Three days later, five hours before the Stock Show's opening parade, I sat shotgun in a low flying helicopter with a Texas Blue Heeler named Rojo panting on my lap. It was way too hot to be smothered beneath fifty pounds of wiry fur, but I called it even since the dog didn't seem all that keen on the seating arrangements either.
Shifting in the bucket seat, I tried to get more comfortable. At the movement, Rojo looked over his shoulder at me, his floppy tongue dripping a steady stream of warm slime onto my thighs. It was disgusting, but I smiled and patted his side reassuringly. I swear, the dog rolled his eyes at me before turning away, just as unimpressed with me as was his master, the pilot.
Miguel Rodriguez.
A very unhappy Miguel Rodriguez.
He sat at the controls, grinding his teeth. Two overnighters were stacked up on his lap, his and mine. On top of those, lay my lovingly-hand-altered-to-perfection-by-Faith pageant dress that was wrapped in a whole mess of of crinkly plastic that swished and swoshed every time he breathed.
Yeah, I'd be pissed too.
Averting my gaze, I looked out the window and surveyed the organized chaos around us. Workers were yelling and directing each other across the lawn, loading up the last of the trucks. Pickups, trailers, and semis, packed to the brim with feed, hay, and animals rolled down the driveway. A little further down, the cowboys were mustering the cattle out onto the open fields.
National Geographic was featuring Beaudry's as part of a ranching special. Any other time, Beaudry's commercial livestock was mustered with ATVs and helicopters and ferried via Semis, but that didn't make for exciting TV. The network wanted to see real life cowboys driving cattle to the market, just as it was done a hundred years ago.
Carson Beaudry didn't believe in inefficiency so the compromise was to do it our way for three quarters of the distance and get the cowboys on horseback for some camera time at the final stretch.
Details, schmetails, right?
Frankly, even that was a lot for Beaudry. I guessed things were really getting bad for the town, economically, if he was willing to sacrifice his privacy like this.
Miguel flipped a switch that activated the rotors and a slow, rhythmic thumping filled the air. "You were never in here. I'm not kidding around, your presence voids the insurance policy. Got it?"
Nodding, I took the headsets he held out to me.
He pointed to a button on the ear piece of the identical pair he wore. "Push this if you need to talk to me once we're in the air."
Oh, I won't have anything to say to you, you scare me half to death. I nodded and picked some burrs off of Rojo's fur.
"You look confused. What about what I said confuses you?"
"Nothing, I got it. I was just wondering why your dog's name is red when he's a Blue Heeler..." I wrinkled my nose. "And his coat's more gray than anything."
"Don't hurt yourself thinking too hard about it."
I scowled at him. "I already know you don't like me, you don't have to be mean about it."
Miguel opened his mouth as if to snap back, but he exhaled instead. "Look, try not to take it personally, I'm just looking out for Jake. He's still on probation and he needs to stay on the straight and narrow."
"... and?"
"And girls as pretty as you are always trouble. Always. Add to that his God damned savior complex and the math just doesn't add up. It's how he got himself into this whole mess to begin with."
"Okay, now I'm confused."
He stared at me, dark eyes flinty and uncompromising. "You gonna be able to handle me laying it out there without having a meltdown?"
"Maybe you can sugar coat it a little?"
He considered. "Think about how you got here in this chopper today."
Mom hadn't showed.
Beth had all but dragged me by the hair into her family's minivan, but I'd resisted, so sure that mom was just running late. By the time I'd accepted the fact that she wasn't coming, everyone I could've ridden with had already left.
Jake had found me sitting on the curb, clutching onto my dress and trying not to cry.
"Beth called," he'd said, looking harried and agitated. "Get up, let's go."
"Go where?"
"Come on, Layla, move."
Grabbing my bag with one hand and my upper arm with the other, he marched me to the helicopter. "He's gonna argue, but get in anyway and stay put."
"Who's gonna argue? Why can't I just go with you?"
"I can't. I'm riding with the crew."
When Jake pulled the passenger door to the helicopter open, Miguel took one look at us and said, "Hell, no."
But Jake shoved me in anyway and slammed the door shut. Cursing, Miguel had gotten out and chased after him.
They argued, lots of finger pointing and throwing of arms up in the air, but I couldn't hear anything. Eventually, a ticked off Miguel returned, cursing a mile a minute in Spanish.
Miguel flipped some more switches. The rotors picked up speed, kicking up a cloud of red dust around us.
"What, is this about me needing a ride today?" I asked.
"It's not just that. Think about how you got to the point of needing a ride. It's your circumstances. Your family situation, the company they keep. Trouble."
Well, it wasn't like I had any control over that.
"And it's you, naive, helpless, vulnerable... fast, walking around here looking like every teenage boy's wet dream." He shook his head. "Trouble."
He wasn't done. Pulling Rojo a little closer to my chest, I waited.
"Just like your mama, and just like his mama. Before he knows it, you'll be leading him around by his dick. Your problems become his problems, until something either explodes, or he implodes. It's a tale as old as time."
I tried everything I could to keep from giggling, but I couldn't help myself.
He scowled. "What about this is funny to you?"
"Telling me off kind of loses its bite when you reference "Beauty and the Beast"."
"What the hell?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Tale as old as time? Is it also a song as old as rhyme?"
"Fuck, is that where that came from? My niece watches that crap non-stop. Okay, fuck that part. Everything else I said though, still stands."
Rojo turned and looked at me again as if to say, your move.
I licked my lips. "I don't know about the rest of the stuff, but the part about me being fast, they're just rumors, Miguel, I'm not actually all the things they say I am."
"What about Peyton Bishop? Everybody knows about you and him."
"Oh, him. Well, that's different. He pays me to fuck him whenever he's in town, so it's a strictly professional relationship."
Miguel's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
I ignored him and focused on Rojo, babbling baby talk and scratching him behind his ears.
"You're lying," he said.
"It's just as ridiculous when everybody else says it, but you believed them."
He gave me a long look, sizing me up.
I rolled my eyes. "Peyton and I are just friends, always have been." As the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I actually meant them this time. Huh, go figure. "Jake and I are just friends too." That part, was most likely a lie.
Miguel shook his head and took up the controls, but was that the ghostliest ghost of a smile on his lips? Just a tiny bit of begrudging respect? I thought so.
"I'm done talking. Quit petting my dog, he's working."
Or maybe not.
True to his word, Miguel didn't speak another word to me for the rest of the trip. But I had a blast anyway, watching the cows and the horses running below us, trying not to squeal when Miguel made sudden dips and turns while chasing down errant animals, and straining to pick Jake out of the melee.
As far as firsts go, despite the rocky start, my first helicopter ride was an astounding success.
***
As for the pageant, Beth was right, it was a shit show from the get go.
First up was the evening gown portion where the ten contestants would ride on a float right behind the High School Marching Band and just before the rotary club. That sounded exciting until the floats turned out to be two pick up trucks half-assedly decorated with crepe streamers.
Also, no one had thought to prepare a dressing area, so we were shuffled into an empty stall between the Alpacas and the poultry where three folding tables and a bunch of mismatched chairs were scrounged up and laid out. Two giant sheets of plywood were leaned across the gate to give us some privacy.
Beth and I huddled in the corner, at the far edge of the last table.
She brushed aggressively at my hair, as if sheer determination and repetition would make up for her complete lack of skill in hairdressing. The rest of the girls and their mamas ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, wielding hot irons and makeup brushes. The amount of hairspray in the air was insane.
"Can you at least try and do something about your face? Everyone else is caking on so much makeup that the astronauts will be able to see them from the moon. You're going to look completely washed out next to them. Huge fail for effort."
"With what makeup? My mom was supposed to bring hers."
"You should've had a backup plan!"
We bickered, loud enough for Mrs. Vega, Carmen's mama, to overhear. She'd been shooting me looks of pity from the beginning when she realized that my mother was the only one who hadn't bothered to show up. Well, Kylie's too, but her mom was dead so she had an excuse.
"Here honey, you can use whatever you need from our stash. Go on, don't be shy, help yourself."
Quick as lightning, Beth thanked her and grabbed a handful of product.
"Here. Do your eyes like Sophia Loren's," she said, handing me a tube.
"You do it. I'm not good with the liquid stuff," I mumbled, chewing off a hangnail.
Beth scoffed. "And what, I am? What the fuck? Why are you acting like this? Now is not the time for you to drift off to your safe place. It's fucking Go Time, Layla. Get your shit together!"
I knew exactly why I was acting like this. Truth was, I didn't really want to win. More than that, I was afraid to win. Because that would mean... well, I wouldn't think about that right now, that would just make it worse. I focused my attention back on Beth.
Hands on her hips, she surveyed her bounty. "I don't even know what half this stuff is. I guess we'll just slap some eyeshadow on and hope for the best."
"Okay, do it."
"You do it!"
"Beth, look at my hands!" I held them up for her to see. They were shaking something fierce. The day was turning out to be one of many self discoveries. In the last hour, I'd discovered that I suffered from debilitating stage fright, where even the anticipation of it was making mush out of my brain.
She stared at them in horror. "Layla, it's not like you're about to give a Nobel Prize acceptance speech. All you have to do is stand in a truck bed, smile, and maybe manage a wave or two. Calm the fuck down."
I took a deep breath and nodded.
"We good? Okay." Beth positioned herself in front of me, an eyeshadow palette in one hand and a plastic applicator in the other. She turned the little stick around, trying to figure out which end was up, then made a few semi circles in the air, practicing. Then she took a deep breath. "Well, here goes fucking nothing," she muttered, leaning forward.
Maybe nerves were contagious because her hands were kind of shaking too.
"May I?"
We turned simultaneously.
Alice Huntington stood there, her hand outstretched, her body language that of a hostage negotiator trying to coax the weapon from a crazed gunman's hand.
"I don't even know who you are, but yes, anyone would be a better choice than me."
I made the introductions as Alice and Beth switched positions.
"I went to finishing school," Alice explained as she deposited the first of the powder onto my eyelid. "Tasteful application of makeup was one of the courses."
She worked quickly and efficiently, her touch light and cool on my face. "I really enjoyed the class until I came down with conjunctivitis from the shared makeup applicators. Thick, yellow, creamy discharge oozed out of my eyes for nearly a week before it finally crusted over and healed. Very painful."
I froze.
She did too, then studied the applicator as if she could determine its sterility by looking at it.
"Too late now. Just keep going," urged Beth. "I'm sure it's fine."
Alice mumbled an apology and worked in silence after that. She then suggested that I put my hair up, and did that for me too. Twenty minutes later, I was a changed girl. She'd done an incredible job.
Beth and I thanked her profusely.
Alice beamed, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. "I'm so glad I came by - I meant to drop in and wish you luck, but I'm thrilled that I was able to help."
She floated off to wherever she came from, brushing past Lucinda McGeorge, the Pageant Coordinator. Well in real life, she worked at the Western Union inside of Walmart, but she was moonlighting.
"Listen up y'all, this is important. There's been a couple of changes to the program." Looking bored and tired, Lucinda flipped a page over on her clipboard. "Well, one addition and one change, or.. two additions, I guess, it don't matter.
So as you know, the police building has been hard up for some improvements for a long time. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but last night, some pipes done sprung a leak in the basement, causin' a whole mess of damage. Since y'all are all gussied up anyway, we're gonna try and raise some donation money to get all that sorted out."
Long story short, they'd decided to auction off a kiss from each of the contestants. Yup, right between the goats and the steers. And no, they didn't think there was anything creepy about that.
Luckily, some of the mothers objected and vocalized their disapproval.
Lucinda held up a hand. "Y'all, Mr. Carson Beaudry was kind enough to waive all entrance fees and eat the costs of putting up this pageant himself, so y'all need to quit acting like we owe y'all somethin'. If y'all don't want your girls to be kissin' whoever, y'all are free to bid for them yourselves. Simple as that. Next order of business. The floats are ready but one of y'all are gonna have to volunteer to open the show."
Kylie's hand shot up. "I'll do it."
Lucinda looked over her glasses at Kylie. "Alright then, Miss Kylie, you come with me. You'll be ridin' in on the longhorn."
"What?"
"Your uncle wants his prize winner front and center, and wants a girl on him for the opening ceremony."
Kylie scoffed. "I am not riding a cow."
Lucinda looked exasperated, but she wasn't stupid enough to say anything. "I need another volunteer."
Dead silence.
"Someone's getting on that cow, y'all."
We ended up drawing straws. Three of the girls were disqualified by virtue of the way their dresses were designed. Kylie was out because she was Kylie.
That left six of us.
Since I was cursed at birth, I'd resigned myself to getting on that cow, but was pleasantly surprised when I drew a long straw.
Carmen Vega drew the short one. By the wail she let out, you would've thought she'd lost someone near and dear to her heart. Her face crumpled and her mother rushed to her side, fanning at her face, trying to keep her from ruining her makeup. Carmen blubbered a mile a minute about all the what-ifs as her mother tried to soothe and reassure her.
"I can't do it momma! It's a cow! You know I'm terrified of them! And I'd have to ride sidesaddle in this dress, and you know I'm horrible at that!"
Oh come on, Carmen, you're a trick rider.
I twirled the straw between my fingers. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have done it. But I couldn't stand there wearing a face full of of the Vegas' makeup and a head full of their styling product and not do something.
I snatched the straw from Carmen's hand and gave her mine. "Fine, I'll do it."
And that's how Layla Danner ended up opening the parade, riding on the back of multiple award winning Longhorn bull, LSR8325, otherwise known as Twilight Jubilee.
I felt ridiculous trying to balance on the cow while using both hands to hold up the giant flag staff flying the Lone Star Ranch's logo, but Daniel Harris, who was riding on my right gave me an encouraging wink that made me smile. From there, it was smooth sailing because my lips quickly dried onto my teeth and I couldn't have stopped smiling had I tried.
It was a good thing too, because Jake rode on my left and let me tell you, all female eyes on that side of the road were glued solidly to him. And in my opinion, he was being overly generous with his smiles, especially to the pretty brunette with the fuck-me eyes and cascading curls.
All that when he hadn't even compliment me on how nice I looked when he'd helped me onto the cow.
Bullshit.
A/N: Did you like the pictures? I've never been to a Stock Show so I had to google it and thought I'd share. ^_^
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Another one for the road:
Oh, my.