Making Her Mark

by Renée Dahlia

  ‘Where are you okay to touch? I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘Just my eyes, nose, and forehead are the worst. I have a bit of bruising on my shoulder, but it’s nothing, really.’

  Next time he saw this Driscoll bloke, his fist would find the asshole’s face. ‘I wish I’d been there.’

  ‘At trackwork? Why would you have been at work with me?’

  ‘Just because it makes no sense, doesn’t mean I don’t want to have done it. I could have helped you.’

  ‘I sorted it out myself, just fine.’

  ‘Yeah, it certainly looks that way.’ Sarcasm probably wasn’t the best plan right now. Jacob rubbed his temple, she was so damned tough and self-reliant, not needing or wanting his help. She was breaking his bloody heart, and she didn’t even know it.

  ‘Driscoll, the fucker, attacked me, and I headbutted him with my helmet. It slipped as I did it and smashed the bridge of my nose. A couple of strappers helped me to the ambo. It’s not that big a deal, I’ll be back riding in a week once the swelling goes down enough for me to see. I just want him found.’

  Rachel’s insistence that she’d be riding racehorses so soon after being attacked made him want to both shake her for being ridiculous and congratulate her for knowing what she wanted.

  ‘I’ll text Allira and see if the cops are coming.’ He remembered his sister mentioning that ER doctors had to call the police when someone came in with an assault injury, to check that they knew about it and were investigating.

  ‘Thanks. I hope he’s hurting too.’

  A loud knock interrupted, and a couple of uniformed police officers nudged the door open.

  ‘Rachel Bassett?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘We need a statement from you. A Mr Driscoll has accused you of assaulting him.’

  A muscle in Rachel’s jaw clenched.

  ‘I think it’s obvious who has been assaulted.’ Jacob told the two officers.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Jacob Mullagh. Rachel’s partner.’ He flicked a glance at her. Her mouth stayed in a tight, thin line. At least she didn’t protest against his claim.

  ‘The footy player?’ one of the officers asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Shame about your knee. We might have won without that injury.’

  He shifted his shoulders a little at the untimely compliment, ‘It’s a team effort. One player doesn’t win or lose a match.’

  ‘Maybe, but you have a talent for making space and setting up the plays.’

  Jacob schooled his snarl back to neutral. ‘How about we focus on Rachel, and how this Driscoll character assaulted her at her place of work this morning?’ There was no point pissing off the cop trying to be nice even though he couldn’t help be sarcastic.

  ‘Ms Bassett, Mr Driscoll has made a formal complaint that you broke his nose this morning.’

  Rachel made a throaty spluttering noise as if she was trying to hold back a long sequence of swear words.

  ‘Your injuries indicate that his story may not be the whole picture. Can you tell us what happened?’ the other officer asked, flipping languidly through a notepad for an empty page. The shuffling paper complimented the regular beeping of the machines in the ward.

  ‘I’d just finished riding Justa Lad, and was walking towards where Shelley ties her horses up in the morning to ride Darnation, when someone grabbed me and pulled me between the sheds. He pushed me up against the wall and wanted to know where his money was.’

  Jacob bit back a gasp. Wasn’t Driscoll the guy Rachel suspected?

  ‘What money?’ the officer asked.

  ‘That’s the thing, right. I had no idea what he was talking about. He spat in my face, and said my agent told him I had his money.’

  ‘What money?’ the officer repeated.

  Jacob cleared his throat. ‘A couple of my team mates joined a punter’s club, and, well, long story short, Rachel asked her sister about it, and her sister said it might be a scam. My mate found out yesterday that they’ve taken all his money and disappeared.’

  ‘Oh shit, The Palace?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Yeah, and a few others. The email they used for communication is broken. And the guy who recruited them has disappeared.’

  ‘Driscoll?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘No. The Palace got recruited by the V8 driver, Max Bianchi, and he mentioned a Daniel Poulos.’ Jacob said, as the officer scribbled furiously in his notebook. Rachel shifted awkwardly in her bed.

  ‘I think Driscoll got scammed too. He seemed to think that I had his money.’

  ‘Why you?’ Jacob and the officers spoke together.

  ‘Fuck knows.’ She paused, then gasped. ‘Oh, no. I know why. He said something weird and I’ve just remembered what it was. He asked my agent, Matthew Walton, about the money, and Matthew told him I had it. That dodgy asshole.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My agent. The scam is his. It has to be.’

  ‘Can you contact him?’

  ‘Yeah, his number is on my phone.’ She inhaled quickly, ‘Blast, my phone is in my car at Flemington.’

  ‘You don’t know his number?’

  ‘No. Why would I? It’s saved in my phone.’ Rachel twisted against the pillow as if she’d tried to shrug but it hurt.

  One of the officers spoke, ‘What sort of agent is he?’

  ‘I’m a jockey. He arranges all my rides with different trainers and sends me a text each day with the meeting and list of horses. I confirm that I want to ride each one, and he lets the trainer know who does the update with Racing Vic.’

  ‘And you pay for this?’

  ‘Yeah. Five per cent of my earnings. It’s totally worth the money. I don’t want to spend all my spare time ringing trainers and begging for work.’

  ‘And does he do this for other jockeys?’ the officer asked.

  Rachel started to shake her head, a rueful grin on her face, then winced, pain wiping away her smile.

  ‘Absolutely. I hardly earn enough for me, let alone enough to pay a full-time agent. If he wants to eat, he’d need to have at least ten other jockeys on his books. Plus, he can ring one trainer and set up rides for several jockeys, so it makes sense for him to have a bunch of clients.’

  ‘Right. I was wondering about that, because if he’s only making a fraction of what you earn, then he’s motivated to use his knowledge of racing to scam people.’

  ‘That’s entirely plausible. He complained the other day that bloodstock agents have it good because they get to spend huge amounts of their client’s money, while he struggles along on the amounts we earn for him. He doesn’t have any big-name jockeys on his books, just a bunch of sometimes city riders like me, and some country riders, so he can’t be pulling a huge income.’ Rachel bit her bottom lip.

  ‘Other than that, has he given you any indication that he might be running a punter’s club?’

  ‘Why would he? He’d know I’d take him to the stewards if I suspected any dodgy shit. I have a reputation to maintain.’

  Jacob swallowed back a sharp intake of breath. So did he. All along he’d been stressed that getting involved with Rachel, and by extension horse racing, would dent his clean reputation and ruin his future as a lawyer. He needn’t have worried. She had the same singular focus. She just had a dirtier mouth than him. Warmth filled his body, the final hurdle in his love for her conquered—apart from her loving him in return. He eased out the breath, slightly shaky at the lack of guarantee.

  ‘The stewards?’ asked one of the officers.

  ‘Racing police, or at least, that’s the easiest way to describe what they do. They have loads of power to sort through people’s betting accounts and shit, so they’d be a great place to start if you need information. Ring Racing Victoria and ask for the chief steward.’ For Rachel to give advice to the cops on how to do their job was so on brand Jacob had to fight not to laugh.

  ‘Thank you.’ The officer replied tightly. Jacob’s stomach mu
scles clenched as he kept his laughter inside.

  ‘Would you like to press charges against Mr Driscoll?’ the other officer asked.

  ‘Only because he’s doing that against me.’ Rachel’s answer made it almost impossible to hold his amusement inside and he crossed his arms in front of his guts. ‘I reckon if you can find Matthew and get Driscoll his money back, he’ll be bound to drop the silly trumped-up charges against me.’

  ‘We’ll be in touch.’ The officers left and Jacob held his breath until their footsteps faded away.

  ‘That fuckwit. I mean, he’s always been weird, but shit, to do this is a dog act. I wish I had my phone.’

  ‘Who? Your agent?’

  ‘Yeah. Who else would be I mad at?’ Rachel’s sneer made Jacob grin. He wanted to stand beside her as she lived her life with her wonderful attitude, and he hoped she would let him.

  ‘Don’t tip him off. Let the cops find him.’ Jacob reached out for Rachel’s hand again, his thumb stroking over the racing pulse in her wrist. ‘Rest, get better, and let them sort it out.’

  ‘I hate lying here, not being able to see properly. Not being able to do something.’

  ‘I understand.’ He gently lifted her hand to his lips and kissed.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing?’ Her response was so perfectly Rachel, the laughter he’d been holding back burst out, and he replaced her hand on the bed before doubling over, his hands on his knees.

  ‘Jeez, Jacob, what is wrong with you?’

  He straightened up and smiled, even though she probably couldn’t see through her bruised, swollen eyes.

  ‘Ever since I met you, I’ve wondered the same thing. It turns out this lack of balance is a symptom of falling in love.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Who have you fallen in love with?’ The jealousy in her voice stretched his smile across his face.

  ‘A brave, bold, fascinating—’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ She paused, then gasped, her eyes almost opening. ‘Fucking hell, Jacob, did you mean me? Are you falling in love with me?’

  He cleared his throat, ‘Not falling. Fallen. I’m in love with you, Rachel.’

  ‘Well. Fuck me. I told you not to do that.’ Bright pink splotches on her cheeks added to the vibrant colour on her face. He slapped his hand over his mouth, holding back another wave of laughter.

  ‘Sometimes you can’t control everything, Rachel.’

  ‘But. But it was just sex, Jacob. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to be concentrating—’

  ‘On your career, I know. I’ve heard it all before. Can’t you have both?’ Rachel sighed, ‘That’s the problem. I’ve chased love before, and every time I’ve been burned. I can’t trust people, and now my bloody agent has proven that too.’

  Jacob clenched his teeth. He’d picked the worst time to declare his love to someone who didn’t trust people, if Rachel really mattered, he’d need to prove to her that she could trust him.

  ‘Is this to do with what happened when you were sixteen?’

  ‘Are you psychoanalysing me now?’ Her hand bunched into a fist on the side of the bed.

  ‘No. Just that Allira said something happened, and I should ask you. It would help me understand you better.’

  Rachel made a clicking noise with her tongue. She was probably rolling her eyes underneath all that bruising.

  ‘Yah for Allira. Yes, a bunch of girls in Tranquil Waters were shitty to me. It doesn’t mean anything. Allira is freaking out, reading too much into it. It’s not that big a deal.’ Rachel’s shoulders shifted towards her neck, tension radiating from her bed-stricken body. Jacob didn’t want to push her into revealing the story, not when it obviously hurt more than she wanted to acknowledge.

  ‘It’s cool. If you say it’s no big deal, it can wait until you want to tell me.’ He drew in a deep breath, ‘But know this, Rachel. I love you, and I want to be here for you.’

  ‘You are confusing good sex with love. It’s not love you feel, just lust.’ Her lip curled up in a sneer, her cheeks still flushed with colour. Hell, she was so determined to push him away. He pushed his fist against the ache in his chest.

  ‘I understand my feelings, Rachel. But if you want me to leave, I’ll do that.’ He leaned down, kissed her taut fist, and started to leave before he broke down and begged her to let him stay. As he reached the door to her room, he turned for one last look at his Rachel, battered and bruised—all alone—yet so brave in the hospital bed. He paused, suddenly understanding that if he left, it would be for the last time—what she really needed was someone who could stand beside her, be there for her. True love meant sticking around. Slowly he walked back towards her bedside, and sat quietly in a chair, waiting for her.

  Chapter 19

  Rachel heard a scraping noise and peeked through her swollen eyelids. Jacob hadn’t left. Air rushed back into her deflated lungs. Was this hope? She shut her eyes again. Keeping them open hurt too much, a sharper pain than seeing Jacob staying here for her. Could she trust the growing hope that he’d always be there for her? Damn, she really wanted to, to the point where her body ached with wanting to trust him. She hated the vulnerability she felt, so heavy as though the weight of it pushed her down into the hospital bed. The idea of trusting him was easy, apart from the one time he’d been a little bit late coming to get her, he’d always been reliable. He’d always been there for her, and she’d been the one pushing him away at every step. Could she trust herself enough to trust him? Did that even make fucking sense? She knew she was the problem, deep down inside, she couldn’t let go of the hurt. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Jacob?’

  ‘Yeah?’ His voice soothed her, and she almost let herself imagine what it would be like to have him stand beside her.

  ‘Does it bother you that I’m bi?’

  ‘No. Why would it? We discussed it ages ago. I would have left then if mattered at all.’ His chair scraped on the floor, and she peeked out to see him shuffle closer towards her bed. She breathed in deep. So much for that flimsy excuse.

  ‘The reason I mentioned it when we first started chatting is because it does matter to some people. I’ve been told all sorts of awful things, the least of which is that I’m going to hell.’

  ‘I don’t believe in hell, and if it does exist it should be for the people who have all the privilege and do everything in their considerable power to keep it.’

  Rachel grinned, holding her hand up for a high five. He tapped his palm against hers, gently, treating her carefully, as though she were a beautiful fragile object of art. She ought to hate it, but damn, she absolutely loved it.

  ‘Fuck yeah.’ Calm settled over her stomach, the worry gone. ‘Jacob, Allira is right that I should tell you a story. Can you promise me you won’t pity me?’

  ‘Rachel, I wouldn’t dare.’

  She swallowed, her mouth ridiculously dry. ‘When Serena and I turned sixteen, I wanted a party of my own for the first time. We’d always had a joint birthday party at the farm, with extended family. I mean, half the bloody town would come. You would’ve been to a few if you hadn’t gone off to your fancy school in the city.’

  ‘Hey!’

  Rachel ignored Jacob’s protest against her jibe, ‘I guess I was at the age where I wanted to be seen as myself, not part of a set, so I pushed really hard for my own thing.’ She scratched her ear, remembering the hurt on Serena’s face, and her insistence.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘It wasn’t okay. I hurt Serena through my insistence, and well, karma is a bitch, because I got exactly what I deserved that day. Serena and Mama took a few of her friends into town to go to the movies, and Dad helped me set up a picnic on the lawn. I spent hours making little gifts for all my guests and making sure it was perfect.’ She drew in a deep breath, easing it out slowly. ‘No one came.’

  ‘What? Like no one?’

  ‘Absolutely no one. No, scratch that, Allira turned up late, nearly two hours after the party w
as supposed to have started. She was the only one who was there for me.’

  ‘Oh my God. That’s awful.’ His intake of breath echoed around the antiseptic scented hospital room.

  ‘Yeah, it wasn’t fun.’ She tried to brush off the hurt with a flippant comment.

  ‘Not fun is when you stub your toe on a chair leg. Having people boycott your sixteenth party is—’

  ‘—quite shit. Want to guess the kicker?’

  ‘Because someone at school thought you were gay?’ Jacob’s guess was bang on.

  ‘Apparently the magazine cut-out I had of Megan Fox surrounded with hand-drawn hearts wasn’t as hidden as I thought it was. Allira was late to my party because she’d heard the rumour and spent ages visiting everyone in town and trying to get them to come with her. She basically confronted all the town bullies and stood up for me, and all I did was eat all the party food, and vomit spectacularly in the garden.’

  ‘That’s my sister for you.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fucking amazing.’ Rachel gasped. Allira was her best friend, the person who’d always stood by her. Rachel had been the one to let her go, let her down, and generally not see how amazing Allira was. Was she doing the same thing with Serena, and with Jacob? Was she letting her doubts stop her from loving him? Did she have enough courage in her heart to be vulnerable for him?

  ‘I understand why being late the other day hurt you. I’m sorry.’ His rich voice rumbled in the room, rinsing over her skin.

  ‘You weren’t to know. How could you know?’

  ‘Can I ask one question?’

  She paused, feeling exposed, anxiety gnawing at her like a dog with a stick. ‘I guess.’

  ‘Why did you say karma’s a bitch?’

  ‘Not much gets past you, does it?’ She sighed, ‘Part of me knows I deserved it that day. I’d hurt Serena by pushing for separate parties, and when it all went to crap, I didn’t apologise. I couldn’t. It was all my fault, and I deserved to be hurt for hurting her.’

  ‘Have you ever forgiven yourself?’