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I felt relieved. He simply was succumbing to pre-race jitters. He knew nothing of Trey’s displeasure with the jockey.
“I wouldn’t do that,” I replied. “What did I miss?”
“Two of the eight horses in the bonus race represent Sinclair Stables,” he said proudly. A pang of disappointment shot through me and I reminded myself once again to stop thinking like that and to be happy for the Sinclair team.
“Really? That’s great!” I lied. “Who else?”
“Ariel,” he replied.
Thatwasgood news. Luke was Ariel’s trainer. “I’m really glad; I still want Jezebel to beat them all,” I admitted.
“No argument from me on that T.J.!” Andy said as he helped me up into the racing saddle. He mounted Jubilee and we rode on out to the infield. Andy explained that the post selections were determined by best times clocked. Jezebel had the second best time in the earlier series, so we would get second choice on post positions.
“Who has first pick?” I asked.
“The winner of the sixth race, Paradox,” Andy replied.
Paradox’s trainer made first selection and wanted the third spot from the end. Andy selected the same spot that Jezebel held during the first race. As it turned out Ariel was in the position just outside of Jezebel. I didn’t know the jockey, but this was certainly making it interesting to be neck and neck with Ariel on one side and Paradox on the other.
The announcer started the introductions again, going through the line-up, horse, owner, trainer, and jockey. Andy escorted Jezebel and me back out onto the track. I wanted to giggle as we were announced this time as “Rookie Jockey, T.J. Preston.” Within minutes all of the horses were at the gate; the escorts had cleared the track. I pulled my goggles down and took position ready for the sound of the buzzer and the lifting of the gate. There seemed to be some sort of a delay in raising the gates. The announcer had stopped his banter as well. What now?
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please? There has been an adjustment made to the bonus race line-up this evening. The number seven horse, Jezebel, has been scratched from the competition by the owner. According to racing rules, the horse finishing with the next best time as the horse currently in the gates with the least best time of all the feature race winners this evening is eligible to take the number seven slot. That horse is Socrates. At this time, we ask that Trainer Graham and Jockey T.J. Preston remove Jezebel from the track.”
I was not only freaked, I was humiliated. Andy was back at my side within seconds, getting Jezebel backed out of the gate, leading us toward the paddock. I ripped my cap and goggles off as we passed Clint escorting Socrates and his jockey up onto the infield area beside the track. I threw him the most hateful look I could muster, too angry to say anything.
Andy was eerily quiet as he took the reins from me and walked Jezebel into the stables off of the paddock. And then my questions were answered—all of them. Andy handed off Jezebel’s reins to one furiously angry, blue-eyes-blazing Trey.
Holy Shit.
Trey dismissed Andy; “I’ll take it from here.”
Trey quickly untacked Jezebel and led her to her stall. He turned and addressed me, leaning in. I was mere inches from his beautiful, but very angry face. “What do you have to say for yourselfT.J.?” he seethed, putting emphasis on my jockey name.
I was distraught and humiliated that it had come to this. How could I've been so stupid? I'd actually thought he would be proud of me. He'd crushed me with that one show of power.
“Why’d you do it, Trey? How could you do that?” I could tell my demeanor had entirely thrown him off. He'd expected a fight. He hadn't expected this from me. I couldn't bring myself to argue with him. I'd wanted him to be proud, maybe even recognize my worth for something, but I'd failed miserably.
The part that hurt the most was that for Trey this was nothing more than his need to control me; someone he barely knew. It was apparent to me that his need for control surpassed any wants or needs of anyone else. That's where we were fundamentally different. I'd wanted to succeedfor him;I'd wanted to showhimthat in some way I was worthy of his respect and maybe his affection. Trey wanted something totally different— it was all about control.
I looked up at him, searching his eyes for a clue as to why he would embarrass and humiliate me like this. He clearly didn’t care. He gazed down at me, the anger completely gone from his face. It was replaced by something else that was unreadable. It wasn’t pity, regret, or compassion even; it was something I didn’t recognize.
He put his arms around me and pulled me close. This was no answer. I pushed away from him, pulling off the jockey silks that belonged to Sinclair Stables, holding them out to him. He was confused. He didn’t move.
“Here take them,” I said, tossing the silks at him. “These belong to you, but I sure as hell don’t.”
He caught the silks; his eyes not moving from mine. I turned and ran to the jockey’s lounge grateful it was empty. Once inside, tears flooded down my cheeks.
In a blur, I got out of my gear, shoving it all into my backpack and slamming the locker shut. I went to the sink and splashed cold water on my face to get rid of the tear streaks. I finally took a deep, calming breath and decided I could make my exit. I made my way to the back door of the paddock area, wanting to avoid running into anyone around the track. I could tell that the race was over and I didn’t give a shit who won. This was all over for me.
The trail back to the cabins was dark; I stumbled several times on the path through the wooded area. Behind me, the racetrack was lit up with a fireworks show, signaling the end of the racing events for this evening.
Ahead of me, I could finally see porch lights on the bank of cottages. They were all lit except for mine. There was an interior light on inside my cottage. I didn’t recall having left a light on. Ascending my porch steps, I scanned the row of cabins. Everyone else was out at the track, or partying, or on dates. It was eerily quiet around the row of cottages.
I reached for my doorknob and it turned freely. I knew that I'd locked it when I left earlier. I was afraid to go inside. Fumbling for the light switch, my throat lurched; the bulb in my porch light had been removed. I peered through the front window but saw that nothing seemed out of place and no one was lurking inside that I could see. Maybe to be on the safe side, I should go around the side of the cottage and check the bedroom window.
Just as I turned around to leave the porch I collided with a hard chest. My heart raced as I started to scream. Strong arms reached for me as I started to struggle. It was Trey.
“What are you doing here?” I gasped. He'd just scared the be-Jesus out of me.
