Onyx
“Do you have lodging organized?”
I’m trying to put on makeup, while eating a piece of toast, and of course Jacob picks this moment to call. A quick glance at the clock tells me I have less than ten minutes before Hamish gets here.
It’s my own fault, I should’ve packed last night. I didn’t think it would take this long to try and decide what clothes to bring. In my defense, I’ve never been to an exclusive thoroughbred auction. I have no clue what to expect, black tie or barn casual. There’s also supposed to be a dinner after the auction I needed to plan for.
In the end, I went with both the black and the olive jeans Janey made me buy, as well as a couple of tops. I tucked a pair of high heels in my bag so I can dress it up if I need to. For anything else my brand-new, embroidered, square-toed, low-heeled, western boots will have to do.
“Hamish booked us rooms at the Hyatt,” I tell Jacob.
“Good. What time is he picking you up?”
“Any minute. Look, I should get going, I need to get ready. I’ll check in with you tonight, okay?”
“Right. We’ll talk later.”
I’m not sure what’s gotten into Jacob this week, he’s been like a mother hen, micro-managing everything. Normally he delegates to me and assumes it gets done, but now it’s almost like he doesn’t trust me.
Now is not the time, but I plan to take it up with him at some point.
Shoving the last piece of toast in my mouth, I stuff my toiletry bag in my overnight tote, and make my way to the kitchen. I barely have time to quickly wash my plate and coffee cup, when I hear a vehicle coming up the driveway.
The only person I’ve seen since Hamish left last Saturday was Janey, who wanted to see the farm. I’ve spoken with Hamish a few times, planning for this weekend. When his knock sounds at the door, I suddenly feel nervous. I’ll blame it on the upcoming events, and not on the anticipation of seeing him again.
I won’t lie, the man fascinates me. The psychologist in me wants to dig around behind his carefully guarded exterior. The taut skin on his face makes it hard to read expressions, and his voice doesn’t really betray emotions.
I have to laugh at myself, the last thing I need is another enigmatic man in my life. One is more than enough.
Shaking off the jitters, I open the door for him.
“Morning.”
I return, “Morning,” as I step aside to let him in. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I have, thanks. Is this your bag?”
He points at my tote.
“Yes.”
“Is that it?” he asks, picking it up.
“Yup.”
“You travel light.”
“It’s just for two nights.” I shrug and walk into the kitchen, aiming for the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
“Can we make it coffee to go? I wouldn’t mind getting on the road. I want to make sure we don’t miss the auction preview this afternoon.”
“Absolutely.”
They’ve only allotted a one-hour window for the pre-auction viewing, which isn’t a lot of time, and I definitely want to be there for it.
I grab two travel mugs from the cupboard and fill them. Then I follow Hamish outside, locking the door behind me.
“Sure you’re all right taking my truck? I had it cleaned.”
He opens the passenger side door for me, and I dart him a look.
“I’m not actually a spoiled heir, I just impersonate one. My real vehicle is an ancient, rusting Subaru, I’m sure I’ll survive in your giant luxury truck.”
He shakes his head and drops it down, not quite hiding a little smile, as I climb into the passenger seat.
From here to Bowling Green is a little more than three hours, maybe this is an opportunity to learn a bit more about Hamish. I wait until we turn onto the highway.
“So…how did you become a horse trainer? What drove you?”
I glance over and find him looking at me from the corner of his eye. Then he slides them forward again.
“Are we playing twenty questions?”
“Not really. I’m just making conversation.”
The last thing I want is for him to start asking me difficult questions. I’m not ready to answer any. I may never be.
“Okay, uhh…I guess I always liked horses. I more or less rolled into it.”
Not exactly a very illuminating response, but it’s a start.
“Do you ride?”
“Sure I do. You?”
“I wouldn’t say I ride, per se. I have sat on a horse before, yes.”
I don’t tell him I sat on one for about two-and-a-half seconds before I landed on my ass on the ground.
I feel his eyes on me.
“Why do I get the sense there’s a story there?”
“It really wasn’t that memorable. But I do like horses. They seem intuitive and gentle animals.”
“Most are, but like with people, every now and then you encounter an asshole.”
My train of questioning has gone off the track a bit, but before I have a chance to reroute, Hamish takes the lead.
“What about you? How did you end up with GEM?”
I try for a lighthearted response, “Jacob has a good sales pitch.”
Hamish chuckles. “Touché. I guess neither one of us likes to answer questions.”
I grin. “Maybe we should stick to simpler topics. You know, favorite movie, food, music, stuff like that.”
“Dances with Wolves, pad thai, and eighties rock,” he answers without hesitation. “Your turn.”
I don’t have to think too hard either.
“Good Will Hunting, sushi, and a little bit of everything.”
“I forgot about that movie,” he shares, nodding his head. “Robin Williams was the teacher, right? Great actor and one of the greatest comedians.”
“Agreed. Although…it may be a toss-up with George Carlin.”
During the remainder of the drive, we find we have more than a few things in common. We talk about the upcoming auction, about stuff we enjoy, listen to music, and time flies by.
What we avoid discussing is our respective pasts, which is surprisingly liberating in a way. Like traveling without luggage.
Still, I feel like I have gotten to know Hamish a little better.
“We’re here,” he announces.
He turns right onto a long, tree-lined drive with fields on either side, bordered in white fencing. The private road curves up and when we crest the hill, a sprawling horse farm comes into view.
“Wow. That’s stunning,” I comment, taking in what can only be described as a mansion, and the half dozen whitewashed buildings arranged around it. More white-fenced fields—some holding horses—cover most of the valley.
“Big operation,” Hamish contributes.
My eyes are trying to take everything in while he navigates us to one of the larger buildings. Several vehicles are parked outside and a simple black-and-white sign on the large barn doors reads ‘Viewing.’
Suddenly butterflies take up residence in my stomach and my hands get clammy.
“Ready?”
I glance over at him.
“I suppose.”
“We’ll go in, keep a low profile, and say as little as possible. We can talk when we’re back in the truck.”
He’s out of the truck before I have my seat belt undone, and comes around to open the door for me.
Hamish hands the invitation to a guard, just inside the barn, who waves us through. The center of the large building features an indoor exercise ring, with horse stalls lining the walls on either side of it.
A silver-haired man approaches us, an air of propriety about him as he smiles and holds out his hand to me.
“Ms. Baqri, I’m so pleased to meet you. Peter Drake.”
I guessed as much already. Taking his offered hand, I return a smile.
Showtime.
“Pleasure is mine. Can I introduce Hamish Adrian? Hamish has been kind enough to lend me his expertise.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Adrian, I believe I saw you at the TCA fundraiser a few weeks ago. Canadian, right? I believe you worked with Bob Diego’s horse, Little Secrets?”
It’s a not-so subtle way to let us know he’s done a bit of research.
“Many years ago, yes.”
The older man narrows his eyes on Hamish.
“You were gone from the racing world for several years after your unfortunate accident. I was under the impression you were retired.”
“Not quite.”
Drake appears to wait for a more elaborate answer, but none is forthcoming as Hamish calmly stares him down.
“Well.” Drake turns his eyes on me and aims a tight smile. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer, I’m sure you’re eager to have a look around. Starting from the right, the horses are stabled in order of hip number. The auction will take place in the exercise ring and starts at one tomorrow afternoon. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Ms. Baqri.”
“Onyx, please, and thank you for your hospitality.”
Hamish simply nods at the man, places his hand in the small of my back, and steers me toward the first stall.
“What was that?” I whisper when we’re out of earshot. “Pissing contest?”
“Posturing,” he grumbles. “Ignore it.”
We slowly walk around, occasionally encountering another buyer, but other than the exchange of acknowledging nods, there are no other interruptions. Hamish points out a few horses—in particular a yearling he thinks may have potential and would be worth putting a bid on—and then finally we get to Arion’s Moon’s stall. She’ll be up halfway through the auction.
“Why not save her ’til last?” I want to know.
“Probably because people are likely to hold on to their money until her number comes up, and low-bid on everything else. The way they set it up is all yearlings go up first, and race-age horses after,” he explains.
I lean over the stall door, taking in the sleek, gray-dappled filly. I’d noticed someone standing off to the side, keeping an eye on the horse, and I’d love to chat with him. Arion’s Moon has her eyes on me and slowly lumbers in my direction, testing the air with flaring nostrils.
“Hey, pretty girl,” I mutter, reaching out a hand.
When she sniffs my fingers cautiously, I turn my head to the young guy standing guard.
“Is it okay if I touch?”
He shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”
I lightly scratch under her jaw and she takes another step closer, butting her nose under my arm.
“You’ve got the touch.”
I turn my head at the unfamiliar voice, to find a second man—this one wearing a sports jacket and an ascot tie—standing beside the groom.
“She’s normally a high-strung filly,” he adds, indicating the horse.
“She seems sweet. Are you her owner?”
I notice Hamish is keeping his distance while I chat these guys up.
“Ha, no. I represent the owner,” ascot guy clarifies as he steps closer. “I’m an agent with Choice Racing.”
“Oh, I see. That’s interesting. Do you represent other owners or just this one?”
Ignoring the horse for a moment, I focus my attention on the agent, leaning my arm on the stable door.
“Only Pegasus for this auction,” he volunteers.
“Doesn’t Pegasus own that horse…” I snap my fingers. “What’s the name…Pure Delight, that’s it.”
He nods. “Yes, he does.”
He does. Singular.
“Do you usually represent the same owners?”
“Often.” He reaches out a hand. “Oliver Doyle.”
“Onyx Baqri. It’s lovely to meet you,” I gush, shaking the man’s hand. “You’ll have to excuse me for the questions. I’m rather new to the racing world and am finding I have so much to learn. It’s very helpful talking to someone much more seasoned like yourself.”
I can almost see his narrow chest puffing up with self-importance.
“Well, I have over twenty years experience in the business. I don’t mind sharing what knowledge I have.” He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to me. “Perhaps we could share a meal at some point. Unfortunately, I’m busy until after the auction. My owner is arriving tonight.”
It’s hard not to show a reaction when I really want to pump my fist.
“Oh? He’s coming for the auction?” I ask as innocently as I’m able to.
“Yes, he should be there, despite the fact he doesn’t like to socialize. He tends to keep a low profile.”
Oliver pointedly glances at his watch.
“I’m sorry, I should let you go. I’ve taken up enough of your time,” I’m quick to apologize.
“Not at all, although I do need to get going. Will you be bidding tomorrow?” he asks.
“Yes, I plan to.”
“In that case, I wish you the best of luck.”
With that he marches off, and I join Hamish who, I’m sure, has been listening in from farther down the aisle. I flash him the business card.
“Smooth,” he mumbles under his breath.
“I saw an opportunity…”
For appearances’ sake we stopped at the remaining stalls, checking the other horses on the auction block. We encounter two men coming in just as we’re heading out.
One of them is Lee Remington.
I shouldn’t be surprised, Jacob warned me he’d called in Lee’s assistance, but it still startles me to see him here. To Lee’s credit, he shows no recognition at all, his eyes barely skimming me when he walks right by me. Hamish’s grip on my elbow tightens as he steers me out the door.
“Are you okay?” he inquires when we get to his truck.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I’m not sure Jacob wants him to know about Lee’s involvement, but I’m keeping it to myself for now. Luckily, he doesn’t push.
“What’s next, hotel? Or do you want to grab a bite first?” he suggests when he gets behind the wheel.
Having skipped lunch, I’m ready for an early dinner, but I should probably give Jacob an update while it’s all fresh in my mind.
“I wouldn’t mind a bite, but first I want to touch base with Jacob.”
I already have my phone out and dial his number. It rings five times when a generic voice tells me to leave a message. I don’t bother. He’ll see I’ve called and get back to me.
We end up at The Bistro, a restaurant a few blocks from the Hyatt where we’re staying. Hamish orders lamb chops and I try a bowl of voodoo rice, which is delicious and spicy.
Conversation is surprisingly casual and easy, and by the end of the meal my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this at ease with a man.
When he walks me to the door of my hotel room, I’m not in the least concerned. Not until I catch the look in his eyes when I turn to tell him goodnight.
Then I realize I might be in trouble.