A 2010 Derby Story
Each year at this time, New West account manager Gary Elder sits down at his keyboard and writes a short story that incorporates the name of each horse in the upcoming Kentucky Derby. We always look forward to see what he comes up with and thought you might enjoy reading this year’s effort. (Is there a pattern that predicts the winner? You decide!)
Happy Derby!
A Derby Story by Gary Elder
“Anybody seen Paddy? I need to talk to him,” said Dean “Homeboy” Kris.
“Not me,” said Victor Noble, the older, refined gentleman who had worked at the American Lion for years, watching performers come and go and becoming friends with the regulars. He carried himself with a certain dignity, earning the nickname “Stately Victor.” He was class all the way. If Victor gave you his word, you could take it to the bank. There was nothing more certain than Noble’s promise.
“Same here,” said Lucky. “Got no idea where that boy is. What’s goin’ on?”
“Oh, it’s just a little recording deal that may be in the works,” said Dean. He didn’t really want to get into details, especially since he didn’t know Lucky that well. In fact, Lucky was pretty much a mystery to everybody. Nobody seemed to know his last name or where he was from. If you asked, he’d just say, “Lucky, from Jackson Bend. That’s enough.” He’d shown up 12 years ago, asking if he could rent the apartment upstairs in exchange for maintenance and other odd jobs at the club. He’d been there ever since. The irony of his name wasn’t lost on anybody.
Just then, the rev of an engine and screeching tires snapped their heads around. Paddy O’Prado had arrived. “For crying out loud,” said Victor, “look at that car! Can’t he do anything discreetly? Mine would fit in the trunk of that thing.” It was something to see. Kind of a cross between a Mustang and an Aston-Martin and almost the size of one of those Hummer limos – and bright green.
For certain, there was nothing discreet about Paddy O’Prado, or “POP” for short; the brash Irishman fromDublin who was full of backtalk and a “devil may care” attitude. Victor said he acted like he was “from the line of David, God’s gift to the world.”
Paddy was going to be a rock star. He was sure of it. He spent a few years with a couple of small Dublin bands – Mission Impazible, Sidney’s Candy – before flying over on the super saver to find fame and fortune in America. “Heck,” he’d say, smiling from ear-to-ear, “if that two-bit Bono can do it, I can, too.” He certainly had the personality – if not the talent – to be a rock star.
“What are you lookin’ at, Lucky?” Paddy said as he practically launched himself into the room.
Lucky ignored him.
“Hey, Victor, grab me something cold out of the ice box, will ya?” He knew Victor was the only one there old enough to still call a refrigerator an ice box. He loved asking Victor to get him something to drink, then he’d laugh and say, “How old are you, anyway, Victor? I forget.”
“Not so old I can’t whip your….” Victor would then just turn away, shaking his head. He never finished the sentence. He had too much class.
Crash! Dean’s kitten jumped up from behind the bar and knocked over a glass. That startled everybody and gave Dean a chance to change the subject to something more serious.
“Paddy, we got an offer from a guy in LA who’s with a pretty big label. As your manager, I’m telling you, this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
“Allright!” said Paddy. “What do I have to do?”
“Just make music for me,” said Dean. “Maybe then I can get enough money to pay off the conveyance tax on this place.”
“Don’t worry, Homeboy,” said Paddy. “How can we fail? I’m an awesome act.”
Want to read more Derby stories? Check out the full archive.
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A 2010 Derby Story
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