This story involves explicit homosexual activity. If such offends you, or if you are underage, please read no further.
The story is completely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Reference to actual locations is made only to make the story seem more real.
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MANY THANKS TO THE MANY READERS WHO EMAILED ME ABOUT SOMEBODY'S ELSES CHAPTER BEING PUT UP IN PLACE OF MY CHAPTER 7. I'M GLAD TO SAY THE PROBLEM HAS BEEN REMIDIED.
Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
TO BE A BROTHER
by Macout Mann
Chapter VIII
The Belmont Stakes
Neither Tom nor Jim had figured to be important players in the Saga of Regie's Hope. And no one paid any attention to them when the five of them had breakfast at the hotel. All that changed the minute they arrived at Belmont Park.
The character of the place was completely different from yesterday. The five of them were dressed in sport coats, because even in 2014, on Stakes Day you couldn't be admitted to the Garden Terrace Dining Room without one.
The atmosphere was especially electric. California Chrome had won the Preakness and was the odds-on favorite to win the Triple Crown. Still, attention was focused on the owner of Regie's Hope and his entourage. Wherever they went cameras flashed. Both amateur and professional photographers wanted pictures. Jim and Tom were never out of range of a tv camera, unless they drifted completely out of the Piries' orbit. They were even introduced to Bob Costas. The NBC folks were preparing for interviews during the tv coverage leading up to the race. One gal even asked Tom for his autograph.
At noon they climbed to the fourth floor of the clubhouse for lunch. Manhattan style Clam Chowder was the featured soup. "I suppose they've got to serve that," Mr. Pirie said, "but putting tomatoes in Clam Chowder has always seemed barbaric to me."
Jim thought eighteen dollars for a Cheeseburger was pretty gross, but it did taste great. The other four men ordered Reubens.
Unlike yesterday, it seemed to Jim that hardly anybody was paying attention to the races that were being run, despite the fact that there was plenty of action at the pari-mutuel windows.
It was still almost three hours to post time for the featured race when the tv coverage began. Malcolm pointed out that the whole coverage from post time to the awarding of the trophy could be done in thirty minutes, but that would provide time for only six minutes of commercials. For the telecast to be profitable, the network would require at least five times that number of commercial minutes. So on tv in advance of the race the run was handicapped by experts. The owners, jockeys, and trainers of the favorites were interviewed. Even Reg was questioned about how it felt to have a horse named after him.
There was a million dollar stakes race run about an hour before the Belmont, the Manhattan. Malcolm, Reg, Tom, and Jim watched it. A horse named Fire Iron was way ahead during until the very end, but another horse, Real Solution, finally caught up and won.
Then it was time for the whole group to go to the paddock, where the mounts for the Belmont were being assembled. Thousands of people, it seemed, were there, most to get a close up look at California Chrome. Odds on him to win were 4 to 5. Malcolm explained that a lot of people were buying two dollar tickets on California Chrome, who would not cash them in if he won. The ticket in time would be several hundred dollars more valuable than the $4.50 payout.
The odds on Regie's Hope were 12 to 1, but the odds on most of the field were much longer than that. Next to California Chrome, the next favored mount was Wicked Strong at 5 to 1. Then there was Commanding Curve at 8 to 1. The odds on the rest ranged from 11 to 1 up to close to 50 to 1.
Mr. Pirie's stable was identified by simple silks, green and white separated by a gold bar. Regie's Hope's jockey, Juan Haviero, looked very dashing, as did the horse's saddle towel.
When "Riders up" was called, it was time for the group to return to Mr. Pirie's box. "New York, New York" was sung. The Call to the Post was sounded, and the horses paraded to the starting gate.
For the race the trainer, Mr. Swanson, and his wife joined the rest of the group in Mr. Pirie's box. They all screamed themselves hoarse as the eleven horses ran the twelve furlongs and streaked to the finish line.
For most of the race, Commissioner led the way with General A Rod in second place. California Chrome was back in the pack with Regie's Hope fighting to keep up with him. Sometimes Regie's Hope got in front of the California horse but couldn't stay there. As it happened, General A Rod faded. A horse named Tonalist made its move in the stretch and overtook Commissioner to win. Commissioner was second. Wicked Strong was the show horse. California Chrome and Regie's Hope finished fourth and fifth, just out of the money.
A two dollar bet on Tonalist to win returned over twenty dollars. Not bad.
Mr. Pirie had bet ten thousand dollars across the board on Regie's Hope, but he was philosophical about his loss. The stallion's fifth place finish and overall earnings record would ensure hefty stud fees. "Besides," he told the group, "for me racing's a hobby, not a vocation." Even Tom had bet ten dollars for Regie's Hope to win. Jim hadn't bet.
Some of Mr. Pirie's friends had invited him and the Swansons to an after-party, so he told the boys to go on to King Umberto without him. Reservations had been made.
King Umberto wasn't nearly as fancy or as pricey as Essex, but the food was delicious. The place had begun as a pizzeria and still featured what many said was the best pizza on Long Island. Reg chose the Veal Ripiena, the others a Chicken and Seafood dish, with Shrimp and Scallops in a Lobster Sauce.
The proprietor remembered the Pirie brothers well, and was sorry their father couldn't join them. The waiter didn't bother to i.d. Jim and Tom, so liquid refreshment was also abundant.
For the four of them it would be their last night together for almost four months, so they returned to the hotel directly from dinner. "You guys can fuck each other all the time," Reg told Tom and Jim, so we get to decide who does who."
"Who does whom," Tom kidded. "I'm game for whoever."
"For whomever," Reg laughed. "I'll take you."
The sleeping arrangements turned out to be the same has they had been the night before, except they used the Pirie boys' room instead of Jim and Tom's. And the play was a bit more ribald. Guys were fucked and sucked at the same time. At one point Reg had one pole in his ass and a one in each ear. Jim humped Malcolm while he was being sucked by Reg. By the time they all fell asleep there were sore dicks all around.
Next morning, the flight to Lafayette was uneventful. The three guys were all grateful for some extra shuteye.