Maybe Baby (16 page)

“Of course,” she replied. “I generally bet by the horse’s names. I don’t believe in odds.”

Gina was at the window placing her bet for the first feature race. She was betting an Exacta on a horse named "Gina" to come in first and a horse named "I Kick Ass" for second place. Both were long shots but if she had the money to waste, so what?

When she returned back to our grandstand seats, two guys were following her with two more glasses of wine for us. She wasn’t kidding about meeting guys at the track.

“Here she is! Tylar, this is Dustin and Lyle. Guess what?” she halfway shrieked. “They're identical twins!”

No shit, I thought looking at them. Not only was every feature on them identical, it appeared as if they continued to have their hair cut in exactly the same style and wore matching clothes. They had to be mid-twenties at most. It seemed like they were taking the “twin” thing a bit far.

“Hey,” I said. “Well, which is which?”

“I’m Dustin,” the one closest to me said as he handed me a plastic glass of wine. I looked at Gina, feeling a bit peeved that she'd sprung geeky twins on us for the evening.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the wine and shooting her a dirty look.

Lyle, the other twin, spoke as he took a seat next to Gina. “Actually, we're what they refer to as ‘mirror twins,’ meaning that we're identical to the point that one is the mirror image of the other. See, Dustin is right-handed and I'm left-handed. I have a mole on my left butt cheek, and Dustin has the exact same mole on his right butt cheek.”

“Thanks for clarifying that for us,” I replied, turning away to roll my eyes.

They were dressed identically in tight Wrangler straight-leg blue jeans, with matching denim button-up shirts and red bandana scarves tied around their necks. They wore brown pointed-toe cowboy boots. I downed my glass of wine in two gulps. Gina looked at Lyle and gave him a sexy wink.

“How about a couple more wines, guys? I’ll buy if you fly?”

“Sure,” Lyle gushed. He took the bills from her hand and headed for the concessions. Dustin was busy showing Gina how he could turn his eyelids inside out. She was laughing as if it were the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Lyle returned with our wines and a couple of beers for them. No surprise there, they both drank Busch Lite.

The horses in the first race were being introduced on to the track. Gina hollered when her namesake horse was introduced, and then a few horses later, 'I Kick Ass.'

Finally, the buzzer sounded and the gates went up. It was hysterical in that brief 30-second span, listening to the announcer say, “It’s Gina to the inside, then I Kick Ass right behind, Gina, now I Kick Ass breaking through to the outside. It’s I Kick Ass now Gina. The winner is Gina, followed by I Kick Ass!”

“I won, I won!” Gina shouted jumping up and down as both twins watched as her tits nearly jiggled free of her halter. She quickly went back up to the betting window to place her picks for the second feature. I drank my wine, just finishing my third one when Gina returned with two more glasses. The routine continued throughout the next six races and we were both getting hammered. The twins seemed to be enjoying our company. They were good sports about fetching our drinks.

“Hey, I got an idea,” Gina slurred. “Let’s get a picture of your new bellybutton ring. It looks so awesome with that little jean skirt you have on.”

“Love it," I agreed. “Just two little problems though.”

“What are they, hun?”

“First, I’m not sure I can stand up on my own. Secondly, I’m fucking seeing double!” I roared, leaning over and pointing to the twins sitting next to one another. We fell into each other, laughing.

“We can fix that,” she giggled. “We’ve got two bookends here that can hold you up.” She swayed a bit as she pointed to Lyle and Dustin. “C’mon guys,” she ordered in her normal bossy way. “You get on each side of Tylar, yeah, like that. Put your arms around her back so she doesn’t fall now,” she yelled. “Tylar, you put one of your arms behind each of them. Put your hand on their butt moles,” she doubled over with laughter on that one. Gina activated the camera on my phone. “Okay everybody, ready?”

The twins squeezed in close to me resting their hands to the inside on the back of my butt.

“Cheese!” Gina hollered, snapping the digital picture.

“Here,” she said. “Before I save it see if you like it.”

I stumbled over and looked at it. I definitely looked inebriated, but overall sexy damn good. “It’s a take,” I said. “Save it!”

Gina pushed the button and handed me my phone back. I immediately heard a sound effect from my phone that wasn't associated with the ‘save’ feature. The sound was like a jet engine “whooshing.” I hurriedly tapped the screen and saw the tail end of the envelope with wings flying off and away.

What the hell?

“Oh God, Gina. You didn’t
save
the picture, you
sent
it.”

Shit fire!

I checked the ‘sent’ file.

The picture was on its way to Trey's cell.

Lovely.

“What?” Gina screeched. “How did that happen?” She pressed the button on my menu to bring up the photo. “See, it’s saved,” she said. “Take a look right here.”

I looked at what she'd done. She had hit the “Save & Send” option instead of just “Save.” That brought my contact listing up to select who to send it to. Since the last outgoing phone contact was Trey, she'd simply hit “enter” again and
whoosh,
it was off to his phone.

Crap.

“Hey,” Gina said, dissolving once again into a fit of giggles, momentarily distracting me from her major phone snafu. “Check this out Ty - I see another one of those ‘mirror twin’ features.”

I looked at the picture again, closer this time. By God she was right: each of them had a hard-on under those tight jeans; one’s curved to the right, the other’s curved to the left.
I brought my hand up to my mouth in horror. This was so not good.

Gina’s laughter was contagious. The twins were looking sheepish and Gina and I were ready to pee our pants.

She pulled herself together enough to place her bet for the last race of the evening. It was going to start in less than ten minutes. I sat down trying my best to compose myself as the people around us were starting to get irritated. I needed to chill out and sober up a bit.

Just as Gina returned from placing her bet, my cell phone rang. I glanced down at the caller I.D. It was Trey.

Uh oh.

“Hello,” I answered trying my best not to sound inebriated.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice full of anger.

“Watching the races,” I replied innocently.

“What was with the picture you just sent?”

“I didn’t send it. Gina did, by accident,” I replied loudly.

“Who are those two idiots with you?” he demanded, totally incensed.

“Twins,” I replied, giggling, followed by a hiccup. “Did you see my bellybutton?”

“I saw quite a lot of you in that picture, as I'm sure everyone around you is too. So maybe you need to call it a night."

Gina and the twins were staring at me now. They'd figured out that I was in some sort of a pickle with someone. Gina knew exactly who it was. They were waiting to see how it would play out. I didn't appreciate a dressing down even though it made sense to call it a night. I hadn't responded to his suggestion.

“I'm sending someone to get you,” he snapped.

“No, it's all good,” I replied, unable to control the hiccup that followed.

“Tylar, I mean it—”

I powered off the phone before I heard whatever it was Trey planned on yelling over the phone.

“I need another wine,” I announced, dropping my phone into my purse cockily.

Chapter 17

I was leaning over the toilet in Trey’s bathroom, heaving. Still dressed in my jean skirt and top, I had no idea how long I'd been at this. To the best of my recollection, Gina was in her bathroom playing the same song into her toilet. I tried to gather my thoughts as to how we'd even gotten back to the manor. Everything was so fuzzy…and painful. I promised myself I'd never, ever drink again. I couldn’t imagine what I was throwing up other than the wine; I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. My head was throbbing already. Another spasm hit and I leaned over the toilet once again.

I finally managed to crawl up from my crouched position. I flushed the toilet, staggering over to the double sink vanity. I looked like something a cat had puked up. My mascara was smeared halfway down my cheek on each side. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair was matted. I ran my fingers through it and realized it was vomit.

Eeww!

I debated whether I could stand long enough to take a shower. There's no way I was going to bed with puke in my hair. I made my way to my room, using the walls on each side of the hall to bounce off of until I reached it. I grabbed clean undies and Trey’s navy blue bathrobe and headed back to Trey’s bathroom.

Once there, I stepped out of my clothes and turned the shower on, getting the temperature adjusted. I stepped in and began scrubbing myself. I shampooed my hair, twice. Gingerly stepping out of the shower, I wrapped my hair up in a towel and wrapped Trey’s robe around me.

What to sleep in? I turned the light on in Trey’s closet and stepped in; it was nearly the size of a small bedroom. He had rows of neatly pressed shirts, dress pants, casual pants, and shirts. I saw one of his French cuffed white business shirts hanging on a hook, as if he'd changed quickly and hadn’t had time to throw it in the laundry chute in the bathroom. I lifted one of the sleeves up to my face, catching his scent. I quickly shed the robe and put the shirt on, rolling up the sleeves as their length went clear over my hands. I buttoned it up to just above my breasts and rubbed it against my skin.

I returned to Trey’s bathroom and brushed my teeth and gargled. My head was still pounding. I dug through the medicine chest and found some Advil, popping a couple. I didn’t bother to take the towel off of my head. I went back into the bedroom, pulled down the covers of Trey’s bed and climbed in, pulling the blankets up under my chin. I looked over at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost 3 a.m. How did we even get back here? I must've blacked out.

So not good.

It seemed as if no time had passed since my head hit the pillow when there was a faint knock on my door.

“Come in,” I called out, the echo of my voice reverberating in my head, amplified a hundred times. Gina bounced in, wearing her short silk robe, holding a cup of coffee and her unlit cigarette. She hopped up on the bed, putting her coffee on the nightstand, while she climbed under the covers.

“You going to sleep all day, girlfriend?” she asked in her usual bubbly manner. She grabbed the remote off the nightstand and turned on the flat-screen. She channel surfed as well as any man I knew, and just before I was about to snap at her to stop, she landed a channel that caught her attention.

“Oh,” she said, “TCM's running Hitchcock movies all weekend!”

“Oh God, turn it down a notch,” I said, wrapping the goose-down pillow around my still throbbing head.

“This is one of my favorites, ‘Marnie,’” she continued, all bubbly and normal. She glanced over, sensing my less-than-enthusiastic mood. “You look like shit, but we can fix that.”

She bounced off of the bed and padded over to the intercom on the wall, hitting the button to alert someone on the staff. In a few moments, Thatcher’s voice came over the intercom.

“Yes, miss?”

“Thatch, this is Gina here.”

She’s calling him 'Thatch.'?

“Tylar's a bit under the weather this afternoon. Could you please send up a tray with the following?”

I couldn’t listen any more when she started rattling off various food items. I wrapped the pillow tightly over my head. She climbed back into bed after advising the staff what was required as if she owned the place. Gina had balls.

“You’ll be fixed up shortly, girlfriend. No worries. I’m not going to let you ruin one of our perfectly good days off.”

I eyed her warily.

“Hey, I cleaned up pretty well at the track last night. I’m $250 richer today,” she bragged.

“Is that after you paid our bar tab?” I asked.

“There, she’s coming around folks, getting back to her normal smart-ass self.”

“How can you possibly be so chipper?”

“It's simple. I left a note on the kitchen counter before I went upstairs to my own puke-fest last night requesting what I needed on my breakfast tray, and what time I needed it brought to my room.”

She smiled, pleased with herself. She leaned back against the pillows she'd stuffed behind her back, turning the volume up just a bit on the television. “I love this part where he takes her on a cruise for their honeymoon and she won’t sleep with him. Who wouldn’t want to sleep with Sean Connery? Frigid bitch. It’s all her mom’s fault, the Bible-thumping old prostitute.”

I was uncomfortable with the movie critique Gina was providing. “Can we watch something else, please?” I asked.

“Sure,” Gina said, picking up the remote to resume surfing.

She finally landed on an “I Love Lucy” marathon.

“So,” I rolled over onto my side, bending my arm to support my throbbing head, “how'd we make it back here last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Obviously not since I’m asking you.”

She gave out a loud hoot of laughter. Not good for the head. “Thatch picked us up.”

“You called him to come get us? Gina, you're running the staff ragged here. We can’t take advantage of Trey’s generosity and hospitality like that.” I was genuinely pissed. I didn’t want Trey or his staff thinking that I was some kind of a gold-digging bitch.

“Hold up there, girlfriend,” she replied. “I did not call Thatcher to pick us up. Trey did.”

“Trey? How did Trey know where we were?”

“I’m thinking that picture of you and the twins might've tipped him off. You know the one I accidently saved and sent, instead of just saved?”

Oh, yes. It was all coming back to me now.

“After you hung up on him he evidently called Thatcher and instructed him to come and collect us at the track. He wanted to make sure that we got home okay. He probably could tell you were drunk on the phone.”