Broken Toys | Chapter Seven
Theo
Needed to clear my head of the thought fog resulting from my revelations to Nyssa and suggestions from Margot. Didn’t sleep through the night as anxiety ate at me—how does she feel about me now? As dawn neared, I got up, looked down at my slumbering wife for a minute before hitting the shower. I needed to burn off my excess energy resulting from my troubled state of mind. Nyssa. I don’t think she could fully comprehend the importance of me finally telling her the truth. Telling her of my mother, that’s like the guru passing down a sacred mantra to his apprentice— how else can one understand something unless told? Granted, she got a sanitized version, but it did hit on all the major points. I knew Nyssa’s dissatisfaction with me has been growing, evidenced by her attitudes and rejection of my gifts. Especially the dress I had made for her. No, two and a half million worth of rubies and diamonds couldn’t warm up the Ice Queen my wife was becoming. She can’t leave me. Til death do we part: it’s a promise I plan on keeping.
The housekeeper and cook, Maisie Ent, must have heard me get up and take my long shower, because by the time I made it downstairs, she had a breakfast of pancakes with melted butter and maple sugar sprinkled on top, two eggs over easy, and crisp strips of duck bacon ready next to a bowl containing chunks of melon, berries, and grapes. A French press coffee pot sat steaming on the table in the breakfast nook, and next to it, a coffee cup and small pitcher of half and half, my preferred creamer. So far Miss Ent demonstrated a very capable hand at managing my domestic affairs. But that wasn’t the only reason I hired her. She made Nyssa happy. Her cold and professional manner directed at me melted in my wife’s presence. The two weren’t best of pals, but more than once I’ve walked in on them chatting over a cup of tea. Every time both would stop and look like teenagers caught by a parent when raiding the liqueur cabinet. They wouldn’t speak again, not until I was long out of earshot. I found it amusing.
As I sat down, Miss Ent bustled forth from the pantry, a tray in hand. “Good morning, Mister Mezler.” A handsome woman in her late twenties, she stood taller than my wife by an inch or so. Black hair neatly coiffed in a bun, beautiful almond-shaped eyes, a heart shape face with full lips and striking cheekbones. The sick side of me wanted her naked in my Chamber, bound over my ottoman, her dark skin glowing beneath my heavy leather razor strop. But I couldn’t risk inviting her to partake of such delights. But oh, how I think about it every time I see her.
Nodding toward Miss Ent, I acknowledged her greeting. After a glance to the clock on the wall, I noted that it was fifteen minutes after seven. Took a bite of bacon dipped in egg yolk and said, “Please inform the missus when she gets up to head out to the stables no later than noon.”
She nodded back. “Yes sir.” And turned to arrange the tray with a tea pot and cups. I smiled. Two cups meant she and Nyssa would be having a chat fest. With my attention turned to my plate, I devoured the victuals, wiped my mouth with the linen napkin and made my way out the door.
I walked with haste through the early morning sunshine to the garage. Sun lit the world, casting a golden glow over the domain I owned. Had to head out to the farm, since a very special delivery is scheduled to arrive before ten. A new race horse straight from an Irish farm, bought for a pittance of six million. Worth it. His dam, Ocean Tears, won every race she entered. His sire, Scarlet Moonshadow, now well into his in his twenties, keeps siring winners. The chestnut one-and-a-half year old colt, Ocean Shadow, showed much promise and I snatched him from those who’d run him in Newmarket. Those in the know knew Ocean Shadow would be a contender for the Triple Crown. With his lineage, I could charge two-hundred-fifty-thousand every time he covers a mare. Figure two hundred mares serviced a year, that’s an easy fifty million a year. Shit, twenty-five mares and he will have paid for himself in the first year. If he’s a winner on the track, I could double the stud fee. A Thoroughbred with Barb lines on his dam’s side, and Arabian on his sire’s, the horse was made to run and win. I’d let him prove himself on the track before letting him fuck his brains out as a reward.
Mezborough Farms consisted of three and a half thousand acres of pasture and woods south of Seattle. Four hundred acres were of cliffs and beach front, while the heart of the property contained the offices, arena, stables, paddocks, and various sheds. Needed to get Ocean Tears settled in, and then proceed with my next acquisition: a mare. I wanted to breed a gorgeous horse for Nyssa; a horse so magnificent with the luxurious mane and tail of an Friesian or Andalusian, and speed of a Thoroughbred. I’d even let it be the first mare Ocean Shadow covers. A whimsical horse for my whimsical wife. Surely she would love to watch it run. Of course, she would never ride it as I would not risk her life, but still, a pretty pony for my beautiful bride. If a stallion, I’ll name him Vizir, and if a mare, Desiree. Both were names of Napoleon Bonaparte’s mounts.
A forty minute drive ended with me turning into the two-mile lane to the stable compound. The dogwood and scarlet crape myrtle-lined road had white-fenced paddocks which seemed to hammer home how lush and verdant the meticulously manicured grounds were in their perfection. I took pride not only in the property, but my employees who went out of their way to make my vision a reality.
As I stopped the Bugatti in front of the office, a tall and emaciated figure stepped out to greet me. In his khaki slacks and teal polo shirt, Parker Madison looked like death warmed over, but he served his role as the general manager of my stables with efficient proficiency. “Welcome, Mr. Mezler.”
“Maddy.” I nodded toward him as I exited the car. “Has he arrived yet?”
“No, but we got a call. He’s just down the road, about fifteen minutes out.” His voice seemed too deep for the slender man. “Bob Kelly is in the paddock, ready to give him a go-over.”
Robert Kelly, my in-house veterinarian, was also adept at his job. We’d put the colt in quarantine for two weeks before introducing him to his new stall and paddock within the main stable. Safety first, being that I owned a literal fortune in horseflesh and bio hazards are a reality in this business. Mares have to pass a health check with three vets before getting covered by either of my studs. Siggy’s Folly, my main stud, won the Preakness Stakes and has been throwing 50/50 in regards to racers for the past year. None of them had the heart, the spirit to be winners, though. Greased Lightening’s Nose, a Belmont Stakes winner, has been picking up the slack from Siggy, with an outstanding foal maybe twice a year. The rest, passable as riding horses. Those without promise are sold off rather than wasting feed on animals that don’t serve the purpose I need.
I needed new blood, and Ocean Shadow serves as my investment. “Good. Who have you assigned as his primary groom?” Who ever it was would get a talking to by me, emphasizing the importance of keeping the horse in peak condition.
“Jimmy Ent. He’s good. Calm. Can also jockey.”
Younger brother to my housekeeper, Jimmy had been in my employ since he was fourteen, volunteering to muck out stalls during the summer. A dependable young man. However, I can have Miss Ent cement the importance of proper decorum to her brother. “You sure he’s not too young?” Couldn’t be older than eighteen, if that.
“Sir, I’m positive he’ll do well, otherwise I wouldn’t have extended the opportunity to him. Sivvy Buskin will oversee Jimmy.”
Sivvy seemed almost as old as the sea. In his late seventies, he’d grown up around horses and was closest to a horse whisperer we had on hand. “Excellent.” With that, I turned and strode toward the main stable, where the mares lived. Stallions were in another, and yearlings and two year olds in yet another. All were designed in the same manner. High, white arched ceilings and dark wood beam construction gave them an old world feel. The scent of horse, hay, straw, and leather hung in the air. Each horse had a large stall with small outside yard. A total of two hundred horses lived on this property, roughly a quarter of them foals, living as a herd with their mothers in a huge pasture. They would be auctioned off in the autumn, only the choicest kept for race training and potential breeding. Only the most excellent were permitted to pass their lineage down to a new generation. Those already in training stayed in the stables, where they interacted with their grooms on a regular basis. Helped build trust between human and beast, a bond that would make the animals more intuitive of their rider’s want on the track.
Maddy’s walkie-talkie started spitting noise at him, to which he replied, “Copy.” To me, he said, “He’s here.”
As we walked out of the wide stable doors, a truck and trailer pulled into the courtyard, turning around until the trailer’s gate faced the open stable doors. A small woman dressed in a a green silken blouse, jodhpurs, and knee-high riding boots jumped out of the truck’s cab, her honey blond hair in a fat braid which hung to the small of her back. She strode up to me, hand extended. “Theo Mezler? I’m Jennet Palloosa. Pleasure to meet you.” Her clipped English accent grated on my nerves and I couldn’t help but think that she needed to bleach the smattering of freckles from her upturned nose.
“Jennet? Are you here to facilitate introductions to Ocean Shadow?” Wouldn’t surprise me if the horse’s home stable sent help to make sure he acclimated to his new locale. Gainsborough Greens never mentioned sending her over, and so I questioned her with scorn.
“Yes, just that. He’s a spirited beast and I’ve worked with him since he was hours old. He knows me.” With that, she clicked her tongue and went to unlock the trailer’s gate. As it lowered into a ramp, I saw my newest acquisition shivering in the dark. Jennet clicked her tongue again, and the horse flicked his ears in her direction before taking a few steps. Once sunlight touched his hide, he pranced out of the trailer, an arrogant display of superb flesh. Jennet walked him around by his hackamore-style bridle and I watched the play of muscles beneath shining brown hide. I couldn’t wait to race him.
“I wish I had been notified, as we have lodging on-site for our grooms. But I don’t know how comfortable you’d be in mixed company. How long shall you remain with your charge?” Not long I hope. I wanted that horse to myself, for him to obey my grooms, not this stranger. Her self-assured manner irked me, and I wanted to break her on my St Andrew’s cross. Would an English scream sound the same as an American?
“I’ll be fine, and if Ocean Shadow takes to his new home like a duck to water, I won’t be here too long.” She touched the horse all over and I felt jealous of the horse. She should be fawning over me, the owner, the billionaire. Her disregard of her betters just furthered the fantasy of bending her over the ottoman and caning her ass. The thought of her begging for mercy made my cock start to harden.
“Good to hear. We have cottages for the grooms. Maddy? See one is made ready for Miss Palloosa.”
Maddy nodded his combed-over head and walked off to the main office. I noted the help had gathered by the large stable’s dutch doors. “Jennet, these are the head grooms of Mezborough Farms. This fellow is Sivvy Buskin. He knows everything about American racing and horses there is to know. Chuck Rabicano,” I indicated the man in his early thirties, the prime of life with the looks of the boy next door. I bet she’ll appreciate his blue eyes and golden hair. “He’s your go-to guy. And young Jimmy Ent here, he’s a hard worker with jockey potential.” As I spoke each of their names, Jennet stepped forward and shook their hands. And every time she stepped forward, the horse did too. They were in tune, and it both pleased me that the horse was eager to please, yet angry that it was her he obeyed.
This woman has to go. Sooner she can transfer her power over the beast to one of my employees, the better.