"But don't you have to be twenty-one?"

"Eighteen," he mumbles, going inside and pressing five.

"Exactly. I'm sixteen and a half."

He shakes his head and leans in to kiss me. "Rules should always be bent, if not broken. It's the only way to have any fun. Now come," he says, leading me down a hall and into a large room decorated in varying shades of green, stopping before the front podium and greeting the maitre d' like a long lost friend.

"Ah, Mr. Auguste, so wonderful to see you! Your table is ready, follow me."

Damen nods and takes my hand, leading me through a room full of couples, retirees, single men, groups of women, a father and his young son—not an empty seat in the house. Eventually stopping at a table just across from the finish line, with a beautiful view of the track and the green hills beyond.

"Tony will be right over to take your orders. Should I bring you champagne?"

Damen glances at me then shakes his head. His face flushing slightly when he says, "Not today."

"Very well then, five minutes 'til post."

"Champagne?" I whisper, raising my brows, but he just shrugs and unfolds his racing program.

"What do you think about Spanish Fly?" He looks at me smiling when he says, "The horse, not the aphrodisiac."

But I'm too busy gazing around to answer, struggling to take it all in. Because this room is not only huge, but it's also completely full—in the middle of the week—the middle of the day even. All these people playing hooky and betting. It's like a whole other world I never knew existed. And I can't help but wonder if this is where he spends all his free time.

"So what do you say? You wanna bet?" He glances at me briefly, before making a series of notes with his pen.

I shake my head. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Well, I could give you the whole lowdown on odds, percentages, stats, and who sired who. But since we're short on time, why don't you just look this over, and tell me what you feel, which names you're drawn to. It's always worked for me." He smiles.

He tosses me the racing form and I look it over, surprised to find three distinct names jump out at me, in a one-two-three order. "How about Spanish Fly to win, Acapulco Lucy second, and Son of Buddha third?" I say, having no idea how I got there, but feeling pretty confident in my picks.

"Lucy to place, Buddha to show" he mumbles, scribbling it down. "And how much would you like to wager on that? Minimum bets two, but you can certainly go higher"

"Twos good." I say suddenly losing confidence and unwilling to empty my wallet on a whim.

"You sure?" he asks looking disappointed.

I nod

"Well I think you got some sound picks, so I am betting five. No! Make that ten."

"Don't bet ten," I say pressing my lips "I mean I just picked them, I don't even know why."

"Looks like we're about to find out." he says standing as I reach for my wallet.

But he just waves it away, "You can reimburse me when you collect your winnings. I'm going to post. If the waiter comes by order whatever you want."

"What should I order for you?" I call, but he moves so fast he doesn't even hear me.

By the time he returns the horses are all in the gate and when the shot goes off, they bolt from their stalls. At first appearing like shiny dark blurs, as they take the corner and race for the finish. I spring from my seat, watching as my three favorite picks jockey for position then jumping and shouting and screaming with glee, when they all cross the finish line in my perfect one, two, three.

"Omigod we won! We won!" I say, smiling as Damen leans in to kiss me. "Is it always this exciting?" I gaze down at the track, watching as Spanish Fly trots into the winners circle and gets draped with flowers, preparing for his photo op.

"Pretty much," Damen nods "Though there is nothing like that first big win, that's always the best."

"Well I'm not sure how big it will be," I say wishing I had a little more faith in my abilities, at least enough to broaden the stakes.

He frowns "Well since you only bet two, I'm afraid you won somewhere around eight."

"Eight dollars?" I squint, more than a little disappointed.

"Eight hundred" he laughs "Or Eight hundred and eighty dollars and sixty cents to be exact. You won a Trifecta, meaning win, place, and show in that exact order."

"All that on just two dollars?" I say suddenly knowing why he has a regular table. He nods. "What about you, what did you win?" I ask. "Did you bet the same as me?"

He smiles "As it just so happens I lost. I lost big. I got a little greedy and went for the Superfecta, which means I added a pony which didn't quite make it, but don't worry I plan to make up for it on the next race."

And did he ever! Because when we went to the window (after the eighth and final race) I collected a total of One Thousand Six Hundred and Forty-five dollars and Eighty cents while Damen pocketed significantly more, having won the" Super High Five", meaning he picked all five horses in the exact order they finished. And since he was the only one to have done so for the last several days, he won Five Hundred and Thirty-six Thousand dollars and Forty-one cents all on a ten dollar bet.

"So what do you think of the races?" he asks, his arm tucked around mine as he leads me outside.