North Oak 3- Morning Glory

by Ann Hunter

OAKLAWN

  The sun was barely rising when Brooke finally pulled up to the backside track guard gate of Oaklawn Park. She gave the guy some schpiel about finding trainers to ride for and he let her through. Now all she had to do was find Morning Glory.

  The form she’d seen online had listed her new trainer as Monroe Sapes. The filly would be stabled with his fleet. Brooke parked the car and started asking around. A groom pointed her to the north end of the backside stables.

  There was a dampness in the air, an awkward icy humidity. Frost lined the stable roofs. Brooke felt in her element here, watching steam waft from the warm bodies of horses coming off the track, and yet still a stranger. She’d been here a time or two with Pop, knew her way around, but on her own it felt new all over again.

  She zipped up her jacket to keep the chill out as she walked past shedrow after shedrow. Horses coming and going to and from the track from morning workouts glanced at her and occasionally whickered, but she kept her eyes ahead hoping to find Morning Glory.

  But something else caught her eye. A lean, dark-haired young man passing between the stables. She blinked twice.

  “Dejado?”

  The young man stopped and turned to her from across the way. He lit with a smile. “Brooke Merrsal.”

  She crossed to him, relieved to see a familiar face who didn’t know what she was up to. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Gulfstream.”

  He shrugged. “I got picked up by Sapes. Doesn’t he train that filly you like?”

  Brooke felt even worse for McGill now. Did everyone abandon the poor guy? She shook her head. “Do you know where she is?”

  Dejado ruffled his hair, brushing back a lock from his chocolate eyes. That dimple in the corner of his cheek taunted Brooke. “I think I saw her in the Althea barn. This way.”

  He headed off, and Brooke found herself smiling. Dejado had obviously been working hard all morning, and parts of his shirt stuck to him. She could make out a well sculpted shoulder, and his floppy-ish hair was damp and shiny. She sort of cocked her head, eyes wandering down past the belt loops of his jeans where the denim melded to him. A goofy giggle got away from her.

  He smiled over his shoulder with a look that wondered what she was laughing at, and Brooke felt her knees wanting to betray her. When they got to Morning Glory’s stall, it was empty.

  “You sure this is the right one?” Brooke asked.

  Dejado nodded. “Fairly certain.”

  They looked down the shedrow to see her ambling beneath her rider toward them. Brooke brightened. “There she is.”

  A man with slicked back salt and pepper hair, rounded the corner behind the filly. He wore dark sunglasses, a pinstriped sports coat, and was chewing someone out on his phone.

  “And there’s Sapes,” Dejado said.

  He looked a lot classier than ol’ blue collar McGill, that much was certain. They were a stark contrast. Sapes looked like a needle. No doubt the prick to McGill’s pincushion.

  He slid his phone inside his jacket and pulled the edge of his shades down his nose, peering at Brooke with icy eyes. She shivered.

  “Can I help you?”

  His tone made him sound like the type of person who couldn’t be bothered to give you the time of day. And although Brooke was taller than him, she felt like she was standing in his shadow.

  Dejado clapped her on the shoulder. “This one, she’s beyond help.”

  Sapes said nothing.

  Brooke cringed inside. Way to break the ice, Fish’n’Chips. She gathered her courage and offered her hand. “I’m Brooke Merrsal. I’m a fan of Morning Glory’s.”

  Sapes raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s ridden her a few times,” Dejado interceded.

  Sapes pushed his sunglasses back up his nose and raised his chin, clasping his hands in front of him.

  Brooke’s hand fell to her side. “She’s a great horse. I thought I’d come see how she’s doing.”

  Sapes rolled his head. The sound of cracking bones snapped the air. He nodded to the filly’s stall.

  Morning Glory had just been put away, all bathed and relaxed. She tore into her hay bag greedily. Brooke smiled at her.

  “When is she racing again?” she asked. “I don’t suppose her next race is a claimer?”

  Sapes glanced at his watch. “Saturday.”

  It was Thursday morning. Brooke chewed her lip, hoping she would’ve been back at North Oak a whole lot sooner than the weekend. She rubbed out an itch in her palm, determined not to leave Oaklawn without the filly.

  Dejado cleared his throat. “Which race?”

  “Maiden special weight,” Sapes answered.

  Brooke’s shoulders sagged. So much for claiming Morning Glory. She’d have to track down the owners instead.

  “Are you two going to continue wasting my time?”

  “Not at all.” Dejado slipped his hand to Brooke’s back, just between her shoulders, escorting her away.

  Brooke looked back at Sapes and Morning Glory. How was she going to pull this off? She became aware of Dejado’s hand on her back, the warmth and strength of it, and flushed. She tucked a rogue hair behind her ear. “I lied.”

  Dejado dropped his hand, and they leaned against a pillar of the stable across the way, watching Morning Glory in her stall.

  “I’m not here to fangirl Mags,” Brooke confessed. She kicked at a patch of dirt. “I’m here to buy her.”

  Dejado’s eyebrows raised. “How are you going to pay for her?”

  Brooke grimaced. Should she tell him? Could she trust him? He made her knees go all jelly-ish, even though she still barely knew him. “My grandpa gave me ten yearlings to work with last year, and I got a commission from their sales.”

  “They must have done really well.”

  Brooke nodded. “Well enough. Pop will probably have me do it again this year, even though I have my eyes elsewhere.” Her gaze shifted from Morning Glory to Dejado, and she found him looking right back at her.

  “I see.” He smiled gently.

  She couldn’t resist the heat rising to her cheeks again, and turned away. “I want a horse of my own.” She looked back at him. “Where do you see yourself in a few years?”

  Dejado’s smile turned into a smirk. “Deported.”

  Brooke squinted, then realized he was joking. She slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not funny.”

  “Sure it is.”

  She still couldn’t place his accent, but she liked how it played on her ear like a song. “I see myself with my own string of racers. Once I turn eighteen, I’ll get my license and that’ll be the end of it.”

  Dejado hummed a laugh.

  “What?” Brooke asked, not sure if she should be offended.

  “Teenage dreams,” he said.

  She tipped her head, not understanding.

  Dejado folded his arms. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever known is racing.”

  “That’s the problem. You haven’t been out in the real world.”

  “Are you calling me naive?”

  Dejado smiled and shook his head. He looked at her dead on. “I like you. You know what you want, and you’re out to get it. I admire that. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t believe you’ve thought it all the way through yet.”

  Brooke’s muscles tense. “What?”

  “I think your plan to buy that horse is half-baked. You don’t just waltz into a racetrack and say ‘May I buy your horse?’ Who does that?”

  Brooke pitched forward, grinding her teeth. “Me.”

  “You should know better.”

  She clenched her fists.

  Dejado squinted against the sun rising over the barns. “I say that with respect.”

  Yeah, sure he did. He’d probably try to take her to lunch again. Well, she wouldn’t let him.

  “Are you still a vegetarian?” he asked.

  Brooke growled
and turned on her heel. How dare he say her dream wasn’t planned out. She was going home with Morning Glory, one way or another.

  Brooke spent the next few days avoiding Dejado and getting work done. She managed to acquire her owners license, and kept a close eye on Morning Glory.

  When the filly’s groom walked her in the morning, she moved well. So there was nothing off there. She still seemed so calm and professional, and everything Brooke loved about her. So why was she tanking during race time?

  Brooke wracked her brain. Was it the crowds and noise, the raw energy in the air before a race? Did she get rattled in the starting gate, or psych herself out sizing up the other horses? Just like people, horses got nervous too. Any little thing could get into their head and shut them down. Maybe it was an equipment problem.

  She hung around the filly’s stall like a moth to gaslight. Brooke scratched her behind the ears. “I’ll get you home, and we’ll figure this out. I bet I can get something out of Pop. We’ll fix you, and you’ll run like a champ.”

  “Why are you really here?” Sapes asked.

  Brooke jumped at his sudden appearance.

  His voice remained frigid. “No one hangs around a classless horse for days on end.”

  Brooke stood up straight, squaring her shoulders. “I want to buy her.”

  Sapes was silent for a moment, then slowly started laughing. It grew into a guffaw, until he braced on his knees and shook his head, wiping tears from beneath his sunglasses. He straightened and pointed at Brooke, like he was going to say how ridiculous she was, then shook his head and walked away.

  “I mean it!” she called after him.

  He waved his hand. “Go home, kid.”

  Brooke turned back to the filly who burrowed her muzzle into Brooke’s neck, sniffling and tickling her. She wrapped her arms around Morning Glory’s head, leaning her chin against her face and gazing into her eyes.

  For a moment, she hoped Morning Glory would fail again in her race tomorrow. A horse that couldn’t earn its keep was a lot easier to buy than a horse that won.

  Saturday afternoon couldn’t come quick enough. Brooke rolled up the racing form and twisted it in her hands, wandering Oaklawn’s clubhouse listlessly. Morning Glory’s early odds were just as unimpressive as they were at Gulfstream, and as hopeful as Brooke had felt about it being a joke before, she felt more hopeful now that they weren’t.

  Part of her felt guilty for constantly chanting in her head, lose, lose, lose, lose. But it was all she had to go on. How else would she convince Sapes that Morning Glory wasn’t worth the effort and the owner’s money?

  The only hitch in that plan was Sapes had Oaklawn’s leading rider up. Brooke tapped her head against the racing form, feeling like she might make the same noise McGill did when he was super stressed. Like he might throw up or something.

  Stay busy, Brooke reminded herself. Keep moving. Her stomach growled at the smell of the concessions she passed, but she was too nervous to risk eating. The last thing she wanted was to puke on Sapes while pathetically begging him to sell Mags.

  She wasn’t sure if she could feel more mixed up, until she heard the changes on the race card. The announcer blared over the speakers that Morning Glory’s jockey had been replaced with Dejado Augustun.

  Brooke eyes widened, and she slumped into a chair at one of the dining tables. On the one hand, she would make up for missing his race at Gulfstream, but on the other… she dreaded Morning Glory losing now, for fear of it looking like he threw the race.

  Any hope she had of the filly losing, now became the worst possible scenario. Race fixing was a serious crime. She wondered if she should call home and ask Alex now who she knew in prison to get out for good behavior.

  Brooke dropped her head in her hands, rubbing her face. She just wanted to buy a horse and go home. Now there was no guarantee she’d leave at all. When she raised her head, the field for Morning Glory’s race was moving to the gate. And while Dejado looked sharp in those black and gold lightning silks, she knew no matter the outcome, she couldn’t be associated with him.

  She felt like it was her fight with Alex all over again, sacrificing a relationship like this. She really liked Dejado. Brooke bit into her knuckles as the fillies loaded into the starting gate. For a second time in the last year, she was choosing her dream over friendship.

  She couldn’t look when the starting bell rang. She fell forward on the table, burying her face in her folded arms. There was no good outcome to this race. If Morning Glory won, she’d be worth more than Brooke had saved. If she lost, it might look like Dejado did it on purpose to decrease the filly’s value when Brooke went to make an offer.

  I think I’m going to be sick.

  What was she going to do when Mags crossed the finish line?

  Slowly, that dangerous little voice in her head — the one she was gradually starting to think she should probably stop listening to— peeped, Screw it. We’re still doing this!

  Brooke lifted her head just as the field crossed the wire, with Morning Glory running next to last. She got out of her chair and made her way downstairs to see if she could pick out the owners as Mags got walked back to the barn.

  She followed the filly and her groom down the track. Sapes stood outside his stable with a woman in a snug white dress, and shoes that definitely didn’t belong on Oaklawn’s backside. Brooke’s face twisted, thinking those shoes would make great pitchforks with how high the heels were.

  Morning Glory snorted as she approached the duo, and the woman crooned a Southern drawl softly, “There’s my baby.”

  Brooke’s heart sank, worrying about whether her choice was the right one. She’d learned the damage she could do taking a horse from someone who loved it. But this was horse racing, she reminded herself, and every horse in the world had a price tag. She just hoped Morning Glory’s was ten grand or less.

  “Excuse me,” she said, approaching Sapes and the woman.

  Sapes sighed. Brooke could imagine him rolling his eyes beneath those stupid glasses.

  “What are you doing here?” he grumbled.

  The woman batted him on the chest. “Monroe, play nice.” She turned to Brooke. “What can I help you with dear?”

  Brooke tucked her lip, psyching herself up. We’re doing this. We’re doing this, we’re doing this, we’re doing this!

  “I’d like to buy Morning Glory.”

  “Don’t listen to her, SaraBeth,” Sapes grumbled.

  “Please,” Brooke said quickly. “She’ll have a great home. My grandfather is Joseph Hendricks. He’s trained Derby winners. You had to have heard of him.”

  Dejado rounded the corner just then, still freckled with dirt on his cheeks and nose, just under where his racing goggles would’ve been. He looked breathless, as though he’d run all the way from the jockey’s locker room. “I can vouch for her. She’s a good egg, even though she doesn’t eat meat.”

  Brooke rung her hands, fearing how bad this looked. “Gee, thanks, Fish’n’Chips.”

  “Sure thing, Egg.”

  She grabbed his elbow and took him aside, hissing, “What are you doing? Do you know how fishy this looks? You lost. They’re gonna think you threw the race.”

  “Well I didn’t.”

  Sapes straightened his tie. “You’re telling me you can afford this filly and her care.”

  Brooke and Dejado turned.

  “I’ll pay cash,” she blurted.

  Dejado’s dark eyebrows went straight up.

  “Ten grand.”

  “Who’s fishy now?” Dejado whispered.

  Brooke shot him a dirty look, don’t screw this up for me.

  Sapes pushed his shades up over his brow. “Where does a kid get that kind of money?”

  “Uh…” Brooke tucked her lip. “Life savings?”

  Dejado elbowed her. “Tell them the truth.”

  She shook her head. They’d never believe it. Who in their right mind would pay a teenager that kind of money?

&n
bsp; “Tell them the truth, or I will,” Dejado hissed.

  Brooke shoved her hands in her pockets, toeing a piece of straw on the ground.

  “You don’t want this to look suspicious, then be honest with them,” he said. Dejado huffed, “Oh, for the love of— ”

  She watched him square his shoulders and look the owners dead on. “She earned it.”

  “Really.” SarahBeth sounded intrigued.

  “She spent last year helping her grandfather prepare yearlings for Keeneland, and got a small commission for it.” He leaned toward her. “What was it?”

  “Ten percent,” Brooke mumbled.

  “Ten percent,” Dejado repeated loudly. “So she’s walking around with ten grand in her pocket, dying for you to shut up and take her money.”

  “Did you tell us to shut up?” Sapes choked.

  Dejado pinched his fingers in the air, speaking slowly and elegantly. “Allow me to annunciate that for you. Ten. Thousand. Dollars. For your filly who can’t run.” He glanced at Brooke. She couldn’t get over how princely he sounded. “Really.” He offered the owners that charming dimpled smile. “She’s doing you a favor.”

  “Nod,” he whispered, nudging her again.

  “Oh!” Brooke came to attention, nodding emphatically. Although, inwardly, she was kicking herself for turning into Captain Space Case.

  For a tense moment, there was only silence.

  SarahBeth turned to Sapes. “What do you say?”

  He pulled at his hair, then swung his hand in Brooke’s direction. “You’re going to trust a kid?”

  “Frankly, I don’t see a kid, Mister Sapes. I see a business woman.” SarahBeth smiled at Brooke. “Have you got your paperwork all done?”

  Brooke reached into her pocket and produced her owners license and the other necessary forms.

  “Well, Monroe. It looks like everything’s in order here.”

  Sapes pulled his glasses from his head and folded them, hanging them in his front pocket. He pursed his lips like this deal was the sourest he’d done, and marched away. “Do what you want. It’s your damn horse.”

  As he passed her, Morning Glory sneezed on his fancy pinstriped coat, then rubbed her head all over Brooke.

  SarahBeth smiled at Brooke. “It appears she’s your damn horse, honey.”