Cowgirl Cat: A Humorous Novel About the Healing Power of Horses (Cowgirl Cat Series Book 1)

by Sarah Price

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Topsfield at Last!

  When we arrive at the building, my mouth drops. It’s an ugly building, unlike the cool stadiums where the Giants and Jets play. I’ve never been to a game—nor would I want to go, frankly—but I’ve seen the stadiums. And I know that bands play there and they have other cool events sometimes. So I can’t imagine why Rodeo Rage has these social media stars performing here at this ugly, square, squatty building. They’re certainly as important as any sports team, right?

  But that’s not the only thing that has me completely speechless. There is a huge line of girls, three people wide, and it completely wraps around the building. Despite not being a tall building, it’s long enough that having so many girls waiting in line is more than impressive. And intimidating. How long have they been waiting in that line? Should I have camped out last night? Is this some more super-secret fangirl information that I should’ve known?

  The parking lot’s jam-packed with cars, and a police officer impatiently waves Brooke on by signaling her to keep driving. He looks annoyed, which makes me mad. At least he’s getting paid to do his job while I’m watching two thousand girls I’m going to have to beat out in order to meet Aiden.

  “This is outrageous!” Brooke says, clearly irritated.

  “I told you we should’ve left earlier!”

  Jamie puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Cat. You’ll get to meet him.”

  I better. I haven’t slept in two weeks, my mind playing out different ways that this is going to turn out. He’ll see me in the crowd and his world will stop, unaware of all the other girls that surround me. He’ll fall madly in love with me and take me backstage. He’ll hold my hand. He’ll take a selfie with me and it will be his backsplash photo.

  The one thing that I didn’t see in any of those scenarios was two thousand other girls standing in line, some dressed to kill and others already wearing Rodeo Rage merchandise. I didn’t even know that Rodeo Rage had merchandise. And how did they do that so quick? Hadn’t the tour only been announced a few weeks ago?

  “Where did all these people come from?” I ask. It’s impossible to think that so many girls are already here. The event doesn’t even start for another two hours!

  Brooke keeps looking for a parking space, and she doesn’t appear too happy. “The kid has over a million followers, Cat. Did you think you’d be the only person who’d show up?”

  “Well, I ...” Actually, I hadn’t given much thought to that. She is right about the one million followers. In the past week, I couldn’t even look anymore at his numbers. It was almost as though his followers doubled every night. Still, I’m fan #3,134. I shouldn’t have to be tossed into a cattle car with fan #764,198. “No! But this is ridiculous!”

  Brooke makes a puffing noise and I can tell she’s really irritated. She thinks this whole thing is stupid. Even though I tried to cool it with Aiden for a while, hoping to throw her off track after she accused me of stalking him, she still isn’t thrilled about driving us here.

  “That’s one thing we can agree on,” Brooke says under her breath.

  “I can’t wait in that line!” I have my face pressed against the window. “I’ll never meet him.”

  “You’ll meet him!” Jamie and Cassie say it in unison, a tired tone in their voice. Between the posters and my constant fretting, they’re probably sick of hearing about Aiden, although Cassie shouldn’t be one to complain, what with her crush on Bobbie Baylor. And I happen to know that she made her own poster just for him. It might not be as extravagant as the Aiden poster I made, but I saw her pop it into the trunk of Brooke’s car when she thought I wasn’t looking.

  Brooke sighs. “Let’s just focus on a parking spot, okay? Then we’ll worry about beating through this line. I’m not standing there for two hours; I can tell you that much.”

  We finally find a parking spot toward the rear of the building. The car next to us is filled with giddy, overly made-up girls who look fifteen, but only because they’re wearing belly shirts and high-cut shorts. My bet is that they’re my age.

  After retrieving our posters (and avoiding the giggling group of girls who obediently trot to the back of the line), Brooke marches right up to the front, dragging us with her. Frankly, I’m impressed with her determination. She definitely looks like she’s done this before.

  The security guard reaches out to stop her from walking into the building. “Lines all the way back there, miss.”

  Brooke frowns and looks at him as if he’s insulting her. I keep my mouth shut and just let my sister do the talking. “Do you know who we are?”

  The security guard doesn’t look impressed with her false bravado.

  “These three are on the press circuit, from OnStarOnLine.com. You know, the number one online social media magazine? These girls have appointments to interview Bobbie Baylor, the Taylor brothers, and Aiden Quinn before the show,” she says, letting those names just roll off her tongue. “Gary Green told us to be here two hours early so we’d have enough time before the gate opens to the general public.” She levels her eyes to give him a stern look. “You do know how Gary Green is, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It takes all of my effort to remain perfectly emotionless, but I’m stunned. How did she know that Gary Green is the head honcho of the Rodeo Rage Tour? She obviously did her homework. Not to mention that her professionalism and determination are most convincing. Once again, I’m super impressed by my older sister.

  She glances at her phone and frowns. “And you’re making us late …” She pauses and taps at the phone as if she’s looking up something. “Additionally,” she adds casually, glancing over her shoulder in our direction. The expression on her face says it all: she’s completely not interested in being here. “That one is diabetic and can’t stay out in the sun.”

  Did she actually point to me? I’m as tan as can be! In fact, all of us are. We’ve been working all summer at the barn, outdoors in the sun. Uh-oh. Did she blow it on that one?

  So I can hardly contain my shock when the guard nods and points toward the door. Brooke just marches past the entire line of girls, most of whom are glaring at us and a few cursing loudly, and shoves open the glass doors, barely waiting for us to follow.

  I hurry to catch up with her and say something, to praise her amazing performance, but she immediately tells me to shut up and play the part. “Be cool,” she whispers out of the corner of her mouth. “Do not blow this, Cat.”

  Immediately, I shut up and do my best to play the part, although I have no idea what part that is. Jamie and Cassie are simply speechless. If we had to vote, Brooke would have earned an Oscar with her performance.

  Inside the doors, there’s a small lobby. Within a matter of seconds, two more security guards try to hustle us back outside. This time, Brooke sticks with the diabetic story and how too much sun increases the risk of sunstroke. I do my best to look as pale as I possibly can. “Besides,” she adds as she bats her eyes, “the other security guard told us to come inside.”

  With that, we are golden. Two hours sitting on comfortable chairs in the lobby, air conditioning keeping us cool, while two thousand girls are outside melting in that awful heat and—from the looks of the ones at the front—getting really irritated.

  “Wow,” I mumble. “That was amazing.”

  She doesn’t respond; her attention is focused on her cell phone. I make a mental note to go all out on her birthday present this year.

  The two hours take forever to pass. As it begins to get closer to the gate opening, we notice more activity in the lobby. A few more security guards appear out of nowhere, and the fans are screaming and yelling.

  I strain my neck to try to see what’s going on, but there are too many security guards blocking my view. The next thing I know, I hear a loud roar. The glass doors open and a large man with a five o’clock shadow and nice suit steps inside. The man hurries past the guards, who swoop in around him as if he’s th
e president. Behind him, I can vaguely make out the backs of several other people, and it’s only when Jamie gasps and grabs my knee that I realize what has just happened: the Rodeo Rage boys have arrived with their manager!

  “Get out of the way!” I mumble under my breath, trying to look beyond the people who are blocking my view. Totally not possible. The guards are too tall and thick; it’s not like I’m even close enough to peek through their legs. How is it possible to be so close and yet so far away?

  Besides, the Rodeo Rage boys are already gone.

  “Man, they just got whisked in there lickety-split!” Cassie says. She’s just as disappointed as I am. I’m starting to realize how much she’s crushing on Bobbie Baylor.

  Brooke doesn’t miss a beat. She takes a deep breath, readjusts the strap of her purse on her arm, and stares straight ahead. “Come on, ladies,” she says, then starts to walk toward the doorway where the boys disappeared. “Let’s get a move on!”

  To say that I’m impressed with her is a complete understatement. I’ve never seen this side of her. If this is what they teach at college, I can’t wait to go! She’s so confident and sure of herself, quick to find the correct words to get what she wants. As if she isn’t perfect enough with her good looks, I realize that she’s, beyond a doubt, unequaled in her talent to maneuver through the world of fangirls.

  And from the looks of them, they’re a rough bunch. As the guards begin opening the outside doors to let in the waiting line of attendees, I start understanding the bigger problem. Each one of those fangirls is competing with the rest of the crowd, and they know it. They’re grouped together in threes and fours, friends who want to share the experience. Some of the groups seem to like only one particular Rodeo Rage guy, while other groups spread their loyalty around, each individual girl liking just one of the boys so that they’re not competing with their friends. Clearly, the lines of loyalty are drawn right down the center: it’s either one or the other, no middle of the road with these fans.

  As the throng of girls nears the turnstile, the excitement in their faces turns into something else. It’s almost as if these girls morph into completely different people. Gone are the smiles and laughs as they start rallying their small group and jockeying for better positions. After all, the group that can pass through those doors first will be the group that gets to meet the Rodeo Rage boys first.

  One group crowds so close to another that shoving begins to take place. After the shoving comes the words, and some of them are what my mom would refer to as pirate talk. (I don’t know why she calls it that ... it’s not like she’s ever talked to a pirate!)

  The security guards are right on top of them and yank both groups out of line. I watch as one of them leads the girls away, two of which are glaring at each other and look like they’re in the final throes of a Survivor episode. While I have no idea where they’re headed, I do know one thing: they just lost their place in line.

  And that’s when Brooke makes her move.

  With the complete ease of a pro-fangirler, she slips into their place and steps forward to the security guard, whipping out our tickets and gesturing toward the three of us. With me standing between Jamie and Cassie, we probably look like little lost sheep and she our shepherd. After all, I don’t see any other twenty-year-old’s there. She’s obviously not a fangirl of a bunch of sixteen-year-old social media cowboys.

  “Uh, these are general admission tickets,” he says and starts to hand the tickets back to Brooke.

  The look that she gives him nearly knocks me off my feet. With complete seriousness, she levels her gaze and stares directly into his eyes. “Obviously,” she replies. “We’re here to interview Gary Green and some of the rodeo riders for the online magazine OnStarOnLine. These three”—she glances in our direction—“won a competition to conduct the interview. As the editor for the magazine, I was instructed to meet him here an hour ago. Clearly he’s late, and if you hold us up any longer, we’ll miss the entire opportunity.” She gives him the don’t mess with me look.

  To my amazement, the guard nods and lets us through. Holy Hannah! My sister’s a genius and I never knew it! This is beyond amazing; it’s surreal. While I know that I should be aghast at the level of deceit occurring, I’m still flabbergasted.

  Then again, I remember the nine hundred dollars. Suddenly her little tiny fabrication doesn’t seem so devious. After all, the tickets should have been only fifty dollars each! With the price we paid (er ... my mom paid), we deserve this royal treatment!

  Cassie grabs my arm when we enter a large room. Off to the side is a sitting area with a snack stand, which immediately reminds me that I’m starving to death. Unfortunately, I have no money since I gave it all to Brooke. The main room is ginormous with metal barricades surrounding a stage at one end of the arena. There are long white curtains blocking off the back end and the sides of the stage.

  “Ow.” I peel Cassie’s vicelike grip from my arm.

  “I’m so excited!” She grins and bounces a little bit. “Squee!”

  Jamie laughs. “Did you just say ‘Squee,’ Cass?”

  The three of us start laughing and Brooke rolls her eyes. Without using words, she makes it very clear that she’s done her duty. She drove us here, she got us in, and now she doesn’t want to be bothered. She walks over to the sitting area and sits on the sofa that is closest to the arena.

  We’re officially on our own.

  Behind us, girls begin to stream into the room. More girls begin to run into the room, and suddenly there is a race to get to the metal barricade. I get the distinct feeling that these girls know what they’re doing. But how? This whole tour thing was just thrown together!

  Maybe it’s because these girls are older, at least fifteen and sixteen. Some of them are wearing midriff tops and really short shorts. I guess that a guy might find them attractive.

  And then I glance down at what I’m wearing: white shorts, a purple T-shirt with an emoticon on it, and floral Keds. Oh dear Lord, what on earth had I been thinking? I look like a child! An absolute infant compared to the herd of girls that are pouring into the room.

  “Cassie. Jamie.” I say their names and stare at them, wide-eyed. From the looks on their faces, they must be thinking the same thing. That’s one of the things about besties: they can read each other’s minds.

  Jamie makes a face and glances around the room until she spots something. I follow her gaze, feeling as if the gates of heaven have just opened up, with angels strumming their harps, and a golden ray of sunlight shining down on the spot where she’s looking.

  Everything in my periphery vision fades away as I stare at the glow that highlights my saving grace and I whisper one word: “Merchandise!”

  The Holy Grail of fangirling. An official piece of merchandise from the Rodeo Rage Tour! And none of the other girls have noticed it yet. They’re too busy jockeying for position by the barricade. I suppose we should head over there too. I hesitate a moment, torn between two loves: Aiden or T-shirt of Aiden?

  “Let’s go!” Once again, Jamie saves us by grabbing both our hands and dragging us to the merchandise table.

  There are so many different items on the table that the three of us just stand there in awe. For each of the boys, there are T-shirts, bandanas, hoodies, posters, buttons, even knit caps with their names embroidered on the front.

  Cassie makes a beeline to the section with all of Bobbie Baylor’s posters and T-shirts, while I drool over everything Aiden. Nothing purple (rats!), but there is one T-shirt that is so super adorable, I simply must have it. The neckline and sleeves are blue while the rest of the shirt is white. On the front are his initials: AQ. There is a ghosted image of his super sweet, amazingly attractive, engagingly enchanting face!

  “Oh, snap!” I smack my hand to my forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” Cassie asks, her hands clutching two shirts and a bandana.

  What’s wrong? How about being general admission, an infantile-looking thirteen-year-old, a
nd having no cash? “I gave all my money to Brooke for gas.”

  There’s a moment of silence. Cassie shifts her eyes over my shoulder, and I get the sense that she’s looking at Jamie. They must have had an ESP moment, one that clearly didn’t include me this time. Cassie smiles and puts down one of the two shirts she’s holding and Jamie tosses her the T-shirt I’m drooling over.

  “I’ll get this, Cat,” she says.

  Jamie nudges me with her elbow. “And I’ll buy you this hat, okay? You look cute in these knit hats anyway.”

  I want to thank them, but emotion is welling up in my throat. Not many girls would do that, sacrifice a piece of their own dreams for another girl, even a bestie. That has always been one of the reasons why I don’t have a lot of friends. But these two are quality friends, and that beats quantity any day of the week.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mob Scene

  By the time we pay for our merchandise, there are at least fifty girls pushing and shoving behind us. Somehow we manage to squeeze our way out of the hungry mob and find our way back to Brooke. She’s perfectly content, sitting there and texting her friends, oblivious to the chaos around her.

  When we emerge from the mass of people and stand next to her, she glances up and smiles at me. “You doing okay?”

  I nod and look around.

  There must be two thousand girls crowded into the room by this time, and every once in a while, they scream. Only it’s not a scream. It’s more like a faraway high-pitched sound that roars toward us and becomes an earth-shattering wave of noise. I’ve never heard anything like it. Despite the fact that we can’t hear each other over the din, we keep laughing.

  The energy in the air is electrifying. And contagious.

  I glance at the surging crowd. It’s alive, moving, arms in the air, bodies jumping up and down. And the continuous tidal wave of noise.

  “Come on!” I start moving toward the front of the stage.