Brooklyn Baby | Spot Conlon ¹

Chp. 26: Sheepshead

"Come on, Spot, I don't like the races any more than you do," I tugged on his hand. "But ya can't let me go alone with Race,"

"You've been wit him before,"

"And I broke my arm," I wince, remembering how painful it was. "He just goes and bets on horses. I need someone with me,"

"Bring Skiddy or Jack,"

"No, I want you ta go,"

"Ugh, fine." He says. "But only 'cause I haven't been in a while, not 'cause ya beggin' me,"

"Whateva', let's go,"

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"How'd ya break ya arm in the foist place?" Spot asked as all three of us entered the Sheepshead.

"I was waitin' fa this dimwit, and the crowd favorite had won. I was run ova' by bettas' gettin' their money,"

"It was a funny when she got run ova', but then she was hoit, so it wasn't funny no more," Race dug in his pocket for some money.

"I don't know why you like this stuff so much, Race."

"Same reason you like shootin', Spot." He says. "It's fun,"

"This ain't fun," I say. "Watchin' the horses, sure. Bettin', no."

"Go get a seat then, I's gonna meet you two up in the stands,"

Spot and I left Race at the betting counters. We found a seat in the stands fairly close to the track, and sat down. He tugged on my hair, bored, while we waited for Race. Who knew how long he could take?

"Spot, I will yank ya cane out and snap it in half if ya don't quit it," I say, laughing and shoving his hand away. "I's serious,"

"Eh, I got an extra,"

"Yeah, that I gave ya," I smile.

"Alright, Lucy is gonna win," Race says, pushing past people to get where we were sitting.

"Lucy?" I ask.

"That one," He points out a horse behind a gate, wearing a pink blanket under the saddle.

"Oh,"

"Race, this is tha worst way ta lose ya money," Spot says. "There's twenty seven hoises, how can ya be sure?"

"That's the fun,"

"Yeah, it's fun when ya lose ya money," I scoff.

"Aye, shut it," Race loudly chews popcorn. "I gotta feelin',"

"So does I," I say. "I feel that one's gonna win," I point at a horse with a blue blanket.

"Wanna bet?"

"Race!" I laugh.

"You's gonna lose," Spot assures.

"Both of ya will see,"

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Lucy didn't win that race. Neither did the one I picked out, but I didn't bet money. Spot and I didn't let Race forget his failure, all the way back to Manhattan.

"Hey, hey, Spot, who am I, ready?" I smirk. "I, know everythin'. I can predict who will come out foist, I tell ya!"

"That a tough one," He smirks at me.

"I didn't say I knows everythin', shut it," Race said, clearly pissed.

"Ya comin' wit me, doll?" Spot started walking the path to Brooklyn.

"Yeah, I's comin'," I follow him. "See ya, Racey."

"Were we too hard on tha guy?" Spot asks.

"Nah, Race knows we's kiddin',"

"Doll," Spot says. "Ken-Doll,"

I just laugh. "Yeah?"

"I didn't even notice that til' now," He says. "Ken-Doll, it sounds like ya name,"

"Don't go callin' me by my full name, Thomas,"

"Alright, touche,"

"Lil' Tommy Conlon,"

"Enough, enough," He lightly shoves me.

"Ah, ya don't scare me,"

"Good, I shouldn't,"

I smile and he pulls me into his side as we walk across the Brooklyn Bridge.

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fun day with spot and race!!1!1!