Chapter 25
Alec
Signs featuring horses dominate the roadsides as we draw closer to the old-money city of Lakewood, Kentucky. We’re in bona fide horse country now. Winding roads pave the way to expensive homes. Stacks deposits me and Tegan just outside a neighborhood, then drives away to take the others further in.
I point at the horses on the sign. “This one should be easy enough. In the evening, they return to their fancy homes after being with their fancy horses all day. I grabbed mostly horse and home magazines for this one.”
She nods, and we head down the line of houses. After a few unanswered knocks, the door to a home with the most meticulously manicured lawn I’ve ever seen opens up. A woman with a long, tight ponytail stares back at us.
“Hello, ma’am. My name is Ricky, and this is Beatrice. We’re trying to fundraise for a good cause.”
“What cause?”
Tegan lifts her chin and takes a step forward. “My horse has braces on all four legs because he was born with skeletal deformities. Vet bills are stacking up, and if I have any hope of turning him into a show horse, I need to come up with at least five thousand dollars.”
The lady puts her hand to her chest. “It sounds like that poor soul needs to be euthanized.”
“Oh no, he doesn’t. See, little Jeffrey was born on a truck that my father was driving. A drunk driver slammed into them, killing my father and Jeffrey’s mother on impact. The horse is all I have left. This is what my father would have wanted.”
“For his daughter to beg for money?”
Tegan grabs my phone from her pocket and pulls something up on the internet. It’s a picture of a tiny, disabled horse with braces on all its legs. It is cute, I’ll give her that.
“Tell Jeffrey that he deserves to die because his new momma is an orphan and can’t afford his medical care.” She turns the screen toward the woman, and her face softens.
“What are you selling?” the woman asks.
Tegan drags her backpack off her shoulder and rifles through it. She pulls out several horse magazines. “One-year subscriptions with no obligation to continue.”
“I don’t really read magazines . . .”
We’re losing her. I look beyond her and see a picture of her on top of a black-and-white paint horse.
“Is that your horse?” I ask, gesturing toward the picture.
The woman takes a step back and lets me inside, not wanting to give up an opportunity to brag. “That’s Murphy. That photo was taken after we won the regional championship five years ago.”
“He’s stunning, and might I say, his rider is beautiful too!”
I catch the heat of jealousy firing up behind me, but I have a particular set of skills that will help us both in the long run. And it works. Red blooms on the woman’s cheeks, and she looks away.
“Are you selling the magazines too, young man?”
“I am. To help Beatrice.”
“I’ll take ten subscriptions. Any of the dressage magazines or warm-blood-breed magazines.” She leads us inside, then fills out the order forms before looking back at Tegan. “I’ll buy one for little Jeff too,” she says as she plucks a random magazine from my hand.
“Jeffrey,” Tegan whispers, the hint of annoyance not at all subtle.
We leave with eleven orders worth of cash. Tegan looks annoyed as we walk what feels like a mile just to get off this woman’s property.
“Pup.”
She ignores me, so I grab her arm to stop her.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
“I had that sale! You didn’t need to get involved.”
“She was figuring out how to close the door in our faces, trust me.”
“So you had to flirt your way inside?”
I sigh. “Women like her don’t like horses.
She likes her horses. Something that can win her money, not cost her money.
It was a good story, Tegan, and it would have worked on a nice farmhand or groom or something.
Their staff. Some of these people just hop on a horse that’s already tacked up and ready to go.
I’m telling you, that horse probably never saw a treat or pat that didn’t benefit the rider.
The cute little monstrosity you found on the internet couldn’t tug at heartstrings that don’t exist, so I just greased her palms with a few compliments. ”
“Yeah, yeah. I did great, but you did better.”
“When I get sales, so do you.” I hand her a few orders and the cash, and she stares at the wad before pocketing it. “It doesn’t matter how we get them as long as we get them.”
God, I hope I can get us away from the crew and on our own soon. I’d run a crew so much better than Stacks. I want nothing more than to be the boss instead of just another pion to some jerkoff. I want to be something more than this.
For me.
For Tegan.
My phone vibrates in Tegan’s pocket, and she hands it to me. When I open the message, my heart sinks. It’s from Delia, and when the photo loads, it’s a picture of Tegan between me and Tye through the motel window, and all of us are naked.
This bitch.
My heart picks up its pace in my chest, and my lungs constrict until I can’t draw a breath. If Delia sends this picture to Stacks, she could ruin everything. And I don’t know how to stop her.