Flamethrower - Maggie Estep [33]
“You okay?”
She sat up and saw Triple Harrison walking toward her.
“I’m fine. Can you get the horse?”
Jack was standing a few feet away, reins dangling, gazing at Ruby with what looked like concern.
Triple took him by the bridle.
“You sure you’re okay?” Triple asked as Ruby brushed herself off.
“Yeah,” Ruby said. She had never been worse. And her hand hurt. There was blood on her palm where she’d scraped against a small rock.
“Hey, you’re bleeding,” Triple said.
“It’s fine,” Ruby said.
She walked over to her horse, lowered the stirrup, and got back on.
Triple went to stand just outside the paddock and wisely kept his mouth shut even though Ruby knew he probably had a whole lot to say.
Ruby and Jack circled the paddock. She was more relaxed now, and the horse responded by lengthening his strides and dropping his head. They went around three times before Ruby dismounted.
“What possessed you to do that?” Triple couldn’t contain himself anymore.
“My life is a wreck,” Ruby shrugged. She turned her back to Triple and started leading Jack to the barn.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Triple was tagging along at Ruby’s side.
“I had to do something drastic. So I rode my horse.”
“What happened to your head?” he asked after a few beats.
“Fell off my bike,” Ruby said.
“Bike and horse both, huh?”
“Yup.”
“Ruby, what’s wrong?” Triple asked. They were inside the barn now. Ruby’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dimness yet so she couldn’t see Triple very well.
“Wrong?” she asked, as she started untacking the horse.
“You’re being distant,” Triple said.
“What’s with the pictures, Triple?” She didn’t really think he’d had anything to do with said pictures, but she was taking a stab in the dark.
“Pictures?” Triple tilted his head. “What pictures?”
“Of you,” Ruby said. “And me,” she added, dropping her voice.
“You and me?” Triple looked intrigued but baffled.
“Never mind,” Ruby said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh no you don’t. What are you talking about?”
“Incriminating pictures. Of me. With you.” Ruby refused to look at Triple. She had gotten her curry comb out and was vigorously working on Jack Valentine.
“But we haven’t done anything incriminating,” Triple pointed out.
“I realize that. But someone took photos that look incriminating.”
“Why?”
“To piss off my boyfriend, for one.”
“They showed them to your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, man.” Triple scratched his head. “Why?”
“That’s what I don’t understand.”
“You got enemies?”
“Apparently.”
Triple shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I’d never do something like that to you.”
“I didn’t really think you were behind this.”
“You must have. Why ask me?”
“I don’t know,” Ruby shrugged. “Just checking I guess.”
Triple looked offended, and Ruby felt like an idiot. They fell silent. Triple watched Ruby groom her horse. Then, feeling sorry for Ruby, Triple helped her out with her barn chores. They worked in amiable silence, with the barn radio tuned to some off-the-wall program on WKCR that alternated New Music with obscure, stripped-down hip-hop.
Now and then, Locksley wove between Ruby’s legs or meowed at her. In their stalls, the horses munched hay and napped.
It was peaceful, but Ruby didn’t feel that way.
When she drove away from the barn two hours later, Ruby knew what she had to do.
12. GAME
“I’ve watched you guys all my life. I know what to do,” Ruby told Glenda, the heavily tattooed, chain-smoking woman who managed the Kentucky Derby horse-racing game at Astroland.
“Honey, watching and doing is two different things,” Glenda said.
The ash on Glenda’s cigarette was at least an inch long. Ruby stared at it, wondering when Glenda would flick it.
“Anyway,” Glenda