by Sarah Price
To my surprise, he shrugs and says nothing. I realize that my mother has already gotten the approval from Marcus regarding this sudden adventure to Dallas.
Now I’m really crying. How could he be protecting me when he knows what I did? How could I have used her credit card without her knowing? I can’t possibly let her down by telling her, but the guilt that is pressing on me makes it impossible to keep it secret.
“I can’t go,” I say.
Both Brooke and Alex simultaneously cry out, “What?”
I look up at my mom through my tears. “I can’t. I promised Marcus that I would work. I need to work because I have to pay him back after I—”
But Marcus reaches out his hand, placing it on my arm, and cuts me off midsentence. “Now Cat, I told you that eez between us, yes? No need to argue since I said you may go.” He pats my arm in a fatherly manner, and I can see that he’s proud of me for wanting to tell my mom. However, he clearly has his own reasons for protecting me. Whatever they are, I’m not about to argue even if I do feel a little guilty right now.
“What about tickets?” I wipe at my eyes and turn to Brooke. She shakes her head for me to keep quiet. I almost forgot that my mother doesn’t know about Brooke’s secret relationship with Randy Quinn. I look back at my mother. “Can we still get in?”
“I bought two general admission tickets.”
Once again, I glance at Brooke and she winks. Obviously she already spoke to Randy and he’s getting us backstage passes again. The tears start to fall, hard this time. I put my head down, resting it into my arms as I sob. The third time has to be the charm. I have to meet Aiden Quinn this time. Maybe I can even take a selfie with him and his horse before he rides. Oh, I just know that I’ll meet him now!
“Such a fuss,” Marcus says, but not unkindly.
My mother gives a soft laugh. “I never expected tears, Cat. A simple thank you would suffice.”
I spring up from the bench and run to her, throwing my arms around her neck as I hug her. “Oh, thank you, Mom. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
She pats my arm and, after a few seconds, starts to extract herself from my embrace. “Now, we leave early so I think you better go pack, yes? Leave the dishes. I’ll take care of them tonight.”
Whoa. Another unexpected gift. I’m usually the one stuck with dish duty. I give her a kiss on the cheek and then grab my plate, take it to the sink, and hurry upstairs to my room.
My phone is charging on my desk. Quickly, I grab it and plop down on my bed. I open up Twitter and begin to tap away at the keyboard.
Look out, Dallas. Here I come.
Must meet @AidenQuinn.
Third time’s the charm.
No sooner have I posted this than notifications start flashing across the screen. I scroll up to the top of my Twitter page and notice I’ve gained another seven thousand followers since yesterday. What in the world is going on with my social media? I refresh the screen and start reading the comments under my most recent post. Already it has been retweeted twelve times and there are ten comments.
Wow!
All but one of the comments are encouraging, other fans telling me how lucky I am and wishing me the best. Of course, there’s that tenth post that tells me to fall in horse manure before I meet him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Leslie Murphy posted that hateful comment. I check the user account, but it turns out be some legitimate hater from Oregon. But no sooner do I jump back to my home page, I see twelve girls have come to my defense and put the Oregon hater in her place.
Double wow! I have a squad looking out for me! I’m not surprised to see that girl Emily from Cowtown is one of them. You go, girl!
I private message her:
Thanks for sticking up for me.
Within minutes, she responds:
Anytime, Cowgirl Cat.
You’ll definitely meet him this time.
Boy, oh boy, I sure hope so. Flying all the way to Dallas, Texas—the capital of cowboys!—would stink if he chooses not to show up again. Of course, with Brooke semi-dating Randy, I’d probably know Aiden wasn’t going to be there. He’d tell us, right?
Suddenly I wonder about that. What if he knows Aiden won’t be there, but he won’t tell Brooke because he just wants to see my sister and doesn’t care about whether or not I meet Aiden? I mean he is Aiden’s brother. He could have just told Aiden about me and asked him to follow me. In fact, why hasn’t he done that yet anyway?
Now I’m suspicious. Maybe Randy Quinn is using me to get to Brooke. Maybe he’s not the sweet guy that she thinks he is.
Quickly, I look up Aiden on Twitter to see if he’s posted anything about Dallas. If we are flying there tomorrow morning, he must be there by now. Strangely, he hasn’t posted all day. Hmm. Now I’m worried. I click over to Bobbie and Clayton’s accounts. They have photos on Twitter and Instagram of them checking on their horses at the Dallas arena. No mention of Aiden.
My heart feels like it does a flip-flop. My mom always says that women have a special sixth sense. She calls it female intuition. I never knew what she meant. Now I do. With my mind whirling in twenty different directions, I set down my phone and try to get to sleep. But it’s impossible. Between the excitement of going to Dallas and the worry that Aiden might not be there, I know that I’ll never fall asleep tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dallas!
Okay, so Dallas in the summertime is not the coolest place to be. In fact, it’s the hottest place on earth. At least as far as I’m concerned. Once again, the weather people messed up my plans. I must have stalked the weather.com page a dozen times, checking and double-checking it to see what the weather would be like. Of course, there was no mention of humidity so heavy that my clothes are clinging to me. No mention of heat so oppressive, I can barely breathe. No mention of the sun beating down on me so fiercely it feels like my skin is melting.
“It has to be a thousand degrees here!”
“Stop complaining,” my mom says.
Brooke doesn’t seem to mind the heat. She’s all smiles and her skin is glowing. I know why. I’ve heard Randy and Brooke FaceTiming and talking all cutesy to each other ever since Cowtown. Thanks to her, scoring two more gold VIP passes had been super easy, and I’m starting to feel as if I’m a super professional fangirler.
Of course, when I posted that to my Twitter status, more hate messages started pouring in. I can’t believe how vicious complete strangers can be, although I know one of them is Leslie Murphy and she’s super de duper jealous. I can’t wait until school starts. Not only will I have my “FOLLOWS YOU” from Aiden, I’ll have not one, not two, but three gold VIP backstage passes hanging around my neck. Plus I have the special green wrist band that gives me access to the stable area. That will never leave my body! Heck, I think I’ll even wear them all on the first day of school like a badge of honor.
Ever since Cowtown, Emily keeps in touch with me, messaging me daily. In fact, while we’re walking in the sweatbox called Texas, my phone pings and it’s her, checking in to see if we’ve landed yet. She’s the bomb! And Irish, too!
I have a couple of other cool Twitter followers-friends now like @CupcakeQuinn from the great land down under and @MrsAidenQuinn from Nebraska! I never met anyone from Australia or Nebraska before. Australia must be super amazing, with koala bears and kangaroos! I would totally love to go there. I’m not quite so certain about Nebraska, though—I bet it’s the anti-Texas in winter, and I hate cold weather!
Emily introduced me to @5thAveAiden, which sounds classy. My mom likes to shop there and Brooke once said she wanted to go, too, because all the posh stores are there. So I take it that @5thAveAiden likes to shop. She’s also into writing fan fiction and has great stories about Aiden. Makes me wish I could write, too!
Anyway, the coolest thing about my new little posse of cyber-besties is that they’re real protective of me. So when evil Twitter fangirls try to tear me down, I can count on them to retaliate and lift me back up. Of
course, Jamie and Cassie have my back covered, also. It’s good to have a support team. I just never knew that I needed one!
And to think ... just three months ago, I didn’t even know what all this social media stuff was about! In fact, I didn’t even have a phone! A real phone, anyway. It’s amazing how the iPhone has just changed my life. It introduced me to a whole other world that I didn’t even know existed.
We check into the hotel and it’s already jam-packed full of girls. The first thing I notice about them is how happy they seem to be. Everyone is smiling and laughing. A couple of really pretty girls keep flipping their hair every ten seconds (not that I’m jealous of long, flowing locks or anything). A lot of the girls are sitting on the floor in the lobby, working on their posters, adding the finishing touches. As we navigate through the crowd toward the registration desk, I see a variety of names on the posters: Bobbie, Brent, Andy, Clayton, and, of course, Aiden. There are even a few names that I don’t recognize: Tommy, The Double Bs. While there is a core group of guys that travel with the Rodeo Rage Tour, it seems that Gary Green brings in local talent at each stop, too.
I can’t help but feel a little bad for them. They must have put in a lot of time and hard work into making the posters. I know I did. And even if you can get the poster to one of the boys—if it survives being mauled to death by the crowds—I know what happens to them backstage. The refreshment room is littered with piles of teddy bears and envelopes and gift bags. Almost all of them stay behind when the tour moves out. After all, those boys are crammed onto one tour bus. It would be literally impossible for them to take everything with them.
Besides, a professional, diehard fangirl knows better than to bring the goods to the show: You have to mail it to their house!
After we check into the hotel, we walk around and check out the scene. There are even more girls sprawled out on the floor. My mother does a double-take. I can tell she wants to ask a question, but with a book signing in just four hours, her mind is completely frazzled.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” she says to Brooke with a concerned tone of voice. “But I’m counting on you to keep this one out of trouble.”
When she looks directly at me, I realize that I’m “This one” and I resent her insinuation. I’m not the one sneaking out at night. I’m not the one FaceTiming Randy. And I’m not the one who taught me how to hack her credit card. Frankly, between me, Brooke, and Alex, I’m her most well-behaved offspring by a long shot!
Brooke checks her phone, and I can tell by the way her cheeks pink up that Randy must be texting her. I’d roll my eyes, but Randy is my ticket to Aiden. So if I have to put up with Brooke’s ridiculous love-struck behavior, I will. As far as I’m concerned, Randy is the man. And, of course, he’s Aiden’s brother.
The room is all right. Nothing fabulous. Two queen beds and a flat-screen television. Whoopee. Above us, I can hear a lot of loud noises and jumping around, as if people are bouncing from one bed to another.
“Well,” Mom says as she puts her bag on top of the bed by the window. She stares at the ceiling as if her x-ray eyes can see through the stucco. “I hope that doesn’t go on all night. What on earth are they doing up there?”
Suddenly it dawns on me. The boys! They must be in the room above ours. I catch my breath and look at Brooke. She’s oblivious, still engaged in her little tȇte-à-tȇte with Randy. When Mom goes to the bathroom to freshen up, I jump onto the other bed and try to hear what’s going on over our heads.
“What are you doing?”
I put my finger to my lips. “Shh! I think they’re right above us!” I whisper.
Suddenly, she’s on the bed beside me and tilting her ear toward the ceiling. I love how she’s become such a fangirl groupie when, just a few months ago, she thought the Rodeo Rage Tour was stupid. Still, I can’t help but feel relieved that I have a companion in crime. Despite our age difference, she’s pretty much cool and doesn’t talk down to me.
“I think you’re right!” she whispers back. “It’s definitely guys!”
“Text your boyfriend and ask if he’s up there!”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” But Brooke blushes when she says this.
I laugh louder than I should.
“What are you girls up to?”
Busted by Marty. She just stands there, a dumbfounded look on her face with her hands on her hips. From her perspective, I admit we must look ridiculous, standing on the bed and stretching our ears up toward the ceiling.
Brooke flops down on the bed, always cool as a cucumber. “Just goofing around, Mom,” she says. “Sister stuff.”
Boy, she’s good!
“Uh-huh.” The suspicion is too obvious in my mom’s voice, but she’s more concerned about her book signing. “Well, whatever this thing is you’re doing tonight, I’m trusting you both to behave and be back here by eleven.”
I don’t know which one of us is more surprised because we both say “What?” at the same time. Eleven o’clock? That’s for babies, not world-traveling fangirls with super-secret backstage passes to Rodeo Rage!
Pointing at me, she says, “You’re thirteen years old.” The finger then moves to Brooke. “And you are not twenty-one! Plus, I want you to look out for each other.” She glances at her cell phone and reaches for her purse. “I shouldn’t be late. Just the book signing and then dinner with my publisher. So I’ll be watching that clock, you hear me?”
We nod in unison, definitely cohorts in crime. Anything to get her to leave the room so we can begin our adventure. I simply can’t wait. In just another hour or so, I will finally get to meet the love of my life: Aiden Quinn. It seems so surreal, but I have no doubt it’s actually going to happen.
As soon as the door shuts behind her, Brooke jumps into action. She tosses her suitcase on the other bed, then opens it and proceeds to fling her clothes in every direction. She’s always been a slob. My mouth drops open when I see the amount of stuff she’s brought with her.
“You do know that we’re leaving tomorrow night, right?”
She makes a face at me. “Cat, a gal can never over pack. You can’t be certain what you’re going to need, for crying out loud.” She pulls out a little sundress in a really pretty color of blue, then reaches in for a matching floppy hat. When she holds it up to herself and looks in the mirror, she does a little sashay. There’s no denying that it looks great on her: Whatever Brooke wears, she always looks fabulous. Randy is roadkill.
But she flings it aside.
“What the heck?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Not in the mood for a dress.” She starts pawing through the suitcase again, digging out another outfit. White jeans? A black silky top that is cut a little shorter in the front and hangs longer in the back? Hmm, interesting.
I’m still standing on the mattress, mesmerized by her transformation. She was definitely right about the blue dress. It would have been a mistake; it made her look too young. The outfit she’s wearing now makes her look more sophisticated, and older.
“This is better,” she says, admiring herself in the mirror. She spends a few minutes touching up her makeup and fixing her hair. And that’s it. Brooke is ready to hit the town, or in this case, the Rodeo Rage backstage!
I hadn’t really planned my outfits. In fact, I don’t even know what I packed. PJs, a few books (as if I will really read them), and my hairbrush. Oh, and a fresh shirt for tomorrow. Looks like I’m stuck wearing my white shorts, blue plaid shirt, and cowboy boots. I glance in the mirror, feeling like I don’t fit in. But the person who stares back at me is familiar, and that comforts me. Wearing sheer tops, short skirts, or heels isn’t who I am.
Cat Lansing is not like that.
Although I do wonder if I should have maybe packed my Aiden merchandise. Oh, snap!
After all of her primping and preening, Brooke gives me a big smile and lifts an eyebrow. “Ready?”
“Uh ... duh!” I jump to my feet and grab my orange sunglasses. The Dallas s
un is so bright that, even walking from the hotel to the event venue, I know I’ll need them.
There are girls still camped out in the lobby, but the crowd has definitely thinned. I soon learn why: they’re already lined up and waiting for the doors to open. One glance at my phone and I see that there are still three hours until the show starts. As Brooke leads me past the long line, I can’t help but stare. I’m just grateful we have VIP tickets and don’t have to wait with the masses.
A few of them whisper and point at us. I have no idea why. Is my zipper down? I take a quick peek just to make certain. One girl nudges another and gestures in our direction.
“Hey!”
Oh, I learned my lesson in Cowtown about girls who cry out “Hey.” Hashtag: Avoid.
She’s persistent, though. “Who are you?” she shouts.
Another girl shouts out, “It’s Cowgirl Cat.”
Brooke does a split-second pause.
A third girl waves her arms. “Can we get a picture with you?”
What on earth? I look at Brooke and she frowns. I wait to take my cue from her. While I have no idea why they would want a picture of her, I let her decide. And, in true Brooke style, she flashes a bright smile and poses.
“Not you!” the girl shouts. “Cowgirl Cat!”
My jaw drops. I probably look like a monkey standing there, with my mouth wide open, gaping at her. But she takes a photo anyway. Great. So do a few other people. Oh, sweet mama, I think. Monkey photo is going to be on Instagram and Twitter before I can shut my mouth! I bet Leslie Murphy will see it.
Argh!
More important, however, is how that girl recognized me. Is it possible that they, too, are diehard fangirls? Maybe they saw me in photos from Topsfield or Cowtown? Surely the scuffle with that chick, the one who tried to rip off my gold VIP badge, was documented for millions of Aiden followers to see. Or, maybe like Emily, they’re following me? I make a mental note to ask Emily what she knows.