"Hi, Mr. Auguste, so wonderful to see you! Your table is ready; follow me."
Damen nods and takes my hand, leading me through a room full of couples, retirees, single men, groups of women, a father and his young son-not an empty seat in the house. Eventually stopping at a table just across from the finish line, with a beautiful view of the track and the green hills beyond.
"Tony will be right over to take your orders. Should I bring you champagne?"
Damen glances at me then shakes his head. His face flushing slightly when he says, "Not today."
"Very well then, five minutes 'til post."
"Champagne?" I whisper, raising my brows, but he just shrugs and unfolds his racing program.
"What do you think about Spanish Fly?" He looks at me. Smiling when he says, "The horse, not the aphrodisiac."
But I'm too busy gazing around to answer, struggling to take it all in. Because this room is not only huge, but it's also completely full-in the middle of the week-the middle of the day even.
All these people playing hooky and betting. It's like a whole other world I never knew existed.
And I can't help but wonder if this is where he spends all his free time.
"So what do you say? You wanna bet?" He glances at me briefly; before making a series of notes with his pen.
I shake my head. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."
"Well, I could give you the whole lowdown on odds, percentages, stats, and who sired who. But since we're short on time, why don't you just look this over, and tell me what you feel, which names you're drawn to. It's always worked for me." He smiles.
He tosses me the racing form and I look it over, surprised to find three distinct names jump out at me, in a one-two-three order. "How about Spanish Fly to win, Acapulco Lucy second, and…"
"Well, now I get why you're not all that into school. I guess it can't really compete, can it?" I laugh, still feeling high from my winnings, thinking I've finally found a profitable outlet for my psychic gift.
"Come on, I want to buy you something to celebrate my big win," he says, leading me into the gift shop.
"No, you don't have to-" I start.
But he squeezes my hand, his lips on my ear as he says, "I insist. Besides, I think I can afford it. But there's one condition."
I look at him.
"Absolutely no sweatshirts or hoodies." He laughs. "But anything else, just say the word."
After joking around and insisting on a jockey cap, a model horse, and a huge bronze horseshoe to hang on my bedroom wall, we settle on a silver horse-bit bracelet instead. But only after I made sure that the crystal bits were really just crystal, not diamonds, because that would be too much, no matter how much money he won.
"This way, no matter what happens, you'll never forget this day," he says, closing the clasp on my wrist as we wait for the valet to bring us the car.
"How could I possibly forget?" I ask, gazing at my wrist, then at him.
But he just shrugs as he climbs in beside me and there's something so sad, so bereft in his eyes, I hope that's the one thing I do forget.
Unfortunately, the ride home seems even quicker than the one to the track and when he pulls into my driveway, I realize how reluctant I am for the day to end.
"Would you look at that?" he says, motioning to the clock on his dash. "Well before midnight, just like I promised." And when he leans in to kiss me, I kiss him back with so much enthusiasm I practically drill him onto my seat.
"Can I come in?" he whispers, tempting me with his lips as they make their way down my ear, my neck, and all along my collarbone.
And I surprise myself by pushing him away and shaking my head. Not just because Sabine's inside and I have homework to do, but because I need to get a backbone already, stop giving in to him so dang easily.
"I'll see you at school," I say, climbing out of his car, before he can change my mind. "You remember, Bay View? That high school you used to attend?"
He averts his gaze and sighs.
"Don't tell me you're ditching-again?"
"School is so dreadfully boring. I don't know how you do it."
"You don't know how I do it?" I shake my head and glance to ward the house, seeing Sabine peek through the blinds and then pulling away. Then I turn back to Damen and say, "Well, I guess I do it the same way you used to do it. You know; you get up, get dressed, and just go. And sometimes, if you pay attention, you actually learn a thing or two while you're there." But the second it's out of my mouth, I know it's a lie. Because the truth is, I haven't learned a damn thing all year. I mean, it's hard to actually learn anything when you just sort of know everything instead. Though it's not like I share that with him.