You're Always 17 Ch. 02

It had been a perfect afternoon and evening, until a tall, dark, handsome, and cocky cowboy walked right up to us, ignored me entirely, held out his hand, and asked Shannon to dance. Yes, we had been dancing with others in our group all evening, and Shannon had danced with a few Techsters she knew, but this dude's style and arrogance were offputting. Everyone at the table saw me bow up, and my sharp reply came before Shannon could answer.

"I can tell you think you're God's gift to women, but what makes you think you can walk up here, ignore me, and ask my fiancée to dance without asking my permission?"

Shannon placed a restraining hand on my arm as soon as he appeared, and she heard my response to his impertinence. Brad, the new boyfriends, and Dad had already slid their chairs out in preparation for joining the fray, because the look on my face and the sound of my voice were storm warnings the good-looking cowboy ignored. Strangely, River just sat there grinning.

Shannon, though, was unimpressed by my threats. Instead of cautioning me not to fight, or addressing the young cowboy, she looked directly at me and said, "Fiancée? I don't remember you asking for my hand or me accepting, and I don't see a ring on my third finger left hand. Therefore, I'm free to dance with this handsome fella, or anyone else I choose!"

She turned, gave him a dazzling smile, and stood up as if to go dance. I could hear everyone at the table holding their breath, and I could see the cowboy grinning.

I hit my knees, holding something in my left hand and reaching for hers. I caught it; she gave me an imperious look. "Shannon Alana Barnes, the one true love of my life, and the partner with whom I hope to spend my entire life, would you do me the honor of marrying me? I'm not worthy of you, but no one is, and no one could ever love you as much as I do."

She turned her smiling face from me to those around the table, and then affixed those emerald eyes on me. She suddenly fell to her knees, her countenance became deadly serious, and she replied. "You came to my rescue on this very dance floor over five years ago, and I've loved you ever since! I can't tell you how many times I practiced writing Mrs. Theodore Monroe Carr in my notebooks while in class, and how many nights I dreamed of being in your arms while we were apart. You are my soulmate and my life partner, with or without a ring. But I'm honored to accept your offer of matrimony and this beautiful custom-made ring, that I haven't seen since Thursday at the jewelry store downtown."

The first part of her reply sounded prepared but sincere; but there was a teasing quality to the last sentence, letting me know she wasn't fooled. We kissed each other on our knees, then stood, and I introduced tall, dark, and handsome Miguel Aleman to the group. He gave me a congratulatory handshake and hug, and happily accepted a hug from Shannon, who thanked him for his part in the charade and promised him the second dance of our engagement evening.

I gave her fifteen minutes to show the ring to everyone else, signaled the band leader, and led Shannon toward the dance floor and our official engagement dance. The song was also our first dance from those years ago; Silver Wings.

Miguel took my seat, saluted River and Katrina, and asked how they had been. When we returned, Shannon grabbed Miguel, and he got his dance as the band played Amarillo by Morning. That handsome cowboy looked more like a match for her than I did, but she returned and took a seat in my lap, grinning.

Her daddy asked, "How did you know, Shannon? Brad and I have been talking about it, and we were completely fooled. Hell, we were girding our loins for battle, again!" Angela agreed, and my newly adorned fiancée explained, "It began Thursday, when he took me shopping, and we somehow ended up at the best jewelry store in town. Clue two was when the jeweler immediately brought out this unique ring that was obviously custom designed. The impressive oval cut diamond had turquoise, agate, and topaz pieces surrounding it that he said were native to west Texas or New Mexico.

"Naturally, I loved the ring, but I knew the price tag for something like that would be ridiculous, so I asked to see a few others. Instead of acting happy that I moved on from the sales effort, Theo seemed disappointed. Later, while I was looking at necklaces, he and the salesman disappeared into the back. After we left, he asked me which ring I liked the most, out of all of them, regardless of price.

"I admitted it was the unique ring I was shown first, but I also liked the much less expensive oval cut diamond we looked at last. He just smiled and said both were nice. Nothing else was mentioned.

"I'd forgotten all about the rings and was just enjoying my graduation party when this hunk sauntered up and disrespected my guy. Theo seemed to react as expected, but I was holding his bicep, and the tension was missing. We've all seen him in action before, and he's fierce and relentless, right? He sounded tough, but his body language lacked that assassin quality I'd seen before, and I suspected something was off.

"Then my brain caught up with the fact that he had called me his fiancée, and at that same moment I noticed that Miguel looked completely relaxed and unafraid. That's the point at which all the spinning wheels aligned and stopped, and the flashing lights went off in my head.

"I played along, yes, but I already knew. As proposals go, it wasn't something lame on the scoreboard, it wasn't something contrived on a mountaintop as the sun set, and it was based around our first meeting, so I'd give him an A+ for creativity, but his smart girlfriend didn't fall for the trickery!" Her smile turned to a smirk when she said that.

"But you still said 'yes,' so it wasn't a complete fail, right?" I asked. She grinned and replied, "The chances I would have said 'no' to you are zero, so don't feel that good about yourself. Still, I'll admit it was cute, given the events of the weekend we met. I love you even more for setting it up, and I'll always remember and treasure your proposal!"

"And now the real work begins!" Momma Susan announced! "Shannon, ladies, we need to have a war room tonight or tomorrow morning!"

Shannon snuggled deeper into my lap and responded, "Um, not tonight, Mom. I have other plans." There were knowing chuckles and smiles all around the table, and Susan said, "Okay, immediately after breakfast in my room. It's a mandatory meeting, so don't overindulge tonight and try to sleep in!"

Yes, the little minx did have plans, and, yes, we did overindulge a bit. It wasn't my fault, though; I thought we were through several times, but she looked at her ring, and boom - we were at it again! We made it to breakfast, and she made the war room on time, leaving the men to give me hell and tell war stories about weddings.

Their sage advice to me was to have my say right away, clarify the non-negotiables, and then stay out of the way unless my opinion is required, and be careful of traps if it is. Sounded simple enough to me, especially since I couldn't think of anything to demand, or any non-negotiables; but I underestimated my girl.

They emerged from the war room with a plan. Highland Park UMC at 7 pm on Saturday, October 22. Lilacs and lace. Four bridesmaids and five groomsmen, plus the Maids of Honor and Best Man, and the other members of the bride's wedding party. Rehearsal dinner at Y.O. Ranch Steakhouse. Reception at the historic Adolphus Hotel, and a second reception at the mancamp in Orla when we got back from our honeymoon. The rest of the places I knew nothing about, but that caught my attention, and I looked at River.

Somehow, hosting a wedding reception in my back yard behind the RV, or on the dirt field that separated the long rows of RVs on the right and left, and extended to those on the end, seemed neither romantic nor practical. Katrina and Shannon had an answer for that: a covered slab with tables and benches, and an area for barbeque pits, smokers and grills. Another area for games like horseshoes, cornhole, and archery (one of Shannon's favorite sports, if archery can be called a sport), a mini-gym and workout facility, and a native grass field where the kids and men could play football and futbol.

River already had plans for another row of RVs - 'park trailers' to accommodate families - south of the second row, but I wasn't aware of plans for a recreation area in the middle. He wasn't surprised, so I assume that is one more decision I didn't have to worry about.

When I inquired with trepidation about the 'Hen Party' and the 'Bachelor Party' plans, Shannon shook her head. "We aren't nineteen, and the members of our wedding party will mostly be married men and women. I don't see climbing into champagne party buses and going to watch strippers, male or female."

I kissed her and said, "Thank you! I can't see getting drunk and going to watch strippers with your brother, dad, and granddad, or even River. I'd spend the whole time worrying about someone doing something stupid and their wives finding out."

She laughed, "And vice-versa! I'm sure my grandmothers can party with the best of them, what with being 'stoned rock and rollers of the sixties,' but it doesn't mean I want to see it, or my mom deepthroating a stripper!"

Those images gave me pause, but I recovered, roared in laughter, and hugged her even more tightly.

Shannon rode back separately. I took my pickup, and she took her graduation present, a shiny black Denali XL with darkly tinted windows. Her Wrangler was still there, and if she kept acquiring vehicles, I was going to need more parking.

It turned out that Katrina and River (and Shannon?) had a plan for that too. My trailer and the next two in the row would move to the additional row to the south. A new portable office would be installed where my trailer was, and two, 3/2 park trailers with five slides and a porch would be installed in the next slot. That would allow Shannon and me to entertain guests, like her parents, for instance, and the third trailer would serve as temporary housing for recruits or guests, since the nearest hotels were in Pecos.

The old office in back, with my workout facility moved to the gym, was to become Norma and Katrina's business office, with a corner office for River - should he ever sit still long enough to need one. The new office in front would headquarter our recruiting efforts and provide meeting space for state or national officials and inspectors, potential clients, and whatever else.

We were going to be a village soon, and I was glad we drilled that deep well.

****

We got back to work, recruiting across five states, including Oklahoma and the Dakotas, and from competitors. Our best source was our own workers, who invited others to apply that they felt good about working with. Those guys and gals, hombres y mujeres, often knew others who were good, safe, and dependable workers, and before long we had enough to get started on the first contracts, which were executed only days after we had the workers trained and equipment ready.

New crews meant new foremen and crew chiefs, and we had plenty of worthy candidates among our experienced crews. That many foremen and crew chiefs did mean a new layer of management grew that had to be accommodated, so we devised a combination of face-to-face and tele-visits to keep us abreast. After all, we were operating in a vast area of some 86,000 square miles: 250 miles wide and over 300 miles long.

We threw up some fenced equipment yards and temporary man camps near the most distant sites, but they had to rely on generators and potable water brought daily by a company that transports water out here - another lucrative niche.

With Texas politicians holding hearings regarding horror stories of orphaned wells in Texas, and spills and wells not cleaned up by the oil companies that own them, even the most obstinate oil companies developed a conscience of sorts. Being the leading lights in our field, oil company execs and their legal staff took tours and dropped by our offices or summoned us to theirs to hear their offers.

I smiled at a few, River outright laughed at a few, and word got out that we weren't the ones to call unless you wanted a legitimate cleanup and were willing to pay. Many got in line, many others tried corner-cutting, and then had to pay us to do it right after the RRC inspectors arrived with red pens.

We were thriving, and the camp had a fourth row of trailers being set up.

But that was after the reunion. The Eagle Ford Shale play had begun before I left, so a bunch of hotels had been built near the convention center where the reunion was being held. The play had moved a hundred miles or more east, meaning there was plenty of room at the inn for four reunion goers, and we even got special rates, with free breakfast and a happy hour with taco bar and quesadillas.

We stopped a dozen times on what became a nine-hour drive, all after we crossed I 10 and saw hills with trees, spring-fed creeks, rivers, and lakes. It was quicker to go through Del Rio and take the river road south, but I wanted them to see the Nueces and Frio canyons, Leaky, Garner State Park, Con Can, and Uvalde. Those are the places where we stopped and soaked up the oxygen rich air, listened to the bubbling waters, and promised to stop and swim on the way back. Or maybe next summer, when it will be warmer.

From Uvalde we went south through what remains of "The Wintergarden," an area of rich soils and plentiful irrigation water that faded away with the importation of cheap crops from more southern countries. H-E-B had resurrected some farms in the wintergarden, with its fanatical following and their all but insatiable need for 'locally sourced organic vegetables,' but the vast majority of fertile fields remained grown over with weeds, grass, and encroaching brush.

South of Batesville you enter the area called "The Brush Country," and when you enter it doesn't require any imagination to understand why it's called that. From here, it isn't far to Cowtown, and my asshole started tightening. There are a lot of bad memories ahead, and not many good ones.

"Pitaya Ventures?" the young woman at the front desk asked. "Sounds like you're from around here, since not many even know what a pitaya cactus is, but I'm not familiar with that company.

"Oh! I see you're here for the reunion, so you must be from here! What's your name?"

"This is Katrina Payton and her husband, River. This is my fiancée, Shannon Barnes, and I'm Theo Carr."

"Oh my god! #46! My dad is going to go crazy - he loved watching you play! Let me call him - he's doing the books!"

I looked at the others, who were grinning at me. "So maybe not everybody hates you?" Shannon teased.

The young lady and a man around 50 emerged from the back. The daughter was grinning at her confused father as she pulled him around the counter. "Guess who this is, Dad?"

The man looked me over with a frown; suddenly, a look of recognition crossed his face, and he practically yelled, "Theo Carr! #46, the best football player in the history of Cowtown High! Oh my god! It's so good to see you, Theo!"

He shook my hand enthusiastically, introduced himself as Kenneth Houser, and then introduced himself and shook the hands of the others. "Say, happy hour is just beginning in the bar and breakfast area! We have free beer, wine, or margaritas out of the machine, and a taco or quesadilla bar if you're hungry after your trip down! Let's take your luggage to your rooms, and then please come join me and my kids in the bar! We would love to catch up on our local football hero, and maybe catch him up on the improvements to his old hometown!"

The laughter and harassment in the elevator, all aimed my way, didn't even affect my greatly improved attitude. Kenneth Houser might be the only one in town who doesn't consider me a worthless asshole, but that's one more than I thought!

Katrina and Shannon needed all of fifteen minutes to emerge looking like movie stars in their tight-fitting jeans and polo shirts. They smelled good too, which was amazing given our all-day travel. I sprayed body cologne all over myself, and still smelled stale.

When we walked into the Horseshoe Lounge, Kenneth, his pretty daughter, a young man who looked like Kenneth, and a half-dozen others were clustered around a group of tables they had pulled together. I immediately recognized two of the men and one of the women: former teammates Bobby Flores and Frankie Garcia, and Frankie's still-luscious sister, Nita. They jumped up, ran around the table, and practically dog-piled me. They pounded on me, gave me bear hugs, and asked me where the hell I'd been!

Nita was a little more circumspect, but I sure remembered that body when she pulled me in for a hug and kiss! Which, of course, drew a raised eyebrow from Shannon.

I introduced them, they enthusiastically greeted my fiancée and friends, and then brought us to the table for the rest of the introductions. One couple was older, about Kenneth's age, and they remembered my ferocious basketball play. "Your basketball numbers were 34 at home and 35 away. Remember when you were losing to Cougar High by six at home with two minutes to go? You were all over the point guard, knocked the ball loose, picked it up, and slammed it home on the other end!

"When they inbounded the ball, you intercepted it and two-hand dunked it, then stared down the guy taking the ball out. Their coach called a timeout, and you jogged slowly by their bench with this sneer that we've all tried to copy but can't. Can you do that for us?"

"Probably not - that was me in the moment, trying to intimidate them. It didn't work, though - they threw a clean inbound pass to their big center."

"Yes, but you were on him almost as soon as he got the ball. He faked, you stayed on the ground, he tried a fadeaway, and you blocked it - the dude was 6'7" and you blocked his fadeaway jumper! Amazing! Then you took the ball away from his teammate who had recovered it and flew toward the other goal! Their 6'5" wing went with you, planning to block your layup, but you executed a tomahawk jam, he fouled you, you made the free throw, stole the inbound pass and laid it in!

"You had turned a 6-point deficit into a three-point lead in just over a minute, and at barely 6' you had posterized their 6'5" wing with a damn tomahawk dunk!"

His wife took over the narrative. "But you weren't through. You dropped back into a zone with your teammates, y'all made them run half the time off the clock, and then you stole a pass and put on a Harlem Globetrotters dribbling exhibition keeping them from getting the ball back. It was awesome, but with ten seconds left and your coach yelling 'no, don't shoot,' you muscled between two defenders, drove, and laid it in! Five-point lead, six seconds, they didn't even bother to throw the ball in! The number two team in the state, out in the second round of the playoffs!"

"That was a fun game, as was the first round at regional. In the finals, though, we got our butts handed to us by the defending state champs, who would win it again two games later!"

"True, but they had to double- and triple-team you to beat us!" she exclaimed.

"You know, we could share stories all night about him knocking guys out of games with ferocious tackling and his insane desire to punish tacklers when he had the ball," Frankie said with a chuckle, "but nothing exemplifies Theo Carr like his self-taught approach to pole vaulting! Hell, we not only didn't have a pole-vaulting coach, we didn't have but one pole, it was ancient, and about ten foot long!

"We did have a decent pit, and Theo had watched vaulters at meets in junior high and our freshman years. He talked to a few of them about how to vault, taught himself, and then ran hell-bent-for-leather down the runway and soared over the bar at eight feet. He nonchalantly set the bar about a foot higher than the pole was long and went sailing over that! He was going so fast he almost flew past the pit, but he caught coach Cano's attention, and before long Cano had a book on pole vaulting that he would read to Theo at the pit. I'm sure that was useful, right TMC?"