Chapter Thirty-Three The Performer
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Performer
This may have been the first time Arkady had asked me to attend anything formal with him, officially.
Something of his own idea, his own will, not due to any hidden bodies or social formalities.
Which was either evidence of our bond—of which I did more speculating on than anything—or it was cause for suspicion. I would like to believe the former.
Morris Park was a sight to behold on days like this.
The Belmont Stakes was equal parts pageantry and gambling.
The stands packed people in like tinned fish, accompanied by questionable scents intermingling with perfume and sweat from the adrenaline or the anxiety of lost wages.
On the other side, those who did not partake in the stands had parked their carriages and set up picnics in preparation to watch the ever-so-fleeting event.
Such excitement and intrigue, attending at my husband’s insistence, might be the only thing that would bring me into Westchester.
The dress I chose was cream in color with rustic orange ribbons as details, matching the florals on my fascinator. My parasol was made of the same fabric as the dress, ribbons and all. I would have felt quite pretty if it weren’t for the distracting smell of horse manure.
Arkady wore something nice, his accessories matching mine.
It was too perfect, even considering the occasion.
The clubhouse building kept a careful eye over the park, welcoming its visitors for the brief spectacle.
Women in their finest, a sea bobbing in fascinators and hats, ribbons and flowers, parasols and fans clutched in their modestly gloved fingers.
Men were nice in appearance and tailoring, but never in demeanor.
The only gentlemen at the racetrack were the stallions.
We were headed toward one of the viewing areas before I was led beyond the stairway.
I squinted at Arkady. “We passed the stairs.”
“I know.” He had some sort of mysterious smirk.
He held my arm a bit tighter as he led me down to the working area. We passed through to the backstretch of the track.
From far away, these horses were unremarkable. They had four legs, were usually brown. There wasn’t much to them. But up close, I could see the appeal.
Even as one passed, side by side with their lead ponies, the thud of the hooves against the ground was assertive, proud.
They were larger than life, or at least the stature of the jockeys made it seem so.
The thoroughbreds’ muscles rippled under hides, vibrating engines ready to be released onto the track.
“High-strung,” I commented, “that one is already sweating.”
“Just like you,” Arkady teased, “though I would pay to see you in sport.”
“Not a chance.” I glared at him, fussing with the pins of my fascinator.
“Which one will you put your money on?” He leaned low to speak in my ear.
I bit my lip, looking from horse to horse. They all looked the same to me, not much to go on in terms of the sport itself.
“I like the polka dots,” I said, pointing.
“Which one?”
“White and blue.”
“Are you choosing based on the silks or the horse?”
I shrugged, squinting up at him. “It is all based on luck anyway. Why does it matter?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Fine, how much?”
“Perhaps we bet on something less monetary.” I smirked, twirling my parasol between my fingers.
He nodded, thinking about the proposition a moment before speaking. “If your horse wins, I will be indebted to you for a favor. And you will be indebted to me if it loses.”
“And what will a favor be good for?”
“Anything.”
“If I win, I can ask for anything?”
“You’re beginning to worry me now.”
“I’m just making sure I hear the wager with clear ears.” I held my hand out. “Deal.”
He shook my hand firmly. “May your luck be plentiful.”
As the horses finished their warm-ups and the trainers had their last words with the jockeys, the trill of trumpets demanded they begin fitting themselves in the gates.
Below the doors were pacing hooves, one thousand pounds wound into these tightly coiled marvels of nature, and pacing shoes from anxious money holes, a gambler’s dance.
Everyone was quiet as the last horse was ebbed into its gate. I leaned on the railing to look, but so was everyone else who stood trackside.
Then, the shriek of a brass bell, and sudden thunder rumbled the entire ground as beasts whipped past us so fast that if I blinked, I’d miss them. I lowered my parasol quickly, dirt kicked up as they passed, smacking against the fabric instead of my face.
Whistling and shouts of encouragement erupted, as if it would feed their horse of choice and bless the wind under its feet. I swore if the rapture came, the crowd would mistake it for a nearby derby and reach for their wallets.
By the second lap, the jockeys were already covered in as much mud as the bottom of my dress. The horses glistened as they whipped by, covered in mud and sweat, frothing at the bits as they lived the most freedom they’d had in their three years of life by far.
The last lap was due. I readied my parasol again, and before I knew it, my fascinator was blown off by the last pass of the herd.
Men on all sides were either exclaiming or throwing their hats. I supposed there would always be more losers than winners, but it was hard to tell from the crowd.
“Shoot, I missed it. Who won?” I mumbled.
Arkady rolled his eyes; he didn’t answer.
“Does this mean my polka-dot pony won?” I twisted the parasol playfully between my fingers, turning my chin up to Arkady. “Sore loser about your debt, now?”
“No,” he mumbled. “Remind me to bet money next time you pick a horse.”
I looped my arm in his, tapping my head on his arm. “Next time, after I cash in that favor.”
He nudged me, but I caught a sly smile.
“What will your favor be, then?” He sighed in defeat.
It was one thing to have a favor, it was another to pick only one.
“France.” I looked up at him. “One day, with all your riches from being the most famous sculptor the world has ever seen, I would like you to bring me back to France. Far away from people, just us.”
“You’re trading a favor for a hypothetical?” He smirked. “I’ll accept it, but I thought you’d ask for something more instantaneous.”
“I could have, but it gives me something to daydream about, don’t you agree?”
“I’ll agree with whatever you like, it’s your favor.” He shook his head, amused by my conjecture.
I closed my eyes among the noise. I thought I didn’t like events, or socializing, or people, for that matter. It could be that I just had never gotten to experience anything with people who were fun. Arkady made everything new, he made adventure fun again, even if I wouldn’t admit it to him.
Something warm inside me blossomed at the idea. He and I against the world. What a blissful thought.