Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Ten: Head to Head

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As Cailen drove away from the curb in front of Cinda’s house Joan asked, “Do you know your way back from here?”

“To the track, but you’ll have to direct me to your place.”

“No, go to the track. I’ll put on a pot of coffee and drive myself home later.”

“I’m not taking you to the track.”

“But my truck’s there.”

“Precisely the point.”

“Without my truck, how am I supposed to get to the barn tomorrow morning?”

“Tell me what time to pick you up, and I’ll be there.”

“Cailen, be reasonable.”

Cailen smiled in the condescending manner of a sober person dealing with an inebriated one. “You be reasonable. Your little drinking buddy and you had four of those things each. Would you approve of Brie driving after that?”

Joan’s legs were extended out as straight as she could get them and she punched her hands deeply into her jeans pockets as she sighed defeat. “I suppose not.”

“And put your seatbelt on, please.”

Joan had moved over to Brie’s vacated spot. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to see that the belt, indeed, was not fastened.

“Brie and I are drinking buddies, you know.”

“Really?” You’re reaching a really cute phase of your buzz, now. Please let it be over soon.

“Yes, I’d call us that, as we only drink to intoxication, as a rule, once a year and that is with each other.”

“Christmas eggnog?”

Surprise spread across Joan’s features. “She told you about our Christmases?”

“The eggnog part—and the marriage proposal part.”

Joan rocked her head back in tender recollection. “It’s always very romantic.” Then she sat up straighter and got more serious. “Okay, no fair. You know a lot about me, especially after all these tales Brie initiated today. I know almost nothing about you. Tell me things about you.”

“You know lots about me.”

“Not really. You told me you’ve been friends with Brie for thirteen or fourteen years, I know you ride like a dream and have a rare, deep affinity with horses and there’s a ‘complicated’ girlfriend tucked away somewhere.”

Cailen was so happy to be alone with Joan that she set aside the hopelessness of the situation to simply revel in her company for these few minutes.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“But it’s not stories like the Sassy at the gym story and the frozen water pipe story.”

“You want a story. Okay, does it have to be funny like those?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Does it have to involve nudity like those?”

“Optional.”

“Let me see, then.” Cailen stared at the road ahead briefly before coming up with, “Okay, that friend whose house we left Brie at, Cinda? Do you know her?”

“No, but I gathered that you both have for a while. Where do you know her from?”

“Racetracks all over. Arlington, Hialeah, here. Anyway, Brie ruined a car of mine once delivering a baby in the back seat, Cinda’s first little girl. You wouldn’t believe the mess that makes.”

Joan scootched around beneath her seat belt, fidgeting with interest. “Brie actually delivered a baby? Tell me how that happened.”

“Well, the three of us, or four depending on how you count, had the afternoon off and for some reason, even though Cinda was about due, we drove way out of town to a deserted quarry, just exploring. So, of course,” Cailen made a dour face, “Cinda’s water broke all over that gray quarry stone and we had to help her back to the car and onto the rear seat where she could lie down and, did you hear Brie say Cinda has four of them now?”

“Four children? Yes.”

“Well, she drops them like calves in a field or whatever drops its babies really fast, at least the first three, which are how many I knew about. So, she went into labor there in my car and Brie just hopped over the seatback and improvised everything, but delivered it safe and perfectly healthy.”

Joan’s eyes were alight. “That’s amazing. And Brie’s so crazy about kids. Was she ecstatic? Or in shock?”

“You’d have thought she was the daddy or something. Did I mention that the car was useless after that?”

Joan laughed hard. “Yes you did, and I have to say I’d have felt the same way. Gruesome business, birth. Joan stopped laughing at a thought, and said very seriously, “I’m sure you know Brie fully intends to have children.”

Cailen winced. “Yeah, she’s obsessed.”

“Some women simply cannot ignore the tick of that biological clock.”

“Brie’s chimes on the hour, I think.”

Joan clapped her agreement. “What a great story! More.”

“More?” Cailen was laughing too now. “That one was hard enough to come up with. Help me out, ask a distinct question.”

Before she could catch herself, Joan said, “What’s her name?”

“Whose?”

“Your lover’s.”

All the lightheartedness evaporated from their mood and Cailen chose her words carefully. “Joan, in trying to spare you some unpleasant details I might have given the wrong impression of my circumstances at home.”

Joan remained silent, weighing the words.

Cailen’s finger tipped the heater fan switch. “Brie really craves tropical conditions. Mind if I turn this down?”

A bemused grin settled on Joan’s face. “You’re aware of my abnormal metabolism, yes, please do.” She had carried her vest to the truck in anticipation of an overly warm cab with Brie aboard, and with Cailen’s mention of temperature, rolled up her shirtsleeves.

Because of driving in unfamiliar territory, Cailen was able to steal only brief, unsatisfying glimpses of Joan. She saw that last smile dawn though, and continued to tease herself with single-frame shots of Joan’s jacketless figure. “You look great in that shirt.” I can’t do this. I can’t help myself.

“Must be one hell of a shirt. Brie made a point of requesting that I wear it.”

That confirmed Cailen’s hunch. Even before the afternoon’s machinations, seemingly designed to throw Joan and her at one another, Cailen had been suspicious about Brie’s discontinuation of afternoon invitations to the room. Not that Cailen could have accepted while feeling the way she did about Joan.

“Brie’s a special girl.” Cailen meant it in a variety of ways.

“Yes, Brie is special. Funny you should mention there could be a miscommunication between us concerning your girlfriend. For some reason, Brie suggested we revisit that topic.”

Cailen snickered at Brie’s acumen. “And how did she happen to be on the topic?”

“You aroused her attention when you mentioned I had gone to lift weights several nights ago.”

“I don’t get it.”

Joan rolled her eyes, an exaggerated expression that betrayed the lingering tequila effect. “Brie knows me so well it’s frightening sometimes. When suffering from a romantic disappointment, not an unusual occurrence, I lift weights at night to exhaust myself before going to bed. Brie knows that, and it didn’t take much for her to deduce that you are the source this time.”

“Joan, you can’t convince me you’ve had that much romantic disappointment in your life. You’re criminally attractive and you know it.” Shut up.

“Well, Cailen, thank you but as it turns out, I am eminently leavable.”

Smiling, Cailen countenanced herself to just ease back and let the conversation bump harmlessly along. No sense in spoiling Joan’s high.

“Eminently leavable.” Cailen flattened the pitch of her voice. “Would that be a reference to Justine?”

With no trace of self-pity, Joan recounted, “Justine. And Kate, and Amanda, and Cheryl.”

Cailen performed a shallow but reverent half-bow from behind her steering wheel. “Your Eminence,” she intoned respectively.

Joan cordially accepted the accolade with a regal hand flourish.

Cailen added, “So, what’s your main defect? Bad temper?”

Now it was Joan’s turn to choose words carefully. “Cailen, I meant to thank you for being so amiable throughout lunch, considering how you feel about what I did to Bean today.”

“Really? How do I feel about that?”

“The specifics I can only speculate over. Disappointment, disgust, disapproval. Something along those lines. I couldn’t help noticing how abruptly you left after the festivities this morning.”

Cailen slowly nodded understanding. “I did have to leave, but you’ve got the reason all wrong, trust me.”

Joan’s descent to clear and perfect sobriety had been steep and she was silent for a few moments, absorbing the landing.

If not for the mess waiting back in Chicago and the unfairness of drawing Joan into her life before attending to that, Cailen would have stopped the truck and admitted she had not been able to endure the sight of another woman holding Joan so intimately, even Brie, even in jest. She would have explained about needing to get far and fast away from that to keep from making a fool of herself. But for the present, bringing those feelings to light was a disclosure Cailen considered beyond the bounds of selfishness.

“Know what, Joan?”

“What?”

“One of the spices they use in that Tex-Mex always makes me want doughnuts an hour or two after eating it. Let’s take a dozen back to the barn and have them with Penny. By the time they’re all gone and she’s finished eating I might even let you drive yourself home.”

“I shouldn’t, but thanks.”

Desperate to dispel the dejection she’d sensed in Joan since bringing up the morning’s unpleasantness, Cailen pleaded, “Come on. I’ll tell you about Lara and me.”

Lara. Shit! Great name. “You will?”

“Guess I just said I would.” At times, Cailen could not believe her own lack of good judgment.

“Get the doughnuts.” Joan sincerely hoped that learning some details about Lara would make her more real, would somehow ease the preoccupation with Cailen, once and for all.

Cailen declared seriously, “There’s one very important piece of information I need from you first though, and I’m terrified of what you’ll say.”

Joan answered Cailen’s gravity by sitting straighter and turning a notch more sideways. “Please, anything, ask me.”

“Do you harbor any, and I mean any inclinations toward washing down doughnuts with beer?”

Joan suddenly understood exactly why Brie could so often be seen bopping Cailen in the head. “Never previously, but if you continue to be such a brat I might make you try it.”

*****

There was no mistaking Penny’s approval of Joan’s dinnertime return, to say nothing of the mints.

As she affectionately watched Joan’s attentions to the filly, Cailen said, “We haven’t spoken much lately, but I’ve been meaning to tell you how much fun Penny and I are having on our jogs after training. We jog a bit then we take little tours of the barn area that she seems to relish. She’s such a character, Joan. And smart? If she had a bigger body she’d make a heck of a lead pony.”

Joan turned happily from Penny’s mint-seeking muzzle, about to comment generally on the sociability and intelligence of horses, but Cailen’s aspect arrested her mid-motion. A sensation, identical to the hot flush of welling tears, filled Joan’s abdomen and pierced downward, a rush remarkable in its fusion of sexual surge and desolate sadness.

For a time, they teetered on a fine-edged fulcrum, Joan flooding with need and the absolute refusal to fill it, Cailen captivated by the unhidden longing in Joan's eyes.

Finally Joan, her voice far off-balance, said, “Cailen, I’m not this strong. I wish so much that I were, but I’m not. I have to go.”

Cailen was as calm as Joan was unsteady as she held her ground in the doorway, barring exit. When Joan tried to slip past, Cailen steered her path back to center, gently guiding her by the shoulders. Through the worn black cotton fabric of Joan’s shirt, her strong triceps, firm and fluid in the way only fit female muscles can be, trembled under Cailen’s fingers.

“Are you actually cold?”

“Maybe. Yes, I guess so. My truck heater is a good one though, and I really need to get out of here, Cailen. Please let me go.”

“You aren’t going to your truck. You’re coming with me to the tack room where it’s already warm.”

“What about Penny?”

Cailen looked past Joan, whom she still held firmly to the spot, toward the gleaming copper filly. “Penny, baby, this is test night for you. I’m taking Joan to the office to tell her a story about my past. It’s your job to eat without having us in the stall with you. We’ll be nearby. Right, Joan?”

Relenting, Joan weakly affirmed, “Right.”

The juices that had rushed to suffuse Joan’s lower regions were trying to reabsorb all at once, leaving her legs rubbery. Feeling as if she’d been stampeded, she gratefully dropped into the familiar comfort of the chair behind her desk.

Cailen pulled a padded folding chair across the desk from Joan and began, “Lara’s a barrel racer, a very good one. Some friends and I were at a rodeo in Cincinnati the first time I saw her. She took top place that night and since one of my friends had gone to school with her, we were all invited out to celebrate afterward. That’s how we met.

“We dated for only a few weeks before moving in together, a little over five years ago. Brie, by the way, never approved of Lara. I had such a hard time understanding at first, how two people I loved so much could possibly not love, or even like, each other.” Cailen put her feet on the desk, since Joan’s were already up there.

The sun had been set for a while and the office’s stark overhead light was on, compounding the headache that was closing in on Joan.

Cailen continued, “Anyway, be careful of ever discounting Brisada’s instincts. I was off the racetrack by then, doing IT consulting for a really nice firm. Not all corporations are greedy and disreputable, I’ve found.” Cailen grinned. “Same as the way all thoroughbred trainers aren’t necessarily heartless egomaniacs. That’s a misconception you’ve divested me of. And thank you.”

“Is that why you were so short with me the first few days you were here?”

“Yes, sorry. Anyway, Lara spent a lot of time on the road without me, since my job kept me in Chicago.” Cailen swung her feet to the concrete floor. “Okay, here’s the accelerated version. I built the house Lara asked for and cleared her way to ride as much as she wanted. Three years ago, I discovered she had been—how can I put this—unfaithful, on a regular basis, since six months after we got together.” Cailen stood and crossed the room to straighten a bridle on its hook. “Brie has a more colorful way of describing the whole thing. Ask her for her version sometime.”

“Yours is the only version I want to hear.” Joan could imagine Brie must have wanted to kill Lara for hurting Cailen like that. Joan certainly could have.

“So, there you have it. I’ve spent the years after finding out about it making vain attempts at breaking up with Lara.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“No. Honestly, no.”

“Then why three whole years? I don’t understand.”

“At first there were arguments, of course, and I’d tell her it was over, but she’d convince me things would be different.” She sneaked a sheepish look at Joan. “Stupid of me, I know.”

“Not by my standards.”

“So anyway, I’d fall for it and we’d try again, but by that time I was less trusting and she never really tried very hard to cover her tracks.” Cailen was seated again, feet on the desk. She stopped speaking and studied the tips of her sneakers while Joan studied her face.

Cailen looked up. “What are you thinking?”

“Right that second? My instantaneous thought?”

“Yeah.”

“At that second, I had decided on blue as the color of your eyes tonight, in here. Earlier, in the stall, they were green I thought. And definitely gray at the restaurant this afternoon.”

Cailen grinned. “I’m glad you aren’t ignoring me anymore.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, that was self-preservation and not very courageous of me. I’m sorry if you were hurt by it. We won’t go back to that, okay?”

“Good. Well, there’s my story. Not a very nice one.”

Joan sat forward, her elbows coming to rest on the desk calendar’s edge. “Hold on, I have questions.”

“Like?”

“Like, why are you in Louisville, and are you two still periodically reconciling?”

Cailen shook her head. “The time for reconciliation is over. I originally came here to be out of the way until Lara headed out in mid-November for one of her big rodeo events.”

“But it’s past that now.”

“Yeah, it is. Meeting up with Brie kind of changed my plans. Now I want to stick it out here until the end of this semester, help her through it.”

“Then what?”

“Then go home, sell the house, give plenty of notice to the company I do consulting for.”

“And Lara?” Joan girded herself for the answer, but needed to know.

“This time she can throw all the fits she likes. It’s really over. It has been over for a long time.”

“Are you being honest with yourself about that, Cailen? Not too many days ago you pushed me away because of her.”

Cailen shook her head again, “No, not because of her, because of me. I told you I’m not free, which is true, and then let you fill in the blanks as to the reason.”

God, you’re exasperating. “Then tell me what ‘not free’ means.”

“Joan, I loved Lara so much. I promised, many times, that I’d always love her. I was absolutely sure I’d always love her. And now I don’t. Now there’s none of that left.”

“Cailen, that happens. And it sounds as if you’ve been given good cause for your feelings to change.”

Cailen waved her hand dismissively, “The reason is incidental. What I can’t get over is the certainty I had about loving her and staying with her no matter what happened. Now I don’t love her and am not going to stay with her. How can I ever trust that feeling again? If I ever said those things, felt those things again, how could I believe myself, knowing I’ve said and meant them before, yet did leave her and did stop loving her? I’m not free until I sell that house, leave by the front door, and figure out the answers to those questions. To me, that’s equivalent to being bound by fidelity.”

Something about Cailen’s reasoning wasn’t quite washing with Joan. “Not a bit tough on yourself, are you?”

A visibly pleased Brie opened the door on their conversation. “Do you two have any idea what time it is?”

They looked up at the wall clock. Ten-thirty.

Joan jumped to her feet. “Shit! I still have to figure out tomorrow’s schedule.” She collected the morning’s workout times from the top drawer and extended an open palm to Cailen. “My keys, please.”

Cailen laughed. “How did you know?”

“Saw you pilfer them from the hook before we left this afternoon. She probably stole yours too, Brie, if she could get to them.” Joan’s eyes bore into Cailen’s.

Cailen returned both sets of keys. “I take my designated driver duties very seriously.”

“Apparently.” Joan was fully mobilized, organizing her mind around the next day’s demands. “Did you eat supper, Brie?”

“A little, at Cinda’s, but I’m still full from lunch.”

“Bull. Cailen bought doughnuts and we had plenty left.”

“Doughnuts?”

Cailen headed for the door, saying, “They’re still down by Penny’s stall, let me get them for you.”

Joan rounded her desk, heading for the door too. “Goodnight, Cailen, I’ll be out of here in thirty seconds. See you in the morning.”

Brie enjoyed a ringside seat from which to watch their eyes find each other again and linger briefly before Cailen smiled and said, “See you in the morning, then.”

© 2006 Margo Moon

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Nine: Down The Backstretch

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.



Sagebrush Restaurant offered typical Tex-Mex décor and fare. Its multi-level, rambling layout drew nearly no clientele at two-thirty on a Monday afternoon and the few patrons who did grace the establishment sat or stood near the bar. Brie had appointed herself to run this outing, so when the hostess finally showed up she had a specific seating request ready.

“We’d like a non-smoking area in one of the rear rooms, please. And a booth would be good.”

On the drive over, Brie had mentally rehearsed how she would manipulate the seating arrangement so that Joan and Cailen would have to sit next to each other. And her plan worked well, except for Cailen being plastered against the wall and Joan nearly teetering on the edge of the other end of their bench seat. To sit any further apart, Cailen would have to penetrate the wall or Joan would have to sit on the floor.

Brie took in the ambiance. “Have you ever in your life seen fakier authenticity?”

Cailen ordered the brand of beer Joan had brought to Penny’s stall on the easygoing nights before the kiss.

Joan shrugged her vest off and allowed it to fall against the booth back. Cailen had only ever seen her wearing the stiff sided, insulated vest that hit her at mid-hip. This new vision of Joan’s exquisite shoulders, breasts slightly fuller than the vest had hinted at, and a flat stomach that Cailen had the unusual impulse to lay her head against drew a shudder from her that Brie caught, but Joan did not. Cailen’s eyes jerked to Brie’s, checking for interception of the reaction, but Brie could be stoic, and betrayed none of her delight.

As they considered their menus, Brie teased, “Joan, I expect you’ll be eating for two, since you are working out so industriously these days.”

“I expect so.” Joan shot Brie a warning glance before addressing Cailen. “Try not to look this way during our meal. Brie’s right, the sight of me eating can be less than delicate when I’m ravenous.”

“Now I’ll have to look. Sorry.” Cailen smiled, but didn’t break consultation with her menu.

Joan rolled her eyes. “Great.” If she weren’t terrified of being alone with Cailen, she’d have pulled her aside to discuss, one on one, that morning’s incident. Believing she’d disappointed Cailen was clouding her mood more than the attack itself or the prospect of losing her license to train horses. Suddenly, it struck Joan that she hadn’t yet fully faced Cailen since the attack on Bean.

She turned to her left on the high-backed bench and looked directly into Cailen’s eyes, saying lightly, “As I imagine you’re aware of Cailen, we’re in for a treat this afternoon if Senorita Contenta braves more than one margarita.”

“Treat, eh? Guess that’s one word for it. I don’t know how she acts with you, Joan, but Brie tends to point out my faults in great detail when she’s influenced by bitter waters.”

“Hmm.” Joan rocked her head slightly to one side. “It’s the opposite with me. All I hear are compliments, veiled in sarcasm, yes, but I’m certain they’re meant to be flattering.”

Neither woman had been so present in a moment since the last time they’d spoken playfully in Penny’s stall, before the kiss, before the barriers went up.

“What you’re saying is that it’s all a matter of how you interpret her comments? I might borrow that tactic, if you don’t mind.”

“Please, be my guest.”

Brie would have objected, but she enjoyed attention. Anyway, the verbal exchange was entirely independent of another dialogue being spoken with their eyes, and that one she definitely did not want to interrupt.

“Speaking of drinks,” Brie said, and sat back to give their server space for laying out napkins and setting down glasses.

Purely without thinking, Joan twisted off the cap of Cailen’s beer before handing it to her, a move that Cailen accepted just as casually and without question.

Brie nearly chuckled out loud.

By their second round of margaritas, Joan and Brie had begun prefacing sentences with ‘Remember that time when …’ and Cailen’s sides ached from laughing at their recollected exploits. Eventually, one of the stories hit on the topic of Sassy Rainier. Cailen did not enjoy replaying the image of Sassy fawning and falling over Joan.

Brie said, “You know, Joan, you are an incredibly sexist person.”

Before dealing with this remark, Joan said, “See, Cailen? Now, some people might take that as an affront. I prefer to take it as admiration for my disregard of political correctness and all the phoniness that accompanies its practice.” Then to Brie, “And upon what do you base your assessment?”

“On the fact that if Rainier Farms were a man and tried half, one-tenth, of the stuff with you that she does you’d have his ass in a sling.”

Joan mulled this over another draft of slushy intoxicant. “True. You know, that is awfully sexist of me.”

Cailen broke in, “Has that woman always acted that way with you?”

Joan was truly impressed with Cailen’s congeniality and her ability to rise above her disapproval of the temper fit with Bean. “No, she’s become much more aggressive over the last, what, Brie? Eight or nine months?”

Brie giggled. This was child’s play. “Since whenever it was she saw you naked. That’s when she really started coming unglued.

“Explain that statement, Brisada. You’re deliberately casting me in a bad light.”

“Not what Rainier Farms said. She said the light was just fine.”

“Explanation, now.” Joan’s eyes were gorgeously playful and Cailen was suffering in more ways than Brie had for inviting a gallop girl to her room.

Brie reined in her joy and explained. “Okay, okay. Cailen, Money Bitch is practically a stalker when it comes to Joan. She had the nerve, about eight months ago,” she looked to Joan to corroborate her timing, “or, really, it started getting bad about a year ago, right Joan? That’s when Joan and Justine broke up.”

Joan nodded. “Almost exactly one year.”

“Okay, so Farms gets all encouraged as soon as Justine is out of the picture, right? And Joan keeps playing her off and everything.” The third round arrived and Brie continued, “Then Joan is at her gym one night, in the dressing room, and the curtain flies open and guess who’s standing there pretending it’s all a big coincidence? She just happened to throw back the curtain Joan was naked behind. How do you like that, Cailen?”

“Sounds like a stalker to me.” Cailen gave Joan an ominous look.

“Sassy’s harmless.”

Brie stayed on subject. “Well, you asked me when she started getting worse. That was undoubtedly the trigger. Not that I blame the depraved bitch. I mean, after I saw you naked I wanted to stalk you myself.”

“You have never seen me in a state of undress. You made that up. Cailen, she made that up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Busted water pipe.” Check and mate to Brie. She sipped triumphantly.

Joan raised fingertips to temples and winced through a smile, “Forgot about that. Brie’s correct. A couple of winters ago I got the bright idea to bang on a frozen spigot pipe—in sub-zero-degree weather. The thing burst, drenching me with water that froze on contact. Brie pulled me to her room and got me into a pair of sweats, for which I was very grateful. How did we get on this subject?”

Cailen answered, “By way of Sassy Rainier.”

“Joan does a great Rainier impersonation. Show her Joan. She practically channels her, Cailen.” Brie scooted to a more alert position.

“I’m not feeling the spirit right now.”

“Come on.”

“Okay, just the vocals though.” And Joan rendered a too-good Sassy imitation.

Brie laughed but complained, “It’s so much better with the visuals.”

“Not today.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always tell Rainier too, isn’t it? I tell you, though, when she tries to rub her breasts all over your arm, that does make me want to kill her.”

“Well, it shouldn’t bother you. They’re composed strictly of inorganic materials at this point, so it’s not like actual body parts. They’re more dangerous than intimate.” Joan drained her glass. “Stiff as boards.”

“Whatever. But I’ll tell you one thing, then let’s quit talking about Rainier.”

“What’s that?”

“You are eventually going to have to give her what she wants. You will have to sleep with Rainier so she doesn’t take her horses away. I can’t lose Jade.” Brie sipped her drink with finality.

“Brie, there are many altars upon which I’d gladly sacrifice myself for you, but the Altar of Sassy’s Wooden Bosom is not one of them.”

The chuckle that drew from Brie made Cailen aware of how grateful she was that Brie had found a friendship so deep and with someone as solid as Joan. Cailen was less consciously aware of the inescapable truth that the bond between Brie and Joan created yet another dimension to Joan’s overpowering appeal.

*****

Out in the parking lot, Brie had to tie her shoes a few steps away from Cailen’s truck, forcing Joan to sit in the middle, straddling the shifter, thigh-to-thigh with Cailen.

“Cailita, I forgot to clear this with you earlier, sorry. Would you mind dropping me off at Cinda’s house? She roped me into babysitting tonight. I should show up, but after the margaritas, I think maybe Cinda should send Harrison out to play alone.”

“Cinda and Harrison. It’s been a long time. How many kids do they have now?”

“Four. Can you believe it?”

“Of course I can. Where does she live?”

“You don’t know Louisville well enough to find it, I’ll give directions. Okay, get on the expressway here and I’ll let you know which exit to take.” Brie fiddled with the heater controls and blew warm breath into her cupped hands as she spoke.

On queue, Joan took Brie’s hands in her own. “These feel frozen. Were you cold the whole time in the restaurant?”

“Some, not bad.”

Cailen painfully recalled the feel of Joan’s warm hand that night in Penny’s stall, as Brie halfway snuggled against Joan, their entwined hands resting in Joan’s lap, right where Cailen couldn’t avoid seeing.

“Yeah, I guess I was pretty much chilled to the bone, but you’re fixing that.” Brie was nearly purring.

“Good, and the heater’s starting to kick in, so you should be fine in a minute.” Joan pulled her in more tightly.

When Cailen switched the blower on full blast and directed it toward Brie, Brie could not congratulate herself enough on Cailen’s discombobulation.

“Okay, Cailita, here comes our exit.”

It turned out that Cinda lived a good twenty minutes from the track. As Cailen and Joan’s gaze followed Brie up the narrow, grass-punctured sidewalk that led to a tiny shotgun house with an oversized stone-copinged porch, Cailen said, “She had herself a blast.”

Watching Brie hop to stay warm as she waited for an answer to the doorbell, Joan echoed Cailen’s affection, “She usually does have a blast, one way or another.”

When the door opened, Brie pivoted for a goodbye wave before being pulled in, at waist and knee levels, by three eager pairs of small, chubby hands.

Once Brie was out of sight, leaving Cailen and Joan to each other’s exclusive company for at least the next twenty minutes, they turned to each other and blew out identical nervous sighs.


© 2006 Margo Moon

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammo

We were kinda hyped Saturday afternoon as time drew near for that "Open Carry" church meeting out on Valley Station Road. If you'll remember, Starr Ann had eased Jodie and me into the idea of attending and taking our own guns - toy six-shooters and holster for Jodie, plastic AK-47 for Starr Ann, and a hot pink water gun for me.

The only thing that wasn't settled yet when it was almost time to leave was what I was gonna fill that water gun with. Holy water had been mentioned, but it wasn't really a Catholic service. It was getting late, and we didn't want to miss anything, so I was just about to settle on plain water when the idea hit me. Astroglide - the personal lubricant and moisturizer guaranteed to broker a smooth agreement over any friction that may arise between you and your favorite silicon accessory. It took us mere seconds to load up and head for church.

First thing we noticed there at New Bethel Church was a line of people waiting to have their firearms checked for ammunition. The flyer had specifically said no ammo.

For some reason, nobody really acted like they wanted to talk to us. Starr Ann tried to find some common ground by sighing real loud and saying, "I can't believe Michael Jackson's dead!"

That made everybody around us stop for a second, but then they started back up talking only to each other again pretty quick.

When we got close to the front of the line, we could see the church volunteers up there inspecting guns. They were serious as heart attacks as they carefully took each person's pride and joy and handled it like it was the perfect instrument for spreading God's dear love around.

All of a sudden it was our turn!

The man looked up at us and said real loud, "You gotta be shittin' me."

Everything got so quiet, it started feeling like church used to feel when we were little and the nuns forced us to go. Then a guy that turned out to be the pastor, Pastor Pagano (yes, take off the 'o' and you're left with Pagan - truth is stranger than fiction). So, Pastor Pagano rushes up to us all smiles and asks what's going on here.

Jodie said, "We're attending your Open Carry service, just like everyone else." She patted her toy holster. "And we brought our guns."

Pastor Pagano got a little flushed and you could tell he wasn't coming up with any ideas that might get us the hell out of there without him admitting his fondness for the Second Amendment outweighed that for the First Amendment.

Then this woman wearing a T-shirt with a Knob Creek Gun Range logo on it walked up. She kinda brushed the man of the cloth aside and gave all three of us a good lookin' at. She honed in on me and got this wide smile on her face. "Sorry, ma'am. Can't allow you into the service with ammunition in your...gun. Rules."

Dang. No way was I willing to waste that amount of Astroglide. No way.

I said, "But it's only a watery fluid. You're serving refreshments in there, aren't you? People will be drinking water and soft drinks and coffee, won't they?"

"Yes, ma'am. But in the case of that weapon, it's considered ammunition, and the rules say no ammunition."

Well, we're not the kind of cowgirls to stick around too long after being asked to leave. At least not once they get us on a technicality. Anyway, we'd made our point, so we mounted up and were ready to head back home, when this teenage girl came over and asked to pet the horses. We told her that'd be fine, and while she was out of her family's earshot, she told us about this alternative service they were holding over at Thomas Jefferson Unitarian Church.

Starr Ann asked her what kind of alternative service?

The girl had all the details. Her eyes got all light, and she said, "It's being put on by Interfaith Paths to Peace and about a dozen other spiritual and peace groups. They're calling it Bring Your Peaceful Heart...Leave Your Gun at Home, and they're having it the exact same time as this service. It's open to the public, and they're having games, poetry, art, music, and readings about peace from the world's great religions."

Jodie looked over her shoulder at the gun crowd all absorbed with their weaponry again. When she turned back, she said, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Not taking her eyes off Oatmeal, who was enjoying having his muzzle rubbed, she said, "Karen."

Jodie said, "You'd rather be at the Peace Service, wouldn't you, Karen?"

"Yes, ma'am, I guess so. I better go on, now. Thanks for letting me pet your horses."

Instead of going home, we decided to head on over to Thomas Jefferson Unitarian and check it out.

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter 8: Rail Spot

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.


In the final week before the opening day of racing, the backside’s pace and population picked up daily until barn area traffic—human, horse, and vehicular—nearly quadrupled. And as the ambient intensity amplified, so did some of Caulder barn’s internal pressures.

Cailen continued to work with Penny, in spite of the fact that the filly only ate if Cailen stayed with her, sometimes quite late. And the nights were getting colder. Even though Joan cooked good healthy meals, which she could now bear only to drop off in the office before Cailen arrived each evening, lack of sleep and sitting out in chilly, damp night air was taking its toll on Cailen’s health. She started each morning tired and achy and had a sore throat courtesy of lowered resistance.

The way Joan avoided her stirred a deep loneliness she had no means of addressing short of abandoning her silent promise to help Brie get through the semester. Cailen longed to return to Chicago and complete the breakup with Lara. Then, with any luck, she could rejoin Caulder Stables in a position to take up with Joan where that aborted kiss had left off. That part about Joan wasn’t a recognized concept yet, but it was always there, lurking just beneath Cailen’s conscious thoughts. And the also latent fear that Joan may no longer be receptive by the time Cailen returned a free woman constantly gnawed at her nerves. A fear aided by Joan’s date with Linda, which loomed in Cailen’s mind as a close call that might not end so harmlessly next time.

For her part, Joan could have used a little more latency in her awareness of the turmoil inside her. The barriers she’d built between herself and Cailen failed to protect her from the memory of that kiss and the relentless desire to be near her.

Of course, Brie knew what they were going through. If not the depth, at least the nature of it. She kept herself alert and available, biding time and waiting for a chance to interfere without exactly going behind anybody’s back. That opportunity presented itself five days before the start of the Churchill meet.

It was a Monday, a four-set morning during which training had progressed smoothly, and just after its early finish Joan strode past Brie’s stalls, where Brie was doing up Jade and Cailen was brushing North American Baby. As Joan came abreast of the stall door belonging to Real Thunder, Bean’s dark bay colt, she witnessed what appeared to be a practiced maneuver. Thunder, tied to the back wall for grooming, jerked his head around, attempting to bite Bean’s arm, common behavior for a male three-year-old that had not been gelded. Bean’s response was to ram the point of his boot forcefully into the horse’s belly, then in the split second while the pain of that blow sent Thunder arching away, Bean grabbed a riding crop stashed in the corner and crack it hard against the stallion’s testicles. From outside Thunder’s stall, Joan witnessed the entire disgusting three-second display.

The first sound to draw Brie and Cailen's attention was of something thudding heavily and repeatedly into a wall somewhere. They both thought a horse had gotten casted, had laid down and gotten stuck against the wall with no rolling room for gathering momentum to stand back up unassisted. Cailen and Brie raced toward the racket and had to dodge Bean’s flailing body as it flew from Thunder’s stall. Even then, they still thought they were dealing with a casted horse whose blind, panicked kicking had expelled Bean. That assumption fell apart as Joan, crop in hand and features unnervingly calm, barreled through the door in pursuit of Bean, who was crumpled against the outside half-wall.

When she got to within a whip’s length of him, she went to work with the crop. Joan’s body remained composed except for the X’s her right arm slashed first in the air then into Bean. He stayed close to the ground, kicking and clawing at the dirt, scratching and scrambling his way down the shedrow to escape Joan’s fury, her whip a fan blade blowing him like dust along the wall bottom.

Of the grooms and hotwalkers who stood motionless near Bean’s stalls, Brie was first to overcome the shock of what they’d all seen. She threw her arms low around Joan’s torso and dug her heels into the dirt, slowing Joan but not stopping her. Car came flying from the opposite end of the barn and scaled Bean, landing smack in front of Joan, forcing her to either stop the crop or hit Car with it.

Once Bean was a little distance away from Joan, he got to his feet. Sobbing disjointed phrases, he voiced every threat he could get his hysterical mind around.

As he reached the gap, where he felt assured of safe exit, he yelled, “Dyke bitch! The stewards are going to pull your fucking license over this, you wait and see.”

Charles, Caulder Stables’ oldest groom and the one of least words, spoke up resoundingly, the novelty of his raised voice adding to the exceptional nature of this ongoing spectacle. He said, “Son, you try some mischief against Joan and you best watch your back from that minute on. Every tracker in this barn’ll be out to hurt you way worse than you been hurt today.”

It was true that for all his whimpering and banging about, Bean didn’t look badly injured. He seemed to be walking fine and had blocked the crop blows with his forearms. They were bruising up some, and he would likely be body sore from being slammed against Thunder’s walls. Other than that, there appeared to be no real damage.

Car had removed the stick from Joan’s unresisting hand, and Brie was still clamped around her waist, as they all listened to Bean’s oaths receding in the direction of the track kitchen for a moment before the assembled grooms, hotwalkers and exercise people walked slowly from the scene, muttering derogatory remarks about Bean. Nobody yet knew what had prompted the assault, but consensus was that it had to have been pretty bad to drive Joan to that.

As Joan reanimated, she looked slightly dazed at first, but that cleared and she said, “Car, have Bean’s check ready and in the office by feed time, will you please? Give it to him whenever he asks for it.”

“Sure, Joan, you okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He was still facing her, standing very close, and seemed to not quite know what to do next. “Guess I’ll go take care of that check now, then.”

“And Car?”

“Yeah?”

“Burn that thing, or bury it, take it home with you, I don’t care. I just don’t want to see it again.”

Car had forgotten he was still holding the crop. “It’s gone.”

As Car hurried off toward the office, Joan twisted to her right and realized something was hanging around her waist. Brie.

“You may release me now.” Joan sounded more like herself.

“You sure? Maybe another five or ten minutes would be better.” Brie rubbed herself back and forth against Joan’s butt a couple of times.

For Brie, the separate currents of friendship and sex flowed easily together and diverged again without resistance. But despite isolated instances of flagrant flirtation with Joan, sex mixed with their friendship was one confluence they had both wordlessly agreed to disallow. So, although it was meant only as a friendly tease to get Joan laughing, the sight of someone touching her like that—it was only Brie for God’s sake—sent a scalding shot of jealousy through Cailen’s veins. She turned her head aside, and when that didn’t help she had to walk away.

Joan, who’d been about to play along and pretend to flirt back with Brie, lost her thread of thought watching Cailen’s retreat, which she mistook to be prompted by disgust with the attack on Bean.

So Joan remained serious as she asked, “Brie, where in hell did that come from? I didn’t think I had that in me.” She filled Brie in on what Bean had done to Thunder and Brie assured her that if it had been her who’d caught sight of that, she’d have done likewise.

Brie had moved around to Joan’s front, but didn’t let go of her.

Joan smiled. “So, I guess you can remove yourself from my thigh any time now.”

“Forgot.” Brie winked and separated her legs, releasing their grip. “I’ll finish doing Thunder up and between us we’ll all pitch in on finishing Bean’s horses.”

“Thanks Brie, but I’ll assume his duties until we get a replacement.” She knew that might take a few days, since the barns were full now and lots of trainers ship in without enough help, which meant the pool of experienced people on the backside looking for work had dwindled in the last few days.

First thing, Joan unhooked Thunder from the wall-tie and checked him over. He was fine, but wound up, which was to be expected after being abused by Bean then subjected to Joan’s rage right there inside his stall. She apologized to the seventeen-hands-tall colt and borrowed one of Penny’s mints from her pocket to offer him. Thunder magnanimously accepted. He was the kind of horse—tough as nails, short memory, crazy about sweets—that considered such an episode well worth the candy.

When she was satisfied Thunder was no worse for his experience, Joan went looking for Car and found him at the whiteboard erasing the day’s schedule.

“Car, will you have everyone come to the feed room in ten minutes, please?”

“Sure, Joan. Hey, Brie told me what happened. You were in the right.”

“I appreciate that Car, but no, I was thoroughly in the wrong.”

*****

The deep breath Joan needed before walking into the jammed feed room was to calm her dread of facing just one of its occupants. It was bad enough she had lost her temper and acted the way she had, she’d have felt ashamed of that under any circumstances, but Cailen’s reaction was what was tearing her apart. Entering the room, she located Cailen in the crowd without having to look directly at her. Unobtrusively keeping track of Cailen and what she was doing had become reflexive for Joan. She couldn’t break that habit and she couldn’t stop thinking of her, no matter how much she forced herself to dodge direct contact between them.

Joan scanned the faces turned toward her. “Thank you all for interrupting what you were doing. I want to offer my apology to each of you for my behavior toward Bean this morning. There’s no excuse for what I did and it was a disgraceful example for me to set.”

Jimmy spoke up. “I see what you’re saying, Joan, but will you teach me that move? You were somethin’ else. Kinda sexy with that whip, too.”

Almost everyone laughed, but cautiously, nervously.

Joan looked around and registered quiet surprise. “Have we come to this, you guys? You’re afraid to laugh out loud at one of Jimmy’s remarks because I might go off again? How depressing.”

That comment and the light returning to Joan’s eyes broke the tension in the tiny room that was rapidly filling with body heat.

“Okay, let’s drop this.” She leaned to step from the doorway then paused. “But one more thing first. If the stewards question any of you about what happened, do not cover up for me. Tell the truth. That’s what I intend to do, and you’ll only jeopardize your own license by getting caught lying to the stewards.” Then she cleared the doorway.

After she’d done up the last of Bean’s horses, Joan headed for the office but was hailed from inside DotCom’s stall as she passed.

“Joan, how are you holding up?”

Knowing Brie and Cailen were both in that stall, Joan sighed inwardly, thinking she might as well face Cailen sooner than later. Joining them, she said, “How am I feeling? Hoping my self-respect returns soon.”

“Before it does, Cailen and I want to take you out for Tex-Mex and margaritas this afternoon.” This was the first Cailen had heard of it, and her darting glance at Brie, which was only surprise, Joan interpreted as disapproval.

“That’s sweet of you both, but I think I’ll take a rain check. Today I’d like to go home and relax. Besides, you hate Tex-Mex, Brisada.”

“Not if I keep my mind off the idea that it’s supposed to be Mexican food, which it is not. Anyway, emphasis was on the margaritas.” Brie wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity pass by. And she might have to kill Cailen if she didn’t speak up to encourage Joan.

Joan smiled, but shook her head. “Thanks again, but I’m a bit tired. Brie, you’ve been scolding for days about how worn out I look. Well, I’m going to go home and get that rest you keep prescribing for me.”

Cailen’s low, smooth voice nearly frightened her, and then came that sexual ping it never failed to deliver to Joan. Just what she needed.

Cailen said, “If you’ll agree to go, you two can drink your tequila, and I’ll drive. One beer early on, then just coffee.” Cailen studied Joan’s face. “How about it? We’ll have you home early. I have to get back here to Penny before too late anyway.”

Brie thought, That’s my good girl, Cailen, and urged, “Come on Joan, I promise you it’ll be fun.”

Joan pushed a lock of hair from her forehead and said, “I’d have to be made of steel to resist.”

Brie’s dimples made their adorable appearance preceding a satisfied smile. Since the moment she’d noticed Cailen’s hasty escape from the sight of her holding onto Joan earlier, Brie knew this afternoon’s plan would be to evoke more of that type of response. Brie had firmly decided that Cailen must be pushed, gently if possible, into waking up.

“Last time I checked, you almost are made of steel.” Brie squeezed Joan’s bicep the way she’d done several mornings before. “Like I said, you feel mighty fine.”

Joan shook her head slowly and responded without smiling, “The better to beat people up, my dear.”

“We’re going to fix you, don’t worry. Right Cailen?”

Cailen really hated feeling so jealous every time Brie playfully touched Joan. “Sure. Good as new.”

“Okay, then. My homework’s in good shape and it’s not a class night or a feed afternoon. How about we meet here at two?”

When it was settled that two o’clock worked for everyone, Cailen excused herself to go home for a shower.

Joan stayed behind with Brie for a few more minutes. “We are going to leave these cares behind this afternoon, but there’s something I’d like to discuss with you first.”

Brie stopped straightening her shedrow to yield full attention to Joan’s serious tone. Cautiously, she said, “Go ahead.”

“Brie, it’s impossible to predict what might happen as a result of my actions toward Bean. I have to prepare for the worst case, which would be a suspension of my license. If that’s how this plays out, and I think it’s a remote possibility, Car will handle the training, but he’ll have his hands full. If that happens, may I count on you to take over the barn’s management?”

“I’ll do anything you ask me to, you know that. But they aren’t going to suspend you over that little jerk.”

“Thanks, Brie. It’ll mean hiring someone to groom your horses, even Jade. Can you accept that?”

“As long as I’m near them and have final say-so where they’re concerned, I can deal with it.”
“You’ll be barn manager, make whatever decisions you see fit.”

“Yeah, but like I said, the stewards won’t touch your license.”

“Consider this talk an indulgence of my overactive need for control, then. And thanks again.” Joan willed herself to smile. “Guess I’ll get a shower too, before our party. See you at two sharp.”

Resuming her shedrow cleanup, Brie said, “Two, and hey?”

Joan had already stepped away, but came back. ”Yes?”

“Will you do me the small favor of wearing your black shirt? The older one that has the tiny frayed place on the collar?”

Joan squinted at her. “Why?”

As if it were no big deal, Brie shrugged. “I like that shirt. You know I always say how much I like that shirt when you wear it.”

“Would you like to have it? I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

“No, if you wear it, I get to look at it more. If I wear it, I won’t see it.”

“You are an unusual person, Brisada. A little scary. Sure, I’ll wear it if it’s clean.”

“Great. See you at two.”

As Brie finished getting Jade done up, she gloried in the beauty of her plan and in the execution of it so far, confident that Cailen was in for quite an assault. Joan's blue eyes burning between that black shirt and her slightly blacker hoodlum hair, would surely drive Cailen wild, maybe wild enough to lay aside her crazy determination to dissolve those illusory bonds in Chicago before allowing herself a life.


© 2006 Margo Moon

Left wing-nuts

My latest piece over at A World of Progress Teamzine was a blast to write.



I hope it's fun to read, too.

Sunday Go To Meetin' Clothes

My best friend Starr Ann (hi, Starr Ann) came sauntering in this afternoon with that one look on her face. The one where you just know she's about to grab the reins and take the horses in a whole 'nother direction.

She waited until Jodie got back from the kitchen before telling us her news. Seems there's a church just south of here planning on having what they're calling an "Open Carry" church service this weekend. Yep, that's exactly what it sounds like - a church full of gun-totin' religious people.

Starr Ann even had a flyer, which I highly recommend clicking on to enjoy the full effect of the chamber artistically overlaid on the parchmenty copy of The United States Constitution:


Anyway, Jodie, Starr Ann and I were having a good, cynical laugh over the whole thing when Starr Ann's laugh kinda wound down far enough for her to say, "We're definitely going to attend."

Jodie got real serious, real fast and objected, "Honey, Darlin', this is going to involve many rednecks, with guns, in an enclosed space. Our goal should be to remain outside that space. See?"

Poor Jodie. She's only been Starr Ann's sweetheart for a year and a half, so while she's great at picking up on the nuances of Starr Ann's disposition, she hasn't quite mastered the sub-nuances yet, which is exactly why as Starr Ann's lifelong best friend, I grasped before Jodie did that there was absolutely nothing on the Goddess's green earth gonna stop Starr Ann from going to church with those scary Second Amendment people.

Naturally, we couldn't allow her to go alone, so we finally said okay.

Starr Ann's reply was a huge smile and a hug for both of us, followed by, "Now, let's saddle up the horses and head on over to the toy store."

From the smiles on our faces, she realized right away we'd taken her wrong, and she amended that to, "The one where they sell children's toys."

Dang. Talk about two disappointed cowgirls.

Turns out, Starr Ann not only wants us to show up in all our lesbian cowgirl glory, she wants us to be packing. Guns. Toy guns.

Once Jodie and I just gave ourselves up to the whole idea, we kinda started having fun with it. Jodie went with a traditional fake-leather holster, the kind that ties around the thigh, and shiny silver six-shooters. I decided on a bright pink water pistol that I'm not sure what yet, but I think maybe I'm gonna load it with something a little more original than plain water. Of course, Starr Ann just had to have the most authentic looking toy AK-47 anybody ever saw in their life.

So, we're all set for church on Saturday. Wish us luck.

Grand Theft Equine - Chapter Seven: Lying Off The Pace

Previous chapters are available on the sidebar.



As she plugged in the crockpot for Brie and got a thermos of soup ready for Cailen, Joan deliberated over whether to deliver blankets too, or merely inform Cailen they were warming. It would be better not to take them, she decided.

“How’s our finicky one this evening?” The moment Joan was within reach, Penny began her mint frisk.

“She hasn’t touched it yet.” Groping for a point of leverage that might keep Joan with them longer, Cailen glanced over at Penny and said, “Maybe she was waiting for you to get here.”

“Doubt that. She never has before.” Joan wiped the candy stickiness from her palm with a handful of straw. “Soup’s pretty good. I had some for lunch.” She unloaded more stuff from the bag. “Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Before I forget, your blankets weren’t quite warm enough yet, but should be ready when you get chilled enough to want them.” Joan initiated her goodbye ritual by kissing beneath Penny’s forelock. Then she remembered something and clapped her palms against her thighs. “I completely forgot your beer—or anything for you to drink, for that matter. I’ll get some and be right back.”

Cailen exaggerated disgust at the thought. “Beer with vegetable soup? Thanks, but no thanks.” She couldn’t help cheering up when Joan was around.

“What do you know all of a sudden? Don’t forget who taught you to drink beer with cookies.”

Cailen wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t believe that tasted so wonderful.”

“Same with vegetable soup. But I won’t push your taste buddies to new frontiers tonight.” Joan flicked a look at her watch. “The weight room closes at nine and I planned to work out, so I’d better get moving. Remember to make use of those blankets, okay? And for God’s sake, tuck the edges in around you.”

“I will.” Cailen unscrewed the wide-mouth top of the thermos, hoping to delay Joan by starting her meal. But Joan ducked under the webbing and was gone.

Penny took her sweet time. The night watchman, who came on duty at ten, was already there when Cailen finally left the stall. Brie was home by then too, but she had parked where she couldn’t see Cailen’s truck. A fine light line edged the bottom of Brie’s door, and Cailen wanted to knock, but Brie was probably studying and it wouldn’t be fair to disturb her. What’s there to talk about, anyway? I have to quit moping around over Joan, period. Until the semester is over and I can go home to put an end to all that’s left there in Chicago, I can’t take a chance on getting involved with anyone. If, someday, I’m in a position to get serious about someone, maybe Joan will still be free. That last part hit hard. It would be pure torture to see Joan with someone else. But realistically, how long could Cailen expect a woman like her to remain unattached?

Getting lost in her thoughts and forgetting to fetch the blankets had left her half frozen. Before going home, she passed by the office to remove them from the heater. She was re-hanging the last one when the door opened behind her, and Brie scurried in from the cold holding an empty bowl.

“Still here, Cailita? I thought that sounded like a mighty big mouse.” She set the crockpot lid aside and dipped out more soup. “This is good, huh? Did you and Joan enjoy it for supper?”

“Yeah, delicious. Joan didn’t stay to eat, though. She went to the gym instead.”

“Tonight? She went to the gym tonight?”

Joan usually worked out in the afternoons because she tried to be in bed by eight. She only put in late hours lifting weights during times of extreme emotional stress. Four years earlier, when Kate left her, Joan had spent tens of hours taking the hurt out on a bunch of poor, innocent nautilus machines. Last year, Justine left her for the same reason—Joan’s refusal to lighten her schedule or take any time off. Losing Justine had been even tougher on her than Kate’s rant-filled departure, and for Justine, Joan had exacted untold punishment on free weights.

“What kind of workout, did she say?”

“Huh?”

With crystal clarity, the shared meaning of several suspicious elements presented itself to Brie. Joan and Cailen had both been looking bedraggled; Cailen’s mind had been visiting some other planet; and now Joan was laboring at the gym at night.

Amazed it had taken her so long to see what was happening, Brie thought, I turn my back for five minutes around here, then cupped the warm bowl in one hand and reached behind her for Cailen’s hand with the other. “Your fingers are icy and your hands are chapped.” She towed Cailen along in the direction of her door. When they reached it, she kissed her cheek and said, “Go home and get a little sleep, baby. Put something on those hands first, though.”

“Will you stop studying and get some sleep too, after you eat that?”

“Promise. Now, go on.” Brie could only imagine what kind of mess Cailen and Joan had created for themselves, but thought, I will have to unravel it for them, I just know it.

*****

Brie officiously pumped Joan’s bicep first thing on her way to coffee and office the following morning. No need for Brie to say anything, Joan knew there had been a tip-off about the weights. Cailen must have made innocent mention of where Joan had gone in lieu of sharing soup last night, and that was all Brie would have needed to surmise Joan was in the throes of a romantic disaster. From there, a fairly elementary deduction would have led her to the woman’s identity.

But playing innocent was always worth a try. “What?” Joan lowered her chin and examined her shirtsleeve where Brie had squeezed.

“Should I present the evidence, or would you like to cut right to the chase?”

“Brie, I swear there’s nothing going on. There was a misunderstanding on my part and I wanted there to be something, so the fault was all mine. You know I’d never knowingly infringe on anyone’s relationship. As soon as she told me there’s someone, I backed off completely. And that’s how it’ll stay.”

Brie could strangle Cailen. In her own little half-assed uncommunicative way, Cailen had given Joan the mistaken impression she was in a relationship worth preserving, one that should not be violated. And Brie knew Joan was strong enough to honor that at any personal cost.

Frustration over Cailen’s reserve in dealing with Lara and the stalled-out mess of their relationship drove Brie to a spate of Spanish curses before she suggested to Joan, “You should have another talk with her about this relationship.”

“No, Brie, she’s already said it’s complicated, and I told her I’d leave it at that.”

Brie didn’t intend to plead Cailen’s case or provide any specifics. Cailen would have to speak for herself. As for Joan, Brie was confident she had been nothing but forthcoming and straightforward, both with her feelings and with the vow to stand aside.

Brie pushed the damp black forelock from Joan’s face. “You have to start drying this before coming outside. Are you doing machines or free weights?”

“Free. Pumping iron like a foundry.” Joan’s half-smile bordered on apologetic as she glanced outside, where the noise level was picking up. “Come on, we’d better get these horses trained.”

Before jumping into the day Brie tried once more. “This all happened so fast. Are you sure it’s already time to obliterate your senses through physical exertion?”

With a decisive sip of coffee, Joan answered firmly, “She made clear that she is not available.”

Infuriating as Cailen’s reticence could be, Brie wouldn’t go behind her back, even to straighten this out, even to Joan. That meant she’d have to find some front-door means of clearing things up.

*****

Horses, her work, and the day-to-day operation of her stable had always been Joan’s joy, sanctuary, and foundation. To have her barn’s sanctity compromised by Cailen’s presence first thing every morning, then throughout training, and again at evening supper drop-off, was more dispiriting than Joan could have predicted. And it was much more than she could handle without putting some emotional distance between them. Being buddies simply did not work out.

Cailen continued to arrive in time to clean a stall before training began each morning and, in the beginning, Brie occasionally found them together small talking as she came from her room for the day’s first caffeine. Then even that bit of sociability between the two tapered off until it was back to Joan standing there alone to greet Brie, wet hair, rock-steady smile, everything the same, albeit less hearty than before. As the days wore on, Joan’s systematic and growing aloofness toward Cailen brought with it an equal measure of increased closeness and dependence on Brie.

The more Joan withdrew from Cailen, the more she needed from Brie’s friendship, and without hesitation, Brie made extra room and time for her. She gradually eased back her alarm clock setting to expand their early morning convergence and it rapidly grew to the point of the two of them sitting at Joan’s desk to linger over an entire pot of coffee together before a day could officially begin.

On a morning two weeks after the kiss, Joan and Brie were engaged in one of these schmoozes when Joan asked, “Do you remember how Kate tried coming to the barn on weekends?”

Brie smiled with genuine fondness at the mention of Kate. Joan had never been involved with a woman Brie didn’t like. Justine had been her favorite, she still missed Justine, but high-strung Kate had a serious, poetic side Brie had found compelling.

“That woman knocked herself out to make things work between you two.”

Joan was pensive. “I know.”

“Well, what about her?”

“Just thinking of her, that’s all. You know, I wasn’t very graceful about sharing all this with her.” Joan fluttered a hand to indicate the office and shedrow just outside. “Kate made that monumental effort of voluntarily leaving what she called her comfort zone those Saturdays and Sundays to be here, trying to grasp why my work always comes first. And do you know what I did?”

“Closed yourself off? Wouldn’t let her play? Made it as boring as possible so she would stop coming?”

“What a shit I was.”

“Kate understood, I think. Know what she told me that last morning she was here?”

“You mean the day she went directly home and packed her things?”

Brie nodded once and said, “She was almost to the car and came back to hug me really hard. She said she finally figured it all out, and the question wasn’t one of her importance to you or even of your priorities, it was a question of realness. ‘For Joan,’ she told me, ‘the world beyond the racetrack is little more than a place for the steam from her morning coffee to drift to.’ Kate was good with words and imagery.”

Joan leaned forward, a prelude to getting up, and laughed airily. “True. She had some choice words and imagery for me when I got home. God, that woman could be profane when she was hurt or angry.”

By tacit agreement Joan and Brie did not discuss, straightforwardly anyway, the strain between Joan and Cailen, but did occasionally indulge in talking around it.

Casually, Brie remarked, “So, I wonder why you’re thinking so much about Kate?”

“Probably because I’m coming to appreciate how wise it is to keep the personal separate from the professional. Enough!” Joan could stand only so much wallowing in self-analysis. “Are you fully prepared for this exam tonight, young lady? I can come by this afternoon to quiz you some more if you like.”

“I am ready. A nap to send me to class fresh will be more valuable than more studying. Thanks again for the coaching, Joan. I promise to get us an A.”

“If you bring home an A, I’ll make you a special meal—something I’m sure you’ll love if I carry off the recipe correctly. Very special, Brie, make sure to get that A.”

Joan had stood and Brie followed suit. “Don’t worry, I’m ready.”

Two days later, Brie announced her grade within earshot of both Joan and Cailen, hoping to draw them to her, and together, for congratulations. It worked, but they remained steadfastly focused on Brie and her A after politely acknowledging each other.

*****

The following Friday Joan was whistling as she brewed their coffee. Brie slid into her customary chair and waited to be served, since Joan seemed so peppy.

“Still making me that fancy meal tomorrow night to reward my grade?”

Joan set the cup down and tapped Brie’s knee. “Sure thing. But for tonight, do you mind fending for yourself?”

“For supper? Not at all. But don’t tell me you have to get started on tomorrow’s food so far ahead of time. That would be fancy.”

With near bashful awkwardness, Joan managed to get out, “No, I have a date tonight.”

Sitting back and savoring a long drink of warm coffee, Brie smugly commanded, “The details. Don’t make me dig. Just give them up gently.”

Rattled over discussing the matter, but at the same time proud of herself for taking decisive action, Joan had fixed her own coffee badly and was back at the bar doctoring it. She tasted judiciously. “Better.” Then she took her seat. “The scarcity of details is going to disappoint you, I’m afraid, Brie. Her name is Linda.”

“Linda. Where’d you meet her?” Brie’s root beer eyes were at their inquisitive roundest.

As if hugging the particulars tightly to her, Joan folded her arms. “Either let me tell it my way or that’s all you get.”

“Proceed.” Brie made herself the picture of acquiescence.

“She lives a few houses down from mine. Justine and I used to see her and another woman working in their garden summer before last. This past summer, I noticed she tended it alone. At least she invested the time and skill to make theirs flourish.” Joan broke her storyline to confess, “Justine’s perennials are shamefully weedy. I can barely look them in the…what would be the vegetative equivalent of eyes?” Brie glared and Joan obediently continued, “Yesterday, she was bringing her empty garbage cans in from the curb at the same time I was retrieving mine, so I waved. She waved back and made some comment I couldn’t hear clearly. Then she gestured at her cans and said something else, inaudible again. Finally, I walked down there to avoid nodding like an imbecile when I plainly had no idea on Earth what she was saying.” Joan leaned forward to check the level in Brie’s cup.

“So what was she talking about?”

“Dog pee. Would you like more?”

“Yes, but I’ll get it. Dog pee, how romantic.”

“Dog safety more than dog pee, really. Her cans get peed on, drenched actually—it was dried all over them—every garbage night and she knows it’s the beagle mix that lives across the street. She doesn’t care so much about having to hose off her cans every week as about the fact that Ernie’s owners let him run loose at night and he crosses the street. She’s seen him do this. When Linda tries to talk with the owners about him, they interpret it as a veiled complaint about the pee, not real concern over Ernie. So she’s frustrated about that.” Joan drum rolled her fingers twice on the wooden desk and pushed her chair backward to get up. “And there is the lowdown on my date for tonight.”

Brie’s prompt protest kept Joan seated. “You have told me nothing. I swear that you are becoming as guarded as Cailen lately—an odd result, since you two manage to never land anywhere near each other these days.” Brie put a check on her runaway spiel. Feeling defensive for Cailen about this date was no reason to spoil the evening for Joan. And it was perfectly understandable that Joan would want to break out of the past weeks’ doldrums by spending time with another woman. Maybe it would snap Cailen into action.

Brie thought, Good idea. I should make sure Cailen gets wind of this date.

Mention of Cailen had taken all the fun out of teasing Brie, so Joan laid out the facts. “You’re right. Let’s see…Linda is about my age, maybe a year or two younger. Brown hair with lighter brown highlights. Natural, I’m positive. Sweet brown eyes that I refuse to call doe-like. Five six-ish. She’s witty, teaches history at U of L and yoga at a private club. That’s about what I know.”

Dropping the bullshit, Brie came right out and asked, “Are you attracted to her?”

Joan pictured Linda and cocked her head appreciatively. “She’s a very attractive woman.”

“Not what I asked.”

Rearing back in her chair, Joan practically roared with sincerity, “God, Brie, I want to be!”

At training’s end, Brie made fast work of getting her horses done up so she could take leave of the shedrow while Cailen was still there. Cailen didn’t dally for long after training anymore, and Brie wanted her to overhear a certain pre-composed goodbye greeting to Joan.

“Okay, Cailita, looks like I’m finished way ahead of time. Think I’ll treat myself to a long nap.” Brie snapped the wall box latch. “Oh, forgot to mention that Joan won’t be leaving supper for us tonight.”

Cailen covered a little lurch at the sound of Joan’s name. “Good, she shouldn’t think she has to go home and cook every afternoon.”

“Oh, I don’t know, cooking is so much fun for her. You should see the kitchen at her house. Better yet, you should see her using it.” Brie giggled way down in her belly. “Joan wears this girlie apron that says ‘In Touch With My Inner Femme.’ She looks so cute in it.”

“Hah.” Mirthless laughter is so mirthless. “I’ll bet. Anyway, I’m glad she’s not cooking today. Have a good nap, Brie. Sweet dreams.”

“I will.” Before Cailen could get far Brie called aloud toward the half-closed office door, “Bye, Joan, enjoy your date with Linda tonight. Do things I wouldn’t do!” Sorry, Cailita, but you need to make a move, girl.

*****

Cailen heard Brie’s little broadcast, and the news launched her into an afternoon and night of alternately brooding and deciding not to brood then brooding again, over Joan, the kiss, the date, what was happening on the date, who might this Linda be, where had they gone, what was happening now on the date, what did Joan wear, and what was happening on the date now, goddamn it?

*****

Try as she might, Cailen could not keep herself contained in the stall when Joan finished posting the following morning. To ask directly about how the date went was out of the question, but there could be something to decipher in Joan’s mood or manner. There she was, standing like Queen of the World at the head of the shedrow. Cailen shrugged to herself and started toward the office.

“Morning, Joan.”

“Good morning, Cailen.”

Cailen gauged Joan’s smile to be broader than usual, which it was, but only because it had been so long since Cailen had last suspended stall mucking to come speak with her. The attention was a surprise Joan couldn’t help being pleased about. Cailen was convinced she was exhibiting some form of after-date glow.

“Thought I’d have an extra cup of coffee for a change.” Cailen reached for Brie’s castile soap on the wall.

“Sure, but here, let me get it for you. One less hand washing in this cold dry air.” Joan rushed inside and Cailen replaced the unused soap.

Joan called over her shoulder, “Cailen, can you come in here and show me how much cream and sugar you take?”

Cailen had already stepped up right behind her and said, “No sugar, just—”

“Shit!” Joan slammed what was left of the coffee back onto the burner, causing it to hiss mockingly on contact. She closed her eyes and held the edge of the tall table while what felt like gallons of adrenaline dissipated. Then she spoke calmly and distinctly. “One of these days, you are going to sneak up on me like that and my heart is just not going to be able to handle it. In the cardiac sense. In the infarction sense.”

“Did you burn your hands?” Cailen dobbed coffee from the floor with a wad of paper towels as she fought to divert her mind from involuntarily imagining what those hands might have been doing last night.

Joan looked down at them. “No, my hands are fine.

They worked silently at the mess until nothing remained of it.

Joan smiled optimistically. “Let’s try that again. No sugar, just what? How much cream?”

“Half a teaspoon, barely enough to make the coffee opaque, but still almost black.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

Joan was flustered and truly needed to not be this close to Cailen, so she nodded and stepped to her spot outside again.

Cailen muttered a thank you on her way back to DotCom Implosion’s stall. When she heard Brie’s door open a few minutes later, she strained to hear what was said.

Brie’s voice sounded excited. “Joan, quick, tell me how your date went.”

All Cailen caught of the reply was, “The meal was superb,” before the office door closed behind them.

Joan prepared Brie’s coffee without spilling a drop, and continued, “Linda was charming. I was home and in bed, alone, by eight as usual.”

“No chemistry?”

“No personality. Me. I have no personality. Here was this intelligent, pretty, nice woman who is, I’m sure, very engaging. Yet it took all my energy to stay with the thread of the conversation. Halfway through dinner I was counting down the minutes until I’d be home.”

Brie adroitly concealed her relief. “Sorry you didn’t have fun, but don’t worry about it. If there’s no chemistry, there’s no chemistry. No big deal.”

When Brie finally emerged with Jade’s tack, Cailen came right out with it, albeit as nonchalantly as possible. “So, how was Joan’s big date?”

As much as Brie wanted to push Cailen into action, she didn't have the heart to make her suffer any further. Poor baby, it wasn’t easy for you to ask me this. Brie made a splatting noise. “Sounds like it fizzled.”

Too honest to feign regret, Cailen simply walked away without comment.


© 2006 Margo Moon