Chapter 3
Fable
“Come on, cowgirl,” Harleigh said, smacking her lips together after she finished applying her red lipstick.
She looked effortlessly perfect in a brown fringe miniskirt, a cropped white top, and knee-high brown boots. It all looked natural on her, like she belonged in a magazine spread for rodeo chic.
Then there was me. A walking disco ball in a white sparkle fringe jacket, silver glitter boots, bright pink pants, and a cropped top that said Cowboy Pillows across my chest.
My honey-blonde hair was curled loosely down past my shoulders, my plush lips were painted a soft pink, and my clothes showed off all my gentle curves.
I looked like I was either auditioning for a country-themed reality show or heading to Nashville for a bachelorette party.
“Are you sure I’ll fit in?” I hesitated as I glanced at myself in the mirror.
Harleigh didn’t even pause, still fussing with her lipstick like she hadn’t heard me—or didn’t think I needed an answer.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the outfit. Every sequin, every sparkle. It reminded me of who I used to be before the accident—bold, carefree, unapologetic. That girl wouldn’t have thought twice about walking into the event looking like a neon dream.
But that wasn’t me anymore.
I was the girl who wore muted colors and tried to blend in. The one who lived in a boring apartment with beige walls and furniture that didn’t stand out. Wearing this felt like trying on a version of myself I’d left behind, a version I wasn’t sure I could ever be again.
“Are you asking me if you think you’ll fit in, or if Mike will be upset with you?”
I shrugged, but deep down, I knew the answer. It was the latter. Of course, it was the latter.
“What are we working on tonight?” Harleigh asked, turning to face me with her usual warmth.
I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs before slowly releasing it. “We’re working on being present in the moment.”
Her smile lit up the room, and before I knew it, she pulled me into a tight hug. “That’s right, girlfriend.” Pulling back, she pointed toward the sink. “Go ahead and wash up before we head out.”
She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and I nodded, grateful that she understood without needing me to explain. No rushing, no judgment. Just patience.
I turned on the water, lathered my hands, and went through my routine—methodical and grounding.
Once I finished, I stepped into my bedroom and grabbed my white bag.
Inside, I double-checked everything: anti-diarrheal, anti-nausea meds, headache pills, hand sanitizer, soap cloths that only needed water—because soap was always better than sanitizer.
Everything was there. Everything I needed to feel a little more in control.
“Ready?” Harleigh called from the living room, stretching out on the couch. She grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. “Also, this couch sucks.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up and spilling out before I could stop it. “It sucks so bad.”
She grinned at me, but her eyes were steady, like she could see more than I was letting on.
I wasn’t ready. I didn’t think I ever would be, but I was going to try.
Harleigh jingled her keys as we stepped out of the apartment, our boots clicking against the pavement as we made our way to her truck.
I climbed into the passenger seat and clutched my bag, making sure it didn’t touch the ground.
The cab smelled faintly of leather and her favorite vanilla air freshener.
“Got everything?” she asked, glancing over at me as she buckled her seat belt.
“Yeah.”
“Yeehaw,” she said with a grin, starting the engine.
The truck rumbled to life, and we pulled out onto the road, the city lights blurring by as we headed toward the arena.
The closer we got, the more the familiar nervous energy built in my chest.
Harleigh must’ve noticed, because she reached over and gave my knee a quick squeeze. “You’re good, Fable. We’ve got this.”
“This is everything I worked for over the last year, everything we worked for.”
“I know, and this is a celebration of all the fruits of our labor. We have Jessica running point at the arena already. John is going to be there after we arrive, and my dad is there making sure the banners for Bucking Energy are hanging in their positions.”
I sighed. “Thanks. I actually have no idea where I’d be without you.”
She turned and beamed at me. “Love you always, babe.”
We arrived early, the parking lot already filled with trucks and trailers, country music playing faintly from speakers somewhere in the distance.
Our backstage passes made the whole process seamless—we were ushered through the private suite entrance by a staff member, bypassing the crowds and noise of the main entry.
Inside, we’d been in the space a hundred times to make sure everything was exactly where we needed.
Our influencers were already there and taking content.
I waved to them, promising to come back.
We stood near the announcer’s setup, where a BBQ buffet had been laid out, complete with all the fixings.
It looked great, but there was no way I was touching it. Still, the effort was appreciated.
Harleigh nudged me as we glanced around. “Not bad, huh?”
I managed a small smile. “Yeah. Not bad.”
Mike was in a private room somewhere in the back, getting ready. He’d left in a hurry this morning, mumbling something about soundchecks and set lists. I wasn’t sure I’d see him before he went onstage, but that was fine by me.
We were chatting about nothing in particular when a booming voice cut through the buzz of the room.
“Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t my girl Harleigh and her friend,” the man said, striding over.
I turned to see a large, stocky man wearing a cowboy hat big enough to shadow his entire face. He had a broad smile, a round belly, and the kind of presence that demanded attention.
“Dad.” Harleigh lit up, throwing her arms around him.
He patted her back, his laugh hearty and warm. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”
She pulled back, gesturing toward me. “Dad, this is Fable. She’s my boss, but also my best friend. Fable, this is my dad, Roger.”
Roger tipped his hat to me, his eyes crinkling with a kind smile. “Harleigh’s been talking about you nonstop. Said you’ve got a head for this kind of stuff.”
I smiled politely, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris, but it’s Harls who has been the one doing most of the legwork here.”
“Roger.” He corrected me. “None of that mister nonsense. I’m here to support my girl and her boss. Harleigh needed a plus-one, so I figured I’d tag along.”
“You mean you couldn’t pass up free BBQ and a chance to heckle Kline.” Harleigh teased him, crossing her arms.
“Now, now,” Roger said, feigning innocence. “I’m here to soak it all in. Kline gets enough shit back at home.”
“Who’s Kline?”
“He’s the stock contractor for the event. He’s probably out back,” Roger said.
“Ah. All this lingo is new to me.”
“Harleigh said you were born and raised in the city.”
“Outside the city in the suburbs, but yes, nearby.”
“Well, like I said, you’ve done some great work here,” Roger said.
Harleigh and I turned at the sound of someone approaching. It was John, one of the owners of Bucking Energy and my boss. He had a smile on his face, the kind that made it hard to tell if he was genuinely pleased or putting on a show.
“Listen, Fable,” he said, gesturing around the arena. “I wasn’t so sure about this whole rodeo sponsorship when you and Harleigh pitched it, but this?” He swept his hand out dramatically. “This is amazing.”
Harleigh beamed, nudging me lightly, but I stayed composed. “It’s also a completely sold-out event,” I said, keeping my voice steady.
“Who would’ve thought a rodeo in the middle of Chicago would sell out?” he mused, shaking his head like he still couldn’t believe it.
His eyes dropped to my outfit, lingering a second too long. “Nice outfit,” he added, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
I instinctively held my jacket shut, suddenly self-conscious about the Cowboy Pillows shirt underneath. What had seemed bold and fun earlier felt ridiculous.
“Can’t wait to see Mike play,” John said casually, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze before heading off.
As soon as he walked away, I grabbed my bag, fumbling for the sanitizer. The cool mist of the spray hit my hands, and I rubbed them together, focusing on the motion like it could erase the moment.
When I finally looked up, Harleigh was watching me tentatively. Roger stood beside her, arms crossed, his cowboy hat tilted back.
“He’s weird.” Roger broke the tension that had settled among us.
Harleigh and I both burst out laughing, the awkward energy from John’s visit dissipating.
“You’re right, Daddy,” Harleigh said, grinning, “but he’s our boss, so we’ve got to deal with him.”
Roger shook his head, muttering something about corporate types, while I checked my watch. “I should go make sure everyone’s in place and ready before the doors open.”
Harleigh gave me an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this, Fable. I’ll take care of the announcer.”
I nodded, her confidence in me lifting some of the weight off my shoulders. “Thanks, Harls.”
“Go show them how it’s done,” Roger added with a small grin, tipping his hat.
I slipped into work mode, moving through the arena with purpose.
I stopped by the vendor booths first, making sure the Bucking Energy displays were front and center.
The energy drink cans were stacked perfectly, the signage impossible to miss.
I checked on the sponsor areas, ensuring our logo was everywhere it needed to be.
The event staff got a quick rundown—VIP tours prepped, seating assignments for our key guests double-checked, and photographers stationed in their spots. Every detail mattered tonight. This was a showcase of everything Harleigh and I had worked for.