Colby pulls me into his arms. “Everyone will be missing you.”
I look into his eyes. “What happens now?”
He kisses me gently. “Don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. We always did.”
5
Colby
It’s another day and another event where I’m on the outside, looking in. To everyone, I’m a kid who left a generational job to start my own career. Sure, Maximus has won a lot of races, but until I can prove myself as a horse trainer and win on the biggest stage, I’m nothing. A nobody. And I need to be a somebody if I’m ever going to be more than a stable boy fuck to Brielle.
She’s different from the other socialite daughters who are running around and spending daddy’s money. Brielle works. She goes into an office every day or travels, depending on what is going on at the ranch, but she has her own responsibilities and collects a paycheck, unlike some of these women you are lingering around with their martini’s or mint juleps. And at the end of the day, Bri is more comfortable in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. That’s the woman I fell in love with. The one who used to sneak over to my house, sit on the porch and share a cold one with me.
The one making the rounds now in a yellow, knee-length form fitting dress with matching bow on top of her head, with her hand resting on another man’s arm, is not the Brielle I know. As I stand here and watch her with her father by her side, she laughs at whatever joke the man in the group in front of her has said. Of course, Brielle knows everyone in the room. Her mother used to give her, along with my parents and anyone else representing the family, a binder at the beginning of the year, with pictures of every player in the racing world so they could memorize the people attending these parties because embarrassing the Armstrong’s would be a grave injustice. I was never privy because by all accounts I shouldn’t be here. Yet, here I am, holding my own . . . or focusing on Brielle as she moves through the crowd.
After the tryst in the stable, which even I can admit was fueled by pure lust, anger, the long-standing love I have felt for her, and a bit of revenge aimed toward Mr. Armstrong, I have barely seen Brielle. The couple of times she’s come by the stables, I’ve been busy or there are too many people around who know her. She’s cautious and I get it, but I also want to be with her and seeing at these parties on the arms of another man, is truly bothersome.
“Mr. Hensley?”
I turn at the sound of my name. Approaching me, is Evie Stephenson, daughter of the President of Churchill Downs. Quickly, I set my drink down, wipe my hand on my pants and extend it to shake her hand. “Ms. Stephenson, it’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“Please call me Evie. How are you enjoying the party?”
“I’m sorry,” I say as embarrassment overcomes me. “I wasn’t aware you were hosting.”
“Oh, I’m not.” She places her hand on my forearm and lets it linger there. “I saw you standing out here and thought, ‘there’s a smart man, avoiding all the ass kissing’ so, I thought I’d join you.”
A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, I reach for two and hand her one. Evie is a knockout with her long slender legs, shoulder length black hair and piercing blue eyes, but off limits. Anyone in the racing circuit knows to stay away, at least until the Belmont Stakes or Preakness. The last thing any trainer, jockey or owner wants is to find out Evie may have said something to her father about anything.
The silence grows between us. I’m not sure what to say to her and she seems focused elsewhere. I refuse to move because I don’t want to be seen as rude. When Evie sighs, I look over at her to find her staring at me.
“I suppose you’ve been told not to talk to me.”
My face bunches. “It’s sort of a given.”
“I hate my life sometimes.” She downs her drink and signals a nearby staff member for another. “Do you know what it’s like to have everyone walk on eggshells around you?”
“No, ma’am, I do not.”
“It’s not even the weeks surrounding the race, it’s all the time. All the ranchers, trainers, everyone in the business. It’s so stupid that they think I have any pull.”
I don’t know how to respond. I bring the flute of champagne to my lips and happen to glance into the room. Brielle is standing near the window, watching me. I shake my head slowly and a small smile creeps over her lips. In this moment, I can fully understand what Evie is going through.