by Julie Solano
Everyone around us erupts in cheers and laughter. Caden walks up behind us, and pats Brody on the back, “Welcome to the family, Bro. I know you’ll treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’ve seen it now. Take care of her, Buddy. You’ve got my blessing.” Then he turns to me, “Happy Birthday Twin.”
“LET’S DANCE!” CADEN SPINS AROUND and yells to Peyton, grabbing her by the hand and twirling her out to the dance floor. Brody wraps me in his arms so we’re both facing the dancing duo. Cradling me against him, Brody guides my movement as we sway to the music.
I feel his warm breath tickle the back of my ear, and quickly scrunch my head down toward my shoulder, as he starts to whisper, “We finally got his blessing, Pip. Can you believe this is really happening? I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.” Shivers crawl across my neck and shoulder; his whispers, leave a trail of tiny goosebumps. He plants a tiny kiss on my ear, and pulls away with a little nibble. When he sees the goosebumps he’s left, he begins to chuckle, and proudly revels, “Ya, I just did that to you.”
My nerves do that little shaken soda thing that has become a frequent reaction when Brody is near. I grab his hands tightly in mine. I’m not sure if it’s his words, or that spiked apple cider, but I find it hard to breathe. My dizziness becomes apparent as I watch my brother swinging and flipping Peyton. Blurry streaks of color follow each of their movements. I scrunch my eyes closed, trying to stop the spinning. Just as I thought I’ve blocked out the world, I hear laughter erupt all around me. Brody is laughing so hard, I feel his firm abs bouncing up and down against my back. I open my eyes, and look up to Brody, “What’s so funny?”
“Ummm . . . Look at your brother right now,” he laughs. “You think the ice trough was embarrassing? That’s nothing compared to the Kiss me I’m Irish boxer shorts peeking through that ripped seem in your brother’s britches.”
I look toward the dance floor to see Peyton holding Caden’s pants together at the seam. She shuffles him out the door, through the crowds of laughing parents and friends toward a hysterical Mason, who laughs out in his best Irish brogue, “That’s quite an ars, you’ve got shinin’ through your pantaloons. Too bad your luck didn’t save your seam that time.”
Peyton pushes Caden around the side of the barn and runs back in to me, “Uh, I’m gonna take him to Mason’s to go fix this before we pull everyone together to sing you guys Happy Birthday. Don’t go far, I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Why don’t you stay here with, Kaitlyn? I’ve got a birthday surprise, that I left down at Mason’s. Besides, I need to have a man to man chat with my new bro-in-law to make sure he knows I have pure intentions with his twin sister.” Brody convinces Peyton to stay with me so he can take care of his business.
“Ya . . . um. .sure, Brody. Go ahead and take him. I need to get Kaitlyn and Jenna over to my photo booth anyway. “Well,” she giggles, “if I can pull Jenna away from Ty.” She throws a quick glance over toward Jenna, who’s currently attempting an upside down shot with Ty holding her feet. We turn toward each other giggling. “Let’s go get that crazy girl.”
Brody comes in and gives me a hug, whispering in my ear. “You stay out of trouble young lady. I’ll be right back with that birthday surprise.”
Peyton slips her arm through mine and leads me over to my upside down buddy. “Hey Jenna, come get a picture with Kaitlyn and me before you pop all the blood vessels in that beautiful face of yours.”
“Just a second ladies,” she snorts, pulling one arm away from her handstand and pointing toward the dance floor. Balancing on one arm, as Ty continues to hold her feet, Jenna continues, “You girls should join me. The Kitty Crew is fascinating from this angle. Chelsea’s nostrils are the size of candy corns. Dude! Look at that booger. It’s a gold mine in there! She’s not so sexy now. And wait . . . wait Lexi has sweat stains under her boobs! Oh gosh . . . Oh gosh . . . Janet’s digging hard for those undies!” Jenna works herself into hysterics laughing so hard at her new potpourri of discoveries, that her arm collapses. Ty releases his slipping hold on her feet, and she crashes onto her head into a pile of hay. “Man, that didn’t even hurt.” She jumps up, throws her arms high in the air, and ends her acrobatic stunt with a dismount worthy of a perfect ten.
Jenna stumbles toward us, looking back at Ty and growls, “Catch ya in a bit Handsome.” Then she drapes her arms around both of our necks, and starts to belligerently sing, “We’re off to see the Wizard . . . oops,” she pauses and rolls her head to the side, looking up at me through her drooping eyelids, “I mean the scarecrow! Hey, who cares who we’re going to see? Whoever it is . . . well, they’re just lucky to have such HOT visitors,” she growls. “It’s picture time ladies!” As she begins to sing her song again, we skip off like Dorothy and friends, over to the photo station. On the way, Jenna sneaks one more plastic cup of spiked apple cider and shouts, “One more for the Yellow Brick Road!!! Grab some girls!”
“I’m still designated driver,” Peyton interrupts, holding her hands up and giving a slight shake of her head “ . . . but Kaitlyn, you go ahead Birthday Girl. I’ve got your back.”
My head is already spinning. I’m so new at this, I don’t want to risk drinking any more. I really don’t like how it’s making me feel. I’ve never been so dizzy and floppy before. I’m an athlete. I like having control of my body. I’m finding this is not my thing at all.
Before I can respond to Peyton’s offer I hear, “Here Kait . . . you have mine. I can get more!” Jenna quickly spins toward me, sending a swirling tsunami of cider all over my shirt. She’s in rare form tonight. She is loud, showy, and absolutely hilarious. I know I’m buzzing a little, but poor Jenna. All I can think is, she’s really gonna feel this in the morning.
At the photo station, we take a few goofy-faced pictures. In the middle of our third frame, my phone dings. I hold up my hand toward the photographer. “Just a sec. I need to check this.” I work my new, oversized phone out of my pocket and see a text from Brody.
Brody:
Hey there Doll. Meet me in the tack room in 5. I have a surprise for you.
That’s strange. Doesn’t sound like Brody . . . He must have had way too many tonight. I feel rude for the delay, so I quickly jam my phone back in my pocket. “Okay girls. I have like five minutes. Let’s get in a couple more pictures.” We decide to try some pyramid shots.
“I’m flyer!” Jenna shouts, working to scale up Peyton’s and my legs. No sooner does she get to the top, then she yells out, “Snap one mid-air!” Suddenly, with great force, Jenna hurdles off our hips, and jumps toward the camera. At the extensive thrust, Peyton and I collapse to the ground in hysterics. Flashes fly, and so does Jenna . . . right into Chelsea and Lexi, who are standing directly behind the quick footed photographer; who, by the way, instantly scampered away to avoid the collision. Not only does Jenna crash their party, but she knocks their drinks to the floor, and takes them down like bowling pins.
“Watch where you’re going!” Chelsea growls. “Out of this entire barn, why do you have to fly right into us?”
“Soooooorrrry!” Jenna snarls back. “I didn’t realize I had to file a flight plan and check with Catland Security before take-off!” At her snide remark, claws come out and fur starts to fly between Jenna and the felines. Peyton and I sit in disbelief, mouths gaping, as Chelsea grabs hold of Jenna’s hair, twists it around her fist, and starts yanking her like a scarecrow without stuffing.
Peyton untangles herself from me, jumps up, and rushes over to her friends. “Stop that Chelsea! You’ve gone too far! Get your hands off of her!” She pushes Chelsea back. “It was an accident. You know she’s had a lot to drink, and so have you. You should just leave before you’re escorted out . . . or worse, someone knocks your prissy ass out!”
Peyton points to the open barn door and yells, “Go!” Without another word, Chelsea and Lexi put their tails between their legs and shuffle out. Peyton reaches down and pulls Jenna off the ground; she helps brush her off and be
gins picking the hay out of her hair. “Boy Jenna, you’re something special in the air. Are you okay my flying friend?”
Jenna laughs, “Thanks for restoring our friendly skies, Air Marshall.” Then she salutes Peyton, and heads off to find Ty to escape all the excitement.
“Peyton,” I look down at the ground and then back up to her. “Thanks for taking care of my buddy. I know that must’ve been hard on you cuz those are your friends.” I’m still buzzing, and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, so I give Peyton a genuine hug.
“Awww . . . Kait, you two have been better friends to me than they ever were. Besides, I think I love Caden. And that means you’re like my sis now. I told you I’ve got your back, and I meant it. Speaking of Caden, they should be back here any minute.”
I realize I’m pushing it on time. Brody said to meet him in five minutes, and it’s probably been ten.
“Ya, I need to go meet Brody really fast. He texted a few minutes ago. Do you think you can hold off on that birthday song til I get back?”
“Make it snappy, or I’ll have to come hunt you down.” Peyton giggles.
“Ok, I’ll be back in a flash,” I grin and run off to the tack room.
As I run down the gravel road, the music begins to fade behind me along with the twinkling lights. Whoo, I’ve had a lot to drink. I’m winded and dizzy by the time I get down to the tack room. I bend over and put my hands on my knees trying to catch my breath before I pull back the heavy wooden door. It slowly creaks open and I peek inside. “Peek a Boo,” I sing playfully as I peer in trying to spot Brody. I can’t see a thing through the darkness. I jump when I hear the sudden flitting of wings swoosh up toward the rafters. It’s just a bat. The opening door must have scared the creepy little bugger. It’s a good thing I have a little liquid courage flowing through my veins right now, otherwise Brody’s surprise would have to wait. I look around again before stepping inside. I thought he would at least be out front. He knows how creeped out I get by dark, scary rooms. Maybe he wants to surprise me in private. “Brody,” I whisper. “I’m starting to freak out here. Where are you?” I feel my way along the wall of hanging tools. “Come out come out wherever you are,” I giggle in a half drunken stupor.
I stop for a second to give Brody a chance to reveal himself. Out of nervous habit, I grab at my necklace while I wait for him. I don’t feel it there. It must’ve twisted off to the side. I pat around my chest, searching for my charm. My necklace . . . it’s not there. A spike of adrenaline shoots through me as I think back on putting it on earlier. I know I wore it. Jenna helped me with the clasp. Emptiness begins to fill the pit of my stomach.
I’m pulled from my racing thoughts when off in the corner, a small light appears. From behind the wall of saddles, I hear a muffled voice float toward me. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up Doll.”
My heart stops and the blood in my veins turns to ice when I realize this is not Brody’s voice. I hear the slow shuffle of boots across the old wooden floor, and begin to make out the blurry silhouette of a cowboy that I’ve grown to fear so intensely over the last six weeks. Lit, by the glow of his phone, the shadow that’s cast along his face, makes him look hard, rough, and angry. “Why did you call me Brody?”
Slowly I begin to stumble backwards, trying to feel my way back to the wall. “Answer me Babydoll! Why?” His words come out angry, hurt, and slurred. The fear begins to wrap itself around my senses, sobering my mind to the realization that I’m in great danger. Pistol is drunk again, and I know that’s when I get hurt.
I work to break through the drunken barricades blocking my senses. My thinking is slow. How can I get rid of him? What can I say to make him leave? Think Kaitlyn . . . Think! I desperately blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “Because Brody texted me and asked me to meet him here.” There. Now he knows Brody’s coming. My breathing picks up as the adrenaline begins to course through my chest. “He . . . he’s going to be here any second. You’d better leave.” I shake my head and reach in my pocket for my phone. My phone. Oh no. It’s not in my pocket.
“Really?” Pistol sneakers. “So you think Brody is going to meet you here in the tack room? That’s odd. Cuz about ten minutes ago . . . I texted you and told you to meet ME here. You must be confused.”
“What? What do you mean YOU sent me that text? I . . . I . . .”
My mind fumbles. I only got one text. How could that have been Pistol? It said Brody in my phone. . . my new phone. Oh my Goodness. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t have added his contact as Brody this morning, could I have? Do I have two Brody’s in my phone? The alcohol in my system starts to churn. I begin to feel nauseous as my mind hits overdrive searching for an escape. Think Kaitlyn . . . Think! How am I going to get out of this? My cheeks begin to quiver from the nausea. I back further along the wall, but I’m clumsy from too much alcohol and the wall is endless. I can’t find the opening anywhere. I hear his footsteps closing in on me. I can feel his energy invading my space.
“You know you want me Kaitlyn. Why are you backing away from me? Though I am enjoying this little game of cat and mouse.” His devious cackle fills the room.
“Stay back. I’m gonna get sick.” I hold my hand out to stop his advance. I feel his movement pause, when I double over. The burning, spiked apple pie cider forces its way up my throat and splatters all over the ground before me. I wretch and vomit, while he waits. Darn it . . . I hate throwing up more than anything else in the world. Now I know why I don’t drink . . . and never will again. The dizziness intensifies with each heave, and I begin to sweat and cry. In between waves I yell, “Leave Pistol! Just leave me alone!”
After three slow clicks of his tongue, Pistols replies, “No can do Babydoll. I’ve been waiting way too long to hold you again. This is our big night, yours and mine. We’re gonna celebrate your birthday in a big way.”
His steps come toward me once again, and I shuffle against the wall trying to find my way to the door. As I slide across the wall, I feel a gouge and the rip of my skin. I’m caught up on something sticking out of the wall. I feel the blood begin to trickle down my back, and I hear the tear of my lacy tank top as I pry myself from whatever I’m stuck on.
I hear the crescendo of his footsteps. “Oops, I’ll just step around that little mess you made. No biggie Babydoll.”
I finally pull away from the wall, but I’ve lost sense of where I am. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t find me. I drop to the ground and try to hold my breath as I cringe in the darkness. Silence fills the air, and an eerie feeling overtakes me. As I crouch on the cold ground, I feel the draft seeping up through the hardwood floor. My legs are ready to give way from the excessive trembling. For a moment the world disappears. I hear, see, and feel nothing. Silence. Unexpectedly, I feel the quick sudden grasp of my shoulders, followed by a speedy swooping motion. Like a rag doll, he has pulled me into him and he clutches me beneath his brutally strong arms. His hand covers my mouth, as he spins me around, and holds me from behind.
Shocked, and mortified, can’t begin to explain the terror that seizes my entire body. The blood drains from my face, and I stand frozen and speechless when I realize I have officially been taken captive by one drunken Pistol Black.
I kick, and drag, as he pulls me backward toward the stalls. “Bro . . .,” I try to scream until he silences me with his violent hand. He laughs out, “You’ve got nothin’ on a steer Babydoll. I’ve been wrestling animals bigger than you since I could walk. You might as well stop fighting me.”
Pistol’s enormous hand has managed to find its way over my nose and I struggle to pull air in through his fingers. I can’t get enough oxygen. I’m left with no choice. As my last defense, I bite down on his finger as hard as I can.
“Owww, you little BITCH!” he screams, spinning me away from him and holding me at arms length. He cocks his fist back to his shoulder. Before I can rationalize what’s happening, full throttle, he lets it fly into my left jaw. The impact sends me barreling across the floo
r. I hit a stack of antique milk jugs, which crash down, and scatter all over the tack room floor. The loud collapse sends Pistol into full panic mode. He rushes toward me, grabs a handful of my hair and begins to tug me backwards. “You little Klutz! You just had to go and make all that racket, didn’t you? They probably heard you all the way up at the barn! Now shut the hell up or I’m gonna shove my fist down your throat!”
As he continues to pull me by the hair to the back room, I back peddle, and shuffle, trying to use my hands and feet to keep up with him. I collapse from the awkward movement and the pain of putting weight on my injured shoulder. I shriek in agony as my hair begins to rip out by the roots, and though my shoulder is being torn to shreds, I continue to crab crawl to ease the pain of my ripping scalp. Pistol begins to pull me through the back door, shoving me into the room where Brody, Mason, Caden, and I played as kids. It’s full of antique farrier equipment. It’s dark, terrifying, and there’s no way out. I know this isn’t good, so I grasp onto the wall and hold on with everything in me. I scream in pain as I feel the slivers of the decaying wooden doorframe spike beneath my fingernails.
“Shut the hell up!” Pistol screams. “You know this is your fault. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?” I feel the painful impact of his boot as it crashes into my stomach. With the crunch, the air is forced from my lungs. I open my mouth to scream for help, but the only sound I’m able to produce is a weak hiss. Searing pain shoots through my ribs, seizing my breath, once again ending my struggle to pull in air. I gasp and wheeze, gasp and wheeze, but too little oxygen is making its way into my parched lungs. Blackness begins to invade my mind . . . Don’t lose it Kaitlyn. Don’t pass out . . . You can’t pass out. Think! Breathe!
With a furious yank, Pistol pulls me from the doorframe and drags me to the middle of the room. The sudden movement sends my head crashing into the ground. There is instant pounding and tightening at the base of my skull. As I clench my eyes shut, trying to regain focus, I feel him come down over the top of me, and pin me beneath him. I feel like one of the poor calves he wrestles during rodeos. Dizzily, I writhe beneath him. I kick and stomp my feet, rolling my head side to side, trying to escape. Forcefully, he lays his right arm across my chest, pinning down both of my shoulders. “Shhh, Babydoll. You and I both know you aren’t gonna get out of this one. You might as well just relax and enjoy our time together.” He grabs my wrists and drags them above my head. I shiver when I see him pull out his piggin string.
