“Don't ever end up alone with him,” Rachel warned. She moved the baby's head to her shoulder. “He's a deviant,” she added tapping the baby on the back.
Deviant? Cassidy wasn't sure where this was going. The most dangerous of situations for an undercover cop is exposure. But maybe that wasn't the case here. Before she went running after Kevin and John she needed to take her time, gather more information and think carefully. She pulled her jacket off her arm and sat down.
“What do you mean by that?” She took a sip of water. Her heart was pounding. What did John do to Rachel?
“He's horrible toward women,” Rachel announced.
Not the answer Cassidy was expecting. Jeez the man had just congratulated her on qualifying for the men's division. And he didn't express any of the reluctance Logan had about her riding with the cowboys.
“How?” Cassidy asked. She was truly puzzled.
“He called me a harlot and a whore,” Rachel announced. “And he told Bret Bodner to kick me out of the rodeo.”
That wasn't very nice. God, John was really taking his undercover work seriously. Maybe all this happened early in the assignment and he wanted to prove to the rodeo community he was a true minister. Too bad Rachel was his scapegoat.
Now Cassidy understood why her sister-in-law hated John. She didn't blame Rachel.
“You could probably call me sexist,” Logan admitted. “Especially after today, I'll own up to that one. But I don't hate women the way John does,” he explained. Then the waitress showed up with their food. They stopped talking while she settled the plates in front of them.
“Why do you think he hates women?” Cassidy asked after the server had refreshed their water. Finally the woman was gone. Cassidy rubbed her nose and tried to keep a straight face as she studied her brother and his wife. Memories of John worshiping her body in a number of different ways flashed through her mind. She glanced down at her food. Between her worry about Kevin and the absurdity of this conversation she had lost her appetite.
Logan turned to Rachel. “Well…” He put his hand out. “Not as much this season. He hasn't said those things to you lately.”
“I haven't run naked lately,” she replied.
“Just for me,” Logan cooed. “Like you promised.”
Okay, time out. Cassidy had already seen the Logan and Rachel show once today. She couldn’t take anymore. She picked up her jacket and purse and stood. “I'll see you guys later,” she said fleeing the table. She could hear Logan calling out, “What, what’d we do?” as she pushed the door open.
Chapter Five
The organ music played from an iPod hooked up to speakers in the corner. The podium was a black metal music stand and the pews were folding chairs. There wasn't a hymnal in sight just photocopies of sheet music. One of the songs was Crosby, Stills and Nash's Helplessly Hoping, the other James Taylor's You've Got a Friend.
“These songs are really old,” Kevin muttered as he slumped into a folding chair a little too close to the front. “I bet Grandma Naomi sang them when she was doing that hippy thing back in the day.” He reached into his backpack and proceeded to take out his laptop. They were attending the rodeo service because Kevin wanted to hear John talk about Battlestar Galactic during his sermon on redemption.
Cassidy rubbed her chin. “Maybe we should move a few rows back.” She looked around as she nudged her son's leg with her knee. “We're a little close to the podium, don't you think?”
Kevin shook his head. “I want to…” he started to say.
“Cassidy Cooper,” John, the man who'd been called a pervert a number of different ways by Rachel and Logan yesterday, interrupted with his arms out wide. “The best female rider in the west,” he added. In a long black robe and a starched white collar he rushed over with way too much eagerness on his face. John never did eager.
Cassidy put her hands up. Oh no, she didn't want to hug him. Just smelling the man awakened desires in her that she didn't want to feel. John wasn't going to back off, with his big smile, sincere eyes and firm handshake he announced, “Welcome to the fold.”
At least he settled on the handshake instead of the hug but Cassidy was still uneasy. John never used words like welcome. Plus, he seemed genuinely happy to see her and along with calling her the best female bull rider, she was enamored, no matter what Rachel and Logan thought.
“It's really nice to have you here,” John continued. He touched Cassidy lightly on the elbow. “You've found good seats,” he added with a nod in Kevin's direction. Kevin saluted him. Whatever John had done, Kevin came back from the interview with Mike Shannon safe and sound.
As a result of this man keeping her son whole and his being so damn supportive of her riding, Cassidy felt her bones soften, her blood warm, and her skin liquefy. She sat because the feeling was close to crippling. Thankfully John drifted away as he greeted the other parishioners.
Cassidy leaned over and whispered at Kevin. “As soon as this is over,” she told him, “we leave.” She amended her words. “If there's a break in the middle,” she suggested, “we leave then.” Yes, she was still waging a campaign against her desire.
It was funny, last year her yearning for John came from a physical place. Every pore in her body wanted him hot, sweaty, and naked against her. This year it was from an emotional place, her heart needed to hear the kind words he was so generously dishing out.
With a firm nod Mrs. Goodwin, the registration lady, sat next to Cassidy. Cassidy smiled and when she didn’t get much back, she waved. It seemed the woman still didn't like the idea of her riding in the men’s division even though nothing was said this time.
“I want to hear the Battlestar stuff,” Kevin protested.
“We leave after that,” Cassidy told him. She shifted in her seat.
Kevin shook his head. “I'm thinking about writing a story about a virtuous preacher gone bad,” he explained. “I need material.” He wrapped his fingers around the seat of the chair. “I'm staying until the end. You can go if you want.”
“Virtuous preacher gone bad,” Cassidy said slowly her voice going up a little. “Where did you get that idea?” Kevin couldn't know that John was a jaded cop gone good. Cassidy stared at her son. After that comment yesterday about working for the greater good, she was starting to think her son was either extremely insightful and on to something, or the things he said were just dumb luck.
Kevin shrugged. “I don't know.” He turned his attention to the podium.
“Today,” John started the sermon after his six parishioners sat down. Two Venezuelan bull riders, Mrs. Goodwin, one buckle bunny looking like she'd been up all night plus Cassidy and Kevin. “We are going to talk about redemption.”
Cassidy shifted in her seat. Yes, she was having her own personal redemption on the back of a bull, where she was trying to repent for all the painful things she'd done to the people she loved, especially Kevin. Abandoning a three year old was not good and lying to her family about her work in L.A. was also bad.
“I thought you were going to preach about Battlestar,” Kevin shouted at the podium.
Cassidy tapped him on the knee and tried to shush him.
“I'm going to get to that,” John told the boy. He chuckled in a kindly way. “But first I want to talk about all the bad things we've done during this lifetime of ours.” His attention was on Cassidy. “And how we can find forgiveness.”
She tapped her foot on the worn carpet. Instead of feeling hot and bothered by John she was now uncomfortable and self-conscious. She really didn't need this today. Tonight she was riding with the men for the first time. She needed to get her head in that game both mentally and physically.
“I looked redemption up,” John continued, “on the Internet.” He waited for the laughs. He smiled once he got them, even from Mrs. Goodwin. His innocent charm was contagious. Cassidy unfolded her arms.
“About.com,” John announced, “tells us redemption involves going from something bad to something good.” He
said it again, “Going from bad to good.” He waited letting the words sink in. The organ music played in the background on continuous loop.
“But many of us,” he explained, “don't believe it's possible to move toward something good. To forgive ourselves when we've done something bad.” He was back to preaching directly to Cassidy. She looked down at what she assumed was a coffee stain on the carpet. She didn't need John's somber eyes searching her face for something she couldn't give him.
“We don't believe we should be forgiven,” he continued, his voice persistent and relentless through the small room. “But once we accept that we've done wrong, fully take responsibility for that wrong and decide never to do it again.” He took a deep breath. “We can find redemption through forgiveness.”
“It's a lot harder than it sounds,” Cassidy leaned over and whispered at Kevin. Her hands clasped in her lap, knuckles slowly turning white. No, she wasn't going to cry. She wouldn't cry. But damn it, John's words were landing too close to home.
Kevin nudged her in the ribs. “When is he going to talk about Commander Adama?”
“I don't know,” Cassidy said. She returned her attention to studying the stain on the carpet. It looked like a brown cow.
“But we can change,” John continued. “It's in our hearts to change and God wants us to change.” Someone in the back called out “amen.” John nodded and smiled a little. He looked relieved. “Change is in our grasp because God and our families forgive us,” he added. A little redundant, but it seemed to work, he got another amen, from the group.
“Redemption can appear to us in all sorts of ways.” He looked down at Kevin. Again, that kindly smile was on his face. “Even on television,” he added.
The congregation laughed uneasily. The group wasn't sure where this was going and Mrs. Goodwin muttered something about 'Only being here because she'd never seen such a good looking minister in her life and she needed prayers for her sick husband.' Cassidy had heard Mrs. Goodwin was struggling to pay his medical bills. The rodeo doesn’t have a health care plan.
“We've got a young man attending our service today,” John explained, “who is a big fan of the television show Battlestar Galactic.” John took a step toward Kevin. “Just to give you a little background,” John started, “the humans are wandering through space. They are mean, nasty, and backstabbing toward each other as they fight the Cylons, otherwise known as the robots.”
John pointed at Kevin. “Have I got it right?” he asked.
“That pretty much covers it,” Kevin replied. “Remember they are looking for Earth and lots of murder, mayhem, and madness happens during the journey.”
“Then,” John continued. “This is the important part,” he told the group. “When the humans changed their behavior, apologized for their misdeeds and forgave each other they found…” John put his hands out waiting for his audience to answer.
“They found Earth,” Kevin yelled.
“And?” John asked the group after giving Kevin a thumbs up. He waited another moment. Everyone looked around. He waited even longer. Still nobody answered.
“They found redemption,” Cassidy supplied. She had to put the man out of his misery.
“That's right.” John clapped like a game show host. “They found redemption.” Then he raised his hands in the air, fingers wide with the palms open. He dropped his head. “The key is to accept forgiveness in ourselves and others will follow. Please God, help us forgive ourselves.”
After the prayer he flipped through his papers finally settling on a page at the bottom. “Let's sing Helplessly Hopeless by Crosby, Stills, and Nash.” He picked up the iPod, changed the song and pressed play.
This eager and earnest thing John had going on, along with forgiveness—damn Cassidy was charmed even more. Again, she tried to fight it, but he was just so awkwardly sweet and it was really nice of him to include Kevin in the sermon. The old John would have never thought to do that. Mostly he ignored kids. Maybe that was why Cassidy never told him about her son.
As Kevin typed on his laptop and the congregation sang, Cassidy giggled into the palm of her hand. Yes, she was smitten and decided to enjoy it for a few minutes. When Helplessly Hopeless was over, she'd remind herself one last time she couldn't get involved with John Risk. He was still an undercover cop, fighting the bad guys and living a life she left behind.
“The good man is trying to run a service and he doesn’t need you laughing at him,” Mrs. Goodwin scolded after tapping Cassidy with a pointy finger on the shoulder.
“I'm not laughing at him,” Cassidy started to explain while leaning sideways, away from the registration lady's touch. John began to sing along with the next song and Cassidy had to laugh again. He couldn't hold a tune if his life depended upon it. Sometimes they'd go out for karaoke with the other cops and John would sit in a corner brooding. Now Cassidy knew why.
But holy cow, his attempt at singing in a flat monotone voice was so much more attractive than him nursing a beer, feet up on a chair, shadows across his face, not talking to anyone.
Mrs. Goodwin elbowed Cassidy in the ribs.
“Ouch,” Cassidy said rubbing the spot. “I'm not laughing at him,” Cassidy tried to explain again in a low whisper. But everyone heard because the room was so small. The Venezuelans gave her dirty looks while the buckle bunny lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I was just…” she started, “you see I was thinking of someone else while he was singing.”
By that time the second song ended and Cassidy's voice echoed through the room. John smiled, the devil dancing in the corners of his grin. “Who?” he asked sounding a lot like L.A. John. One devious eyebrow lifted and Cassidy completely forgot about warm and welcoming John. Now she was looking back in time and seeing dark and menacing John. Of course, her heart fluttered.
“Someone I knew back in L.A.,” she explained, her voice shaking. “A lousy singer,” she added trying to get her equilibrium back.
Then Mrs. Goodwin had to pile it on. “Nobody laughed at you when you registered for the men's competition.” The woman who had worked for the rodeo for longer than forever told Cassidy. “So you just stop and show some kindness toward this nice man.” She nodded that wobbly chin of hers firmly at John.
John nodded back. “Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin,” he said sounding a lot like a choir boy on Easter Sunday. All traces of L.A. John gone. “Because now I have a story to tell about myself.” He glanced at Cassidy.
She really hoped this story had nothing to do with her.
John pulled in a deep breath. Then he pulled in another. Everyone in the room leaned forward in their seats while they waited for him to talk. He pulled in one more breath, followed by a very noisy breath out.
The group sighed.
Finally, John worked his jaw up and down. But no words came out.
“Say it,” one of the men encouraged. “Speak,” another said.
“We won't judge you,” the buckle bunny added. She waved at everyone in the room. “I'm sure we've all done worse.”
“I haven't,” Mrs. Goodwin protested. She turned around and eyed the bunny's pink cowboy boots. The registration woman certainly had the corner on righteous.
“I have lied,” John finally said as everyone fell back into their chairs. Disappointment flowed through the room. They were definitely looking for something better, juicer. John certainly had a lot better, like that time he broke the nose of a drug dealer to prove he was legitimate to the bikers. Then there was the occasion, he got arrested, went to prison and posed as an actual prisoner so that he could stay with the club and keep his ‘brothers’ safe while incarcerated. Not even the guards knew he was undercover. “And I'll probably lie again,” he added quickly but he had already lost his audience.
Mrs. Goodwin harrumphed. “A little lie is nothing. I've stretched the truth plenty of times in the registration line.” She folded her arms over her chest. “White lies, that's what most people call being helpful.”
“Don't you get
all high and mighty with us,” the buckle bunny told Mrs. Goodwin. “You've said some pretty down and dirty lies too. Like the time you told me Caleb Cooper wasn't with that smart Asian girl but he was.” The girl stood up. “I made a fool of myself when I did a pole dance in front of him.”
Cassidy hadn't heard anything about a pole dance. She glanced at Kevin, she wasn't sure if she should cover his ears. He was still typing so she decided to ignore it.
Mrs. Goodwin turned around with her finger in the air. “Kelly Proctor when you asked me if I thought Caleb Cooper liked you and not that concussion scientist,” her face started to get red, “I told you he liked you because you couldn't stand to hear the truth.” Mrs. Goodwin folded her arms over her chest. “It was for your own good.”
“Was she involved with my brother?” Cassidy asked. She hadn't heard about Caleb with a buckle bunny. Caleb always looked down on women like Kelly Proctor.
Mrs. Goodwin snorted. “She thought she was, but she wasn't. He only had eyes for Carrie Wang.” The older woman turned back to Kelly. “Sorry,” she said with an uncharacteristic shrug, “just trying to be honest.”
Boy, oh boy that wasn't nice. Cassidy looked to John to gain control of the group but he seemed overwhelmed by this catty turn of events. Instead of dealing with the girl fight, he continued talking. “For some of us, we are still living a lie.” He chomped on his lower lip as he glanced at Cassidy. “While for others, we are free of our lies. Right, Mrs. Goodwin?” He tried to smile but the joke didn't go over very well.
Kelly Proctor got up, stomped to the door and slammed it with a huff.
“Only death frees you of your lies,” Mrs. Goodwin yelled at the door.
“Not exactly,” John said to Mrs. Goodwin. “There are the little white lies you refer to,” he continued, his voice shaking slightly. Cassidy was really hoping he'd tell the woman she needed to get off her high horse but he didn't. “Then there are the big, life changing lies that can follow you to the grave,” he continued. “For example your family finds out you did something they didn't know about.” He glanced at Cassidy again.
The Bull Rider Wears Pink Page 7