Her wealthy father might think the race track is no place for a proper young lady, but this girl’s right at home. She curses at Blackcurrant Pie, heckles Brown Sugar’s jockey, and puts more on a forecast bet than anyone should. As the ponies round the track, kicking up wet sand, she shakes her lace-gloved fists and waves her oversized sunhat. Here’s Bacon-Wrapped Date in the lead, followed by Sea Salt and Caramel, then Fresh Jasmine. Neck and neck, all the way to the line. She unleashes a string of obscenities, then collects herself and prances gracefully back to the car. After all, her dad’s good for it.
