Reba – Houston Chapter 7

Once the story was finished, it was close to four AM. Brock called Barbara Jean to take Brian back to Reba's house so he could get started on the video set-up. There was still the façade to keep up for the magazine until the real story came out. Plus, they'd be able to give Reba and Parker a unique wedding gift: a documentary video that would thankfully not be aired on the Internet.

Barbara Jean pulled up in her little VW Beetle convertible with Reba asleep in the passenger seat. "She really did have too much to drink," said Barbara Jean to Brock. "And she can really hold her liquor. I've never seen her drunk. Have you?"

Brock grinned. "Once before."

"I thought the night air would revive her, but she's still out. Think she needs medical attention?" asked Barbara Jean nervously.

Brock walked over to Reba's side of the car while Brian got in the back seat. "Red," he said into her ear, "Can you hear me?"

"Go check on the kids, Brock. Make sure Jake didn't fall out of bed again and tell Kyra to return Cheyenne's sweater before WWIII breaks out."

"Okay," said Brock softly. To Barbara Jean he said, "She's fine; just still in a buzz. Could you take her home?"

"Sure," said Barbara Jean and then gave Brock a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little sad," he said, looking at Reba. "I just don't think he's good enough for her."

"Neither do I," said Barbara Jean, "But then who are we to judge?" She got in and drove off with Reba in the front and Brian in the back.

The sun was just coming up over Reba's fence when Brian said, "How about a dance?"

They had wandered into the back yard after Barbara Jean had dropped them off.

"No music," said Reba.

"Then I'll hum," said Brian. He started "The Yellow Rose of Texas."

"Slower," said Reba.

Brian slowed to a crawl and deftly took her around the yard in an easy box step.

"Funny how wine can give you the feeling that you've had an entire night of sleep in just a few minutes," said Reba. "That nap I took in the car completely refreshed me."

"I'll drink to that," said Brian and poured them both yet another glass. "The sun is up," he commented, drank some wine, put his free arm around Reba, and began to dance again.

Reba's cell phone chirped "Why Haven't I Heard From You?" from the pocket of her sweater, which was lying in a chair next to the kitchen door.

Reba lifted her head off Brian's shoulder. "Is that my cell?"

Brian stopped dancing, took another sip of wine and said, "Sounds like it."

Reba heard it again. "Wait," she said, and took another sip. It rang again. "It's probably Parker. I'd better get my apology ready." She floated over to the chair, but it stopped ringing.

"Ahhh," she said, turning back to Brian with relief. "It stopped."

Brian walked over to her. "Reba, you look dazzling."

"I feel dazzling," said Reba, her eyes sparkling.

Brian looked lazily into her eyes. "You can't marry that man," he said.

"Parker?" Reba smiled and held up her glass to the light. "I'm going to."

"But you're so different than he is."

"Opposites attract."

"No, I mean different as in…more. You're more rounded, more complete, more complex than Parker. Parker is all about money, influence, and power. You are more of a thinker, Reba. I don't believe Parker can hold your interest for long. Your active brain won't stand for it."

"You haven't known him long," said Reba.

"To know Parker for five minutes is to know him well, unfortunately," said Brian.

"Hey, don't talk about my future husband like that," she said in an ironically small voice.

"I don't think you'll go through with it," said Brian, coming even closer.

"Really? Show up at the Community Church about two PM tomorrow. I mean today," she said. She looked at Brian. "I think your documentaries have turned you into a snob," she said.

"How can I be a snob? I have no money, power, or influence," he said.

"You are an intellectual snob," she said. "Which is harder to prove, but it's the worst kind. You think your ideas are better than everyone else's. You believe that anyone who has money, power, or influence of any kind is automatically a bad person. You, Brian, are a bigot. An intellectual bigot."

"A bigot? Me? Now, wait just a freakin' minute…" He began to scowl until she was only three inches from his face.

"The time to make up your mind about people is never. Every person has a story, Brian. You just have to be patient and let it come out."

He dropped the scowl and his face took on the look of adoration. Reba was too drunk to notice.

"You are something else, Reba," said Brian.

"What else, Brian? I'm not any different than any of the other women on the Pediatric Aids Board or the Symphony Guild."

"Yes, you are, Reba."

"Oh, so you know them personally, Mr.Bigot? You've dated all of them before, have you, Mr.Bigot?"

"Stop calling me that and you know I haven't."

"Then you can't possibly say I am like them because you don't know them. There are quite a few women just like me in the upper social circles of Houston. You should get around more."

"In the upper class? Me? No, thanks."

"See? You're thinking with your mind. You don't know those people with your heart. You seem to be living too much in your head these days, Brian. I remember days when you didn't."

"That's mighty hypocritical coming from you, Mrs. Soon-to-be Parker. When's the last time you let loose?"

"Well, I guess I could say tonight. Although wine never affects me, but I haven't gone to a real party except for a benefit in months and months."

"Jake sure knows how to throw one. I just thought it was a little odd on the eve of your wedding," said Brian.

"Then you are thinking too much again, Mr. Bigot."

"Stop calling me that, Reba," said Brian, getting irritated.

"Why, does it actually make you feel a real emotion, Mr. Bigot?"

"Stop it, Reba."

"Does it make you realize I'm not perfect? Because I'm not acting all chaste and virginal on my wedding eve, Mr.Bigot?"

Brian was getting angry now. "I mean it, Reba, stop-"

"See, I thought a film maker would be able to accept human differences and imperfection. But you can't really feel anything or know anybody until you realize that nobody's perfect…" She trailed off and looked away, realizing she had just paraphrased Brock's words to her.

Brian stepped closer. "Reba, you are…"He searched for the word. "Magnificent," he finished.

Reba was stunned and blushed. "Me? You obviously haven't seen me scrubbing toilets, which I do often thanks to Jake the Sprayer." She turned around to walk into the house. "It's late; we'd better…"

But Brian wasn't finished. "You have this glow about you that permeates everyone and everything in your path."

Reba stopped at the door. She was rooted to the spot, intoxicated with his words, but she was afraid to turn around.

Brian kept on. "This fire, this glow shows in your eyes, your hands, your voice, the way you carry yourself, every little movement you make. It comes from deep down inside you where you have all this energy and radiance and love banked down in there like a bonfire or a…a…a supernova."

Tears formed at the corners of Reba's eyes.

She turned slowly around. "So I don't seem to be…too perfect to you?"

Brian approached her and held her arms. "No, no, Reba, you are flesh and blood. You're full of feeling and fire and flaw. But that's why you're so amazing! You can pull all those warring characteristics off like a queen."

Reba was turning to putty in his hands, and her tears began to fall down her cheeks.

Brian wiped one away. "Have I hurt you? You're crying."

"No, no, keep talking, keep talking."

Brian looked at her eyes,her lips, and remembered all those sweet kisses they shared. Then he let go and looked down. She was getting married in a few hours. "No, I'm finished."

Reba frowned, a little ashamed herself, but not willing to admit her part. "What's the matter? Has your brain taken over again, Mr.Bigot?"

"Don't you think it's a good thing, considering?" said Brian. She walked past him and her hair brushed his cheek. The smell and feel of it almost made him pass out.

"No, Mr. Bigot," said Reba.

"Okay, really stop it," Brian said, more roughly than he intended.

"Yes,Mr.Bigot," she said, and walked to the middle of the backyard, not really noticing where she was heading.

"Is that really how you see me?" asked Brian.

"Of course…" began Reba, but then Brian grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a volcano of a kiss from which she didn't want to surface.

Brian, however, broke for air. "Golly," said Reba, and he absolutely had to have another taste.

He went for it again. This time Reba was overcome and broke away to lean her head on his chest. "Golly, Moses, what is happening to me?"

Brian had to keep readjusting his arms to keep her from sliding right to the ground.

"Reba, I have to tell you something," said Brian.

"Wait, don't tell me; I've got the shakes all of a sudden," she said breathlessly.

"I have to; I have to. You don't think this could be love, could it?"

"No, no, it absolutely couldn't be," said Reba.

"Would it be bad timing?" whispered Brian in her ear.

"Horribly bad timing, but anyway I know it's not, it's just that…oh my goodness it feels like my insteps are just melting away…"

"Reba, you're so wonderful…"Brian murmured.

"Oh, Brian, we are acting insane…"

"Out of our minds and into our hearts…"

Suddenly, Reba reached down and turned on the hose, grabbed it and shot Brian full in the chest. He was about to get angry when she held the hose over her head and doused herself completely, laughing and giggling, unaware of how her catsuit now clung to every bit of skin that was previously camouflaged.

Brian fought to gain some sort of control, but he wasn't sure how long he'd be successful.