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Authors: Adriana Kraft
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depending on you. Maxine is depending on you. We’re the only family you got, bitch. Don’t forget it.”
She heard his phone slam, and then there was blessed quiet. Daisy hung up and grimaced. She’d continue trying, for Maxine’s sake, but there was no surefire way of guaranteeing winners.
Daisy rolled over and hugged Bear. Reggie would never be satisfied with sporadic winners. When would his patience snap? And then what?
- o -
“That’s a no-brainer.” Nick stretched his long legs out in front of him in Sam Gallagher’s shedrow office. Sam sat in his desk chair chewing on his unlit pipe. Daisy sprawled atop an upside-down empty feed bucket.
Sam nodded. “So where do you want to race?”
Daisy watched Nick. She’d come to know his moods fairly well during the past six weeks. She knew what his decision would be. They had a choice of running
RainbowBlaze in a mid-level allowance race at Arlington, a low end stakes race at Iowa’s Prairie Meadows, or a similar race at Canterbury. The Canterbury purse was smallest, but money wouldn’t be the key for Nicholas Underwood. He’d want to take Rainbow to Minnesota to share his newest passion with his family.
“We’ll do Canterbury,” Nick said. “Shakopee is just a short drive from Saint Paul where my folks live. It’ll be good for them to see the Blaze. What do you think, kid?”
Daisy smiled in agreement. “Why not? It’ll give me an excuse to see some new country. It won’t be a long haul. Rainbow trailers well and should handle the trip fine.”
“When do we leave?”
“I’ll call ahead and take care of entry fees and stall arrangements,” Gallagher said, making a note on a large desk calendar. “It would be good to give the horse a day or two to acclimate. The race is next Sunday. That gives you a couple days to prepare before you have to pull out.”
“Ouch!” Daisy glared at herself in the
full length closet door mirror. Why didn’t anyone write clear instructions any more?
She read the folded instructions for the fourth time. The wax was certainly hot enough. Burning skin attested to that.
“Okay, again,” she said, looking in the mirror. “Bend your knee and pull it towards your chest,” she read aloud. She sat on a towel in the chair she’d placed before the mirrors. Maybe looking at her reflection was confusing things. But how else could she see what she was doing?
In that now-familiar
cramped position, she applied the wax. The roller seemed to turn more smoothly this time. She relaxed, a trifle. Maybe this would work, after all.
“Now comes the difficult part,” she mumbled, glancing over at the mirror. She’d never be a very good contortionist. “Okay, remember pull vertical, not parallel. Parallel hurts like hell.”
With a quick jerk of the wrist, Daisy pulled on the wax remover strip.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted, hopping about on one foot. “Whoever wrote that this might tingle a little bit never tried it.”
She glanced down at the removal strip and counted six hairs. “Damn! Nicholas Underwood, you’d better damn well appreciate what I’m doing.”
Daisy sat back down and examined herself. She looked like she had a rash of pimples in a most unusual place. She slumped back and closed her eyes. Was this really worth it?
A bikini line was supposed to be a simple thing to accomplish. She didn’t even own a bikini, but she loved the trim look
of the women in the instructional videos. They looked sexy, and she wanted to look sexy. Hell, thousands if not millions of women had a bikini wax line. So what if it
was painful? it was a small sacrifice to make.
She grabbed the box and went over the instructions again.
Half an hour later, perspiration poured off Daisy’s brow. She raised her head and looked in the mirror. She stood.
“Done. That’ll have to do. I can’t take any more.” The hairline looked quite fine, really. But where there had been hair before, now there were so many
She heard his phone slam, and then there was blessed quiet. Daisy hung up and grimaced. She’d continue trying, for Maxine’s sake, but there was no surefire way of guaranteeing winners.
Daisy rolled over and hugged Bear. Reggie would never be satisfied with sporadic winners. When would his patience snap? And then what?
- o -
“That’s a no-brainer.” Nick stretched his long legs out in front of him in Sam Gallagher’s shedrow office. Sam sat in his desk chair chewing on his unlit pipe. Daisy sprawled atop an upside-down empty feed bucket.
Sam nodded. “So where do you want to race?”
Daisy watched Nick. She’d come to know his moods fairly well during the past six weeks. She knew what his decision would be. They had a choice of running
RainbowBlaze in a mid-level allowance race at Arlington, a low end stakes race at Iowa’s Prairie Meadows, or a similar race at Canterbury. The Canterbury purse was smallest, but money wouldn’t be the key for Nicholas Underwood. He’d want to take Rainbow to Minnesota to share his newest passion with his family.
“We’ll do Canterbury,” Nick said. “Shakopee is just a short drive from Saint Paul where my folks live. It’ll be good for them to see the Blaze. What do you think, kid?”
Daisy smiled in agreement. “Why not? It’ll give me an excuse to see some new country. It won’t be a long haul. Rainbow trailers well and should handle the trip fine.”
“When do we leave?”
“I’ll call ahead and take care of entry fees and stall arrangements,” Gallagher said, making a note on a large desk calendar. “It would be good to give the horse a day or two to acclimate. The race is next Sunday. That gives you a couple days to prepare before you have to pull out.”
“Ouch!” Daisy glared at herself in the
full length closet door mirror. Why didn’t anyone write clear instructions any more?
She read the folded instructions for the fourth time. The wax was certainly hot enough. Burning skin attested to that.
“Okay, again,” she said, looking in the mirror. “Bend your knee and pull it towards your chest,” she read aloud. She sat on a towel in the chair she’d placed before the mirrors. Maybe looking at her reflection was confusing things. But how else could she see what she was doing?
In that now-familiar
cramped position, she applied the wax. The roller seemed to turn more smoothly this time. She relaxed, a trifle. Maybe this would work, after all.
“Now comes the difficult part,” she mumbled, glancing over at the mirror. She’d never be a very good contortionist. “Okay, remember pull vertical, not parallel. Parallel hurts like hell.”
With a quick jerk of the wrist, Daisy pulled on the wax remover strip.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she shouted, hopping about on one foot. “Whoever wrote that this might tingle a little bit never tried it.”
She glanced down at the removal strip and counted six hairs. “Damn! Nicholas Underwood, you’d better damn well appreciate what I’m doing.”
Daisy sat back down and examined herself. She looked like she had a rash of pimples in a most unusual place. She slumped back and closed her eyes. Was this really worth it?
A bikini line was supposed to be a simple thing to accomplish. She didn’t even own a bikini, but she loved the trim look
of the women in the instructional videos. They looked sexy, and she wanted to look sexy. Hell, thousands if not millions of women had a bikini wax line. So what if it
was painful? it was a small sacrifice to make.
She grabbed the box and went over the instructions again.
Half an hour later, perspiration poured off Daisy’s brow. She raised her head and looked in the mirror. She stood.
“Done. That’ll have to do. I can’t take any more.” The hairline looked quite fine, really. But where there had been hair before, now there were so many
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