Women - Charles Bukowski [245]
103
I took Tanya to Santa Anita. The current sensation was a 16 year old jockey still riding with his 5 pound bug advantage. He was from the east and was riding at Santa Anita for the first time. The track was offering a prize of $10,000 to the person who could pick the winner of the feature race, but his or her entry had to be plucked out of all the other entries. One person was drawn for each horse and it went from there.
We drove in about the 4th race and the suckers had the place filled to capacity. All the seats were gone and there was no parking left. Track personnel directed us into a nearby shopping center. They had busses to shuttle us in. They would let us walk back after the last race.
“This is madness. I feel like going back,” I told Tanya.
She took a pull from her pint. “Fuck it,” she said, “we’re here.”
After we got inside I knew a special place to sit, comfortable and isolated, and I took her there. The only thing wrong was that the children had discovered it too. They ran about kicking up dust and screaming, but it was better than standing.
“We’re leaving after the 8th race,” I told Tanya. “The last of these people won’t get out of here until midnight.”
“I’ll bet a racetrack would be a good place to pick up men.”
“The hookers work the clubhouse.”
“Did a hooker ever pick you up out here?”
“Once, but it didn’t count.”
“Why?”
“I already knew her.”
“Aren’t you afraid of catching something?”
“Of course, that’s why most men will only take head.”
“You like head?”
“Why, sure.”
“When do we bet?”
“Right now.”
Tanya followed me to the betting windows. I went to the $5 window. She stood beside me.
“How do you know who to bet?”
“Nobody knows. Basically, it’s a simple system.”
“Like what?”
“Well, generally the best horse goes off at the shortest odds, and as the horses get progressively worse the odds mount. But, the so-called ‘best’ horse only wins one third of the time at odds of less than 3 to one.”
“Can you bet every horse in the race?”
“Yes, if you want to get poor fast.”
“Do many people win?”
“I’d say that about one person out of 20 or 25 wins.”
“Why do they come?”
“I’m no shrink, but I’m here, and I imagine a few shrinks are here too.”
I bet the 6 horse 5 win and we went out to watch the race. I always preferred a horse with early lick, especially if he had quit in his last race. The players called them “quitters” but you always got a better price for the same kind of ability that you got with a “closer.” I got 4 to one on my “quitter”; he won by 2 and ½ lengths and paid $10.20 for $2. I was $25.50 ahead.
“Let’s get a drink,” I said to Tanya. “The bartender makes the best Bloody Marys in Southern California.”
We went to the bar. They asked for Tanya’s I.D. We got our drinks.
“Who do you like in the next race?” Tanya asked.
“Zag-Zig.”
“Do you think he’ll win?”
“Do you have two breasts?”
“Have you noticed?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the ladies’ room?”
“Turn right twice.”
As soon as Tanya left I ordered another BM. A black guy walked up to me. He was around 50. “Hank, man, how are you doing?”
“I’m holding on.”
“Man, we really miss you down at the P.O. You were one of the funniest guys we ever had. I mean, we miss you down there.”
“Thanks, tell the boys I said hello.”
“What are you doing now, Hank?”
“Oh, I pound a typewriter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I pound a typewriter….”
I held both hands up and tapped down at the air.
“You mean you’re a clerk-typist?”
“No, I write.”
“Write what?”
“Poems, short stories, novels. They pay me for that.”
He looked at me. Then he turned and walked off.
Tanya came back. “Some son-of-a-bitch tried to pick me up!”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I should have gone with you.”
“He was very brash! I really hate those types! They’re slime!”
“If they only had some originality it might help. They just don’t have any imagination. It might be why they are alone.”
“I’m going to bet Zag-Zig.”
“I’ll buy you a ticket….”
Zag-Zig just didn’t stoke up.