“C’mon now, I’ll show you the property, and we can talk.”
This is work. I am making an incredible film. I am going to get into the Indie Film Festival. I am going to be known for my intimate documentaries. Devin will regret his choice. Camel Toe will never live up to me.
These are the things I repeat to myself as I watch the best ass I’ve ever seen absolutely own an old-as-hell pair of Levi’s as I walk behind Landry out onto the back porch.
As soon as the door is shut, he turns to me, voice low, full of caution. “You do what you came here to do, film what you need to film. You got my permission for everything. But under no circumstances are you to trudge up anything related to Amelia,” he says, pausing, waiting, watching my eyes to see that I do know who Amelia is, that I did my research and am wholly aware of his backstory.
I nod my head, mouth dry from his sudden intensity, my insides tightening at the way he’s protecting his privacy.
“I don’t want my girl going through any of that, so nothing about my wife.” His eyes search mine. “Got it?”
My heart races and my palms grow clammy as a rush of fresh air tosses strands of blonde hair over my face. I tug them back and nod, quietly answering, “Got it.”
CHAPTER 4
EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT B-ROLL FOOTAGE
Glitter on cowboy boots.Lord, now I’ve seen it all. Dragging the old burlap sack off the seat in the four-wheeler in the barn, I move the bucket full of tools from the footwell. “Here.” I motion to the seat for Quinn to sit, and drop my hand over the top of her head on instinct, same way I do with Sadie and Petunia. Quinn’s green eyes leap to mine, those full lips of hers parted, a dip of confusion settling neatly between her brows. “Habit,” I grouse, “my girl hits her head on the roof, so I put my hand on her head to absorb the blow if she forgets to duck.”
Slowly her face softens into a smile, and for some reason, I don’t like that. The back of my neck grows itchy as she stares at me, my fingers dusting her hair, which is as soft as Ithought it’d be. I take my hand back. “Go on, get in. I ain’t got all day.”
Her face falls, and she ducks, sinking into the seat, her eyes on me as I walk around the front of the rig and get behind the wheel. “I kind of thought we’d walk the property and talk,” Quinn says, using the seat belt that I’m not sure anyone has ever used. Not even Sadie.
“Lotta acres,” I tell her, peering down at her boots. “Not sure those’d hold up.”
She clicks the heels together, like Dorothy, and smiles up at me, her long, blonde hair and pink cheeks a stark contrast to the dark barn and my hampered mood. I start the four-wheeler, drive out into the sun, and head toward the far end of the property line, figuring we’ll work our way back.
Driving past the chicken coop, I notice Henrietta and Sheila in their usual morning squabble over who eats where. “Hey! Quit that,” I holler at them as we pass by, the boom of my voice making the little blonde jump.
Over the sound of wind and chickens fighting, Quinn clears her throat. “Your daughter is so beautiful.”
I don’t know what to say to that, for some reason. I hear it in town all the time, and I’ve been repeating the same reply for years: “She gets it from her mama.”
But Quinn isn’t from Sable Sky. She’s a stranger, and it’s strange having her talk about my girl, forget the fact that making this film has got to be one of the last things I want to do. Going back to the rodeo circuit is also riding high atop that list, if I’m honest. But I gotta do what I gotta do for my baby girl.
“Tell me about your approach to this documentary,” I start, glancing back at the coop to make sure no stragglers are following. We drive down the property line, and I stop at onepoint where the horses are gathered in the pasture. We watch them eat and run as she talks.
“I like to get pretty well acquainted with my subject, and while we’re getting to know one another, I start filming B-roll footage. You know what that is, right?”
“I know what B-roll footage is.”
She nods, dragging her pink fingernails through the ends of her hair mindlessly, and I realize in just being with her for a few minutes that she must do this when she’s in thought. Sadie does it, too, wrapping one of her curls around her finger over and over. I think of Sadie, and what both winning this rodeo and being in this documentary can do for her. It can save this life that she knows, the only life she knows. And with that thought, I focus on Quinn and take this seriously, trying to set aside all of my own feelings. Quinn’s just doing her job, and it ain’t her fault I’d rather be doing anything but this.
My eyes catch on the ends of her hair, and the way her fingers wobble as they drag through a soft tangle.
Quinn catches me eyeing her. “Well,” she drags out, cheeks growing flush, “after I’ve mapped out the structure of the documentary, then I’ll start doing interviews with people of impact in your life, and I’ll interview rodeo folk.”
“Rodeo folk?” My lips twitch as I stack one boot on the dash, knocking my hat back to get a better view of her. “Now, who are the rodeo folk in your city-girl mind?”
She smirks. “The people who go to rodeos.”
Her hair lifts as the wind moves through the locks, but this time she produces a scrunchie, and pulls it up into a ponytail, exposing her neck. I look away, and focus my attention on the horses and the clear blue sky. “We just call them people.”
“Okay, well, after that I’ll film your training, a lot of yourtraining, and a lot of footage of your normal life, too.” Her voice lowers, like she’s unsure of her footing. “Sadie will be a large part of it, because she’s such a large part of your life.”
“She’s my whole life,” I answer back. “I’m doin’ this for her.”
She doesn’t ask what I mean, and hell, I don’t know. Maybe she already knows that I’m drowning in debt. If she’s already started talking to therodeo folk, it’s likely she’s chatted with Elena. I couldn’t ask Elena to hide how much she helps me, so it’s completely possible she’s aware.
