Hunter Derby: (Show Circuit Series -- Book 3) (22 page)

Some people had to.

Zoe spent the next few hours coasting from one pop station to another on the Morada Bay radio and looking on their websites for information about Taylor Swift ticket giveaways. Two stations were having contests. It was the usual—hear a certain Taylor Swift song on the radio and be caller number whatever.

Well, Zoe would try it.

She felt a surge of excitement and optimism. If she dedicated herself to these contests, maybe she’d actually win. She kept imagining telling Molly—how happy she’d be.

Zoe listened to the stations non-stop for the next few days, whenever she wasn’t riding. She listened in the car, with the phone number for the station programmed into her phone.

Three times she heard the Taylor Swift song and was able to call in. Two of those times she got nothing but a busy signal.

On the third time, it finally rang.
This is it
, she thought.
Please, be the right caller
, she chanted in her head. If anyone deserved the tickets, it was Molly, and Zoe had to believe that would count for something—that if there was any karma in the world it would flow her way and she would be the right caller.

“KISS 106,” a voice said.

Before Zoe could get out, “Am I the right caller?” the person answering the phone said, “We’ve already got a winner. Better luck next time.”

Better luck next time. Zoe’s shoulders dropped as she realized how pointless this was, and how pathetic she was for actually thinking she might be able to win the tickets on the radio.

That evening, she surfed Craigslist for tickets. There were several listings but she’d had a friend who’d gotten tickets off Craigslist and gone to the concert only to find out her tickets were fakes.

She decided not to risk it and called a ticket reseller she found online, Ticket Pronto.

“Do you have Taylor Swift tickets?” she asked.

“Of course we do. How many do you need and what section?”

“Two tickets. What section do you have? I guess something good.”

Molly was worth it, she thought, and she did have the money from the commission on Cruz. She could afford to spend a little of that on Molly.

“Section F, Row 15. We’ve got two.”

“How much are those?”

“Those are 1500.”

Zoe swallowed hard. “For both? I mean, apiece or together?” Did it matter? Either price was ridiculous.

“Apiece.”

“Three thousand dollars? Well, what do you have for less? Like for crappy seats?”

“We have upper balcony for 800 each.”

“Eight hundred each?” It was still completely outrageous.

“It’s a sold-out show. It’s Taylor Swift.”

Zoe felt like an idiot. She wasn’t some grandma who was trying to get tickets for her granddaughter’s birthday. She knew tickets cost a lot and she knew how popular Taylor Swift was.

Zoe ran through a mental list of her expenses, bills she needed to pay off, including the balance on her credit card. She didn’t have 1600 dollars to blow on Taylor Swift.

But she kept seeing Molly’s face. It would mean everything to her.

Zoe desperately wanted to give Molly that kind of happiness.

“I’ll take the balcony seats,” she said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Joanne paused before opening the sliding door. “Do you want to tell me first?” she asked with a hint of trepidation.

“No, that’s okay. It’ll be a surprise for you too.”

It was nearly impossible for Zoe to keep the news of the tickets to herself for most of Molly’s lesson, but she had a big reveal planned. She’d asked Kirsten if they could do the singers on the wall game again and this time she slipped the two tickets into the plastic sleeve that held Taylor’s Swift’s head shot.

Kirsten wasn’t in on the plan—she didn’t know yet about the concert. Zoe almost couldn’t contain her excitement as Kirsten asked Molly to find Beyoncé and Kelly Clarkson. Finally, Kirsten said, “Okay, Molly, I don’t even need to say her name . . .”

“Taylor,” Molly said.

The girl was happy just at the sound of the singer’s name. She was overjoyed just by having to find her likeness on a wall of the arena.

Zoe’s whole body throbbed with her own heartbeat as she waited for Molly to find the tickets. She couldn’t remember being so excited to give someone something.

Molly reached the photograph and pulled it off the wall. “There’s something in here.”

“Take a look,” Zoe said, rocking on her toes. “What is it?”

Molly held the plastic close to her face. When she seemed slow to process what the sleeve held Zoe blurted out, “It’s two tickets to see Taylor Swift in concert! I’m taking you! I got us tickets!”

Molly let go of the reins, her hands flying to her face. Noises came from her but they weren’t words. They were more like a combination of squeaks and sharp breaths. Finally, she calmed down enough to take her hands away from her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“We’re going to Taylor Swift?”

“Yes!” Zoe bounced up and down. “We’re going! We’re going!”

Zoe looked at Kirsten to see her response. Kirsten was smiling but she didn’t look as blown away and enthusiastic as Zoe had expected her to.

“I can’t even ride anymore,” Molly said. “I can’t. I’m so excited.”

“Me too,” Zoe said.

“We can finish up here for today,” Kirsten said, all business again.

Zoe led Daisy back to the mounting block.

Kirsten said, “Pat your horse and thank her for the ride.”

Joanne was just coming back in and noticed the commotion and the look on Zoe and Molly’s faces. “What’s up?”

“Mom!” Molly said. “Zoe got me and her tickets to Taylor Swift! I’m going to Taylor Swift!”

Zoe had seen plenty of horse-show-mothers trying to remain calm when they were anything but, and that was exactly what Joanne was doing. Usually this happened at the ring when their supposedly unbelievably talented daughter flubbed a big class. The mother would be trying so hard not to burst into tears or fly into a rage that her face would be arranged in a frozen half-smile. That was how Joanne looked now.

“I hope it’s okay I got the tickets,” Zoe said.

She tried to imagine what was going through Joanne’s mind—what could she be concerned about?

A late night? Zoe’s driving? Drunk people at the concert saying rude things about Molly’s disability? It was Taylor Swift, not some raucous country band where everyone in the crowd was plastered.

“It was a really nice thought,” Joanne said.

A nice thought.

Nice thoughts were actually bad ideas in mom-speak.

Maybe Molly needed certain medication. But couldn’t Zoe give it to her? What about her car? Zoe hadn’t thought of that, which she realized now was stupid. But couldn’t she borrow the minivan? She looked over at Molly’s happy, hopeful face.

Joanne got Molly loaded in the minivan, the whole time maintaining her remain-calm expression. Molly kept babbling about the concert, which didn’t help the terrible pit growing in Zoe’s stomach.

“I wonder what songs she’ll play? Will she play her new stuff? She usually has special guests too . . . who could she have this time? Maybe it’ll be someone amazing like Joe Jonas.”

When the minivan door had slid shut, Joanne led Zoe a few feet away. Zoe bit her lip, waiting for the verdict.

“She can’t go to a concert,” Joanne said flatly. “Don’t you think if she could go to a concert I would have already taken her to see Taylor Swift five hundred times?”

“Why can’t she?” Zoe said, somewhat timidly. She followed up with, “I’m so sorry. I just don’t understand.”

“Because she can’t walk into a huge stadium, go up stairs, sit in a hard-backed seat for what would be five hours by the time the opening acts play and they finally get to Taylor Swift.”

“Couldn’t we just show up late, like right before Taylor comes on?”

“When the stadium is packed full of people screaming and talking and singing? We’re going to walk in with Molly . . .
You
are going to stand behind Molly and walk her in? She can barely walk over well-lit, even ground and it’ll be dark with people’s spilled drinks and feet to trip over. It’s asking for an accident.”

“I thought maybe she could use a wheelchair. I guess we’d have to use your van. Maybe you could drive us? I didn’t think through all the details.”

“No, you didn’t. Did you get handicapped accessible seats?”

Of course she didn’t. Zoe pressed her fingers to the bottom of her eyelids, trying not to cry. Molly was so happy and excited. Now she’d be crushed.

“Look,” Joanne said. “I know you meant well. You like Molly and that’s so nice for her.”

“I do,” Zoe said. “I really like her so much.”

“I know, and you probably think I’m being overprotective and a kill-joy but you don’t know anything about what it’s like to manage her condition. She has a bad fall or gets a common cold and things can go south frighteningly fast. Her body is not like other people’s bodies and it’s not just what you see on the outside. It’s on the inside too. I
am
being overprotective because I have to be. Because her body can’t protect itself.”

“I get it,” Zoe said. “I’m so sorry. I made such a mess of all this. She’s going to be crushed.”

They were silent for a moment, each likely imagining the same thing: telling Molly there would be no concert.

“I’ll tell her,” Zoe said. “It was my stupid idea and I’ll tell her I didn’t think it through enough and it’s my fault. You shouldn’t be the one to have to tell her.”

“I’ve told her harder things before,” Joanne said.

Zoe nodded and walked back into Narrow Lane in a daze.

“Are you okay?” Kirsten said.

“She can’t go,” Zoe said despondently.

Kirsten closed her eyes briefly like she had already known the outcome.

“I hate that I did that to her,” Zoe said.

“I know you do but these kids are tough. People look at them and think they’re fragile but they’re tough.”

Kirsten was being kind but she wasn’t really making Zoe feel better.

“By the way, I wanted to let you know you’ve completed all your required hours.”

“Does that mean you want me to stop working here? Is this about what just happened—”

“No,” Kirsten rushed to reassure her. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I like being here,” Zoe said, tears flooding her eyes.

“Then keep coming,” Kirsten said, looking at her earnestly. “Okay? We like having you here.”

“You sure?” Zoe asked.

“Yes,” Kirsten said emphatically.

She’d been so intoxicated with the idea and now she’d blown her whole commission on a concert she wasn’t going to go to. She couldn’t go without Molly. That would feel all wrong. And it wasn’t even about the money. It was about Molly. Zoe kept seeing her face when she’d found the tickets in the plastic sleeve.

It was just like Zoe to rush into doing something without thinking. When would she ever learn?

And now John would undoubtedly heap on the disapproval as well.

When she drove into his farm that afternoon, she spotted him on the riding mower out in one of the fields between the barn and the house. He had ear protectors on and a straw hat and there was something incredibly sexy about seeing him out there. It was just the emotion she didn’t need to feel right now—attraction. It felt out of place, like laughing at a funeral.

She went ahead and brought Gidget out. She brushed her off and was putting on her front boots when John came into the barn. He was sweaty from being out in the sun, his neck red.

“Have you talked to your mother?” she said immediately.

“No, is something wrong?” His face looked panicked, as if something terrible had happened to Molly while he was out on the mower.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I mean your mom’s fine, Molly’s fine.” Zoe saw relief on his face. “But I fucked up royally.”

“How?”

Zoe was still holding the front boots that she hadn’t put on yet. She told John about the tickets, starting with how she had heard about the concert and thought Molly would love it. She could tell he had a sense for how the story would end as he started to grimace nearly the moment he heard her say, “Tickets to Taylor Swift.”

When she was done explaining what had happened, he said, “Poor Molly.”

“And stupid, asshole me.”

“You tried to do something nice. Your intent was good.”

“But that’s what always happens with me. My intent seems good and then what I end up doing is a big pile of dog shit.”

“Okay, it’s not the end of the world.”

“You should have seen her face when she saw the tickets . . .”

“I can imagine.”

“Now your mom totally hates me.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, she does. I’m sure of it. I want to do something to make it up to Molly but I don’t know what to do.”

“Just come over tonight,” John said. “She just wants to be around you. She likes you. She likes having a friend. Honestly, it’s that simple with her. She doesn’t need Taylor Swift tickets.”

“But she would have loved it . . .” Zoe said, wistful. “And your mother definitely doesn’t want me coming over. She probably never wants to see me again.”

“My mom’s pretty forgiving,” John said. “One time I cut up her favorite sweater to make my own custom fuzzies for a halter.”

“Seriously?” Zoe said.

“Yes, and she forgave me and took me to the tack store to buy real fuzzies.”

Thinking of John as a young boy, cutting up his mother’s sweater into fuzzies made Zoe smile.

John nodded to the boots in Zoe’s hands. “Finish tacking up. I’ll get on Oakley and meet you out there.”