Venom Read online

  “I’m not going to just stand around and let him dope up my horses!”

  I shake my head and immediately wish I hadn’t. A wave of nausea washes over me.

  “Are you okay?” Em asks, touching my ankle through the sheet. It feels like a jolt of electricity shoots from her hand, through my leg and into my heart. Via my groin.

  I shake my head again, hard, to distract myself. The stabbing pain works wonders.

  “Please don’t do anything until I get back,” I say weakly. “Give me a chance to get back to the barn. We can figure out how to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Get to the bottom of what?” Grandma asks, pushing through the curtain.

  “That filly’s problem in the gate,” Scampy says without skipping a beat. He winks at me. “Stretch here has some interesting training ideas. I’m looking forward to seeing him back at work.”

  Em checks her watch, and Scampy holds the curtain open. “We’ve got to run,” he says. “Call me when you’re ready to come back.”

  chapter fourteen

  Even though I only have a mild concussion, Grandma won’t let me go anywhere near the track for five days! The first day, all I want to do is sleep. The next day, I only notice a bit of headache when I really think about it. The next three days are the pure agony that comes with total boredom.

  Grandma makes me go back-to-school shopping. We meet the counselor at Em’s school, who says I seem like an excellent candidate for their program. Grandma makes me get a haircut.

  With all the time off, I have lots of opportunity to think of ways to catch Tony. But when my first day back at work arrives, I’m not exactly sure how to proceed.

  When I finally get back to the barn, there’s no chance to talk to Em and Scampy. It’s crazy busy, and Tony seems to be everywhere all the time.

  It’s obvious Scampy isn’t going to baby me. Don’t Mess With Mo is the first horse on my list. He’s coming back from an injury. We have to be careful not to put too much pressure on the leg by going too fast too soon. He’s doing great, but is taking a little longer than Scampy had hoped to make a full recovery. At this rate, he’ll be lucky to race at all this month.

  The July sun blazes, and sweat pours down my sides as I fight to hold the tall colt in check. He seems to have other ideas about slow gallops. Even though I hold him well to the outside, he pulls when the other horses roar past along the rail. Around and around we go until we are both drenched and good and ready to call it quits. He’s happy and tired and—as far as I can tell, anyway—not in any pain when we make our way to the gate.

  I ride four more horses before I’m done and pull off my riding helmet.

  “Nice!” Em says with a smirk.

  Dragging my butt off the truck seat, I check out my reflection in the cracked mirror on the back of the tack-room door.

  “Yikes!”

  My hair looks like it’s been painted onto my skull. I brush my fingers through my hair, unsticking it from my head. All attempts at fluffing it up fail miserably. A shower here would be so handy.

  I settle for the wash rack outside, where I turn on the hose. When the blast of ice-cold water hits my head, I bite back a shout. Frosty, yes, but man, it feels good to drench myself with the cold water. I scrub my fingers through my hair and let the water run over my back, soaking my T-shirt.

  When I straighten up, I shake the excess water from my hair and squeegee my face with my hands.

  “Whoa! Brain freeze!”

  Em, whose face is flushed, looks jealous. I wave the hose in her general direction, and she jumps back. “Don’t you dare!” Instead of staying back, though, she marches over, takes the hose, and bends over the stream of water, taking a huge drink. Water dribbles everywhere, and she doesn’t make much of an effort to stay dry.

  “You coming to the retirement party tonight?” she asks between swigs.

  “Bing’s retirement party? Is that tonight?”

  “Yup. Bing Bang Bong. Going, going, gone!”

  “No surprise, I guess.”

  “Dr. Conrad is coming down to pick him up. She’s bringing in a new filly.”

  “What time is the party?”

  “Seven thirty over in the pit. It’s a potluck. I’m surprised your grandma didn’t remind you. She’s bringing pie.”

  If the party is in the pit, the big barbecue area over near the river, then it won’t just be Scampy’s barn attending. Chances are, this could develop into quite a big bash. It’s strange to be chatting about parties with Em when what we both want to talk about is Tony. I can tell by the way her eyes follow him and then meet mine.

  Tony has been lurking around all day. I don’t want to tip him off. I try to treat him exactly as I always do. I’m polite, but not exactly friendly.

  “I know it’s last minute,” Em says suddenly. “But if there’s anyone you want to invite, that would be okay, I guess.”

  It suddenly dawns on me that she is thinking I might like to bring a girl. I almost say something, but stop myself. Maybe she’s telling me to bring a date because that’s what she is planning to do. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward.

  “Could you help us get the barbecues fired up and carry stuff over there?”

  Now it’s my turn to give Em a hard look. If Em is asking me to help get things ready, that doesn’t sound like she’s got anyone else, like a date, lined up for the job. On the other hand, maybe that’s not the sort of thing you get a date to do. Maybe that’s the sort of thing you’d get someone who works for your uncle to do. Maybe Scampy asked her to ask me to come early. Em’s suggestion that I bring a date might be her way of making sure I know that she isn’t asking me to come to the barbecue in anything like a date capacity.

  I shake my head, trying to clear the confusion.

  “Unless you’re not feeling up to it...,” she says, misunderstanding.

  “No, that’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll come early.” I shake my head again and say, “Water in my ear!”

  “I hate it when that happens!” Em says as she finishes coiling the hose. “There’s more iced tea in the fridge. I need a drink before we do hay and water.”

  chapter fifteen

  Several hours into the party at the pit, Wee Jimmy is singing a rude song at the top of his lungs.

  “Get down off that table,” Scampy says, gesturing with a beer bottle in his hand. “I don’t need any broken bones. I need you to work tomorrow!”

  Wee Jimmy pays no attention. “Have a piece of pie, Jacob,” Grandma says, holding out a wedge of cherry pie to Scampy. Scampy seems to consider whether he should keep on at Jimmy or take the pie. The pie wins. I know how he feels. My mouth waters. I’ve already had two hot dogs and a piece of pie, but there’s always room for more pie. I reach across the picnic table and cut myself another piece.

  Grandma swats at my hand, and the precious cargo nearly slides off the spatula before I can get it safely to my plate. “You’ve already had a piece!” she says.

  “Stretch is a growing boy,” Scampy says. “Let him eat.”

  There are two groups of people at the barbecue. Those of us who have no hope of being small enough to be jockeys, and the fine-boned men who look longingly at all the food spread out on the tables. The smells drifting up from the barbecues—roast pork and sizzling steaks and barbecued salmon drizzled in butter and herbs—must drive them nuts. Some of the jocks eat more than others, but it’s no secret that those with the biggest appetites pay the price later. They either starve themselves after a big party or find ways to get rid of the food they’ve eaten.

  “I only brought two pies. Spencer can eat pie at home any time he wants.”

  “I’ll share with someone,” I offer, though I don’t really want to give up a single bite.

  Em slides onto the bench beside me. “Like me?” she says, grinning.

  Sharing suddenly seems like a great idea. “Here,” I say, pushing the plate into the space between us.

  We attack the piece of pie from both
sides, and moments later only a few crumbs are left. Em takes care of these by licking her finger and sliding it over the plate. She holds out her moist finger, covered with crumbs. “Want the rest?”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

  Up on the table, Wee Jimmy is swaying slightly. “Jimmy! Get off that table right now!” Scampy bellows.

  “Yes, sir!” Jimmy salutes and sits down in the middle of the table. Two half-empty glasses tip over, and sticky liquids slosh across the table. Two other exercise riders appear on either side of Jimmy and link their arms through his.

  “Come on, Jimmy boy, time to go home,” one of them says. “I’ll call us a cab.”

  “A fine idea,” Scampy agrees. “See you in the morning!”

  As the three riders make their way unsteadily toward the parking lot, Scampy says, “He’ll be hurting tomorrow.”

  I’m chuckling when I feel a sharp jab in my ribs. Em’s bony elbow pokes me again. She tips her head sideways. “Coming?”

  I have no idea where she wants to go. Not that I’m going to argue. “We have some stuff to finish off,” she says to nobody in particular. Nobody seems to care.

  We head back toward the barns. As soon as we’re out of sight, Em grabs my arm. She changes direction and breaks into a jog.

  “What are you—”

  “Shh. Come on.”

  Em leads me to a bench overlooking the river. Cool. It’s late and I’m alone in the dark with Em. I wonder if she expects me to put my arm around her or something. My mouth goes dry.

  “I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.”

  This sounds like a classic “Let’s make out” line.

  Em, though, seems to have other ideas.

  “While you were recovering, I’ve been watching Tony.”

  My stomach twists. So that’s why she wants me alone.

  “You are right about him. He’s sneaky.”

  “What did he do?”

  “For one thing, when he leaves work at Scampy’s, he doesn’t always go home.”

  “You’ve been following him?”

  “How else was I supposed to find out what he’s up to?”

  I think of Tony’s grip on my shoulder and the time he hit me.

  “You shouldn’t have done that alone. He could be dangerous.”

  Em laughs. “Tony? He might be a cheater, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”

  I’m not so sure. “So where does he go?” I imagine Em sneaking down dark alleys and waiting outside sleazy bars.

  “Not far. He spends a lot of time in Big Joe’s barn.”

  “You’re kidding.” Not many people voluntarily spend time with the trainer lots of us refer to as Big Jerk. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Tony kind of snuck in there when he thought nobody was watching.”

  “How long did he stay?”

  I feel her shrug in the dark. She’s sitting very close to me. My arm acts on its own. It stretches out along the back of the bench. My hand settles gently on her shoulder. My chest squeezes. I think I’m going to have a heart attack.

  Em shifts ever so slightly closer. She definitely does not pull away. Wow. I nearly forget what we’re talking about. When Em speaks again, her voice is softer. Warmer.

  “I had work to do. I couldn’t hang around. But one day he went to Joe’s at least three different times.”

  “What did he say when he came back?”

  “Either nothing, or he’d lie and say he’d been to the café or something.”

  “Big Joe. I think we need to go to Big Joe’s office.”

  Beside me, Em shivers. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “When?”

  We can hear laughter and music in the distance. The party is still going on over at the pit.

  “What about right now?” Em asks.

  “Now? Like this minute?” I’m finding it very cozy here on the bench beside Em.

  “When else are we going to be here together in the middle of the night?”

  She has a point.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

  I don’t feel nearly as confident as I sound.

  Big Joe’s shedrow is just like everyone else’s. One row of box stalls faces another. A wide aisle runs down the middle. At one end, Joe has converted a box stall into an office by replacing the stall door with a real one.

  Em and I are outside the door when she grabs my arm and points. Light shines through the crack under the door.

  We both freeze and stop breathing. Low voices come from behind the door. I want to bolt, but Em has a death grip on my arm. She moves—but not in the direction I want to run. Em ducks under the stall guard and into the stall right next to Big Joe’s office.

  I have no choice. I follow. Inside the stall, a horse pulls its head away from the hay net long enough to give us each a sniff. More interested in food, he turns his attention back to his hay.

  The steady munching resumes and, as always, it calms my nerves. Em leans against the stall wall dividing us from Big Joe’s office. The walls go up about ten feet. The bottom five feet are built with thick planks, strong enough to withstand a horse’s kick. Above that, plywood takes over.

  Big Joe hasn’t bothered to build a ceiling over his office. Even though the two men on the other side of the wall are speaking quietly, it isn’t hard to make out what they are saying. Big Joe’s deep voice and slight accent are unmistakable.

  “What do you mean we can’t do it next week?”

  “The damned kid is back.” It’s Tony. So it’s true. He has been hanging out with Big Joe. “And he’s patched things up with Scampy.”

  “Crap. It was good news when the boy got fired. Better news when he got hurt.”

  “Pansy ass. He’ll screw up again and tick the old man off. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Tall boy. Big nose.” The men laugh at this as if it’s really funny. I touch my nose. Em smiles. She reaches over, takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

  “What if the horse runs on the weekend?”

  “Without a little help? Dead last, would be my bet,” Tony says.

  “So that could be good. If we do that mare of Roger’s this weekend and leave Lordy alone, we can come back to him next time. Long odds are good.”

  Tony coughs. He really should quit smoking.

  “Thing is,” Tony says after he hacks up something disgusting, “Scampy is worried about the horse. I don’t know how long he’ll keep him around if he runs real bad. He’s too damned soft on his horses. And that kid keeps going on about how there’s a problem. I’ve heard him talking to Em.”

  “Hey—we’ve made our money back and then some. How about we do Lordy once more. Then we move on. Who cares what Scampy does with him after that? That new filly you found has potential.”

  Tony makes a noise that sounds half grunt and half snort. This triggers another coughing fit.

  “It’s late,” he says when he recovers. “I’ve gotta go say my good-byes at the party. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  The light in the office goes out, plunging the stall into shadow. The only light on now is a single bulb down at the other end of the barn. We press ourselves against the back wall of the stall and listen. The office door bangs shut and Tony and Big Joe head off down the barn aisle.

  chapter sixteen

  “Let’s go,” Em whispers from the shadows beside me.

  I duck out under the stall guard. Em is right behind me. I reach for the doorknob. Locked. Em grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me back into the stall.

  “What are we going to do?” I whisper.

  “Up there,” Em answers.

  I look up to where she’s pointing. She wants us to climb over the wall and drop down into Big Joe’s office.

  “Give me a boost,” she says, turning her back to me and bending a leg.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious. Hurry up.”

  I grab her lower leg and knee and whisper, “One
, two, three.” I lift and she jumps. She gets a good grip on the top of the wall and pulls herself up and over. I hear her drop down into the office on the other side.

  I scramble up by climbing on the hay rack and then reaching over to grab the top of the wall. A moment later, I drop down into the dark office beside Em.

  “I could have opened the door for you,” she whispers.

  I’m glad it’s dark so she can’t see me blush. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun,” I whisper back. The truth is, I didn’t want her to think I was a wimp. Em had climbed over the wall like it was something she did every day.

  “Fun? I’m glad you’re having fun,” she says. “Now what? Should we put the light on?” she asks.

  “Too dangerous. Someone might see.”

  On the other side of the wall, the horse in the box stall snorts. We both jump.

  “Did you bring a flashlight?” I ask.

  “There’s a good idea. Why didn’t you think of that before?”

  “Me? I didn’t know we were going to—”

  “Shh. They might have a little fridge in here.”

  “Why would we care if they have—”

  “Shh.” Em touches her finger to my lips. “Listen.”

  Sure enough, we can hear a low hum.

  The room is small, and it doesn’t take long to find the squat bar fridge. It’s against the wall we just climbed over. We’re lucky we didn’t land on it when we jumped.

  Em opens the fridge door and a wedge of light cuts across the floor. It’s not much, but it makes it easier to see the desk, a small bookshelf, a TV and a filing cabinet. There’s also the usual jumble of buckets and spare bits of tack, a couple of brushes and stacks of papers everywhere. One wall of the office is plastered with photos of naked women Big Joe has cut out of magazines.

  “Quit staring. We have work to do,” Em says. She starts looking through the papers on the desk.

  I look down, into the fridge. Beer. Half a sub sandwich. Something slimy in a plastic container. “I wonder what this—” I reach in for the sandwich container, ready to make a joke about Big Joe’s eating habits when I see something behind it. A container with a strange label. I pull it out and read it again to make sure I haven’t made a mistake.