Natural Attraction (39 page)

This is of course funny because I’ve known Evie just about as long as
Bree has.  Knowing this, I am going to assume that Bree’s
drunk,
drunk. 

Just like me.

Why are we drunk?  We’re drunk because earlier today, we finished a grueling one-hundred and sixty kilometer endurance ride.  Having finished with varying levels of success, we are now celebrating. 

Evie is celebrating because, as usual, she took line
honors.  This also means that she won the middleweight division.  Evie’s sister’s husband and his nephew Chris are no doubt celebrating too.  That would be because they came in equal first heavyweight.  The two other family members riding for Walker Endurance also won Lightweight and Junior.  This means that it was once again a clean sweep for Walker Endurance.  Something that happens a lot.  It also means their entire camp is celebrating, hard.

Bree
and I are celebrating because we completed our ride successfully.  We were middle runners in the middleweight section.  Not as experienced as the members of Walker Endurance, we didn’t ride to win.  We rode to complete.  In a sport with the motto, ‘To complete is to win’, my sister Bree and I are happy to complete.   For us, completing is just as good as winning.

For us, completing means we have worked hard to ensure our horses are fit.  It also means we have ridden our horses carefully through the ride.  This is something that any rider would be proud of and it makes us feel like winners too.   Because we feel like winners as well, we are celebrating, hard.

Not that I had meant to celebrate
this
hard.  I usually don’t.  Usually I am a lot quieter than this.  Usually, I have two beers, a giggle with Bree and then I go to bed.  I do this so I can be up early the next day to tend to my horse.  I don’t like being lazy and I don’t like sleeping in. 

I also don’t normally socialize after rides.  I like to have my two beers in the privacy of our float.  This means I only usually drink them with
Bree, or by myself.  Bree is accustomed to this and she will often sit with me while I have my two beers.  She will then bid me good night and head off to spend the rest of the night celebrating with Evie and various other camps.

So not only is it funny to hear
Bree wants to introduce me to somebody I already know, it is funny that she thinks I will even want to.  She has worked out that I am drunker than is normal for me and clearly she plans to take advantage of it.

I hold my breath as I try to listen harder and confirm her location.  It doesn’t take long before I hear her calling again.

“Tay, sissy, sissy, wissy.  Are you a little pissy?  ‘Cause if you are, come to the Walker camp, I’ve got someone I want you to meet!”

Am I a little pissy?

Hell yes I am!  I
am
drunk enough to take her bait and head over to the Walker camp for an introduction to somebody I already know. 

Which is funny too.
 

Well perhaps not that funny.  Not funny because the reason I am so drunk is that my first two beers hit rock bottom.  Rock bottom meaning they landed on an empty stomach.  An empty stomach caused by the gastro I had for the three days leading up to this ride.  The gastro that made me do the entire ride nibbling on tiny dry crackers for fear of a relapse. 
A relapse that would have put me out of the ride.

So now I was on my fourth beer and things were getting messy.  Worrying that she will start calling out more ridiculous things to me, I quickly grab a
fifth
beer and decide to join her. 

Why not?  Sounds fun.  I think.

Checking the horses one final time, I decide that all is well and I can safely abandon camp.  Setting out towards the Walker camp, I make it a full two steps before I freeze solid.  I freeze solid because I realize that I should not go empty-handed.  No one goes to a party
empty-handed.

Conducting a quick mental inventory, I decide that I don’t have much to take.  Turning back to our float, I head to our food stash and start loading up.  The pickings are slim.  Two apples, half a muesli bar (
Bree must have eaten the first half), a packet of barbeque shapes and a tomato.

Balancing all the booty on one arm, I then dig around in the
esky and find the remaining single beer from my six pack of Heineken and decide I should take that too.

Now equipped with offerings, I feel much better about attending the party and cheerfully stride off towards the Walker camp.

Navigating my way through various camps and mobile yards, I make my way to the noisiest camp at the ride.  I can hear loud music thumping and plenty of conversation as I approach.  On unsteady feet, I soon find myself staggering into the Walker camp.   Clutching my booty close to my body, I hear Bree squeal with delight.   Launching from a deck chair, she starts swaying towards me squealing,   “You came!”

Delighted with myself for navigating the entire trip without falling over or dropping any of my booty, I grin stupidly at her.

“I did.”  I announce happily.

My happiness lasts a full two seconds before I realize that something is not right.  Dragging my eyes from my sister as she sways toward me, I look around the camp.  I do this because suddenly I realize the camp is dead silent, except for the music.  All conversations have stopped.

Scanning the large group of people, I notice everyone is staring at me.

“Um… why’s everybody staring at me?” I ask
Bree as she wobbles to a standstill in front of me.

“’Cause it’s rare for you to come out at night,” she slurs.  “Everyone knows you are a recluse.  They all want to see what the rare and beautiful Taylor Jackson looks like after dark.”

I quickly roll what she has said through my addled mind and decide the only word I heard was beautiful so all is well.  Splitting my face into a massive grin, I proudly announce, “I brought snacks!”

Bree
sways towards me slightly and then backwards again.  I see confusion cross her face as she pins her gaze on the booty I have clutched to my chest.

“You brought a tomato?”  She asks confused.

“Sure did,” I announce cheerfully.  “We can have it sliced on barbeque shapes.”

“Okay…” She slowly rolls her eyes at me.  “You put your tomato over there,” she points to a table, “then
come sit with me and Evie
.
”

I then hear a snort of laughter come from my left.  I swing to see a pretty, brown haired woman break into a huge smile and start laughing, loud.  She looks vaguely familiar but my beer addled brain has trouble registering who she is.

“She brought a tomato!  That’s almost better than my efforts at catering.  I like her!”

This laughing soon sets off peals of laughter all around the camp and then a few conversations resume.

Seemingly I am no longer the center of attention, thank God.

Bree
reaches out and grabs me by the elbow.  Guiding me to a large outdoor setting type table, she signals I should offload my booty.  Carefully placing it all on the table, I notice that my booty looks a bit out of place.  This would be because the table is covered in a veritable feast of leftovers resembling a traditional backyard party.  There are trays of meat, vegetables and salads.  There is also a bowl of trifle, a half-eaten pavlova and a chocolate ripple cake.

Crikey, these guys know how to cater!

I quickly decide my tomato looks lonely so I pick it up again and drop it on top of a bowl containing a garden salad.   Deciding it looks happier there, I grab my half drunk beer and turn back to Bree.

Putting it to my mouth, I take a large swig as
Bree starts introductions.  First she introduces me to the brown haired woman, who is Ashleigh Walker.  I of course realize this as soon as she tells me (she is Evie’s older sister), but being rather drunk, I obviously have beer goggles on and didn’t recognize her.

She then introduces me to a whole swag of Walkers sitting around the outdoor setting including Ro, David, Mel, Bec, Ryan,
Jasmin, Jax and a couple of other riders visiting their camp.    She then grabs me by the elbow and guides me to another smaller table sitting near an extended float where Evie is sitting with three men.  One of these men I already know.

Chris Walker.

Every single female in the endurance association knows who Chris Walker is.  That’s because he is gorgeous.  He is flat-out swoon worthy.  The guy with the movie star looks who’s known for his womanizing ways.  The guy that most women don’t care if he is a womanizer, especially if he is paying them attention.  The guy that I suspect has slept his way through most of the single female endurance association as well as some of the not so singles as well.

He is also the guy that’s known for his inability to uphold any continuing relationship with any females other than those in his family.  All women are one-night stands and he never travels the same road twice. Funnily, not many of the women care.  Most take it on the chin that they get one-shot at him and take what he is offering, if he offers it.

Not that any of this matters to me.  Yes, I have to admit the guy is drop-dead gorgeous.  I also know there is no way a guy like him is
ever
going to take any interest in me.  I know this because not only am I pathologically shy when it comes to men and relationships, I am also the woman who admires men from afar but never approaches.  This would not be the sort of woman who would attract Chris’s attention.  Not when he has hordes of woman always swooning over him, competing for his attention.

I turn my attention back to
Bree who is now conducting introductions.  The two other men sitting with Evie and Chris are introduced as Rob and Steve, riders from another camp.  Watching the way Bree plonks herself down on Steve’s lap to leave a chair vacant for me, I have a fair idea why they are visiting the Walker camp.

Pointing to the chair between Evie and Chris that she recently abandoned,
Bree urges me to sit down.

I look to see Evie smiling broadly at me before I briefly cast a glance at Chris.  I only do this long enough to discover whether he cares that I will be sitting next to him or not.  By the drunken, relaxed, friendly look on his face, I decide to guess not.

Taking a seat, I manage to angle my chair in such a way that my back is slightly turned to Chris.  I do this because I know that even though I am two sheets to the wind and feeling bold, there is still no way I will be bold enough to converse with the likes of Chris Walker.

I take another long pull on my beer and decide to focus my attention back onto
Bree and the reason I am here.

“So who am I here to meet?” I ask cheerfully, waiting to catch her out at her game and be introduced to Evie.  I watch her eyes sparkle mischievously.  She throws a glance to Evie who I now notice is looking just as cheeky.  She is grinning madly at me as well.  Waiting patiently for them to let me in on their private joke, I take another pull on my beer.

“Your V-Man Tay!” Bree announces excitedly, bouncing in Steve’s lap as her and Evie start to cackle hysterically at one another. 

Confused, and not knowing what a V-Man is, I raise my eyebrows and ask innocently, “What’s my V-Man?”

“Not what’s your V-Man Tay,
who's
your V-Man.”  She continues with her ridiculous drunken cackling.  I see that Steve and Rob are now both chuckling too, clearly I am missing something.

“What is
my
V-Man then?” I have no idea what the hell she is talking about.

I watch as she gains control of her cackling and pins her drunken gaze on me.

“The guy that Evie and I have organized to take your V-Card!”

Oh my god.

Did she just say she has organized someone to take my virginity? 

What the fuck?

I may be drunk, but not
that
drunk.  I am also not too drunk that I am not now
totally
embarrassed.  Embarrassed that not only has my virginity status been a topic of conversation, it has been a topic of conversation in front of two strange men
and
Chris Walker.  Possibly even the entire Walker camp.

Shoot me now.

Better still, where can I find a gun because I am going to shoot Bree.  And Evie.  Who does this?  Who has conversations about their little sisters’ virginity status with a group of strange men?  Who then organizes for someone to help her lose it?

No wonder everyone was staring at me when I arrived.  The evening’s conversation on the reclusive Taylor Jackson, twenty-two year old virgin must have been enthralling.

Shrinking into my seat I feel horror wash over me.  This has to be the cruelest joke ever.  

“You organized
what?
” I whisper, focusing my gaze on her eyes and putting my best effort into a death stare.

“Evie and I organized your first root honey!  You’re gunna love him.  At first we bounced the idea of hiring you a male hooker for the night.  We both figured you were actually drunk enough to give one a go.  But then, lucky for you, we didn’t need a hooker.  Someone offered up their services for free! It’s not often you get this drunk and we thought we needed to take advantage of this rare opportunity.  ”