Chapter 11
LOTS OF WHISKEY HELPS
Tate places his hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I know it sounds crazy, man, but you gotta reconsider my plan.”
I lift the new foreclosure papers that arrived in the mail today, the one that had me calling my best friend over while I opened a bottle of whiskey. “Your plan doesn't save me from this,” I say, shaking the papers with the big red letters that read NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE.
I haven’t paid what I owe against this house, which totals to nearly fifty thousand dollars. When Amelia was sick, I immediately took out two home equity loans to free up cash to buy our way into medical trials. Just to find out she was dying nearly cost us ten thousand in testing.
I tried to pay it down, but the ranch suffered blow after blow and though I knew this day was coming, I never expected it. Still, blinking down at the paper that says I’m gonna lose my house and my baby girl is gonna lose her home, I don’t want to believe it.
“No,” Tate says, “it doesn’t. But you will win that rodeo, Landry, okay?
You can do it. You will do it, and the film will be a hit.
And if you get yourself a wife real quick, you’ll get the Montgomerys off your back, and in a few months, all of this will be behind you. You just gotta trust the process.”
I finish my third glass of whiskey, even though my head was swimmin’ after the second one.
Tate looks at the table, where dishes from dinner are still strewn about. “Who was here?”
I remember how I felt a few hours ago, holding Quinn by the waist, her lips an inch from mine, excitement in my belly that she’d eat dinner with us. Borrowed excitement, I always knew, since she’s leaving here after this is all done. But still, borrowed excitement is better than nothing.
“Quinn stayed for dinner.” I don’t tell him that I was so preoccupied with this new foreclosure letter that she and Sadie ate alone while I panicked in the office.
Tate doesn’t say anything, but from deep in the house upstairs, there’s a noise. I sip my drink and add, “She put Sadie to bed, too. Sadie begged. I said no, she begged, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, so I gave in.”
Tate still says nothing, so I take another drink of whiskey.
“Quit drinkin’,” he says.
“Shut up.”
He peers up at the ceiling, listening at the shifting noises. When he looks back to me, I can tell I’m in trouble. “Landry, she’s perfect.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m not doing that to that poor girl.”
“Do what? She’s already here. She loves Sadie. She’s makin’ a movie about you, and what would add that personal touch and draw viewers in like nothin’ else?” It’s rhetorical, I know it is, and as much as I don’t want the answer, still, I wait for it.
“If she’s your wife, if the documentary is about your comeback to both the rodeo and love…” he starts, and I take that moment to refill my glass. My head is growing fuzzy, but even in the boozy haze, I know this is the dumbest idea yet.
While it also does make perfect sense.
“I don’t know.” I set my glass down, and my eyes catch on those red letters again. FORECLOSURE.
Tate taps the paper. “Think about it. And try to calm down and get some sleep tonight.” He takes the bottle of whiskey with him when he goes, and I sink into a rocking chair on the back porch, letting the setting sun take my focus for now.
The back door hinges sing as Quinn opens it, joining me in a rocking chair on the porch.
“You know,” she says softly. “When you invited me to stay for dinner, I kind of thought you’d be there.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, finding the apology comes easy, because I am sorry.
I wanted nothing but a meal with Quinn and Sadie.
Every moment I’m with them, each second I’m with Quinn, I forget my problems a little, rediscover small joys and find a bigger piece of happiness each day.
It scares me, because I know it's temporary, but I can’t keep myself from wantin’ more.
“I got some bad news and I just… didn’t want Sadie to see me overthinking. ”
My eyes drop to her bare toes against the wood porch. I nod. “No pink boots.”
She shakes her head, wiggling her toes, which my groin seems to enjoy. It’s been that long that at this point, the idea of cute feet around my cock sounds mighty nice. “I’m a barefoot girl at heart. Back home, I hardly ever wear shoes.”
I nod. “Just like Sadie. I can’t keep that girl in boots.”
A few minutes of silence stretch between us, and the pink champagne sky evolves into a light purple, evening giving way to early night.
“Thanks for letting me read to her tonight,” she says, and I turn my head to face her, and both of us stop rocking.
The foreclosure notice flashes behind my eyes, and I think of Sadie’s bare feet in the long grass, her face tipped up to the sky with a sated smile.
I can’t lose this place. I can’t take this from her.
Drunk, confused, and emotional, I follow Tate’s advice.
I sit up, and drag my hat off my head, ruffling a dirty hand through my messy hair. “My late wife’s parents have come for custody of Sadie because they say I’m unfit.”
Her mouth falls apart as a flurry of emotions passes through her expression.
First shock and surprise at the news I’m delivering and then a moment later, anger at what she’s hearing.
Lastly, curiosity. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her hands tightening around the rocking chair handles as she braces for more.
“I need to prove to a court that I have a stable, happy home. For my girl.”
“You already do that, Landry.” Emotion curls my ribs at her words. She means them, I can see the honesty shining in her eyes.
Quinn swallows, and I find my eyes on her mouth for a hot moment before I fight what the whiskey is doing to me, and continue.
“The rodeo being over will definitely help, but until then,” I start, placing my hat on my knee.
“I need to show the judge that I’m providin’ the best home life I can for my girl, in all the ways I can.
I need there not to be even one tiny little reason for them to take Sadie from me. ”
Quinn says nothing, but sits up a little straighter, her blonde hair down, framing the soft lines of her face. Her beauty is so pure, soft freckles, honest eyes, pink cheeks. Still, even with what I’m about to say, I plan to keep all those feelings locked up and entirely separate from this.
“I need a wife.”
She doesn’t say a word, so I continue, glad I got kinda drunk for this. Nerves are clawing through my veins like crazy, but the whiskey makes it tolerable.
“Temporarily, I need a wife. Just long enough to get through the rodeo and get the Montgomerys off my back.”
“Montgomery is so the last name of villains,” she says staunchly, shaking her head, angry on my behalf. That stirs something up behind my ribs.
“Short-term, that’s all I need. And in exchange, I’d offer behind-the-scenes, unlimited access to whatever you want for your film.
Anything I originally said no to,” I shake my head, “you can have it. Footage of whatever you want, the pain, the glory, moments with Sadie…” I trail off and find the last thing I can offer, a place I didn’t think I’d go but now that the threat of losing everything is in red ink on the kitchen table, I have to.
“I’ll talk about Amelia and how the loss changed me, if you want.
” I blink at her, hoping how much I need this isn’t dripping from every word.
I only want her to agree if she wants to. I don’t want her to be guilted into it.
Quinn blinks at me as Big Bertha pecks by. The fact she ain’t in the coop doesn’t surprise me, and I ought to jump up and put her ass back but… I can’t take my eyes off of the beautiful, contemplative film-maker sitting on my porch.
“Me?” The word is quiet, hollowed, shock widening her eyes. “You want me to be your fake wife?”
“We’ll annul it quietly sometime after I win.” I shake my head. “You don’t even have to be here. And I’ll blame myself. I’ll say…. whatever you want me to say. But once I win this rodeo, paired with the marriage, the Montgomerys will get off my back. I know it. Plus, a court wouldn’t have a case.”
“So a wife only matters now?”
I nod. “I need to front-load the stability, and once a judge sees I’m stable, the case will die off. The Montgomerys know it. That’s why they’re trying to get her now, when things are the worst for me.”
She peers up at the sky and I give her time while I say a little prayer.
“What will you tell Sadie?” she asks, and I shrug, because the truth is, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Though now I know I should have.
“I’ll tell her the truth, and make her promise not to tell anyone,” I offer, then add, “I won’t lie to her. I won’t make her think it’s real then steal it away. The truth is the only way.”
Quinn clearly likes this reply, because the tenseness in her shoulders dissipates some as she relaxes back against the old wood frame of the rocker.
More silence, more thought, and I continue to watch her beautiful mind work.
“I would never press you about Amelia,” she finally says, her eyes cutting through the burgeoning night, landing on mine. Twisting her small frame in the chair, she stares into my eyes.
More silence, and I grow weary thinking she’s talking herself out of this crazy idea. And I wouldn’t blame her. I don’t want her doing anything she doesn’t want to do, but as such, I have to push.
For Sadie.
“It’s just a signature and a few months of pretending.”
She gets to her feet and I scramble to mine, too. “Can I have the night? To think about it?”
I nod. She smiles.
I walk her through the house, out to her car, and hold the door open while she climbs inside, tossing her camera bags onto the passenger seat.
She blinks up at me, mossy eyes and honey hair, stopping my heart for a second. I feel things for this woman that I haven’t admitted to myself, but I won’t. I won’t admit any of them, ever, because I have to focus on the rodeo, on the custody suit, on saving my girl's future.
“Thank you for being so great with Sadie. It’s made the filming process so much more digestible,” I say, resting my forearm on the side of her car as I peer down at her.
She smiles. “Thank you for warming up to me.”
I don’t know what to say to that, and she can see, so she adds, “And thank you for lunch and dinner. Maybe I’ll get Mabel to join us tomorrow.”
I nod. “Drive safe, Quinn.”
I close her door and stand in the drive until her taillights disappear into the night. In the shower, I find the ache between my legs and get rid of it, the same way I’ve done for the last few years.
Only this time, I’ve got someone on my mind when I do.