by Sarah Price
Wow. I’m actually riding Dexter, and even though I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, I know enough to enjoy myself.
I urge Dexter to start cantering and then galloping. I hear myself laughing, partly from the thrill and partly from fear. What on earth am I doing? I guide him through the three cones in the middle of the arena and then turn him to gallop the length of the ring. Midway to the other side, I call out, “Whoa!”
To my surprise, Dexter responds like a perfect angel. When he slides to a flawless stop, I hear someone cheer. But I can’t see who it is.
I lay the rein on Dexter’s neck and add pressure with my leg so he does a perfect rollback. Then I urge him to back trot, do another rollback, and lastly, canter back through the cones before stopping Dexter right in front of Clayton.
“Well!” He’s grinning from ear to ear. “I must say I’m impressed.”
“Really?” I must be grinning, too. From the corner of my eye, I see Chloe standing near the side gate. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s glaring at me.
“Not bad for a cowgirl from Jersey,” Clayton admits. “You left some great tracks there, Cowgirl Cat!”
“That’s my Twitter name!”
“And I can see why!” He snaps a photo of me on his phone.
Holding the reins in one hand, I dismount and pause to pat Dexter’s neck. His coat is smooth like silk. This horse is definitely well cared for.
“I sure hope Aiden doesn’t get upset when he sees that photo of a complete stranger on Dexter!” a shrill voice says behind us.
Both Clayton and I look up simultaneously. For a moment, I think Leslie Murphy just walked in. But no, it’s just Chloe. What’s her deal anyway? Did I offend her in a past life?
Clayton tips his hat in her direction, ever the gentleman, even if he is only sixteen years old. He leans over and whispers to me, “She probably already posted a photo to Instagram.”
The color drains from my cheeks and I swallow. Hard.
Clayton gives me a friendly tap on the head and laughs. “Even a rattlesnake doesn’t want to share its den, eh?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. Instead, I’m focusing on the fact that I may be having a heart attack. Whoever that girl is, she doesn’t like me, and she may or may not have taken a photo of me on Dexter. What if that ruins my chances of meeting Aiden? What if he shows up and Clayton is wrong ... he’s mad that I rode Dexter? I know that I’d be mad if someone rode my horse.
But Clayton doesn’t seem concerned at all.
“Okay, Cowgirl Cat,” he says, glancing at his phone as if checking the time. “I need to get Dexter back to his stall and go meet with the tour manager.”
Randy? That means Brooke will be looking for me. I thank him for letting me ride Dexter, and he gives me a high five before he takes Dexter’s reins and leads the horse out of the arena. As I walk the other way, I avoid Chloe, who is frantically tapping away at her phone.
The workers who were watching applaud me as I exit the arena. One of them claps me on the back. “Nice job there, Cowgirl.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe send death daggers in my direction. Suddenly Clayton’s comment about the rattlesnake is clear. Any attention thrown in my direction is less thrown in hers.
I keep my head down and walk as fast as I can, hoping that I can find Brooke before I get myself in deeper trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Another Mob Scene
“But I don’t understand. Where is he?” I ask impatiently.
Even though I keep my voice low, I know that Brooke can tell that I’m whining.
The doors opened for the VIP guests over an hour ago, and the rodeo starts in less than forty-five minutes. There’s still no sign of Aiden Quinn. There is, however, a sign regarding how insignificant I truly am. Or, rather, about one thousand signs in the form of teenage girls from all over Texas.
Unlike Topsfield and Cowtown, the Dallas venue for the Rodeo Rage is big. Like really big. And the crowd of young, screaming girls mirrors that. No wonder the VIP tickets sold out within five minutes of being offered online!
Just before the doors opened, I overheard Randy tell Brooke that the general admission tickets had also sold out, which, frankly, is unheard of at rodeos unless it’s a national championship. Even then, they don’t always sell out.
“I don’t know, Cat,” Brooke replies, raising her voice so she can be heard over the loud music that is playing in the background. The relentless screaming of the fans waiting in line doesn’t help matters, either. I can barely hear what she’s saying to me. “This is crazy, isn’t it?” she yells in my ear.
Tell me something I don’t know.
“Randy says that Gary wants to add a fall and winter tour. No one can believe what the social media guys are doing for the rodeo industry.” Brooke is standing there, staring at the throngs of girls and shaking her head. “I never would have believed it.”
Me, either. I bet half of these girls don’t ride horses, and the other half probably rides English!
But I know that Brooke is right. After all, rodeo was always considered a real country thing. The fact that attention from young, urban girls is on the rise definitely says something for whoever came up with this brilliant idea. And while I’m thrilled for the sport, I’m totally bummed because it’s just creating a larger canyon that I have to cross in order to meet Aiden.
Which is also crazy, because I’m standing here with full access to the VIP rodeo people, and Aiden isn’t even here.
Leaning against the wall, I turn my attention to my phone. Earlier, I posted a ton of photos, including a selfie of me and Dexter. When no one was looking, I snuck back to where the horses are kept and snapped it. Within ten minutes, four thousand people LIKED it. Wow! The comments are still piling in, too. Most of my followers who took the time to comment seem to be happy for me. They want me to meet Aiden almost as much as I do! Of course, when I start scanning the haters’ posts, I have to force myself to stop reading them.
Sighing, I post a new Tweet:
Still backstage. Still waiting.
#Diehardcowgirl @AidenQuinn
Randy hurries over to where we’re standing. He gives Brooke a warm smile that makes me want to look the other way. He’s so ooey-gooey head-over-heels for her. But I still can’t get that limp hug out of my head, especially since Aiden has not shown up.
“Sorry, Cat,” he says to me. “He’s stuck in Denver.”
“He’s still stuck in Denver?” My geography stinks, but I’m fairly certain that Denver and Dallas are a bazillion miles apart. And I suspect that, even if he flies, he’s not making it for the show.
Randy glances at Brooke in a secretive manner. I can spot that look a mile away. It’s the same one my mom and Marcus use when they’re trying to keep something from me. It suddenly dawns on me that Randy and Brooke aren’t just seeing each other; they’re a couple. And that means Brooke knows something about Aiden that she isn’t sharing with me.
“Yeah, he had a meeting there that ran late or something. I have no idea when he’ll get here.”
Vague answer, to be sure. I smell a rat! First Aiden wasn’t at Cowtown. Now he’s missing Dallas. Because of a meeting? My curiosity is more than piqued, and my imagination is running wild.
When Brooke and Randy slip away, holding hands—yuck!—I wander over to the security guard standing near the back room entrance for performers and crew. He glances at me.
“Still not here, eh?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get to meet him.”
My buddy. The security guard.
“Yeah. I sure hope so.”
The guard nods his head in the direction of the throngs of fans. “Don’t you want to meet the other guys on the tour?”
I shrug. I already met most of them, except the local riders who are performing.
Before he can ask me any more questions, I turn to look at the long lines
for the meet and greet. Some of the girls are crying, holding onto each other as they wait to meet Clayton, who is definitely the number two headliner behind Aiden Quinn. Then there is Bobbie Baylor standing next to Chloe and greeting fans.
I’ve decided Chloe is Leslie Murphy’s long-lost twin. She’s flipping her hair and smiling at the girls as they approach her to pose for a photo. She keeps that practiced, phony smile plastered on her face and stares into the camera with her arm draped over the girls’ shoulders. Best friends, right? But as soon as the camera is focused somewhere else, she immediately drops her arm and loses the smile.
Ugh! Doesn’t anyone else see that she’s a complete diva fraud? And I can’t help but look at her outfit with disgust. She’s supposed to be a “role model,” but she’s wearing a miniskirt, thigh-high boots with heels (have fun chasing a horse in those!), and a midriff shirt! She’s about as country as a Martian!
Yet the girls still seem to want a photo opportunity with her.
Even though no one is looking, I roll my eyes.
“Hey! Look! It’s Cowgirl Cat!”
It takes me a minute to register what I just heard. But before it sinks in, there’s a shift in the room. An energy shift, to be exact. And it’s moving my way.
Just in time, I look up and see the fans at the tail end of the Chloe-line rushing toward me. Fortunately, a security guard is there and he blocks them from crushing me.
“Hold up a minute there, girls. Back to the line.”
One of the younger girls standing in the front shoves something toward me. “Can you sign this? And take a picture with me?”
I look at the piece of paper in her hand and it’s a photo printed out from a computer. And it’s me with my favorite horse, Cooper. What on earth? “Where did you get this?”
The girl clasps her hands together and spins around, lifting up her phone to take a selfie with me. Other girls start doing the same, and suddenly there’s a crowd of girls surrounding me. The security guard is trying to keep them from pushing forward, but a hundred twelve- and thirteen-year-olds are no match for him.
As I stumble backward, my legs hitting the edge of a table, I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Here. Come on!” a voice says.
Clayton is perched on the table, reaching out to help me. I take his hand and he pulls me up so that I’m standing on top of the table beside him. If I had expected a quick escape, he does the opposite. He poses with me for the hundreds of phones that are taking videos and snapping photos. The more he poses, the more they cheer and the more I want to disappear.
And then Clayton does something surprising. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. My eyes nearly pop out of my head as he squeezes me tight.
“You all know Cowgirl Cat?” he yells out to the crowd.
More mad cheering and I know, without a doubt, that I’m going to faint.
“You following her on social media?”
Cheers.
I’m dying.
“Well, how about if you see this little filly ride tonight?”
My knees almost buckle, but Clayton is holding me up. Why is he messing with them? Better yet, why is he messing with me?
“I just spoke to my buddy Aiden, and he said he wants her to warm up Dexter for him since he’s running late. What d’y’all say?”
I can’t even hear, the noise is so deafening. I think I see two girls weeping in the second row. And when I glance over to where Chloe is standing, I see she’s alone. Not even one person clamoring for her fake poses and even faker smile. And it looks like she’s crying.
Uh-oh. Mad rattlesnake, for sure.
“Well, all right then!” Clayton shouts, lifting both his and my hand in the air as if I just won a championship boxing match.
And just as suddenly as he appeared, he jumps back down, dragging me with him.
Instead of rejoining the meet-and-greet lines, he walks me back toward the private rooms behind the stage. He’s still holding my hand and I feel weird. I never held a boy’s hand before. It’s nice, I guess, but it feels kinda sweaty.
When Clayton burst into the room, he makes a beeline for Randy, who’s talking to a man wearing a business suit and cowboy boots. I recognize him as Gary Green, the same man who came up with the whole Rodeo Rage Tour idea.
“Dudes! You have to hear this!” Clayton says, finally relinquishing my hand. He runs his fingers through his hair and his dirty blond curls stand up on end. His eyes are wide and wild and he’s grinning. “The girls went crazy over Cowgirl Cat! They practically stampeded her!”
Randy looks at me in disbelief. “What?”
“The girls recognized her and went ape-bananas-crazy!”
Gary squints his eyes and stares at me. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
I try to speak but my words come out like inaudible squeaks. Great. I sound like a monkey again.
Gary returns his attention to Clayton. “Who is she?”
Randy clears his throat. “Uh ... she’s my girlfriend’s little sister.”
Forget the fact that he just publicly called Brooke his girlfriend; did he just call me little? What am I? A toddler? I’m really starting to not like him.
Clayton shakes his head. “She’s Cowgirl Cat, Randy. She’s got quite a following on social media.”
I stop glaring at Randy and, with my mouth open, stare at Clayton. He starts spouting out numbers, talking about the people following me on Twitter and Instagram. It sounds impressive when Clayton tells it.
“We posted a video of her riding Dexter today ...”
Gary snaps his gaze to look at me. “That was you?”
I still can’t speak.
“... And it got almost ten thousand likes within thirty minutes. I didn’t check it recently. But that’s more than you-know-who gets when we post something.”
Both Randy and Gary nod their head simultaneously and sheepishly look around the room for Chloe. When they spot her, they both make a noise of understanding.
“You’ve got to let her ride tonight.” Clayton gives me a supportive grin.
Gary tilts his head and stares at me, his eyes taking me in from head to toe. “Where you from, Cowgirl Cat?” he asks. His voice sounds apprehensive.
“Uh ... New Jersey.”
He raises an eyebrow.
I feel like I have to defend my home state. “I ride there.” As soon as I say it, I realize how dumb that sounds. Obviously I ride if Clayton tossed me on Dexter.
“I see.” He rubs his chin, his dark eyes still studying me. “Why are you here? In Dallas, I mean.”
I glance from Randy to Clayton and then back to Randy again. “I ... uh ... I want to meet Aiden Quinn.”
Gary grimaces. “A fangirl.”
As if that’s a bad thing!
But Clayton’s clearly intent on pressing his point. “You don’t get it, Gary. This gal’s been following Aiden forever.” He looks at me and winks. “Number three thousand, one hundred thirty-four, right?”
My mouth opens again. Clayton has clearly done his homework.
“And she’s been trying to meet Aiden since Topsfield. She’s been developing a fan-base in her own right. The girls follow her, living vicariously through her, because she is a fangirl. A fangirl who rides.” He stresses the word rides, and I notice that both Randy and Gary’s expressions change as if they now understand. The problem is that I don’t.
Randy leans over and whispers something to Gary, and I think I hear the words “get rid of” and “less headache.” I wish Brooke was here so she could translate their adult-lingo for me.
Gary nods and looks directly at Clayton. “Alright then. Go ahead. We’ll test her out and see how it goes. But I’m putting you in charge of her.” When he says this last part, he points at Clayton. “Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah.” If Gary’s trying to intimidate him, clearly it’s not working.
“And get a waiver signed!” Then Gary looks at me and, after a brief pa
use, softens his expression. “Good luck. We’ll talk later.”
Talk? Talk about what?
Even if I could talk, I don’t have the chance. Clayton takes my arm and hurries me away.
“Could you tell me what just happened back there?” I manage to ask.
“Never mind. Just ride Dexter the same way you did today. If you do that, I can guarantee you that you’ll meet Aiden.”
Suddenly the evening’s starting to look up. Forget the fact that Aiden’s late or that I was almost crushed by a mob of crazy girls. Aiden’s best friend just promised me that I’d get to meet him. If all that stands between me and Aiden Quinn is riding his horse, well ... saddle me up and call me a cowgirl!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Enjoy the Ride
I feel Chloe glaring at me as I’m sitting atop Dexter, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. Clayton’s standing nearby, talking to a few other guys. I can see Andy Taylor playing with his lasso and trying to rope a soda bottle that’s near a garbage bin on the other side of the hallway. Brent is watching while blowing bubbles from a bubble wand. I bet a fan gave that to him. And both Clayton and Bobbie Baylor are on their smartphones, not paying any attention to what’s going on around them.
“Cat?”
I look over and see Brooke walking toward me. Where has she been?
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses at me, frantically looking around to see if anyone’s watching.
“I’m waiting ...”
“For what?”
I glance at Clayton, but he’s too engrossed in his phone. “Uh ... to ride.”
“OMG! If you get us thrown out of here ...” Once again, she looks around like a wild woman. “Get off that horse.” She reaches up to grab at me, but a hand stops her.
“Whoa!”
It’s Randy and he’s quick to intervene.
“Leave her be, Brooke. It’s okay.”
