Cowboys & Navy SEALs

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Brooke glanced at the country western band, playing a lively tune, then at the people, line dancing. She clutched her aching stomach. It was stretched to the limit. When she first got to Gilley’s in Las Vegas, she ordered a slab of ribs and plate of fries. With each bite, she felt vindicated, imagining how mortified her mother would be if she knew Brooke was gorging herself on fatty food. Unfortunately, her body was not used to consuming such a large amount of food in one sitting. A wave of nausea engulfed her as she pushed aside the empty plate. A minute later, she rushed to the restroom and puked up the contents of her stomach.

She went back to her seat at the bar and waved at the bartender. “I’ll have a beer.” Normally, she preferred sipping on wine or champagne since it was more ladylike, but she was beyond caring what people thought. Tonight was a night for forgetting, and she was determined to do what she wanted. No more trying to please her mother. For better or worse, she was going to enjoy herself for once!

A half hour later, she drained her fifth beer, not tasting a thing. The roar of the crowd was just the tonic she needed to help dull the roaring in her head, and she liked how disconnected she felt from her surroundings. She felt a tug on her sleeve and turned toward the muscular man who’d taken the seat beside her. He was wearing a t-shirt, and his bulging biceps were dripping with tattoos. He tipped his cowboy hat at her, his hungry eyes raking over her like a meal to be eaten. Normally, she would’ve smacked him upside the face for being so brazen, but tonight, his actions struck her as funny. He leaned in, giving her a suggestive look. “Hey, sugar, the name’s Ted. Whatcha drinking?”

She thrust out her lower lip in a sultry pout. “Well, Ted,” she said in a voice two volumes too loud. “I was drinking beer, but my glass seems to be empty.”

“Well, we can certainly fix that,” he said, motioning for the bartender.

“This place sure is loud,” Gertrude said irritably, squinting her eyes in response to the smoke-filled air.

Gracie laughed. “Haven’t you ever been in a bar before?”

Gertrude straightened to her full height. “Of course I have. It’s just been a long time. Do you see her?”

They’d been following Brooke since she left her hotel and entered the bar. After the encounter with her mother, which ended with her storming out of the house, Brooke jumped into her Mazda Miata and drove like a mad woman to DFW Airport, getting a traffic ticket on the way. Then she hopped on the first flight to Vegas. Her behavior was erratic, and if it continued, things weren’t likely to end well.

Gracie peered through the crowd in search of Brooke, her gaze stopping at the line dancers. There was a girl about her same age, wearing a short jean skirt and sporting an expensive pair of turquoise cowboy boots. She was kicking up her heels, having the time of her life. “I used to line dance. I think I’ll join them. I know they won’t mind since they can’t see me.”

Before she could escape, Gertrude caught her arm. “You can’t get distracted tonight. This is too important. We’ve got to find Brooke and make sure she doesn’t do something crazy.”

“I think we may be a little late for that,” Gracie said.

They watched as Brooke downed a glass of beer and stood. She wobbled like she was trying to balance on a tight wire. The lowlife sitting next to her put a meaty hand on her arm, but she laughed and jerked out of his grasp.

“What is she doing?” Gracie whispered.

“For goodness sakes, Gracie, you don’t have to whisper. No one can hear us,” Gertrude said.

“Oh, yeah … I forgot!” Gracie yelled loud enough to make Gertrude wince.

Brooke made her way over to the mechanical bull. She leaned against the padded barrier and started cheering for the man who was riding.

“Look at her,” Gracie said, disgusted. “She’s practically throwing herself at that man.”

“Yep, and the other man she was with at the bar doesn’t look too happy about it.”

Gracie looked at the bushy-browed man with the large muscles and tattoos. He was fixated, watching Brooke’s every move. “I guess Meat Head over there thought he’d gotten his hooks into Brooke, and he’s not going to let her get away from him that easily.”

A waitress wearing a skimpy bikini and chaps said something to Brooke who laughed and retrieved a credit card from her pocket. She handed it to the waitress.

Gracie made a face. “Surely she’s not having another drink!” Someone needed to go over and knock some sense into Brooke. Things were fast spiraling out of control.

“It looks like it.” Gertrude shook her head. “She’s already having problems standing up.”

Watching Brooke shamelessly flirt with the men gathered around the mechanical bull was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. The overhead lights reflected off her blonde hair, casting streaks of gold. Her tight jeans were molded to her long legs, and she was wearing high-heeled, leather boots. She was like a gullible goose, thrown into the middle of hungry wolves, pawing at her, each trying to get their piece. She turned to Gertrude. “What can we do to stop this?”

“Unfortunately, nothing.” There was a note of sadness in her voice.

The band starting playing Boot Scootin’ Boogie . They watched, in horror, as Brooke slurped down another beer and strutted over to the band. When the song ended, she pushed her way onto the stage and to the microphone.

“Hello,” she said to the lead singer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make a little announcement.”

“Be my guest,” he said, making a point of appreciatively looking her up and down.

“Thanks, sugar,” she drawled, leaning over and kissing him full on the mouth.

This brought hoots and catcalls from the crowd as the man nervously cleared his throat and stepped back.

Brooke leaned into the microphone and pointed to the mechanical bull. “My mother tells me that I have a thing for cowboys—bull rider’s in particular. Anyway, in honor of my mother, I’d like to make you fellas a deal. Whichever one of you cowboys tames that bull tonight gets to spend some time with yours truly!” She smiled, pointing to herself.

A roar went through the crowd while several guys lined up to ride the bull.

She giggled and then belched as she got down from the stage and stumbled over to the bar. “Another beer!” she demanded.

The bartender shook his head. “I believe you’ve had enough.”

“Party Pooper!” Brooke turned to the tattooed man and slapped him on the back. “Hey, Ted, wanna ride the bull?”

Before he could answer, she went over to the bullpen and climbed on top of a nearby table. She began swaying her hips to the music. “Ride ‘em cowboy!” she hollered at the man on the bull.

When all of the riders were finished, the one who’d stayed on the longest approached the table. He wore a victorious grin.

“Now, that’s what I call a Texas-size smile,” Brooke drawled. “What’s your name, cowboy?”

“Cody.” He held out his hand. When she placed her hand in his, he encircled her waist and lifted her down from the table. “If I had my rope, I’d lasso you, little lady.” Roughly, he jerked her body against his. “What do you want to do tonight?”

Brooke threw back her head and laughed. “Get married!”

The man chuckled in surprise. “I may be drunk, but I’m not that drunk. How about we do a little Boot Scootin’ and then go back to my hotel.”

“No, no, no!” Brooke’s voice had a shrill edge to it. “Don’t tell me you’re already married.”

“Nope and don’t intend to be,” he said, dragging her to the dance floor.

“For a million dollars, would you marry me?”

He laughed. “For a million dollars, honey, I’d do just about anything.” He twirled her around. “I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Brooke, and I don’t have to spell out all of the perks that go along with being me.” She motioned to herself as if showcasing a new car and then let out a throaty laugh. “And if that’s not enough to suit your saddle, you might like to know that my daddy has money. Billions!”

Cody stopped, a new interest lighting his eyes. “Really? You’re serious about getting married, and the million dollars?”

Brooke jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “As serious as a heart attack.”

He let out a loud whoop and raised his hat in the air. “This is my lucky day! A beautiful filly and the big bucks too! Okay, little darling. Ain’t no sense in beatin’ a devil around a stump. There’s a chapel two blocks from here. Let’s get to it.”

Gracie turned to Gertrude. “ Beatin’ a devil around a stump? What in the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“I imagine it’s the cowboy way of saying Let’s not beat around the bush .”

“Has Brooke completely lost her mind? She’s really going to marry a total stranger? Some guy who stayed on the bull longest?”

Gertrude yanked her arm. “Come on!”

“What’re we going to do?”

“For starters, we’re going to stop this asinine wedding!”

She stayed rooted to the floor. “But what about Brooke’s free agency? I thought we’re supposed to help guide our assignments, so they will see a better path. Not force them to make the right decision.”

Gertrude’s face shriveled up like a prune. “This is an entirely different matter!”

“Really?” It didn’t feel different. Gertrude was always harping about how they must give their assignments enough space to make their own decisions. It was obvious that Brooke was determined to do things her way, regardless of the consequences. From where Gracie was stood, there didn’t seem to be a lot they could do.

“Brooke is drunk out of her mind and not thinking clearly. She needs our help!” She gave Gracie a hard look. “Are you coming or not?”

“I’m coming!” she grumbled.

A middle-aged woman wearing two-inch-thick makeup and stuffed into a sequined dress, a size too small, met Brooke and Cody at the front door of the small chapel. She ushered them towards a man dressed like Elvis.

Gracie was about to rush in behind them when Gertrude stopped her. “Wait. We need to go out of invisibility mode for this.” She waved a hand, and suddenly Gracie was wearing a conservative dress with sensible flats. “Really?” Gracie motioned at the chapel, which was a freaky combination of a church and a casino. There were large, blinking red and pink hearts on the wall, behind the altar, and a Grecian vase of plastic flowers atop a pedestal. Heavy, red velvet drapes with dramatic swoops covered an entire wall, and there were church pews arranged in rows with an aisle down the center. She cut her eyes towards the preacher and middle-aged woman. “This seems a bit Sunday schoolish, considering we’ve got Elvis and the Crypt-Keeper showgirl over there. You should’ve dressed me like Priscilla Presley, with the big hair and spider eyelashes.” She batted her eyes as she balled her hand like a microphone and started singing the chorus of You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog .

“Focus!” Gertrude barked.

“This whole thing just seems so ridiculous. I don’t see what the problem is. You wanted Brooke to find someone, and now she has. Mission accomplished.” It was a heartless thing to say, but she couldn’t seem to hold the words back. She’d had about as much of Brooke as she could take in one day. She needed to get away and clear her head, then she could get back to helping her.

Gertrude rocked back like she’d been slapped. The air seemed to lose its breath as her face drained. “You don’t mean that. Have I taught you nothing?”

The disappointment in her eyes pierced Gracie to the quick, and she wanted to crawl under one of the pews. “No,” she mumbled, looking away, so she wouldn’t have to meet Gertrude’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” She let out a breath, glancing towards Cody and the Elvis preacher, who were laughing uproariously and patting one another on the back. “What can I do to help?”

Gertrude pointed towards the showgirl, who was leading Brooke to a side-room. “Go after them. Maybe you can talk some sense into Brooke.”

“But she’ll recognize me!”

“I hardly think she would recognize her own mother at this point,” Gertrude retorted.

“Good point.” Gracie straightened to her full height and steeled herself for the encounter. A moment later, she knocked on the door. The showgirl opened it and looked Gracie up and down. “Who are you?”

“A friend of the bride.”

Before the woman could protest, Gracie pushed her way into the room and over to Brooke, who was slouched in one of the chairs. She was singing to herself, her head lolling like a rag doll.

“Hello!” she beamed when she saw Gracie. “I’m getting married to …” she scrunched her nose, trying to remember “ … to a cowboy.” She laughed and caught hold of Gracie’s sleeve. “My mother will be so pleased. She wants me to marry a bull rider.” She exploded in laughter. “And so I will!”

Gracie pulled a chair beside Brooke. “You’re making a big mistake. You don’t want to do this.” Brooke hesitated like she might be listening, giving Gracie the courage to continue. “I know things haven’t worked out like you wanted with Nash and Dawson, but this isn’t the answer.”

Her face fell. “Dawson and Nash are history! Jerks!” Brooke rolled her head and attempted to focus on Gracie. “I think I know you.” She got up in Gracie’s face. “Who are you?”

The stench of booze nearly bowled Gracie over. She leaned back in an attempt to avert her nose. “I’m a friend. Now if you’ll just listen?—”

Confusion clouded Brooke’s features, and then all reason flew out the window. “Shut up!” she yelled, jumping to her feet. “Just shut up!” Anger smeared over her face.

Gracie stood. “If you’ll just listen!”

Brooke pushed her backwards. “I’m tired of listening! I came here to get married, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” She spun around, eyes blazing. “And no one! Not you nor my mother is going to stop me!” She turned to the showgirl. “I gave you my license and credit card. And I have this tacky-looking wedding veil on my head. What else do you need to get this show on the road?”

“I have everything I need,” the showgirl said quickly, avoiding eye contact with Gracie. “Here!” She thrust an artificial bouquet at Brooke.

“Can’t you see she’s drunk out of her mind?” Gracie said. “She’s in no shape to get married.”

The showgirl squared her jaw, causing the wrinkles around her neck to draw together, creating a deep crevice down the center that would’ve made The Grand Canyon look small. “Her business is none of my concern. She came here to get married, and that’s what we do. We don’t ask any questions.”

“Of course you don’t, Methuselah,” Gracie muttered under her breath, “you might lose a buck.”

“That’s right! No questions!” Brooke stumbled and then caught herself before falling. “So, step aside, frizz head, and let me get down to business.”

“My hair is curly, not frizzy,” Gracie countered, touching her hair. Even though she knew Brooke was drunk, the comment stung.

“Whatever!” Brooke pushed past her.

When Brooke stepped from the room into the chapel, the Wedding March began to play. Gracie shot Gertrude a panicked look. “Sorry,” she mouthed, “there was nothing I could do.”

Elvis and Cody assumed their positions. Brooke lifted her chin in the air like she was the Queen of Sheba and tromped towards the altar.

Gracie made her way over to Gertrude. “Can’t you do something? Rewind time?”

Gertrude shrugged. “I would, if I thought it would do any good. Brooke would only repeat the same actions all over again, and here we’d be.”

“All right. Then do the wave thing, and make something happen to prevent it.”

Gertrude looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could.” She paused. “But I’m getting the feeling that we should let things play out.”

“I don’t understand. A few minutes ago, you told me to talk some sense into Brooke, to try and stop this! Now you’re saying we should let it play out?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I have some new information.”

“What information?” Gertrude was making absolutely no sense!

“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began in a deep, swaggering voice that gave the impression he might break into song. “We are gathered here to join this couple in holy matrimony.”

“Better get on with it, Elvis,” Cody piped, “the little darlin’ is gettin’ green around the gills.”

That was an understatement. Brooke’s face had turned the color of seaweed, and she looked like she might blow chunks any minute.

“Don’t panic. Help is on the way,” Gertrude whispered into Gracie’s ear. As if on cue, a muscular man with tattoos covering his arms strode into the chapel.

“I’m afraid these two won’t be getting married tonight.”

Confusion swirled over the preacher. “Who are you?”

Brooke spun around and eyed the man. “Ted? From the bar?” She snorted. “Just because I allowed you to buy me a couple of drinks, doesn’t give you the right to interrupt my wedding.”

“That’s right!” Cody parroted, stepping up to Ted and thrusting out his chest like a proud rooster. “I won the prize, and now I’m getting married.”

“I don’t think so.”

Cody threw a punch, but Ted easily sidestepped it. He grabbed Cody’s arm and wrenched it behind his back. Cody let out a squeal of pain and fell to his knees where Ted caught him in a headlock. “Because I’m in a generous mood, I’m going to allow you to walk out of here in one piece,” he growled.

Cody began cursing and flailing his arms in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. Ted had him locked down. “Okay,” he finally yelled. “Okay, I give up.”

The second Ted released him, Cody turned and lunged at him, but Ted was faster, giving him a swift knee in the crotch. Cody dropped to the floor where he curled into a fetal position, groaning in pain.

“Fine cowboy you turned out to be,” Brooke pouted. She turned to Ted. “Okay, have it your way. I’ll marry you.”

He shook his head. “You’re not getting married to anyone. Your father sent me to get you home safely, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Her face crumbled as she stepped back. “No!” Tears began gushing down her cheeks. “My daddy doesn’t own me! I can do what I want.”

“Heard it all before. You can tell it to your father, when you’ve sobered up.” She threw the bouquet at him and tried to run, but Ted grabbed her around the waist. She fought and clawed him for all it was worth, but she was no match for his steel grip. Suddenly, she went still, her face contorting. “I don’t feel so—” The words got strangled in a gag as she doubled over and vomited on the floor. Ted released his grip and stepped back, averting his nose.

“What’re you doing?” Elvis shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “You’re ruining our chapel!”

The showgirl let out a loud string of curses that would’ve made a sailor blush.

Ted waited patiently until Brooke was through and then threw her over his shoulder. One minute she was kicking and screaming, and the next, she was passed out cold. As he carried her toward the door, Gracie caught up to him. “Wait!”

He turned.

“Were you really hired by Gracie’s dad?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?” Gracie challenged, hands going to her hips.

“Stewart Matthews.” He glared at her. “Who are you?”

“A concerned friend. Here, take her purse. Good luck! You’ll need it.”