“A tenner on Marmalade.”
The guy with the eyeshades burped. It was a disparaging burp. “You’d bet on an orange horse. Take my advice. Save your money.”
“Well what would you advise?” The lady, or maybe she was a floozy, asked. She fluttered her eyelashes and tugged at dangly paste earrings. “Help a girl out.”
“God, my feet are killing me. Take my place so I can sit down and I’ll give you a winning tip.”
The lady was used to dead feet. She had on heels that were half her height. “Deal.”
And it was Marmalade by a nose.
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 