de with a highchair.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, terribly sorry. I didn’t realize….”

  Ben glanced at his name tag. “That’s all right, Jeremy. It’s all right.” This could not have been a more awkward moment for any of them. “So,” Ben said, watching Linda get the child settled into the highchair. “I g
uess we’re going to need menus.”

  “Would you care for anything from the bar?”

  Ben shook his head on behalf of all of them. “Water, juice?” He looked at Linda and motioned.

  “Her name is Maria. Yes, juice. Apple juice if you have it.” She pulled a baby bottle out of the diaper bag and took the protective cover off the nipple.

  “Isn’t she too old for a bottle?” Tom said.

  Linda looked at him. She just looked at him.

  “I mean….how old is she?”

  “Two.”

  Wendy smiled. “She’s darling.”

  “Thank you.” Linda shrugged. “We’re working on a sippy cup, but she doesn’t have it down pat yet and I don’t want her getting all wet and….” She trailed off.

  Ben looked down at the horse being led into the winner’s circle. “So,” he said, again, for lack of anything better to say.

  “I’ve been ponying that horse all year,” Linda said. “I’d have gotten a stake.”

  “A stake?” Wendy looked puzzled.

  “A tip,” Tom explained, “for a job well done. Only in Linda’s case, since she starves her ponies….”

  Linda shook her head. “Judge not, Tom. Isn’t that what you preach? Here’s another one, how about walking a mile in my shoes.”

  Tom looked at her and hesitated, about to say something sarcastic, but then just sat back. Ben was getting all red in the face. “You okay?” Tom asked.

  Ben nodded. “I just think we need to all calm down and just have ourselves a nice little lunch.”

  The waiter came with their drinks, and for a moment, they were all entertained with Maria getting her juice. She rocked back and forth in the highchair, hands out and babbling, “Joosh, joosh!”

  “Just a minute,” Linda said, “Hold on.” She poured half water, half juice in the bottle.

  Tom stared and shook his head. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  Linda looked at him, about to fire something right back at him, but glanced at Ben instead. “Apple juice straight is not as good for little kids as people think.”

  Wendy fidgeted in her chair. “I’ve heard that. Cutting it with water is a good thing.”

  “Thank you,” Linda said, smiling shyly.

  Tom took a good look at the child. She appeared well-taken care of, a little chubby maybe. Her clothes were clean, her hair shiny, she was as cute as can be. “So where’s her mom?”

  Linda darted her eyes at Ben. He sighed; the truth, it implied.

  “She’s mine,” Linda said. “And no, the father is not from the racetrack.”

  Tom looked at her.

  “It’s just me and Maria.”

  Wendy glanced around the table. “I have two children. They’re grown, two boys; Matthew and Gordon. They’re both in college.”

  Silence, but for the conversations all around them at the other tables. “My husband passed away twelve years ago. I know all about being a single mom.” Wendy smiled at little Maria.

  Tom took out the racing form from his back pocket and opened it to the next race. Someone waved to him from across the room. It was Jimmy Kath. “Any hot tips?” the man asked.

  Tom shrugged. “I like the nine horse.”

  The man motioned, should he go bet?

  Tom nodded.

  The waiter came to take their lunch orders. Wendy ordered a Cobb salad, Ben ordered a lean burger. “Doctor’s orders.” Tom ordered a Rueben sandwich. “Extra sauce.”

  “And you, Miss?” The waiter looked at Linda.

  She hesitated and glanced at Ben. He nodded slightly. “Tom’s treating.”

  Tom sat back.

  “I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “What about for the little one?”

  “She’ll share mine. I have things for her with me.” She had a little container of peas and carrots that appeared as if she might have cooked the food herself. Maria ate it heartily. Tom looked away. The happy little scene was just a bit too much, considering this was Linda Dillon.

  Ben relaxed as soon as they started eating. “Linda doesn’t want anyone on the track to know about Maria,” he said. “All right?”

  Wendy found herself nodding along with Tom.

  “The thing is we need to find a place for her and her little girl to stay.”

  “I’m okay,” Linda said. “I’ll find something.”

  Ben looked at her. “Do you have somewhere to go? Seriously?”

  “No.” Linda fed her daughter a tiny piece of meatball. “When I get a job, I can get back into the Thames.” The Thames was a low-budget motel where a lot of racetrackers lived during the season. Rates were cheaper by the week. “I can head down to Florida in about a month.”

  “What’s in Florida?” Wendy asked.

  “Florida Downs.”

  Ben’s cell phone rang. He answered it and handed it to Tom. It was Dusty. “We’re up in the clubhouse. Where are you?”

  “Down in the secretary’s office.”

  “Why don’t you come up and join us.”

  “Oh wonderful,” Linda said, debating whether to finish eating or just pack up and leave now. “I can’t do this.”

  Ben motioned for her to stay seated. “I don’t want any indigestion, so just eat. Okay?” He smiled at little Maria. She wanted some more of the meatball. Linda fed her another piece.

  The horses were being loaded into the starting gate. It was a mile race. Ben leaned over to see how many spectators were outside to watch the race, around twenty. He shook his head. At least the clubhouse had a good crowd. Dusty motioned to Ben’s table and was shown in. He pulled up a chair and sat down on the end. They all watched the race.

  There was a little bumping and shoving amongst the horses at the head of the stretch. The nine horse was three lengths off the lead way out in the middle of the racetrack. Tom’s friend Jimmy was rooting the horse on. “Come on!”

  The horse started closing ground, shortening the gap.

  “Come on!”

  Everyone in the clubhouse was shouting for their picks.

  “Come on! Come on!”

  As they approached the wire, the nine horse was neck and neck with the leader, then nose to nose, and…. It was a photo finish!

  “Do you think he won?” Tom’s friend asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think he got up. If he doesn’t get knocked all around at the head of the stretch, he’d have win easy.”

  Dusty agreed.

  Number five won, number nine placed.

  Tom shrugged and leaned back.

  “That’s all right,” his friend said. “I backed him up.” He’d bet him win, place, and show.

  “Good for you!”

  “So who do you like in the fifth?”

  Tom laughed. “I’m only good for one a day. That’s why I’m still a working stiff.”

  His friend waved and went to cash his tickets. With the excitement of the race over, the unlikely five people sitting at the table fell silent again. Wendy wondered if she should be getting back to work.

  “It’s a conundrum,” she said.

  “A what?” Tom laughed.

  “A conundrum. I’m away from my desk and sooner or later my boss is going to wonder where I’ve gone, or where I’ve been, but his boss is sitting right here, so….”

  “Saying, enjoy your salad,” Ben said. “Would you like some dessert?”

  Wendy smiled. “I’d love some, but I’m on a perpetual diet.”

  Tom looked at her. “Perpetual?”

  “Constant.”

  He shook his head. “I know what perpetual means, perpetual motion. Now conundrum? I admit that was a new one.”

  Everyone at the table laughed, even Linda, and then little Maria. When they all settled back down, Tom looked at Wendy. “You’re not heavy.”

  “Oh, is that a kind of backside compliment?”

  Tom laughed. He liked this woman’s sense of humor. “Now Linda here,” he said. “She could use a few p
ounds just like her….” He looked at her, stopping mid-sentence. She was thin, too thin. He glanced at her wrists. There was nothing to her. “Now this is a conundrum,” he said, and it served them up another laugh.

  “This is crazy,” Tom said. He motioned for the waiter. “Since I’m paying, can we get a whole cake? I don’t know, maybe a chocolate one?” he said, looking around the table. They all nodded. “Yeah, chocolate.”

  The waiter did the math in his head. A cake was eight slices. There was only five of them and the little one. Cake was $4.95 a slice. He wrote a number down on his order pad and showed it to Tom. $39.60 for a chocolate cake.

  Tom drew a breath. “Well, it sure as hell better be good.”

  The cake was delicious, and the fifth race kept them entertained, but eventually the table fell quiet again. “I think I should at least call Mr. Spears,” Wendy said. “He might be worried.”

  Ben nodded. Tom watched her as she placed the call. When she hung up, she had an idea. “We have a room over at the Hilton, two actually. They’re for VIP owners that come in for stake races.”

  “I can’t afford….” Linda said, wiping Maria’s face with a wet napkin.

  “Actually,” Wendy said, glancing at Ben. “The racetrack pays for them.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Tom said.

  Wendy shook her head.

  “Let me get this straight,” Tom looked at her. “Linda here can’t afford a room but the VIP owners who ship in for a stake race who could very well afford it, get a room free?”

  “Precisely,” Wendy said.

  “Well,” Ben nodded. “Then that fixes that for the night.”

  Linda shook her head. “Ben, I’m sorry, but I can’t….”

  Ben held up his hand. “I have enough on my mind without worrying about you and this little girl out on the street.”

  Wendy said she’d call and make the arrangements and Ben suggested Linda go with her. This left a whole lot up in the air in regards to the Linda Dillon situation, but that was okay as far as Ben was concerned. He’d had enough for one day. Not to mention, Billy Martin’s funeral was tomorrow.

  “Any more surprises?” he asked, when the women and child were gone.

  “Nope,” Tom said. “None that I know of.”

  Dusty hesitated. “Well, there is one thing. That’s why I was trying to track you down,” he said to Tom. “Now, it’s not the end of the world, but….”