“There’s no tea to spill,” Vronsky said. “I’ve just taken a number to get in line, so I can admire her along with everyone else here.” Vronsky grabbed a beer for himself and tossed another to his friend, who caught it one handed. Murf had been picked for all-stars when they played together and Vronsky had not—well, not until Murf got him on the team by telling the coach he wouldn’t play unless his friend did, too. Vronsky smiled at the memory. “Hey, by any chance does Anna drive an old blue Benz wagon?”

“Yep, that’s her. Everyone else shows up in this dusty-ass place in brand-new, perfectly washed limited edition Range Rovers, but she shows up in that. Normally she’s got those humongous dogs that look like bears in the back, but I didn’t see them today. Why do you ask?”

Vronsky drank his beer and shook his head. “No reason.” So that was her, at the four-way stop before he got here. She was right there in front of him and he didn’t even know it. I wonder if she knew it was me on the motorcycle? He hoped not, because if she did know and didn’t come back, that might mean he was right about being a fool to come here.

“Okay, if you say there’s no reason, then I guess there’s not one. But I gotta tell ya, it’s pretty whack, you showing up out of the blue when I’ve never seen your ugly mug around here before, and I’ve worked here for years now. Now that I’m thinking about it, Anna and I started coming to Staugas Farms the same week. Of course, she was here to ride five-hundred-thousand-dollar thoroughbreds while I was being paid minimum wage to pick up their shit.”

“I didn’t know you liked horses,” Vronsky said, hoping to change the subject.

“I didn’t. Still don’t. Well, some of ’em are cool,” Murf admitted. “I got this job because that’s where the judge sent me after I got caught shoplifting. Second offense. It was either this or juvie, and the judge was a friend of Mr. Staugas’s and asked if he had any work for a wayward kid. He said yes and set me straight. He even fostered me when my mom went to rehab. Now this stinky mudhole feels like home. Funny how that happens, right?”