Chapter 26
IT’S NOT REAL, IT’S PMS
“My goodness, that looks hard on the spine,” Mom says after watching the small trailer I assembled after Landry’s exhibition ride the other day.
The rodeo is nearing, and our time together is quickly coming to a close.
I’ve been busying myself with extra editing, and trying not to think about how Landry hasn’t brought up what we said in the throes of passion the other night.
“It is,” I agree. “I met some old riders who said they pretty much can’t even work on a ranch anymore because of all of their time in the rodeo. It’s a sport that requires loyalty.”
Mom nods. “Loving anything that intensely requires loyalty.”
I chew the inside of my mouth and ask my mom about work, her bridge club, and how knitting is going. Lane comes on camera long enough to share the raspberry she acquired in her first week on the volleyball team, and before I know it, Mom has to go.
“Wait,” I hedge, my eyes nervously darting to the notes I took during my meeting with Devin and his assistant this morning. The meeting was impromptu but necessary after they screened my trailer. Devin loves the intimacy of the documentary, and hearing that made me feel awful.
“I slept with Landry a few days ago, and it was really nice, Mom. I feel like I could be here, and live my life here, and find a new version of myself here, too.”
My mom smiles. “You finally admitted it to yourself.”
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes.
“Devin loves the documentary so far. And if Landry and I really just go through with this fake marriage and get it annulled after and I move on, Devin will be right. I will have married this man just to further my career. And then who am I? I’m just…
no better than him. I’m a user. I’m gross.
I’m awful,” I balk, my emotions spiraling out of control out of nowhere.
I guess not nowhere.
Falling in love with a man who comes with a second heart and mind to be conscientious of is beautiful and complicated, and it makes sense that as the end of the documentary approaches emotions get the best of me.
“Now what?” I ask, but she just laughs, shaking out her soft bob.
“That’s not up to me, honey. But if you’re asking permission to stay, you know you don’t need it. All I’ve ever wanted was for my girls to be happy. If that means leaving California for a ranch in Texas, because that’s where you’re happiest, I support that, Quinn. You know I do.”
My eyes burn with just the thought. I’d hate to not see my mom and Laney every day, but the idea of not watching Sadie have her seventh birthday, or see Landry turn this ranch around, it makes me sick.
“Is it possible to belong in two places at once?” I ask, my bottom lip wobbly.
Mom smiles, familiar and sad, the smile she gives when we both know the answer but neither wants to say.
Down the hall, I hear Sadie’s voice, and I wipe my eyes just in case. “I gotta go. Landry’s training and it’s one of the last training sessions I’m gonna film before the big day.”
Mom nods. “Have fun. And tell Landry I said hi.”
I haven’t introduced Sadie to my mom and Lane, and never planned to. But each day that ticks by I can’t help but imagine all the ways in which Mom and Lane would love Sadie.
“All right, I will. Bye-bye.”
Sadie bursts into my room as I shove my phone away, sliding off my bed. “You ready to film my daddy, partner?” She’s wearing his hat and a pair of his boots. That’s probably why it sounded like a horse coming upstairs.
I salute her. “I’m ready, partner.”
Tate walks out of the barn with a bronc I’ve never seen before, and I aim my camera at him as he approaches Landry, stepping into his leather chaps. “Twister,” he announces, and Landry’s head pops up, like the name bears recognition.
“You got him?” Landry asks, and I zoom in on their faces to create a more intimate feel.
Documentaries are about being there for every single private moment while trying to remain somewhat invisible.
It’s tricky, but I think I’m doing a good job.
With my camera on the tripod, and my Cyber-shot in my back pocket in case, I’m ready, the lens positioned at the makeshift area.
Tate nods. “Norris brought him in the trailer this morning.” Tate runs his hand over the shiny coat on the wild horse, which kicks and jumps randomly. He shakes his head. “Come on now, Twister, don’t be like that.”
Landry pulls on his glove, one he wears to grip the rigging with. His hands are callused and worn even with the protection of the worn leather, and that’s one of the many things that turns me on—his rough edges, born from a lifetime of real work.
“You do what you need to, you little fool,” Landry smirks, running his hand along Twister’s crest and withers, patting him twice. “I’ll have my way with you, no matter how hard you try to buck me off.”
Tate tosses the high lift rig over Twister, and Landry holds the animal somewhat steady as he buckles it beneath him. I continue filming them, Tate working out Twister in the small, man-made arena on Vaughn Ranch, Landry stretching, rolling out his muscles and preparing his legs and spine.
Tate positions Twister in the makeshift chute, and Sadie appears at my side, a little timer in her hands. “I’m countin’ for Daddy and Tate,” she announces, and I notice her hair is styled like mine today, both of us wearing two low pigtails. I tug one of hers. “I like your hair.”
She beams an adorable toothless grin that squeezes my insides. “I copied you. You’re so pretty, Miss Quinn.”
Tate calls out sharply, and Sadie steps between my legs, and it starts.
It’s only eight seconds. And I’ve watched this man be defeated in the first two, and defeat the animal in eight. I’ve seen him successful, and I’ve seen him tossed off, in pain and frustration.
But he’s locked in now, I can see by the set of his shoulders and the determination brewing in his blue eyes, half hidden by the shadow of his hat.
He’s gonna win that rodeo, of that I have no doubts.
I can’t wait to be there to see. To watch him win, the final piece of getting the Montgomerys off his back.
Landry mounts Twister, adjusting his grip on the rigging, positioning his body just right, preparing to mark out the first moment he can. Tate pulls the gate as he sounds a whistle, and Sadie hits the red button on her timer, and then it’s the longest eight seconds of my life.
Twister leaps, his front legs lifting off the ground a few feet, and Landry reacts instinctively, sinking back into the animal, kicking out. Tate shouts over the chaos, and Landry heeds, his knuckles going white amidst the dust as he sinks into his grip, his other arm still held up high.
Twister lands his front legs, but Landry is prepared, and standing on the fence is Tate, leaning over the metal with his hands cupped to his face. He shouts, but I can’t hear anything but the blaze of glory that is Landry and Twister.
Twister kicks hard, but Landry’s ready, arm up, spurs grazing Twister's shoulders. He’s so damn steady, and I know appearing so unaffected on that animal has taken hours and hours of painful discipline and practice.
Watching him is awe-inspiring, and I hardly notice when Sadie steps onto my feet, wrapping her free arm around my leg.
The bronc lands, all of his movements both jarring and consistent, and Landry reads him like a newspaper.
Twister kicks again, laying Landry out on his spine, but he’s ready, sinking his bodyweight into Twister’s croup, his perfect ass centered on the horse’s muscled loin.
“Eight!” Sadie hollers, and my eyes dart to the digital screen as she hits the button connected to the makeshift PA system.
The buzzer sounds, and I look back up at Landry, whose hand is reaching for the clear blue sky.
Tate jumps onto Daisy and pushes into the arena, acting as Landry’s personal pickup man, guiding an angry Twister back to the chute.
Landry jogs to the gate and slips through, panting and sweating, his broad chest heaving.
Sadie crashes into him just as he crouches, looping her arms around his neck, showering his cheek with kisses. I check my camera, making sure the moment is captured, and zoom in, framing the shot to be intimate, as if I were standing between them.
I’m not sure what they’re saying, but when I rewatch the footage in post, I’ll definitely know. Sometimes in editing, lip reading their moments feels invasive, but I remind myself I’m there to be somewhat invasive, to benefit them both. To make the best film I can.
After they hug and exchange words, Sadie slips off her dad, taking his hand as they head toward me. Tate is at my side, sweating and out of breath, and I can’t help but film him for a moment, too, because it’s a beautiful portrait of their friendship, the way Tate supports Landry.
“He’s gonna win that rodeo,” Tate says just to me as Sadie stops to collect a shiny stone from the dirt.
“Can’t come soon enough. The bank wants to take the ranch in another month.
” He tips his hat back and eyes me, one eye pinched from the direct sunlight.
“You saved him, with the marriage.” Tate’s hand comes down along my shoulder for a singular squeeze. “Thank you.”
I don’t know what to say, I’m so taken aback.
Love and I have become casual friends but even then, we don’t talk much about what’s going on between me and Landry because it feels so disingenuous.
I can put on an act for Sable Sky, for Norris, and Chuck, for every waitress and every veterinarian.
But Landry’s best friend’s wife is where I draw the line.
But Tate saunters off, clapping his chest against Landry’s in a quick man-hug. “You did it.”
“Thanks, man,” Landry says, his eyes coming to mine over Tate’s shoulder.
“Let’s celebrate with ice cream!” Sadie suggests, jumping but falling over in her daddy’s oversized boots.