Chapter Two

Cowboy

Wade Kinsella POV

We were finally here. New York. I felt like taking a deep breath and drinking it all in, but as I looked around the subway station I thought better of it. Maybe when we got above ground. Of course I had heard all the horror stories about New York and the smog and the muggings, but right now I just didn't care. What mattered was that I was out of Bluebell, and that if we played our cards right, the four of us had a chance to really make something of ourselves.

We didn't have any money for some fancy hotel to stay in, but luckily, Jordan, one of the guys in the band, had an old family friend in the city who had offered to put us up. Oh yeah, we're a band. I probably should have mentioned that. We're called Sippin' Whiskey, and while we won't be up for a Grammy any time soon, we can hold our own. There's Jordan, Dan, Drake, and me. Other than Dan, we were all fifteen; though it was lucky Dan wasn't because sometimes you need a guy with a license. Not that I don't know my way around a vehicle. I'm a pretty good driver, and I don't mind taking a risk or two. In fact, I loved taking risks, but in some situations, it just wasn't worth it. Besides, New York wasn't Bluebell. Talking circles around the town sheriff is one thing, but I wouldn't know the first thing about dealing with the NYPD. Personally, I think these driving rules are a little bizarre. If a kid has a knack when he's fourteen or fifteen, why should he have to wait? It should be about how good of a driver you are, not how old you are.

Anyway, the point was that we were here. The four of us lived in Bluebell our whole lives, and we were all the guys from the poor families with the bad grades and worn out shirts who everybody thought would never amount to anything. You know that kid you feel bad for, but still don't want to be seen playing with; that's what we were. Of course, after puberty hit, I was able to cash in my natural good looks, bad boy attitude and southern charm to make even the snobbiest of girls more than willing to slum it with me, but it wasn't like we didn't both know they were slumming. That was all going to change now though. We'd been talking for months about this trip; the second school got out for the summer, we were gonna venture out and badger every company in the business until they listen to us. Three months in New York, and we were going to make them count.

It was exciting, knowing that I could reinvent myself, that nobody knew me here, or more importantly, my family. Not that they were bad people. They were cool as far as families go, and we all cared about each other. It was just the money thing, and the fact that my dad wasn't well educated, and the fact that I got my dad's brains where my brother got my mom's. It was all pretty dumb stuff really, but it was nice to know that I could just be whoever here.

We didn't want to waste any time, so we decided to get right into it. Drake didn't even want to stop off where we were staying, but we convinced him that body odor was not a good way to get signed.

The placed looked cool, but I didn't really take the time to look around. We would have time for that later. We all took quick navy showers, and headed out.

It was in and out of buildings, people who wouldn't even let us past the receptionist. If we were older, we probably could have talked our way in, at least when the receptionists were girls, but as it was, that was not likely to happen.

A few buildings were more receptive. They let us go in and play. It sort of felt like they were just humoring us, but we were going to make the most of it.

This was the second place that seemed like they might be willing to listen, though the odds of us getting anywhere were still slim. I wasn't gonna let it get me down though. If I did that, the battle was lost already.

There were a lot of people waiting around. Maybe they just let anybody go audition here. That did not exactly bode well as far as this audition meaning anything, but hey, it's about getting your foot in the door, right?

It was a long wait though. I needed to find a way to entertain myself; something that would keep me fresh, clean, and confident.

I scanned the room, and bingo: Brunette, around my age, sitting in a chair all by herself, reading a magazine. Her nose was buried in the thing like she was trying to shield herself from the rest of the world. That meant she was either a shy wallflower, or a diva who was cutting herself off because she thought she was too good for everybody here. I wondered which. Not that it mattered, I could get either into the backseat, and I know, because I have, but the tactics I would use would be different. It was like fishing, you want to catch a certain kind of fish; you gotta use the right bait.

I wasn't planning to hook up with her of course. Well, I wasn't planning to right now. No, what I needed was some simple flirting. It was something I knew I was good at, and it would help me feel like I was in my element, even if I was in New York.

Slowly, I made my way over. I meandered, I guess is the word. I knew she wasn't looking, so it wasn't really for affect. It's just something that works for me, so I sort of like to do it. She did not seem to notice me, which was kind of good. It meant I had to make her notice me, which was always fun. Besides, girls tend to get flustered when you sneak up on 'em, and that is always an entertainin' site.

"Anything interesting in there?"

She looked up, and then sort of squinted at me, like she thought I was a mirage and she was checking to see if I was real or not. I guess she decided I was, because she smirked. It was a condescending smirk; the sort you get from cheerleaders in high school. Well, not me, cheerleaders dig me, but I've seen some guys get that look. Anyway, that's the kind of look it was, so, yeah, diva, definitely diva, "And who are you supposed to be?" Before I could answer, she started answering herself. It was strange. I mean, I knew she was being sarcastic, and I could hear the sarcasm in her voice, but she was really putting on a show of pretending to sound sincere, like, after she said she was gonna guess, she took time thinking of her answer. It was kinda like how people are when their playin' charades. We both knew she wasn't serious, but she was kind of getting into it anyhow. Like I said, strange, "You are … a cowboy," simple enough, "who's horse's shoe broke and you need to wait here until you can find somebody to fix it?" Clever. Not very nice, but clever.

I could tell she was making fun of me, which I didn't like. I could also tell she wasn't really attracted to me, which I liked even less. Still, it wasn't worth losing my cool over. I decided the best way to proceed was keep things simple and not let on that it bothered me.

I told her I was here to audition, to which she responded with more sarcasm. She certainly liked sarcasm. And condescension. I wonder if that's a New York thing. She seemed basically done with me, picking her magazine back up as she made her final comment. Still, I had gotten her to tear her eyes away from the magazines for a minute or two. Seemed to me I still had a shot.

Of course, then, she decides to accuse me of faking my accent. I take offense to that, which is why I clarified to point, telling her that I was from Bluebell. She laughed when I said the name, not thinking it was a real place. I'm embarrassed to admit this but, it was a nice laugh. It was melodious, and I noticed. I liked it. You can see why I'd be embarrassed.

I felt the need to defend my hometown of course. I loved Bluebell. I didn't even really mind living there; I just didn't want to have to live there.

"Oh, it's real sweetheart. Little town where everybody knows everybody and snow falls once in a Blue moon. Practically straight out of a fairytale … if fairytales had gossipmongers and quirky traditions. Trust me, you will never find a kinder, charminger, weirder small town if you looked your whole life."

It may have been my imagination, but she was starting to seem a little interested. She sat up and tilted her head to the side, "Is that so?" I nodded, grinning, "Well, if this place is so great, what are you doing in New York?"

The question probably shouldn't have caught me off guard, but it did. I should have seen where this conversation would go. What could I say? I wanted to be somewhere nobody knew me? I wanted to have a shot at becoming more than my dad? I wanted to stop being compared to my brother? I wanted to make a life for myself, where I had my own money and my own place, and I was Wade instead of the younger Kinsella boy?

I knew I had to say something, so I spit out the best thing I could think of, trying to pretend I did not feel awkward in the slightest, "Small-town life ain't for everyone." That seemed a little weak. Besides, it was not as though I disliked small-town life. It loved it. It was all I knew, and I had always been comfortable with that, until lately. Lately, I had really needed to get away. Especially with the stuff going on at home, but I'll go into that later, "Maybe I want to get out on my own and make somethin' of myself."

"Almost sounds like you're running away from something." He voice had a sad, distant quality to it. In that second, I realized two things. One, this girl I didn't even know had been able to get a read on me and what I was trying to hide, and two, she felt the same way. She was running from something, or wanted to be. I looked at her again, really looked this time. I realized her eyes were large, like an anime character's. It made her seem kind of vulnerable, like you could stab her in her eyes easy because they were so big. They were also the sort of eyes that could cry waterfalls. That idea made me shudder. I did not like crying women. There was this sweet sort of innocence to her eyes, but there was hurt to. Somehow, she was innocent and jaded at the same time; if that was even possible. Her skin was neither tan nor pale, but it worked for her. It looked soft. Her hair looked soft too. I found myself wondering once again what she was doing over here all by herself. This time, though, it wasn't about figuring out her "type" and strategizing. There was just something so lonely about her. I don't know how I missed it before.

I realized I had been staring, so I quickly looked away. I could not remember who had been last to talk, but I figured I could go. Maybe I could get some answers to why she was so lonely, and why she was over here all by herself. "So, what're ya here for? Let me guess, actress, right?" I shot her a grin. I had a whole bunch of grins, smirks, and smiles. Each one had a different purpose, and most had an 85% success rate.

All I got this time, though, was a vague maybe. Still, she seemed to be blushing a little, so maybe a maybe wasn't so bad.

I did my best to keep putting on the charm, and I noticed she had a pretty quick tongue. I had never met a girl I thought I might actually enjoy talking to before, versus just doing other things, but I got the feeling she would be fun to get into things with. She could hold her own, and she didn't give an inch. She was sassy, and sexy, both of which I told her. Her blush grew, but she didn't let on. If we were having this conversation over the phone and I couldn't see her face, I would think I wasn't having any affect on her. She was totally believable, telling me she doesn't care about being sexy and blah blah blah, but the red tint to her cheeks meant that she cared a little, for pride reasons if nothing else.

We fenced a little while, and she made another cowboy comment, which I responded to with a crude comment about the nude world of Wade. Pretty people all walking around with no clothes on. Scratch that. Pretty girls over fifteen walking around with no clothes on, and me. No other guys, 'specially not ones I know. That would be disturbing.

She thought my comment was funny, though she didn't seem to want to admit it. I caught her suppressing a smile and called her on it though.

I introduced myself, and she shook my hand, which was a good sign. The moment I made contact with her skin … I cannot even describe it. I've touched girls, and way more than just shaking their hands, but there was something in that moment that I just couldn't …

I waited for her to introduce herself, but all she said was, "Nice grip. That'll serve you well in there. She likes people with firm handshakes. First impressions can make or break it for you."

I was a little surprised. How could she know that? Was she just talking about the business in general, or did she know the lady with the big office.

"You met her before?" I asked.

She got this sort of smile on her face, the kind you get when you've got a secret that makes what the person is asking you hilarious because it should be obvious, and if they knew they would act totally different. "You could say that."

So she did know her. Okay. Well, maybe I could use that. I tried to get her to put in a good word, to which she responded, "Wouldn't be fair. I've never heard you play." Her tone was sort of teasing, and I got the impression that maybe she was enjoying this little game as much as I was. It was nice to know. She said she was sorry, and while she was kidding around, playing along with the game, she still said it sort of kindly. I felt my lips turn up, totally on their own. It was not a carefully calculated grin or smirk; it just sort of happened. We locked eyes for a second, and I almost got lost in hers. They were so big, like a pool of hazel that you just wanted to jump into a swim around in. And she was looking at me like, well, I don't know exactly. It wasn't the way girls usually looked at me, all hot and bothered, but it wasn't really a bad way either. There was this … tension I couldn't explain, and looking in her eyes, it seemed like maybe, just for a moment, she felt it too.

"Sippin' Whiskey?" I heard somebody called. Turning, I saw a woman looking up from her clipboard, tapping her heals impatiently. Well, guess that's my cue. As anxious as I was for us to audition, I'll admit I was a little disappointed that I had to go.

I grabbed my guitar and started to leave, but, I didn't really want to. What if I never saw her again? It wasn't like I knew her number or anything, and something about this slightly bizarre encounter gave me the impression it would be a mistake to ask. Well, it wasn't like it really mattered. She was just supposed to be a distraction to calm my nerves, and it seemed to have worked. I mean, I don't know if calm is exactly the word I would use, but I definitely felt good. I was more than ready to wow these record people.

"Hey, you never told me your name."

"No, I didn't." she said it so casually, sittin' there, pickin' that magazine she had been readin' back up. She was looking down at it, as though she was some queen who had just dismissed me.

"You gonna?" She just shook her head, a smirk playing across her lips. She was ballsy, I had to give her that. "Well then, Mystery Girl, I guess this is goodbye." I said flirtatiously before heading off. Then, and don't ask me why I did this, because I have no idea, but I turned back to her slightly and said, "Maybe I'll see ya 'round." Lord knew why I said it, but I had. It didn't make sense, why would I see her? It wasn't exactly likely that we'd run into each other again, and I didn't know why I wanted to, or even if I wanted to. So, I just turned back and headed for the office.