Deranged Delusions

11. Part Of Your World

I feel bad for not telling Lauren the truth about what really happened the night of that party. Okay so maybe I don’t feel extremely guilty nor do I feel really, really bad that I lied and told her that nothing happened between us, but when I really think about it, I didn’t flat out tell her no; I kind of avoided the subject.

So I didn’t really lie.

But really how could I tell her that the reason why Neal kicked her to the curb was because she was drunk off her ass and she came onto me? I don’t think she’d believe me and she wouldn’t really stop to listen so I could explain it was her fault. All it would take was a ‘yes’ from me and she’d be off, ranting and raving about how it was my entire fault that Neal dumped her.

But lying or not I’m still sitting in the passenger seat of a rental car, driving down a deserted freeway towards Worden, Montana. I have no idea what to expect but now right now, it’s the worst. Lauren’s been really quiet all day but I think it’s the jitters of coming home after being away for so long. I think it’s been five or six years…I don’t know, I never ask Lauren anything about herself.

“So is this all there is around here?” I ask while I wave my hand towards the prairie that’s stretched out all around the tiny strip of pavement that these people like to call a highway. Since it’s the beginning of March, there’s still some snow on the ground and I had to pack some of my winter clothes in order to not freeze my ass off while I’m here. Well, Lauren packed for me, I can’t remember the last time I packed my own suitcase for something.

Looking out the window I notice a tractor is working in a field way off in the distance and if I look out of Lauren’s window I can see a farm house too. Technology has yet to visit this area of the country because I haven’t gotten a text message from Trace since we left the city we flew into. The rental car I’m sitting in is in shambles and it would probably make Xhibit piss his pants for shame. I thought our pilot died of shock when I told him we were going to Worden, Montana of all places. Well, we flew into Billings and drove out of the city. Apparently Worden doesn’t have an airport or a Budget Car Rental. Did I mention that we’ve been sitting in this pile of metal for an hour and a half and the last time I checked we still had an hour to go?

Lord kill me now.

“Pretty much. There really isn’t a lot to do around here.”

And then comes the silence. It’s been like this for the whole trip. One of us would make a comment, the other responded, and then the car would go silent as the grave. I tried the whole radio thing earlier, but all I got was country. So I did the next best thing: I slept.

Before I know it, Lauren is nudging me awake and I’m opening my eyes to find that we’ve hit some resemblance of civilization. There are big blocks of concrete and wood that are supposed to represent buildings, maybe…I don’t know they’re pretty shitty looking. Most of them are weathered, beaten up places with chipping paint and faded signs. All the cars I see on the side of the street are pick-up trucks that don’t go above the year 1990. There’s the occasional compact car but they’re so rare that they jump out at you from a mile away.

Right now it seems that everything is covered with the hint of spring on the horizon, but there’s still a thin layer of brown slush that indicated that not too long ago there was snow on the ground. People are walking up and down crusty sidewalks and watching our car go by with curiosity. Apparently this is the kind of place where everyone knows all the cars that come in and out of town and this alien life form encroaching on the little town is piquing everyone’s interest.

“Welcome to Main Street,” Lauren says with a trace of bitterness in her dull voice. You can tell she is just thrilled to be here and she halts the car at a stop sign, zips up her parka and continues to drive down the deserted street trying her best to stay as incognito as possible.

Last time I checked I was the celebrity here.

The street isn’t that long and I’m surprised that Lauren’s going at cruising speed because you can tell she just wants to speed through as quickly as possible. But that’s a little hard seeing as there are bicyclists driving down the middle of the road, children playing on the front stoops of buildings. To go above thirty miles per hour was asking for a red flag to be attached to the back of your vehicle and a billion dirty looks thrown in your general direction.

“Wait, this is your main road?” I ask her and she nods with a roll of her eyes. Damn, I would have killed myself if I had to live here and…holy shit, did that guy just turn the corner in a horse drawn carriage?

“That’s Thomas Fredrick,” Lauren states cordially. You can tell she’s having a hard time trying not to completely die of embarrassment, “he drives into town at the start of every week to pick up groceries and buy things for his grandchildren. They’ve gotta be in high school by now.”

We continue to drive until we reach the heart of Main Street. Seems to me that the whole town is walking the streets and this is making Lauren even more uncomfortable. She pulls the rental car to a stop in front of a medium sized storefront that has a considerable amount of people hanging around on the front porch. It isn’t until I see the sign that reads, ‘Paul Oak’s Groceries and Deli,’ that I realize she actually wants to get out of the car.

“You coming?” Lauren asks and I can hear the hope in her voice that I’ll just stay in the car and won’t cause trouble. But I’m interested in this place and I can’t help but wonder if this place is at all like Shelby Forest and if this grocery store sells anything worthy of The General Store’s hamburgers.

I wordlessly get out of the car and follow Lauren into the store. She doesn’t bother to lock the car doors, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable but when I see that no one around us makes a motion to inspect the car or reach inside to steal anything, I relax and walk into the store.

By the time I get my bearings, Lauren is halfway done with shopping and all I can do is stand off to the side and watch as she flits down aisle after aisle, picking up cereal, milk, and all the things that you can find in my refrigerator except they aren’t name brand at all. And I will not eat no knock off Captain Crunch.

I’m about to tell Lauren this but she’s already walking up to stand beside me. She’s about to say something but her words die in her throat as a girl our age comes round the corner of one of the aisles and gets a look at us. She screams at the top of their lungs and the sound of glass breaking all over the floor as she drops a jar of pickled pears on the ground.

“Oh my God!”

I can’t go anywhere without getting noticed.

“Is it really you? I can’t believe you’re actually here in this store, out of all the places in the world! You’re gorgeous!”

Flattery might not get some people anywhere but this girl’s public display of attention is definitely earning me some new points. Her green eyes are brimming over with tears and she quickly drops her shopping basket on the ground before she approaches us. It’s times like this when I wish I brought security with me but I figured I wouldn’t get noticed here so…

“This is just too much!” the woman exclaims and she walks towards us. I can feel the nervous energy from Lauren just erupting all around and I half expect her to jump in front of me to keep this woman at bay. Lauren playing the part of my bodyguard, now there’s something to think about. “I still can’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” I say with a small laugh as she stands a mere two feet in front of us. Before I know what’s happening, I’m being shoved out of the way and the screeching woman is embracing Lauren like she’s her long lost sister or something. Lauren awkwardly brings her arms around the woman’s shoulders to return the welcoming hug and I can see that her face has turned green with nausea. Is she really that nervous?

“Laurie Walters! Little Laurie Walters what are you doing here? The last time I saw you was at graduation and as soon as you got that diploma you were out of Worden like some coyote was chasing you!” This woman’s western twang is so heavy I almost have a hard time understanding her, but I don’t blame Lauren for getting the hell out of this place as quickly as possible. It’s a madhouse.

The woman’s outburst alerted the other customers as they’re all peeking their heads out of their respective aisles and watching the scene with curiosity. At first they were apprehensive but once the woman turned around, holding Lauren’s arm up in the air like she’s some prizefighter, they all smile and come out of hiding to greet their long lost community member.

They all shuffle past me and stand in front of Lauren some of them hugging her and others shaking her hand vigorously. What am I, chopped liver? Last time I checked I was the one who was world-renowned and had a kick ass promotional team who got my name into every nook and cranny of this entire nation.

Apparently they missed Worden, Montana. I must fire them when I get out of Hick Hell and back to civilization.

“Does Gretchen know you’re back?”

“How are your parents doing?”

“What are you doing now?”

I want to interrupt at that moment and alert the crowd that she’s the Personal Assistant to my wonderful self but seeing as I can’t get a word in edge wise, I stand off to the side and watch as the owner of the store practically closes shop and heads over to the mess of people to welcome back one of their own.

“I’m very busy, I have to go,” she states calmly while she bends down to pick up her basket. The owner stops her and rushes over to the cash register to bag her items before returning them to her.

“On the house. Welcome back Miss Laurie.”

What the hell is this, Little House on the Prairie?

“Thank you, Paul. Justin, let’s go,” she states quietly and slowly at least a dozen heads turn to look at me with curious and judgemental eyes. Now that’s more like it. Striding out of the store, I get back in the passenger seat and watch as Lauren loads the stuff in the back of the car before getting in the driver’s seat. The store has followed us out onto the curbside and they’re all watching us drive away from the store. I half expect some of the women to pull out handkerchiefs and wave goodbye but they all started talking at once.

Stopping at the first traffic light I’ve seen since we’ve left Billings, Lauren leans against her seat and sighs heavily before leaning forward to let her head rest against the steering wheel.

“Problem?” I ask her quietly not really enjoying her blatantly obvious cries for attention. I’m not going to read into them that much seeing as she’s probably just come to realize what it’s like to be me. What with the yelling people and everyone wanting to know your business and not letting you have a minute to think to yourself.

“This is just fucking great,” she mutters more to herself than to me. I lean back in my seat and watch her mini breakdown, not really knowing what to do. She’s been on delicate territory for the past couple of days following her breakup with Neal. She cried on the plane ride over and she was dormant and unresponsive every time I tried to bring up any type of conversation on the car ride over here.

“What? Green light, by the way,” I explain and she sits up in her seat and drives through the intersection before hanging a left and leaving Main Street.

“You don’t understand,” she states softly, “there are about five hundred people living in this town and in a town that small, everyone knows everyone. I guarantee there’ll be at least five people on my doorstep by the time we pull up to the house and we’ll be getting baked goods by dinner…”

“And that’s bad?” I ask her. In truth that sounds pretty sweet to me seeing as I don’t want to do any cooking and I’d rather not try out that cereal she bought for me back in that market, “Seems pretty cool to me.”

“Not really. They’ll be poking around and asking where I’ve been and why I’ve stayed away for so long, and who you are…”

“They should know who I am,” I say in a scandalized voice. Sure I still have that black eye, but the swelling’s gone down and I don’t think I look too terrible. How can she even suggest that these people don’t know who I am?

“If you were Keith Urban, Shania Twain, or George Strait, people would definitely know who you are. But you’re Justin Timberlake and that name is normal around these parts.” I laugh loudly and rest my head against the cold window while I look at her with a huge smile on my face. “What?”

“Did you just say ‘around these parts’?” I ask and she groans loudly before pounding her fist on the steering wheel, “Thank you John Wayne. When I see Butch Cassidy I’ll be sure to alert the sheriff.”

“Shut the hell up, Justin,” she mutters, “I don’t need you acting like a douche bag this week, I’m stressed out enough as it is.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a vacation?” I ask ignoring the fact that she has just called me a douche bag. “Well actually it’s a vacation for me, you’re here to watch your house or whatever…” I start to explain but Lauren silences me with a scathing look.

“Just because you’re jealous because for the first time in your life people aren’t paying attention to you, doesn’t mean you can be a jerk,” she snaps and I recoil like she punched me in the other eye.

Really now, I’m insulted. She thinks I’m jealous…of her? Please. I am so not jealous because she gets a huge welcome home from people she hasn’t seen in almost five, six years however long she’s been away. No, I am the furthest thing from jealous there is. I’ve had girls give me ceiling fans to sign with the rest of the group; I’ve had girls sneak into my tour bus! I’ve had thousands of people screaming my name in unison at sold out arena tours all over the world! I’ve had big homecomings where people almost knock over my bus! No, I’m not jealous at all…screw that notion!

“Whatever,” I say sullenly as she continues to drive away from town and into the wilds of Montana. So maybe I am being a douche bag and maybe I am a little jealous that, for the first time in her life, she got more attention than I did, but really, who am I to care? All I have to do is go back to a place that’s normal and watch as the girls freak out at the sight of me.

I just have to wait a few days to get the ego boosted again.

Twenty minutes later and we’ve pulled up in front of a modest, two story house that’s sitting on at least five acres of flat land. I notice in the back there’s a smaller house, a barn, and a corral with at least two horses lolling about inside of it. I can tell Lauren wants to get into the garage but it’s proving difficult seeing as there’s at least four pick up trucks parked in her driveway.

As soon as she turns the car off, the doors open and people are piling out of their vehicles and descending on our little car like they’ve just found the Messiah. Lauren is yanked out of the car and enveloped in hugs and cheers of welcome while I’m stuck in the car watching this whole thing take place.

Really, you’d think Lauren was kidnapped and she was finally brought back home in one piece the way these people are going on and on and on about how long she’s been gone and how great she looks and how they want her to come over for dinner and…what about me?

Ignoring the welcoming party, I grab the keys out of the ignition and pull the groceries out of the back of the car. I might have never been here before, but I’m sure I can handle getting a front door open and moving all this shit into the kitchen before it spoils. Maybe if Lauren weren’t so caught up in the hype she’d actually see that I need a bit of help unloading the car.

“Looks like you need help with that,” a voice says behind me and I turn around to see an older looking guy in a Stetson and some really nasty looking cowboy boots with spurs. Without waiting for a response, he whistles and the rest of Jesse James’ crew barrels over and unpacks the whole car in a single trip.

“There you go,” the same man says as he moseys back over to where I’m still standing. Seriously they need service like that at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. The best thing is, they don’t even need a freaking tip.

Seeing that I’m going to be ignored for a while longer, I walk into the house blatantly overlooking Lauren’s obvious looks of despair. Really, she’s begging me with her eyes to save her from the group of people who are still grilling her with questions, but I’d much rather explore her house.

But before I can get a chance to fully look around, the front door slams and I hear the door lock. Walking into the front hall from the living room, I see Lauren standing there, looking extremely frazzled.

“Thanks for your help,” she grumbles before she picks up my suitcase and shoves it into my chest. She knocks the wind out of me and I have half the mind to shove it back at her but a little voice in my head stops me.

She doesn’t look like she’s in the joking mood and I don’t want to piss her off even further. She looks genuinely upset and now I can feel the guilt creeping up in the pit of my stomach. The last thing she needs after a break up like that is to be continually poked and prodded by people she probably didn’t even want to see. Then again that’s exactly what I went through with Britney except it was a little bit bigger than what Lauren is going through right now.

But still…

Someone’s knocking at the front door and it seems like Lauren is one knock away from pulling out all her hair. The look on her face is the breaking point for me and before she can go answer the door, I reach out a hand and stop her.

“I’ll get it. Go sit down or something.” She looks shocked but she nods her head and mutters a word of thanks before she disappears into another room. Taking off my jacket, I drop it on the steps that lead to the second floor and walk steadily towards the front door.

Once I have the locks undone, I swing open the door and I’m met with a short, plucky looking woman around our age. Her smile is so big and wide you’d think she was the Cheshire Cat and her brown eyes are dancing with excitement while she keeps shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I’m strongly reminded of Chris and I’m sure if the two ever met there would be a catastrophe of apocalyptic proportions.

“Howdy, who’re you?” she asks me with an enormous Texan sounding accent. She’s dressed in a chunky pink sweater and Wrangler jeans, a pair of worn in cowboy boots pulled over her pants. Her extremely short blonde hair is pulled back into even shorter pigtails and the mischievous grin on her face is, to put it bluntly, freaking the hell out of me.

“I’m Justin. Justin Timberlake.” I want to add, ‘maybe you’ve heard of me,’ but I don’t want to embarrass myself, “And who are you?”

“I’m Gretchen Jones. I heard that Lauren Walters is back in town. Is she here?” I push myself between the doorframe and the door, blocking the inside of the house from Gretchen Jones’ line of sight. I don’t think Lauren wants to see anybody else today, hell I don’t think she wants to see anybody else for a long time, so the less amount of people who see her the better.

“She’s a bit busy right now. I think she’s in the outhouse,” I explain. Isn’t that what they call bathrooms here? Gretchen throws her head back and laughs and I can hear Lauren’s muffled cries of laughter in the background. This is the last time I cover for her sorry ass.

“Outhouse? I think you mean bathroom,” Gretchen says once her peals of laughter have subsided, “I bet you’re one of her city slicker friends who doesn’t know the first thing about ranchin’. Never seen a cow in your life, never been on a horse…”

So not true. I rode a horse for that one *NSYNC video.

“Just tell Lauren that I came by. That’s Gretchen Jones…” she’s about to give me all her information but before she can continue, I feel Lauren creep up behind me and push me out of the way so she’s standing in my place. I nearly fall on my ass but I recover gracefully in time to see Gretchen jumping up and down and hugging onto Lauren like she’ll disappear.

And I thought Lauren wanted to be left alone.

“Oh my gawsh it is so good to see you! I thought you’d never come back here!” Gretchen exclaims loudly as she hugs Lauren again. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking up on the house. Mom and Dad are out of the country for a while and I had to come to make sure everything was in working order,” Lauren explains and I walk over to the stairs and sit down so I can easily eavesdrop on their conversation without making it look like I’m trying too hard.

“You need to come over to dinner tonight! Peter just killed off one of the winter cows and we’re having a big feast tonight! You need to come, and bring your city slicker friend! Oh it’ll be just like old times…” Gretchen’s voice fades as she waits for Lauren’s response. I half expect Lauren to jump up in the air and with a ‘yee haw’ of delight, accept Gretchen’s offer. But she’s dead silent while she ponders this invitation.

I can’t take it anymore.

Getting up off my butt, I walk to the front door, pop my head out and say, “So how does five o’ clock sound?” Lauren glares at me and Gretchen’s eyes light up like a Fourth of July spectacular.

“Sounds wonderful! See you then, and don’t be late! The kids have been dying to meet you and Peter hasn’t seen you in ages!” Gretchen explains and Lauren takes a step forward as her old friend jumps off the porch.

“Wait, you’re married and you have kids?”

“Yup! You’ll see them in a few hours! Bye Lauren! Bye Justin!” And with that she starts walking down the road all by her lonesome self, whistling some random tune and gazing at the bland scenery around her.

“Good God she has kids,” Lauren mutters more to herself as we both walk back inside her house. She closes the door and runs fingers through her hair before gazing out the window and watching Gretchen’s retreating form, “What the hell have I been doing these past eight years?”

“Looking after my sexy ass?” I offer and she looks over at me before smacking me on the shoulder.

“You wish,” she retorts before she grabs her luggage and hands me mine, “Let me show you where you’re staying.”

She takes me upstairs and shows me to the guest room that is apparently right down the hallway from her old room. The hallway is lined with photographs of wild animals that I’m sure are native to the Montana wilderness and each room is dedicated to a specific animal. I’m apparently in the Eagle room since there’s a giant portrait of a bald eagle hanging over a sleigh bed that looks like the most comfortable thing on the face of the planet.

“So Gretchen’s an old friend?” I ask her as I throw my suitcase on the oak dresser across from the bed. She nods slowly and looks out my window that overlooks the backyard.

“We were best friends…since toddlers, actually. Her older sister used to baby-sit us all the time when we were young. We were practically like sisters.”

“What happened?” I ask as I sit down at the foot of the bed and face her, watching as she leans against the doorframe and rubs her upper arms even though a thick sweater covers them.

“I grew up, got a scholarship from Stanford and I knew that was my ticket out of here. When I started school I got so caught up in a life that wasn’t here I just didn’t go back. It helped that my parents pretty much picked up and left as soon as I was on my own. I never had any desire to go back.”

I can see her point, after dealing with the psychos in this town I wouldn’t come back anytime soon either. Lying back on the bed, I realize that this is even more comfortable than my own bed and, taking the hint, Lauren backs out of the room and leaves me to my nap.

I wake up maybe two hours later to the soft knocking on my bedroom door. For a split second I have no idea where I am but after a few seconds of looking around the room, I realize I’m still in Lauren’s house in some small little town in Montana.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes before heading over there,” Lauren says through the closed door. I mutter in response and yank myself reluctantly out of bed. Opening the door, I walk down the hallway in hopes that I’ll find the bathroom. The first door I come across is ajar and, still hoping that it’s the bathroom, I push it open.

Definitely not a bathroom.

Bright and cheery yellow walls are illuminated by low-slung sun that’s shining through the window on the opposite side of the room. A day bed is directly underneath the window and the floral comforter looks even more inviting than the one in my room.

It’s definitely a room made for a girl. Photos grace the walls by a stout oak desk and upon inspecting them I realize it’s a teenaged Lauren in almost all the pictures. A majority of them show her wearing intricate western wear and she’s almost always perched on top of a horse, holding a trophy or a garland of roses, a winning smile on her face.

From the pictures I move onto the various framed objects on her wall. First place ribbons for science fairs, county fair cook offs, programs from choir and orchestra concerts, even a diploma from high school claiming Lauren was valedictorian. Is there anything she didn’t do while in high school?

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice says from the door and I jump away from a picture of Lauren, Gretchen, and two other people their age dressed in black graduation robes. My hand reaches up to the back of my neck, something that I always do when I’m uncomfortable or put on the spot. This is rather awkward…

“Sorry, I was looking for the bathroom,” I mumble as I walk towards her. Apparently she’s going back to her roots tonight. She’s wearing jeans, boots, and a button down plaid shirt something that I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear. She’s never been this casual around me…aside from the time when I walked in on her in her room jamming out to Queen…

“Next door over. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to go,” she adds quietly and I want to apologize for snooping around in her room but she’s gone before I have the chance to open my mouth.

Half an hour later we pull in front of a two story farm house that looks a lot like Lauren’s house except it looks way more lived in. A pair of bikes litters the front yard and I can hear the sound of dogs barking and other various barnyard animals bleating and neighing from the backyard.

Getting out of the car, the smell of cooked meat immediately hits me and I suddenly realize that I haven’t eaten since this morning. Lauren looks nervous and I give her a comforting smile, hoping she doesn’t faint or make a complete idiot out of herself.

Next thing I know, Gretchen is in the front yard, hugging Lauren tightly before she rushes over to me and practically picks me up out of sheer joy. They must not get a lot of visitors.

“So glad ya’ll could make it. Here, let me take you round back and you can see Peter and meet the kids,” Gretchen says with bright eyes as she grabs both our hands and yanks us around the side of the house. The backyard looks like a tornado hit it. Toys are strewn all over the place and a fence separates the house’s backyard from the barn, corral, and work shed. The smell of steak drowns out the musty smell of horses and other animal scents and for that I’m grateful. Sorry, but my appetite would be kind of ruined if I had to smell eau de horse shit all evening.

“Hey, howdy Laurie!” a man from behind the grill says. I’m assuming it’s Peter seeing as he’s wearing an apron that says ‘PETER’ on it in huge letters and he’s the only adult in the backyard. “Good to see you again.” Lauren walks forward and gives the man a quick hug and peck on the cheek.

“This is my boss, Justin,” Lauren says quickly as she introduces me to Peter. I walk forward and shake his hand, noting the amount of calluses that rest on his skin. Hardworking, guess you have to be around here.

“I didn’t know he was your boss,” I hear Gretchen stage whisper to Lauren. She shrugs with indifference and looks out towards the barn, the awkward silence slowly moving in to make its killing stroke.

“MAMA!” a sudden voice screeches over the din of the grill fire. A blur of blonde, pink, and denim comes flying around the corner of the house and latches itself on Gretchen’s short leg. The blur pauses long enough for me to see that it’s a little girl about six years old and she looks down right pissed.

“Lizzy, what is wrong with you? You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Mama, James is yanking on Georgie’s hair again…she’s cryin…” and sure enough a child’s shrieks rise up around the side of the house where this apparent Lizzy has come from. Gretchen rolls her eyes and picks up her daughter before she excuses herself and strides over to the side of the house.

“Who’re you?”

I turn around and look down to see a young boy around the same age as Lizzy watching me with a keen interest. He’s absolutely filthy, dust covering his overalls and patches of dirt are smudged on his cheeks and nose. Inquisitive brown eyes look at me from behind a baseball cap that’s holding down an unruly mess of brown hair. He’s the spitting image of his father that’s to be sure.

“I’m Justin. I uh…know a…” how do I explain that I’m a friend of his mother’s friend without totally confusing the hell out of him? I know how kids are, I have two half brothers and before you know it they’ll have this huge story about how you’re an evil person coming to destroy their family and…

“Niceth to meet you Uncle Jussin.” Apparently I’ve skipped over acquaintance and friend status and gone straight to Uncle. He smiles brightly and his two front teeth are missing which is probably why he has such a strong lisp. Poor kid, I’m sure he gets made fun of all the time. “And who are you?” and now he’s addressing Lauren who is looking at the boy with curiosity as well as reluctance.

“I’m Lauren, I’m a friend of your mom’s.” Apparently Lauren has been the talk of the town for quite some time seeing as the boy’s eyes light up and soon he’s hugging onto Lauren’s legs for dear life. Did my assistant somehow save this town from the plague? Why is she such a local celebrity?

“Golly! My Mama talkth about yew all the time! Yer her beth fwiend! Can yew show me how to ride a hoss wike yew?”

What the hell is a hoss?

“William, that’s enough,” Gretchen exclaims as she walks back towards us. She looks like a fucking jungle gym seeing as Lizzy is hanging on her back and she’s got a little girl in her arms while she’s pulling along a younger boy by the arm with her free hand. Good God I could not have that many kids this close in age. “Leave your Aunt Laurie alone.”

“But Mama! She’s the beth rider in the world! Yew said so yerself!”

“Was that necessary? You know I’m not that good,” Lauren exclaims, “And besides, I haven’t ridden a horse since senior year of high school…” Ah, so a hoss is a horse. Got it, got it. Okay I’m not in the dark anymore and I don’t feel like such an idiot anymore. Thank God.

“Well you do know he isn’t going to leave you alone until you get on one of the horses. He is my son after all,” Gretchen adds with a wink before she sets down the two girls and picks up the little boy. “Right now I’ve got to go put James in time out for harassing his sister and I’ll be back out. I’m sure you’ll find everything in the barn, Laurie,” Gretchen explains before she walks back towards the house.

“Pleath?” little William begs and I can see Lauren’s resolve quickly fading away. Sighing heavily, she reaches out for his hand and the little boy cheers with delight before he pulls his new friend towards the direction of the barn, talking a mile a minute about ‘hosses.’

“He was so excited when I told him she was coming over for dinner,” Gretchen says as she walks up behind me. I’m feeling very put out of place because: one, the boy wasn’t excited to know that I was coming over and two, I no longer have a safety net by the name of Lauren Walters to keep me from acting like a complete idiot in front of strangers.

“Why?” I decide to indulge myself in this conversation. Who knows, maybe I’ll find out some incredibly embarrassing story about Lauren and I can hold it over her head for the rest of the trip. I’m sure she’d love that. Gretchen leaves Peter to the grill and the two girls rush off to the front yard to no doubt ride on the bikes or play with dolls or covered wagons.

“Lauren is what you would call a legend around here,” Gretchen explains with a calm air as we make our way towards the empty corral. Off in the distance, I can see a herd of sheep grazing on the fresh new blades of grass pushing up through the dead earth. Over by the barn a horse neighs from the inside followed by William’s excited peals of laughter. “Before she got the notions of big city life in her head she was more country than your average person here at Worden…”

Lauren, country? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m currently spending my own vacation time in a place where the average person can’t count past fifty. She’s about as country as Trace is black.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. Lauren was the town darling back when we were kids. Back when we were in elementary school she was the State Junior Barrel Racing Champion. She pretty much put Worden on the map when it came to Women’s Barrel Racing because she won nationals when she was only sixteen. She was student body president, valedictorian, her cherry pies would win at the county fair every single year, first chair violin and soprano in the choir…everyone loved her…and they still do. Her coming back is kind of like Christmas coming early around here.”

Damn. Lauren managed to do all that without pissing people off or destroying them with her awful bouts of road rage? What the hell happened then? How did she change from this sweet, western cowgirl into a cynical, no nonsense type of person?

“She was Worden’s sweetheart and then she took off to tackle bigger dreams. The worst part was, she left without saying goodbye. We all woke up one day and she was gone. Took that car of hers and drove on out to California. Haven’t seen her since graduation all those years ago and, as you can see, things have changed. I just hope you treat her with the respect and kindness that she deserves. You’re lucky to have her working for you.”

I’m about to respond with an ‘I know,’ or even something as nice as, ‘I’m happy to have her in my life,’ or some shit like that, but the laughter of a child breaks our conversation and draws our attention towards the barn at the far end of the corral. Lauren and William walk out of the barn, the little boy leading a young looking, spirited horse.

“Is that horse well trained?” I ask, a feeling of premonition and dread sneaking into the pit of my stomach. The horse is prancing along and tossing his head, nearly pulling William off of his feet. Lauren reaches forward and holds onto the reins, making sure the animal isn’t going to take off without warning.

“Well we just broke him in a week ago. He’s a youngin’ but if anyone can ride Charger, it’s Laurie,” Gretchen says calmly, totally not caring that her son is in the presence of an insane animal. I’m a little nervous that Lauren is going to be sitting on something called Charger, but only because I don’t want to drive the hour to the nearest hospital to make sure she doesn’t die once this horse throws her and…

Oh who am I kidding? I just don’t want to see her hurt.

“Go stand by your mom, Will, and once I’ve got him warmed up, I’ll show you how to keep him under control,” Lauren explains once they reach the center of the corral. Will gives a dutiful nod before he rushes over towards his mother. Once the boy is safely on the other side of the corral, Lauren throws the reins over the animal’s head.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this!” Lauren calls out from behind the horse. “Hopefully I’ll remember how to do it.”

“Please,” Gretchen responds with a bright laugh, “it’s just like riding a bike. You never forget.”

“I’ll remember that if I fall on my butt,” Lauren responds before she hoists herself effortlessly onto Charger’s back. His nostrils flare out and he tries to rush off while Lauren steadies herself on top of him. Leaning against the railing, the three of us watch with interest as she begins to put the animal through its paces. Charger goes about three paces before he gets his hindquarters underneath him and gives a few quick bucks.

I’ve seen rodeos before and I know that’s what horses do when they’re pissed off and want whatever it is on their backs off…I guess I should be thankful that she isn’t riding a bull around but still, I don’t like the fact that this shit crazy animal is trying to throw my assistant off its back.

My heart leaps up into my throat as Lauren’s tiny frame is thrown back and forth in the saddle and I find myself gripping onto the railing a lot harder than I thought I was. Gretchen gives me a knowing smile before she turns her gaze back on the horse and rider.

After a few more laps around the ring at a slow pace, Lauren sits back and finally gets comfortable in the saddle. Watching with bated breath, the horse moves forward into a faster gait and I almost want to jump in there and yank her off that crazy thing. Charger bucks yet again and Lauren doesn’t flip out or put him check. Quite the contrary, she throws her head back and laughs this delicious and carefree laugh that I don’t think I’ve ever heard from her before.

Charger goes and does what he does best, and charges around the far turn of the arena, his hooves pounding the dirt and keeping time to his breathing. William is jumping up and down from his position next to his mother and Gretchen can’t tear her eyes away from the pair thundering down the track.

If it’s even possible, the duo comes down the center of the ring even faster than before, the wind working Lauren’s hair loose from her ponytail. A huge smile is painted on her face, she laughs again, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the Lauren Walters I’ve never seen before. The Lauren Walters that everyone loves and appreciates and can’t get enough of. As of right now she isn’t Lo, Lo-ho, or any of the other ridiculous nicknames she’s earned over the years. She’s just little Laurie Walters, the country girl and apple of everyone’s eye, and for the first time since I’ve met her, she’s free.

“Wow,” I whisper aloud and it isn’t until I see Gretchen’s knowing smile that I realize I didn’t just say that in my head. Dammit, what has gotten into me? All she’s doing is riding a horse around a freaking ring and laughing like some kind of maniac. At least that’s what a quickly fading voice in my head is telling me. The rest of me is rising up in support of these new feelings that seem to be surfacing and I really don’t want to face them. I really, really don’t because that would change everything. And I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.

Lauren pulls up right next to us, the horse breathing hard, its fur damp with sweat. It seems that the animal has calmed down some because after running around like that I’d sure as hell want to go back home and sleep for a couple of hours. William has climbed over the fence and is gently petting Charger’s face and Lauren is looking down at Gretchen with an enormous smile on her face. Her cheeks are swollen and stained red from being bitten by the wind and her eyes are shining with the simplest kind of joy that it’s hard to not get caught up in her excitement. She just looks so damn happy and so pretty and…

God dammit, Timberlake you need to stop this right now! Stop thinking about her that way because you know she hates you and would never, ever look at you the way you’re looking at her right now. All I can do is thank God that she isn’t noticing the look of extreme infatuation that’s crossed on my face at this very moment, but I guess I have an overly excited William Jones to thank for that. He’s talking a mile a minute and lisping all over the place that it’s hard for Lauren to look at Gretchen and me. She’s too concerned about the kid getting trampled by Charger who’s getting excited again. Wonderful, Psycho Horse is going to take off again, which is something I don’t want to witness. All I want to do is pull her off that horse and tell her to never scare me like that again because I totally thought she was going to die up there. I want to do a few more things as well, but I don’t think that’d be entirely to appropriate for the six year old to be watching…and I don’t think it’s entirely appropriate for me to be thinking these thoughts about my personal assistant.

What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to have these feelings for Lauren of all people? Especially now that we’re stranded in a place where we only have each other for civilized company? Fuck this shit, I’m calling Trace. If anything he can talk me out of doing something extremely stupid for the next couple of days.

Excusing myself from the group, I pull out my saving grace, my sidekick, and immediately dial the numbers that will take me straight to salvation. I swear to God if Trace doesn’t…

“Hey you’ve reached Trace. I can’t come to the phone right now…”

Bastard. He’s supposed to have my back in situations like this. Putting the phone back in my pocket, I notice that Lauren is off the Hell Horse and has placed William up in her place. If he were my kid, I wouldn’t let him touch that animal with a twenty-foot pole, but apparently Gretchen could care less. These crazy country people, now I know why Britney was all for letting Sean Preston ‘drive’ her car.

But a country hick’s kid is the last thing on my mind. I have to find a way to keep my mind off of a certain personal assistant of mine who is going to make avoiding her very, very hard over the next couple of days.

Dammit all to hell.

***