There was a jockey I dated — Tommy Blue — a good jockey, a leading rider, a crazy little Cajun. He liked to eat at Preston’s, a fancy steakhouse. He got to be good friends with the owner. Whenever Tommy came in the owner’d set him up with lobster and steak, the works, and Tommy would eat and eat and gorge himself. Then he’d throw it all up to maintain his weight.

The owner started asking Tommy things like, Got any live mounts tomorrow? And Tommy would say, Sure, I think I got a good chance in that race. Sort of innocent, in the beginning. Sort of polite, if anything. But then Tommy started gambling a little and next thing you know, he’s getting introduced to big rollers, he’s making promises, giving them tips, dirty stuff, getting money in return. He was living high, buying tailor-made suits and such — he was so small.

Sooner or later things go wrong — some dark horse comes in and beats you — and people are not happy. Suddenly Tommy had a lot of debt. He had people following him.

After I got back from Kentucky I went to visit him — we were still good friends. He told me he was going to kill himself and he described how he’d do it. I said we should go to a doctor. No, babe, I’m just kidding, he said. I would never, he said. Are you sure? I said. Of course, he said. Come on.

A week later I heard he’d done it. He’d told me what he was going to do, and he did it — to the letter.

I DIDN’T WANT NO DRAMA

Steve Silver is in the racing hall of fame, but when he drank he’d beat me. I was with him seven years. He wouldn’t let me go.

You work at a racetrack, you get black eyes, bruised, cut up, knocked around — it’s common. Maybe people suspected something but nobody asked. I didn’t want no drama. But then one night some friends talked me into going to the bar with them and some other racetrackers. Steve Silver showed up and started raising Cain with me, making a big scene. My friends wouldn’t tolerate it. They put him in the hospital. After that I finally got away.

Now I’m friends with his son Trevor. For a few years, Trevor lived with us in the summer when he was out of school. We stayed in Steve’s little fishing cabin by a lake, not far from the track.

At first I hated the idea. I didn’t particularly care for kids. I didn’t want to be his mother. But he helped me with my horses — I paid him for it, he worked, he earned it — and we ended up best friends.