The Bad Boys Of Molly Riot: The Complete Hard Rock Star Series

by Jade Allen

  "And Spa," Quinn said again, holding out the brochure, "You like spas."

  "I like real spas," Layla said, walking unsteadily toward the opening at the end of the wagon, "With crisp white sheets and aromatherapy oils and pretty boys telling me to take off my --- oh, holy hell."

  Layla stepped down out of the wagon and got her first full view of the guest ranch…and spa. She immediately knew why whoever owned this place had named it "Middle of Nowhere". Tucked in what looked like an area that had been blasted out of the woods with haphazardly thrown dynamite, the scattered buildings of the ranch were a strange, teetering balance between a kitschy tourist stop and the backdrop for a low-budget horror film.

  "This is perfect!" Quinn gushed, putting down her suitcase so she could extend her arms to her side and spin around joyously.

  "For what?" Layla asked.

  Quinn stopped spinning and gazed at Layla with enormous brown eyes that looked like they held all the hopes and dreams of the generations that came before her, and the innocence that said she actually believed she could accomplish them.

  "To achieve my life goal of riding a real horse through the great outdoors. I'm going to be a rhinestone cowboy. Well, cowgirl."

  Layla winced.

  "I don't think that means what you think it does."

  Just then an old man who very well may have been the one who blasted through the trees climbed down from the bench at the front of the wagon and shuffled his way around to them.

  "Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere," he said, holding out an arm as if to encompass the eerily quiet ranch, "I hope you enjoy your week with us."

  "Five days," Layla said, "We leave Saturday morning."

  Eli came up beside Layla and looped an arm around her waist.

  "Can't you try? Just a little bit? Q is so excited and it could be fun. You don't know. You didn't think that you were going to enjoy the Sweet Corn Festival she made us go to, either, but you ended up having a blast."

  "I ate seven ears of roasted corn, drank some moonshine, and woke up the next day."

  "See? Fun."

  Layla looked back over at Quinn who was now closely scrutinizing a map of the ranch and bombarding the little old man with questions. She sighed and put her arm around Eli's waist, resting her head on his thin shoulder.

  "Alright. I will try to be good. She really does look happy."

  Ten minutes later Layla was already starting to regret her promise. She lugged her suitcases up onto the small front porch of their assigned cabin and let out a long exhalation, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to remove the sweat that had beaded there during their hike through the rest of the ranch to get there.

  "Why did they put us in the very last cabin?" she asked through her panting breaths.

  "I asked for something quiet and secluded," Quinn replied as she fought with the old-fashioned-looking key trying to get the front door open.

  Layla straightened and put her hands on her full hips.

  "The whole damn place is quiet and secluded. They didn't need to send us on our very own personal trail of tears to get here."

  "I don't think that was tasteful," Eli whispered, glancing around them as if a political activist group was going to jump out at them from behind one of the trees.

  "I'm sorry. Look around you, though. We are so far out I think we left the middle of nowhere and now very well may be closer to somewhere."

  "Is 'Somewhere' on the map?" Quinn asked.

  The door finally relented under her coaxing and swung open. Layla let the other two enter first before dragging her suitcases behind her into the cabin. As soon as she stepped inside she let them drop from her hands.

  "Oh my god, it's the East Village revival of 'The Last of the Mohicans'."

  ****

  Whoever had decorated the cabin truly left no inch untouched, filling the space with everything from vibrant polyester tapestries and rugs that had a vaguely Native American design to massive wooden statuettes of cowboys on dramatically reared horses to various sets of antlers hung on the walls. Even the coffee table seemed to be nothing more than a large tree split in half and turned on its side so it could balance on stumps from smaller trees.

  "Aww, poor Bambi," Eli said and Layla turned to see him standing beside the wall, cradling the set of antlers positioned lowest.

  "Don't worry," she told him, "They don't hurt the deer to get those. The animals shed them every year so you can just go out and pick them up off the ground."

  "That's convenient. It's more masculine than gathering wildflowers, too. Maybe they have baskets available at the front desk so we can go gather."

  Layla shook her head at Eli, not wanting to break his soul by letting him know that there probably wasn't an overabundance of antlers just strewn across the ground waiting for him to skip by with his wicker basket and scoop them up. She glanced around the cabin again, finding herself liking the awkward surroundings a bit more with each passing second. It was almost like the cabin version of Linus sitting in the pumpkin patch waiting for the Great Pumpkin on Halloween. Never could there be a more sincere tiny cabin trying to look like a real cowboy retreat.

  "Where's Quinn?" she asked as she realized only she and Eli were still in the living room.

  "I'm in the bedroom!" Quinn called back through one of the two doors along one wall.

  "Bedroom? As in singular?" Eli asked, releasing the antlers and crossing the living room toward the door.

  Layla and Eli met in front of the bedroom door and peered in cautiously.

  "Perfect," Layla said, sighing and sagging against the doorframe.

  Inside the small bedroom, Quinn was standing proudly beside a triple bunk bed that appeared to be made primarily out of rejected firewood lashed together at the corners with strips of brown leather. Layla sent up a silent prayer that was only for show, hoping that the bed had a bit more structural integrity so that it at least had a shot of supporting two curvy women and one rather tiny man.

  "I get the bottom bunk!" Eli shrieked, pushing past Layla into the room and tossing himself sideways onto the lowest bunk.

  "Like hell you do," Layla said, stepping toward the bed so she could grab him by his ankle and tug him back out.

  "Yeah, I don't think those physics work out," Quinn agreed, "There's a reason pyramids are pointy at the top and not at the bottom. We need to arrange this by size. Since I am the most prominent of the three of us, I will take the bottom. Eli, you weigh nothing so you take the top. Layla, you come in somewhere in the middle, so that's where you'll sleep, too."

  "A Layla sandwich!" Eli said, scrambling up to the top bunk and lying down.

  Quinn followed suit, stretching out across the bottom bunk.

  "Delightful," Layla said and sighed before performing an awkward half-crawl, half-jump into the middle bunk and lying down.

  The position left her with her face approximately six inches from the bottom of Eli's bunk, and her bunk around the same distance from Quinn's face.

  "This place does have running water, right?" Layla asked after a few seconds of silence while they all got used to their sleeping arrangements.

  "Of course. The toilet is in the room right beside here."

  "The toilet? What about the shower?"

  There was a long pause.

  "That's outside."

  Twenty minutes later, they had trekked back to the front of the ranch and were inside the optimistically named "General Store" tucked in the row of buildings that contained the front lobby and the dining hall. Eli had insisted that they needed to buy supplies for the week, but the shop looked like the retail version of their cabin and Layla was even more grateful there was no survival element of this whole ranch adventure.

  Layla wandered through the rows of souvenirs and completely impractical clothing choices, chewing on a length of watermelon-flavored fruit rope until she found Quinn, who was at the far end of the store trying on a pair of rhinestone-studded pink cowboy boots.

  "Tho
se are lovely," she said.

  Quinn grinned up at her from under the brim of a matching cowboy hat.

  "Aren't they? I told you – rhinestone cowboy!"

  "I still don't think that means what you think it does," Layla said, taking another bite of her candy. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the curtain in front of a small dressing room open dramatically, "Dear lord, here comes Dances with Queens."

  Quinn joined her gaze to take in Eli walking toward them in what Layla could only imagine was supposed to be a Native American warrior, but in reality, consisted of little more than a loincloth, fringed arm bands, and a feather headdress that would have made any Vegas showgirl proud.

  "Come on, Layla! Get into the spirit!" he said, linking arms with Quinn so they both grinned at her.

  "I am absolutely in the spirit. I'm eating watermelon jerky."

  Layla waited while Eli got dressed and then walked with them to the front counter so that they could make their purchases. A dark-eyed man smiled at Eli from behind the old-fashioned cash register and Layla nudged him playfully. She felt his hand brushing her toward the door and she took Quinn's arm to steer her out of the store.

  As she leaned on one of the rough-hewn wooden posts on the edge of the wooden platform connecting all the buildings, Layla caught sight of two men standing at the edge of a corral. They both looked better than anyone should be allowed to in fitted blue jeans and faded plaid shirts with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. Weathered boots and well-worn hats completed the look of Western lusciousness and told Layla these two beautiful boys were the most authentic thing in the Middle of Nowhere.

  One of the men glanced up at her and put his fingers to the brim of his hat to tilt it slightly downward at her. Layla got far closer to swooning at that moment than she would have liked to admit and was thankful when Eli stepped out of the store looking like he, too, might catch the vapors at any second.

  "Why didn't I get one of those in my welcome basket?" he breathed, fanning himself with the ends of the headdress feathers that were sticking out of the bag in his hand.

  "You know," Layla said, linking arms with him as she took one more glance at the cowboys by the corral, "I think I'm starting to feel a bit more amiable about this whole ranch idea."

  ****

  "I thought this was the call of your people or something," Layla said as she and Quinn huffed their way along the dirt path from their cabin to the main corral at the front of the ranch.

  "I know," Quinn said, keeping her eyes focused on the ground in front of her rather than looking at Layla, "but I'm just not feeling as sure about it now."

  "But isn't the whole reason we came to this place so that you could fulfill your life's goal of riding a real horse and becoming a rhinestone cowboy?"

  "You know, I looked that up and you were right; it doesn't mean what I thought it did. So, no, I do not want to become a rhinestone cowboy."

  "What about riding the horse?"

  Quinn squirmed a little and made a sound like she was contemplating the idea but was not entirely sold on it yet.

  "I don't know."

  "Come on!" Layla said encouragingly, "You can do this! We started taking these vacations together so we could try new things, right?"

  "Right," Quinn said, sounding unconvinced.

  "Well, this is your new thing. You are going to walk the rest of the three thousand miles up to the front of the ranch, climb up on that horse, and ride off into the great outdoors just as you envisioned."

  The pep talk seemed to boost Quinn slightly and she raised her head to smile at Layla.

  "You're right. I can do this. I'm a grown-ass woman. I can ride a horse."

  Quinn's newfound confidence in herself lasted the five more minutes it took for them to get to the corral. As soon as she saw the horses standing just outside the fence, she took a few steps back and grabbed Layla's arm.

  "Nope," she said, shaking her head emphatically, "I will not be doing this today."

  "But you’re all dressed up in your fancy boots and your sassy hat. You can do this, Quinn. Come on, I'm right here with you."

  "Do you see how big those horses are? One false move and you would be burying me in my fancy boots and sassy hat out by the trail 'City Slickers'-style."

  "I thought you were a grown-ass woman."

  "Apparently not grown enough. I just can't."

  Layla saw the genuine fear in Quinn's eyes and patted her on the back comfortingly.

  "It's alright. You don't have to ride. Why don't you go to the 'and spa' and get a tumbleweed massage."

  "Those did look rejuvenating."

  "I was absolutely kidding. Are you serious—that’s a thing?" Quinn nodded and Layla sighed, stroking her best friend's arms, "Ok, then go do that."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to go ride a horse. At least one of us has to. We can't go back home having spent five days at a ranch and not have had somebody gotten on a horse."

  Layla hugged Quinn and took a steeling breath.

  "Where's Eli? Maybe he'll join me for a massage."

  "I doubt it. He's off playing cowboys and Indians with the guy from the General Store." Quinn grinned and Layla shook her head, "I'm not even kidding. I saw him leave the cabin at dawn wearing the loincloth and the headdress."

  "He's definitely not allowed to be responsible for the trip scrapbook this year."

  "Agreed." Layla sighed and squared her shoulders, "Alright, I'm ready."

  She turned on her heel and strode bravely toward the corral. The man standing with his back to her beside one of the horses turned and her breath caught in her throat. It was the cowboy who had tipped his hat to her while she stood outside the General Store the day before. He smiled at her now and Layla felt her heart speed up a bit. He had that type of smile that was sweet and boyish but held just a hint of devilishness that proved he was all grown up.

  "I thought I was guiding a group of three on the trails this morning?" he asked.

  His voice was a smooth, silky rumble that Layla could listen to all day. She paused and held her hands out a few inches from her thighs before smacking them back down.

  "Just me. The other two jumped ship."

  "Afraid to ride?" he asked, loosening the leather straps that held one of the horses in place at the corral fence.

  "Oh, no, that’s not the problem with at least one of them. They just aren't that into horses, apparently."

  The man cocked an eyebrow at her and she smiled back.

  "How about you?" he asked.

  "I'm just fine."

  He smiled and Layla felt the little shiver in her belly again.

  "I'm Roy," he said, extending one strong-looking hand to her.

  Layla rested her hand in his.

  "Layla."

  "Well, Layla, are you ready for a ride?"

  She nodded and Roy turned away to loosen the straps of another one of the horses. Layla looked down and bit her bottom lip as she walked towards him, trying to maintain at least a modicum of composure. Roy patted the flank of a grey horse and turned to look at her.

  "Are you sure I'm not going to hurt her?" Layla asked nervously, stroking the animal's warm coat.

  "Positive. Misty here is strong enough to carry me and a full saddlebag with no trouble at all."

  "Uh-huh," Layla said, still not feeling confident that she wasn't going to overwhelm the horse.

  Roy stepped up closer to her and Layla saw the hint of a smolder in his dark eyes.

  "You are going to be just fine. Trust me."

  Layla nodded and the cowboy reached forward to take her hand so he could help her up into the saddle. She put her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over. His hand came to the back of her lush hips and lingered even after she settled in place in the saddle. She wrapped her hands around the leather reins and looked down at Roy.

  "I think I'm ok now," she said, her voice coming out softer than she had intended.

  Roy's hand ran across her
back and down her hip before he walked away from her horse and swung himself quickly and gracefully up onto the back of a massive black animal to one side. Gently tugging the reins to guide the horse to one side, he tilted his head as if gesturing for her to join him. They walked over to the building beside the general store and Roy called inside.

  "Nathan?"

  The other lovely cowboy Layla had seen by the corral the day before stuck his head out of the door.

  "Hmmm?"

  "Can you take care of those other horses for me? Layla here is the only one who showed up for my morning ride."

  Nathan's eyes traveled across Layla and she saw the hint of a smile curve his lips.

  "Absolutely," he said, "You have a nice time, Layla."

  She liked the way her name sounded on his lips just as much as Roy's. This vacation was seeming like a better idea minute by minute.

  ****

  Layla watched admiringly as Roy's body swayed on the back of the black horse, the movement making his broad shoulders shift beneath the soft, light-colored plaid fabric of his shirt. They had been riding in silence for several minutes and Layla wondered if he had forgotten that she was trailing along behind him.

  "So how long have you been working here?" she called up to him.

  Roy's head tilted back slightly as if trying to catch her words.

  "My whole life," he answered. When she didn't reply, he continued, "Nathan and I grew up with our grandfather. That's the man who drove you out here in the wagon. His daddy started this place when Pops was little."

  "It wasn't like it is now, was it?" she asked.

  As soon as she said it, she felt bad, but Roy chuckled.

  "No. It was an actual ranch. They raised cattle in the fields that are a bit back behind the trees. I'm not sure what happened along the way."

  Roy fell silent and Layla sensed a touch of something sad and even angry in the quiet. They went on for a few more moments with the only sound the thud of the horses' hooves on the ground and the distant chatter of birds in the woods that flanked the trail.

  "Nathan is your brother?" she asked.

  She knew the question was ridiculous, but she wanted to say anything to fill the stillness.