Kentucky Rich (14 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich
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“I know that. You don't approve of what I did, do you?”
“There you go again trying to read my mind. Hell, I would have run them off ten minutes earlier if I knew Dad had a shotgun. You're right about something else, too. Jess would have done the same thing, and so would Maud. Dad knows that. That's why he and the others are still here. The old-timers don't take kindly to new ways or to young blood. You and I are the young blood in case you haven't noticed. Go back to the house and explain what happened. Carmela rang your dinner bell a half hour ago. We can handle things here for tonight. I'll see you in the morning. Like you said, four o'clock rolls around real quick. Get a good night's sleep.”
“Five o'clock,” Nealy said wearily.
“Four o'clock,” Hunt said.
“Okay, four it is. What's this going to do to your studying routine?”
“Not to worry, I'll ace it. Graduated second in my class.”
“Smart-ass.”
“You should know,” Hunt shot back.
When she got near the house, she was stunned to see Smitty's Corvette still parked out front. She frowned. “Now what?” she muttered.
She was even more surprised to see Smitty in the kitchen. The tension was so thick in there that Nealy almost gasped aloud. Charlie leaped out of Emmie's arms and hopped into Smitty's lap and immediately tried to chew at the dangling silver bracelets hanging off her arms. The tension eased a bit with the dog's antics.
“What's wrong, Smitty? Why are you still here? Kids, go wash up for dinner.”
“This,” Smitty said, holding up a copy of the
Lexington Herald-Leader.
“They gave you the front page, doll. Actually, they gave you the
entire
front page. They're taking shots at you. I told you it would happen, but I thought they would at least be fair about it. They're pissing me off now.”
Nealy washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “That paper is the least of my problems. I just fired sixty-five people. Maybe more. I ran them off. Maud and Jess would have done the same thing. It's this
woman
thing. It's always this woman thing, and I'm getting sick and tired of it. How archaic can you get? Don't they understand it's the horses that count; it's the horses that are going to suffer? They were going to walk anyway. I just beat them to the punch. Danny Clay, Hunt, and Danny's crew are the only ones staying on. I have to find some help. We'll be okay for a few days, but we can't work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I'm going to keep Emmie and Buddy out of school; both of them are so far ahead in their classes it won't make much difference. They can walk the mares, clean stalls, and wash them down.”
Smitty uncrossed one long leg, stared at the tip of her shoe, then wiggled it seductively under Carmela's nose. “This couldn't have happened at a worse time, sweetie. Do I need to remind you this is Derby weekend? You know what it's like on a Derby weekend. It's worse than Mardi Gras. What do you expect me to do?”
“Find me some help. In the meantime, you and Carmela are going to have to pitch in down at the barns.”
“No, no, no, this girl does not walk around in horse shit. These shoes are made for hardwood floors and carpeting. No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes. How can you sit there in your designer clothes and tell me no, Smitty, when the whole damn state of Kentucky is out to get me because I'm a woman? A woman who just happens to own a Thoroughbred horse farm. You're a woman, for God's sake. You aren't going to let them get away with it, are you?”
Nealy hoped her appeal on behalf of womanhood would spur the office manager to help. It was then that Nealy did something that she almost never did . . . she lit up a cigarette in the house.
“No, I'm not,” Smitty said. “I'll take one of your cigarettes if you don't mind, honey. Carmela, could I have another splash of bourbon, and some ice would go real good.”
“Why don't you just get up on those fancy shoes and get it yourself? The meat loaf is about dried out, Nealy.”
“So I'll put ketchup on it. Do you know anyone, Carmela?”
“A couple of cousins. I'll call them. I'll be glad to help out, Nealy. Just tell me what you want me to do. I won't be cooking any six-course dinners if I'm working the barns. Everything will be on the fly.”
“Sandwiches are good. So are hard-boiled eggs. We aren't going to starve. The horses come first. Smitty?”
Nealy leaned against the kitchen sink sipping at a cup of coffee Carmela shoved into her hands. Smitty would be worthless or next to worthless working with the horses. How could someone who wore stiletto heels, gallons of perfume, and skintight clothes muck a stall? Today Smitty was attired in a skintight zebra-print jumpsuit that zipped up the front. A wide silver belt around her waist jangled when she walked. Black snakeskin shoes with skinny heels added the finishing touches. Nealy sighed wearily as she watched her newest employee spill bourbon into her glass.
“If I agree to your cockamamy idea, will you knock out the wall?”
“Yes.”
“And get me one of those little bar refrigerators so I don't have to keep coming in here and bothering Saint Carmela?”
“Yes.”
“Since you're being so agreeable, how about an easy chair with a good reading lamp.”
“I'll do better than that. I'll give you the guesthouse to live in until things get back to normal. What do you say to that?”
Smitty studied her bright red fingernails as if they held all the answers. “Okay, that sounds good. Short-term only.”
“Agreed. Then let's eat. We can plan strategy when we're finished.”
 
 
Four o'clock in the morning. Three days after the Run for the Roses, Nealy struggled to get out of bed. While her mind was willing, her body protested every step of the way to the shower. She turned on the cold tap and danced under the needle-sharp spray until she was wide-awake. She then turned on the hot water until she thought her skin would pop from her body. It was agony to pull on her jeans and boots, even more agonizing as she struggled to pull on a sweatshirt she would shed by midmorning.
Breakfast was hard-boiled eggs that were cooked the night before, bananas, and a huge cup of coffee.
Carmela sat down at the kitchen table. She looked like death warmed over. “I've never been this tired in my life, Nealy. In case you haven't noticed, I'm an old woman. I can't keep up this pace any longer. When do you think you're going to be able to get some help?” she demanded.
“We're doing everything possible,” Nealy said, her mouth full of banana. “Now that Derby weekend is over, people might be looking at the help-wanted ads. Smitty is working on it. She does have a way of getting things done. I wish you'd be a little kinder to her, Carmela. She's a good worker, and I don't want to lose her. Actually, Carmela that's not a wish but an order.”
“My friend's daughter went to high school with her. She's a tramp, Nealy. A loose woman. She's been married a couple of times; both times she got handsome settlements. It was in the papers. People talk. She doesn't have to work. She's rich, and she's broken up several marriages. She's always the
other woman,”
Carmela said spitefully.
“Is that what this is all about? Get over it, Carmela. Life goes on. The past is over. Today is what counts. We can't depend on tomorrow because tomorrow never gets here. I don't give two shits about Smitty's personal life. All I care is what she does here at the farm. As far as all that other stuff goes, maybe you should come right out and ask her to tell you about her life. I'll bet her version is totally different from the one you just gave me. Don't you get it, there are two sides to everything? If there is one thing I don't need right now, it's friction, and you should never repeat gossip.”
Nealy turned to fill her coffee cup. She saw Smitty standing outside the kitchen screen door, tears in her eyes. “Coffee's ready,” she called. “You heard, didn't you?”
“It was hard not to hear. Yes, I was married twice. My first husband died way too early of a heart attack. He had a handsome insurance policy. My second husband had a penchant for young girls. As you know, he was also a pillar of the community. I was willing to tell anyone who would listen what a lowlife he was. Unfortunately, the man had more money than I, and, as I said, a sterling reputation. My attorneys said no one would believe me, so I kept quiet. That's why my divorce settlement was so outrageously high. I did not break up anyone's marriage. I did date one man who had a wife who lived up north. He neglected to mention that when I met him. When I found out, I showed him the road. I am not nor have I ever been the other woman in anything. I am who I am. If you think poorly of me, that's your problem, not mine, Carmela. Then again maybe if you'd fix yourself up a little, I might be jealous of you. You are kind of dowdy. You could use some highlights in your hair. You need to pluck those eyebrows, too. They look like a bush over your face. Get yourself one of those Wonder Bras and some nail polish.”
“Enough!” Nealy roared.
“Look, doll, you asked. I came to work just the way I was supposed to. You two were talking about me like I was some
floozie.
What do you expect? I'm out there busting my ass for you because we're all women, and I don't want to let you down. I'd appreciate a little respect.”
“You have mine, Smitty. Any luck?”
“Hell yes, I've had luck. I spent the entire night combing this town from one end to the other. I lucked out with two old codgers who were hotwalkers who kept up their licenses. They both knew Maud and Jess. I sent them down to the barn. I got us some college kids for routine stuff, and I snared three guys from the Boudreau Farms. Nice guys, hard workers. They have families, and they don't screw around. Fully licensed.”
“That's it? Smitty, we need more help. No one is answering the ad. What's that van doing out there? Where's your Corvette?”
“It's like this, sweetie. I recruited from the Night Gallery. I got you some women who are willing to give this a shot. You're going to be paying them very well, and when you get a full working crew you will be giving them a bonus. A substantial bonus. I agreed to all this in your name.”
“What's the Night Gallery?”
“A brothel. The girls are ladies of the night.”
Nealy choked on the coffee in her mouth. Carmela pretended to swoon.
“Will you two get off it. Those girls know what hard work is. This will be a piece of cake for them. They're tough. They don't whine, and they don't cry. Maybe if we're lucky we can get them on their feet and off their backs. You keep saying all you want is a day's work for a day's pay. Well, doll, this is your chance to put up or shut up. I handpicked these girls for you. I used to do Miz Jones's books for her. Lots of book work with a brothel. She gives her girls pension plans and health insurance. That makes it all as good as legal as far as I'm concerned. What's it going to be?”
Nealy cleared her throat. “Take them down to the barns. Have Danny show them what to do. I wouldn't mention, unless you have to, of course, what they did . . . do for a living.”
Smitty burst into laughter, “Are you kidding? Danny and the others are on a first-name basis with most of them.”
“Oh.”
“Uh-huh,” Smitty grinned. “You can bring me down some coffee. Where do you want me to park this van?”
“It's fine where it is. I'll bring the coffee. I have to wake Emmie and Buddy, then I'll be down.”
“I can't believe you're giving the go-ahead to this,” Carmela challenged, her face dark with anger.
“Look, Carmela. In this world you do what you have to do. Like I told you before, I don't give a good rat's ass what Smitty did before she got here, and I don't give a good rat's ass what those women in the van did . . . do. I am really starting to care about your pissy attitude. I don't like it one bit. Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world. I can't change that. Maybe all of the women or some of them will want to find another way to earn a living. If I can help in doing that, fine. If I can't, that's fine, too. Now, it's time to paste a smile on your face and get your ass down to the barn and start giving me your day's work. I'm not going to go around on the matter with you again. We have a situation here, and we're doing the best we can under the circumstances. And, last but not least, I expect you to apologize to Smitty.”
“Maybe I should just quit,” Carmela muttered.
“Maybe you should. They probably need a cook over at the Owens farm. I'll give you a good reference.”
Carmela burst into tears as she ran from the kitchen. Nealy threw her hands in the air as she stomped her way to the second floor. It was barely four-thirty in the morning, and already she was looking forward to evening, when she could fall into bed.

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