Calamity Jayne And The Trouble With Tandems Part 15

"Security, as well as professional law enforcement."

"Law enforcement?"

"Sure," Patrick said. "It's SOP for EPUs."

"Huh?"

"Standard operation for executive protection units," Dawkins translated.

"Is that right?"

Interesting. Very interesting.

"How are things going? You went on that cruise, right? Frankie mentioned something about a high seas mishap."

I nodded. "There was a bit of a storm at sea, but I weathered it."

Patrick laughed. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

"Taylor's around. Have you seen her?" I asked, doing just what my sister had warned me not to. Please. Isn't that what sisters are supposed to do?

"Oh, that's right. She's got Dairee Freeze duty." He looked around the beer tent. "She's here?"

"Dixie took her off somewhere. You should hang around. I'm sure they'll be back soon."

I gotta admit. My setting Taylor up for a change was strangely t.i.tillating.

Taylor had almost given my folks dual coronaries when she up and dropped out of college, claiming she wasn't sure what she wanted to do with her life. My folks were used to hearing that from their elder daughter. But Taylor? They were still reeling from the shock.

"h.e.l.lo, you two. Are we interrupting?" Dixie, Taylor still in tow, appeared at the trooper's elbow.

"Of course not," I said. "We were just talking about you, Taylor. Were your ears burning?"

Maybe not. But the look she gave me was boil-me-in-oil hot.

"Tressa said you were here," Patrick removed my hat from his head, and held out a hand to Taylor. "Good to see you again, Taylor. It's been a while. How have you been?"

"Well, thank you," Taylor responded.

Oh, brother. Talk about your cool customers. If I didn't know better, I'd believe Taylor had no more interest in the handsome lawman than I do in becoming a vegan.

"Where's Frankie, by the way?" Patrick asked Dixie.

"Probably still sniffing after Manny DeMarco, and probably hoping to get a bone thrown to him." she grumbled.

A chorus of cat calls and whistles erupted from the dance floor of the beer garden where Keelie, Tiara, and Langley whooped it up with dance moves that told me none of the trio had ever stepped foot in a country western bar.

And that was probably a good thing.

"Talk about your fish out of water." Dixie echoed my thoughts, and I looked at her.

I made the sign of the cross with my fingers and held them out.

"Get out of my head, Demon Dixie!" I warned. She shook her head.

"Would you get a load of DeMarco?" Dixie continued. "Keelie's trying her best to convince him to join the party, but he's having none of it."

I got up on my tippy-toes to check it out. Dixie was right. Manny was putting off the same vibe I did when my gammy tried to convince me to join her circle of friends for water aerobics at the rec center.

"It's pathetic how low the bar for fame has fallen," Dixie went on. "Just pathetic."

"Uh-oh. Heads up." I chirped, watching the reality trio make their way in our direction. "Snooki wannabes at three o'clock!"

The cosmopolitan clique wound their way through the crowd, stopping on the fringes of our group.

"OMG! Is this state corny or what? Get it? Corny! Corny and like totally Dullsville." Keelie announced. "It's like that song. Corn, corn, corn, corn, corn! Look, a tree! Corn, corn, corn. Council Bluffs."

I wished I'd brought my earplugs to the party with me when Keelie, Tiara, and Langley broke into their version of the "Corn" song.

"Corn, corn, corn, corn, look, there's road kill!"

"Corn, corn, corn, corn, look, there's a cow!"

"Corn, corn, corn, corn, look, there's a pig!"

"Corn, corn, corn, corn, Manny, it's your turn!" Keelie sing-songed.

Manny's lip twitched. People who don't know any better might mistake it for a smile.

"Ah, come on, Manny. Don't be a party p.o.o.per," Keelie said.

She poked Manny in the chest. "Manny here won't dance with me." She turned to our group, spotted a certain trooper. "So, how about you?"

"Uh, sorry. I'm engaged," Dixie intervened before I had a chance to chime in, "but if it doesn't work out, I'm all yours."

I found myself grinning like I did when I got my bank statement and I actually had a respectable balance.

Note to Reality Red: Diss Dixie Daggett's home state at your peril!

"As if," Keelie snorted and her hangers-on howled. "I'm talking to him." She pointed at Patrick. "You're cute. Well, for a farm boy. What about it? Wanna boot scoot?" She elbowed Tiara who giggled like crazy.

Patrick's face turned red. I could imagine the ribbing he'd get from his trooper buds if video of him kicking up his heels with Keelie Keller went viral. His superiors probably wouldn't be all that thrilled either.

I opened my mouth to help him out by telling them to take a hike, he was taken, when, once again, someone beat me to the blurt.

"He's with me," Taylor snapped.

It was hard to tell who turned to stare at her quicker-me or the trooper in distress.

"Did you hear that, Tiara? He's with her." Keelie crossed her arms and gave Taylor one of those look-you-up-and-down numbers. "Oh? And am I supposed to give a s.h.i.t?"

I winced. I hoped they bleeped out the naughty words before airing.

"I have no idea whether you're supposed to give one or not," Taylor said. "I guess it depends on how you were raised."

Rrrear!

Cat fight! Cat fight!

Sensing a ratings booster in the making, the cameramen moved in for a closer shot.

"I thought you two were a couple," Keelie said, and motioned at Dixie.

"You thought wrong," Taylor said.

I looked from Keelie to Taylor.

Thirty seconds pa.s.sed and no one blinked. Not even me.

Worth the price of admission? You betcha.

"What's the hold up?" A dwarf of a man-roly-poly and reminding me of Danny DeVito with a bad toupee-stepped between Keelie and Taylor.

"Just pre-ride meet and greet, Vinny," Keelie said, still not taking her eyes off Taylor.

"We've got a schedule to keep, Keelie. Live blogging. Photos. Interviews. Tick-tock. Tick-tock! There'll be time for schmoozing up the local-yokels later."

"Ah, come on, Vinny. What are you? Keelie's manager or her mother?" Tiara whined.

Keelie gave Taylor a final stare down.

"To be continued," she said, and grabbed hold of Tiara's and Langley's arms and pulled her pals off in the direction of the bus. "Let's leave the hicks from the sticks to their red meat and corn pone, shall we?" she said.

I watched Keelie flounce her way up the stairs of her bus. When she reached the top, she stopped, turned around, and stuck both middle fingers up in our direction.

"Tressa?" Taylor put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"This week. On TribRide."

"Yes?"

"Whatever you do. Beat that b.i.a.t.c.h like a dusty saddle blanket."

I blinked.

What just happened?

My sister just punched my ticket to ride, that's what.

Gulp.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"A little help would be nice."

I turned a still-sleepy gaze to where Drew Van Vleet stood fidgeting with our tandem torture devise. I sighed. One of those "my life sucks" sighs the drama queens in all of us like to let loose with on a semi-regular basis.

I was down in the dumps even before I discovered Van Vleet had managed to find matching f.a.n.n.y packs with the Star Trek emblem.

And now? I'd have to perk up considerably just to reach glum.

My tent, clothing, toiletries, etcetera, were stowed in my Uncle Frank's Suburban-admittedly an upgrade from the big ol' trailers that generally hauled riders' belongings from each day's overnight city to the next.

I'd taken the opportunity our modest sponsorship provided to do a bit of TribRide clothes prep. Come on. Tell me you wouldn't take advantage of an opportunity to shop on someone else's plastic if you had a chance.

My casual attire usually consisted of tanks and T-shirts with cute cowgirl slogans and happy horse sentiments. For my two-wheeled work a.s.signment, however, I'd selected novelty T-shirts with clever biker quips.

Today's tee sported a lone biker followed by zombie stick figures with the caption: "I ride bikes because zombies can't."

It totally worked for me. It's like when people tell you the only time they run is if someone is chasing them with a knife. Yeah. I'm one of those.

I yawned. "What kind of help does El Capitn require?" I asked. Besides the obvious, of course. "Every time I try to check out the two-wheeled wonder, you tell me to back off, that I'll screw something up. Besides, I'd rather not be seen with you in that shirt until I have to."

"Which reminds me." A plastic bag smacked me in the head. "Your Inaugural Day Team Trekkie tee. You left it behind."

Which time?

I pulled the red shirt out of the bag. I wrinkled my nose.

Good grief. Along with the words, TEAM TREKKIE on the back, the shirt also included ads from various local merchants. I shook my head. I guess I should be thankful I wasn't sporting tat ads. h.e.l.lo. Talk about "peddling" flesh.

I flipped the shirt over and saw the now familiar emblem. I let loose with a "the h.e.l.l you say" when I noticed the word st.i.tched in white above the arch.

Stroker.

"Is this really necessary?" I said.

"You heard the bosses. They think it's a great idea."