Chapter 9
My day was actually pretty darned enjoyable. My brothers texted and called me like crazy. Truth be told; I ignored most of their calls after the first couple of ones. I'd assured them that I'd made it to my gate on time, that I didn't have psychos walking after me, that I was washing my hands after using the bathroom and that I was not holding strangers' luggage for them.
I did follow their advice by buying some magazines at a gift shop by my first gate. I bought one on interior design for Southern homes, another on Southern cooking and one on guns. Unfortunately, they had overbooked my flight. Right when I thought I would have to take a later one, one of the flight attendants told me that I was being bumped to first class.
"Wow. First Class? Like on the movies?" I asked her.
She laughed and nodded.
"Yes. Just like that. Is this your first time flying, honey?"
I nodded.
"It is. I thought that it would be nerve-wracking and terrifying but everything has been swell. Everyone is just so nice."
She sighed.
"Well, it's not always like this...Miss McCoy," she said as she glanced at my boarding pass. "Sometimes planes are crowded, and there are delays and sometimes you sit next to really unpleasant people."
I nodded at that.
"I imagine so. Hopefully my next connection will be as pleasant as this one."
The flight attendant wished me well before scanning my boarding pass with some sort of laser scanner and sending me on my way. There was no crowd at all when I boarded the plane. The passageway that connected to the plane was empty. The flight attendants that were at the door were so pleasant too. After I showed them my boarding pass, they politely showed me my seat, took my jacket and my carry-on and then asked me if I would like a refreshment.
"Thank you so much, but I'm alright."
They presented me with a blanket wrapped in plastic along with a pillow and some headphones. In no time at all, the rest of the passengers boarded the flight. Some of them smiled at me and others gave me long looks. I wondered if they didn't like that I was in First Class. Ah well. I shrugged it off and went back to my cooking magazine.
Too soon, the flight landed in San Diego, California. It was such a pretty descent. I saw all sorts of Navy warships and the Pacific Ocean too! The palm trees were beautiful and the high rise buildings were exciting to see too. I had two hours to kill before my connection, so I went to a Chili's restaurant to eat some lunch. I had to sit at a bar as the tables were all full, but that didn't bother me at all. Some weird guy kept sending me alcoholic drinks I couldn't even identify. I asked the bartender to politely thank him, but to decline further drinks from the kind individual. The bartender then asked me where I was from and I told him. He gave me free sodas and half off of my meal. I wanted to think that he was being hospitable, but I suspected that he liked my accent and my looks. Still, I thanked him for his kindness but politely turned him down when he asked me for my phone number.
After my meal, I made it to my gate with time to spare. This time however, I was sitting in the main cabin with everyone else. I saw a few handsome fellas wearing what looked like sailor uniforms on the plane. I smiled and waved at them as I had never seen anything like that before. Halfway into the flight, the flight attendant brought me an alcoholic drink. I thought it was complimentary so I thanked her for it.
"Oh, no. Alcoholic beverages are not complimentary on coach, I'm afraid," she apologetically said. "The sailors a few rows behind you bought you this."
My eyes widened at that. I then leaned right on my aisle seat and looked back. The sailors smiled at me and waved. I smiled and waved back before resuming my position.
"They told me to tell you that they love your cowgirl outfit."
My brow furrowed as I looked down at my boots, and blue jeans. I also wore a leather jacket, with my pink plaid shirt showing just a bit. My long blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail as well. Hmmm. I guess that I did look like a cowgirl. Was I offended at the fact that the Sailors thought that I was 'dressing up?' Maybe just a little bit.
Looking up at the flight attendant again, I smiled.
"Could you please thank the gentlemen for their kindness for me?"
"I sure can," she said.
"But I don't drink," I lied. "Do you think you can dispose of that in a discreet way?"
Her smiled widened. "Easy as pie, sweetie."
She then walked away with the drink discreetly hidden between some napkins. Arnold's words regarding people mocking my accent or where I came from came to mind. Was the sailors' failed compliment a portent of things to come? I didn't know.
Chilled, I pulled a blanket around my legs. I then went back to my magazine as I needed the distraction to settle my nerves.
Seeing the mountains of the Pacific Northwest made me forget about the uncomfortable exchange with the Sailors on the plane. The trees were so green! There were so many of them! The mountains were high and there was water everywhere. The pilot came on the loudspeaker and said that we were flying over the Puget Sound. I sat up higher in my aisle seat so that I could see all of the blue and the green through the little window that was two people away from me. I sighed in relief as I felt excitement come over me, again. I was there - in Washington. I was going to be on American Sharpshooter. It was good to be me, I thought with a smile.
Chapter 10
It had been raining when we landed. According to the pilot, it rained nine months out of the year in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe that was what made everything so verdant. Still, it was way too much rain for me. I took a quick detour to the Ladies' Room which was when I heard the buzz on my cell phone that told me that I had a text message. After washing my hands, I checked it and found that it was from Arnold. Half-smiling, I read the message.
"Make sure that you are not looking disheveled and sloppy when you get off the plane. The producers will probably want to film you as soon as possible. It's what I would do."
Moaning, I deleted the message before heading to a big mirror where I checked my make-up. My hair looked a bit disheveled, so I combed that before placing it back into a ponytail. I retouched my light brown eyeliner and my blush as well. I applied more of the light pink lip-liner as well. Taking two steps back, I was satisfied.
"It will have to do." I muttered to myself.
I then walked out of the bathroom and headed in the directions indicated by the arrows in hopes that I would end up in baggage claim. I was riding down on an escalator when I first saw the sign. A tall man held a white sign with great, big red letters that said, "American Sharpshooter." Nervously, I swallowed. Looking around him, I saw a crowd of about seven other people standing around him. Looking at them, I knew that they were probably the other contestants as they looked so unlike one another. There was a really tall African American man wearing an L.A. Lakers ball cap. There were three other guys that looked Western, just like me. Only they all had cowboy hats on. Under Arnold's advice, I had left mine at home. The three looked like they ranged from the age of twenty to the age of forty. I caught all of their eyes. There was one other woman there who looked Hispanic. She was pretty and had kind eyes. I hoped that we would be able to be friends. The last two were dressed warmly, but in non-descript clothing that didn't tell me where they were from. As I got to the bottom of the escalator, I went to the carousel that had a marquee that had my flight information on there. Once I retrieved my suitcase. I took a deep breath and held it.
"Oh, Lord. Here goes nothing," I said under my breath.
I then turned around and headed for the group of people under the American Sharpshooter sign. The closer I got to them, the more surprised they looked at me. The man holding the sign pulled it down as soon as I stopped right in front of him. He gave me a small smile, showing off two very cute dimples.
"Are you Lauren...?"
I blushed and nodded.
"Lauren McCoy. That's me," I replied.
His smile widened as he looked down
at me. Dear Lord, what a smile. His eyes looked impossibly green. His short brown hair was impeccably trimmed. His long brown eyelashes looked sexy too.
"Then you are the last one we are waiting on. I'm Trevor Garrett, the show's host. It is nice to meet you."
His deep voice delighted me while his words made my excitement plunge just a bit. He was just being nice to me because he had to be. He set the sign down and then nodded towards a direction somewhere behind me. Turning around, I saw a man set a video camera down that had been sitting on his shoulder. He'd been standing right next to the carousel where I'd retrieved my luggage from and I had not even noticed him! Dear Lord, Arnold was right.
"Filming already?" I muttered.
I guess that the Hispanic woman had heard me.
"That they are," she replied under her breath.
In no time at all, we were shuttled into a small bus with very cozy seats. As soon as we were all seated, Trevor stood at the front of the bus and looked down at all of us.
"Welcome, everyone. From what you can probably deduce, the show's producers wanted all of the contestants to land at the same time. It makes for good 'behind the scenes' footage," he added with an apologetic shrug.
Arnold was so spot-on about this show, I thought. He would fit right in here.
"Let's go ahead and do an introduction folks. We'll start with...Lauren," he said with a smile.
Oh, no. I felt blood leave my face as I stared at everyone...staring at me. I watched Trevor indicate with his hands that I stand up, so I did that. Still, I couldn't get a word out of my mouth. After a minute of just standing there, he spoke to me.
"You are shy."
That I could answer.
"I am."
That made a couple of people on the bus laugh. Hopefully they were laughing with me and not at me, though. Trevor nodded.
"Alright. How about this? I'll start the introduction process and we'll go around the bus and end with you. Is that fair?"
I eagerly nodded at that and sat down. Still, he stared at me.
"Work on your nerves, Miss McCoy," he gently admonished.
I swallowed and nodded again. Still, I was a bit embarrassed; I felt singled out.
"Again, my name is Trevor Garrett. I am originally from Roanoke, Virginia. My background in forestry and business brought me to Outdoors - the cable channel - about three years ago. American Sharpshooter is in its second year, and I'm hoping that it will last a few more seasons. Whenever I'm not on the air, this is the life I live. I camp, I hunt and I shoot. Now, on to the next person..."
My heart rate calmed as he went around the bus getting introductions for the bus' inhabitants. I learned that two of the shooters were in the military. A couple of other ones (including the Hispanic woman) were police officers. The other three were recreational shooters. They came from all over the country and most had families back home waiting for them. I thought that was nice. Trevor smiled as the person behind me finished their introduction.
"You are up," he said, looking right at me.
Thankfully, the introductions by the others gave me a general idea on what to say about myself. I stood up and cleared my throat before speaking. I took a deep breath and then released it. With a nervous smile, I glanced at everyone on the bus.
"Hi everyone. I'm Lauren McCoy. I am from Olney, Texas which is a small town near Fort Worth. My dad, two brothers and I run a hog hunting business out of our ranch. I don't have a family of my own yet, so what I do in my spare time...is paint. I'm a painter."
I figured that I might as well fess up about that. Why hold it back anymore? My dad wasn't talking to me anyway.
I couldn't help but notice Trevor Garrett stared right at me as I spoke. I told myself that he'd stared at everyone else as they spoke. Still, part of me wanted to think that he had taken a little fancy to me. His face split into a smile and he spoke to me.
"What about your shooting? Everyone else here has spoken about guns. You haven't. What do you shoot? What do you like? What are you good at?"
Jiminy Christmas, those were a lot of questions.
"Oh, that's right. Guns. That is why we are here."
My nervous stammering made a few people laugh and smile.
"I don't really have a preferred weapon. I like them all."
Trevor nodded at that.
"But what are you good at?"
"Everything. I am good with any firearm."
I then smiled and sat down. Trevor's smile faded a bit as he kept staring at me. I then noticed the rest of my competitors turn slightly to stare at me. Did I sound boastful? Did I sound like a braggart? I shouldn't have - I didn't boast about my stats like they did.
"Well, it is nice to meet you, Lauren."
Trevor then looked from me to the rest of the competitors.
"We are now headed for beautiful Silverdale, Washington. It is just an hour away from here so we'll be there in time for an early dinner. You'll enjoy the drive."
Relieved, I let out a big yawn and sat back in my seat. I felt my cell phone buzz in my pocket, so I took it out. It was Arnold, again. Sighing, I sent him a quick text that told him that I had landed, I found the group of people I was supposed to be with and that I was on my way to Silverdale, Washington. Tired of getting buzzed by him, I turned my phone off for the time being. Settling back in my seat, I looked out the window before falling asleep. I woke up an indeterminate amount of time later. I don't know what woke me up and forgot to determine the source when I saw that we were on a ferry.
"Oh!" I said, as I spied the water and the green trees surrounding us.
I couldn't identify the species of trees I saw, but that didn't matter. They were just so darned gorgeous. Looking around, I saw that the bus was mostly empty, with the exception of three people besides me: a guy with a cowboy hat over his face (probably sleeping), a guy on a laptop and the show's host, Trevor Garrett. As soon as I looked his way, he looked at me and gave me a small smile.
Feeling my heart skip a beat, I smiled back. My heart slammed in my chest at our little exchange. Oh no; I recognized that along with other symptoms. I had just developed a crush on the show's host.
"You are here to shoot," I whispered. I then forced myself to look away from him and down to my own hands. Forcing myself to find a distraction, I dug my cell phone out of my pocket. I had four missed messages from Tim and Arnold. Smiling, I read each one of them.
After reading the messages, I composed one of my own and hit send. Less than two minutes later, I received a response from Arnold.
"You are NOT there to admire the host, Lauren!! You are there to shoot! Do not let him chat you up about anything that isn't show related!!! I'm doing a background check on him as we speak."
I laughed at that; finally, the over-protective instincts on the part of my brother were useful, I thought. Hopefully they would keep my eyes on the prize, and not on the good looking host.
Forty minutes later, we arrived at our destination and I was almost sad for it. Everyone's faces had been glued to the windows; the scenic drive had been simply breathtaking. Huge mountains and beautiful green trees covered the terrain around us. The mountainside homes in the area we were driving by were spectacular, although none of them compared to the huge house at the end of the long, private driveway that was our final stop.
The beautiful, gray brick home had to be at least five thousand square feet in size. It had two huge double doors with a large, arched window right above it. To the left of the house was a huge water fountain. The landscaping surrounding the home was lush and green. And behind the home was a huge body of water. I'd never seen anything as beautiful. Ever.
Trevor indicated that we get off of the bus with our gear, so we did. Apprehensively, I watched as the cameraman grabbed his gear and turned it on. Make-up artists appeared out of nowhere and touched up Trevor's face and brushed his hair as he stood before the massive front doors of the mansion. Other people then grabbed each one of us and placed us into two files near th
e water fountain; the shorter folks (me included) stood in the front while the taller ones stood in the back. Make-up artists approached us and dusted our faces with powder and other cosmetics. The men weren't fans.
Finally, Trevor began to speak into the camera.
"Eight competitors vie for the grand-prize title of American Sharpshooter in our second season. Get to know them."
His voice was grave and serious. Someone behind a camera told him to say it again in a more jovial tone, so he did. They then told him to do it serious again, so he did. It was very tedious to watch. I wondered how tedious it was to do. After a few minutes, the camera swung to us. The director told us to remain serious as the camera panned over us as a group. That took a few takes, unfortunately.
Twenty minutes after we climbed off the bus, someone yelled, "Cut!" We all sagged in relief. Trevor seemed to relax too as he approached us.
"Folks, that was just an introduction as to what this is going to be like. There will be cameras on during the shoots. Cameras will also follow you in the kitchen, in the living room, outside, and even in the bedrooms when it is not time to sleep. The only place you will be without cameras will be in the bathrooms."
He then sighed, as if bracing himself.
"And now for the bad news. Cell phones are not allowed. Period."
That caught me by surprise. No cell phones? Why? One of the cowboys asked that very question. Trevor shifted before answer that question.
Nice Shootin' Tex Page 7