The Birth of a Porn Star: Defying Daddy's Wishes (5 page)

Blaze was restless
in his stall. It made me wonder if he somehow sensed the coming change. I
opened his stall door and stepped carefully in. He whinnied nervously, scuffing
the dirt in front of him as if mimicking a bull, dragging straw to him,
stomping and nodding his head.

“I’m sorry boy. I
really am. We’ve tried everything we can think of.”

Blaze responded,
turning his head toward me as I brought his brush to his neck. I stroked
downward and wrapped my arm around his meaty throat. I so admired his strength,
his stubbornness. His muscles rippled along his powerful body and I choked back
my tears at the thought of selling him. He was a prize stallion, his golden
brown coat shined in the overhead lights of the barn. He was beautiful and he
was worth enough money to save the farm. Selling him was our last resort. The
farm was our life. It was who we were and even though I hated the chores that
came along with it, I loved everything else. I loved Blaze. In the beginning my
dad hated him. Probably because the horse was as stubborn as he was.

It was a proud
stubbornness and he showed it more so toward daddy than he did toward Bree and
I. My dad was about to sell him after a week of getting nowhere with breaking
him. Bree and I tried to convince daddy to give us a shot at breaking him. He said
no. Bree and I started working Blaze on the sly, but we made progress. Mostly
Bree. My sister showed him no fear. Fear isn’t her style. For a little twerpish
girl, she’s as brazen as they come and somehow, I think that impressed the
horse. She was such a small girl facing such a large animal, both equally
stubborn in their own ways. They faced each other in the coral, Blaze with his
hooves maneuvering to keep my sister directly in front of him, my sister with a
lasso in hand, ready to show him that she could not only string him with it,
but use it as leverage to mount him. She did too. Eventually, that damn
stubborn horse finally gave in. Bree broke him the old fashioned way, the
humanitarian way, but also the dangerous way, which is why daddy didn’t want us
trying it. Once she broke him, he proved his worth. He rode like the wind.
Neither of us could believe how fast or graceful he was. We got a good deal on
him, but he wasn’t cheap. That was back when money wasn’t so hard to come by.

I brushed him
carefully and I took my time. Normally, Bree took care of Blaze. I loved Blaze
as much as I loved any of our animals, but Blaze was Bree’s life. At sixteen,
there was nothing more important to her than mounting a saddle onto him and
keeping him in shape. Convincing her to let me brush him wasn’t easy, but I
begged her until she relented.

B. J. Moran would
be there in the morning to close the deal and take him away. It was my last
chance to bond with Blaze and she spent the day riding him. I thought letting
me brush him was fair enough. But it wasn’t easy. By the time I was half way
through his brushing, my face was soaked with my own tears. Selling him was
like selling my own brother.

By the time I
finished, my eyes burned so bad from crying that I could hardly see.

Petrie was
standing near the door waiting respectfully for me to come out. Petrie was
daddy’s hired hand. He loved Blaze too, even though you couldn’t catch him
admitting it. I was thankful for him giving me private time with Blaze, even
though his evening chores weren’t done and he couldn’t leave until they were.

“Thanks for not
interrupting, Petie,” I said through the snot building in my nostrils.

“No muss,
Precious,” he answered and I swore I saw him choking back his own tears. His
eyes were redder than normal and his handle-bar mustache seemed wet to me. He
wore his black cowboy hat low on his head, so the shadows looming over his face
made it hard to tell for sure. “We’ll all miss ‘im.”

“Don’t you think
there’s someone else who could buy him? Anyone!”

“Sure, if we drop
the price to what the other breeders could afford. Moran ain’t a saint. We all
know that, but he knows the animal’s worth and he’s willing to be fair about
it. Shit. He also knows we wouldn’t sell him for less than his worth anyway.”

“But he treats his
stock like stock. They’re nothing to him, but profit potential.”

“His ranch, his
right,” Petrie sounded off. He dipped down, picked a loose piece of straw from
the bale he had ready for Blaze’s stall and stuck it into his mouth. He sucked
on it and twirled it around between his lips. He chuckled, which surprised me.
I didn’t see what he could find that could be funny.

“What?”

“Nothing, Zipper,”
he said. He called me Zipper since I was half the size I grew to be, because
when I was younger, he said I never did anything but zip my way around the
farm. He said I never stopped for a second. It was an exaggeration, I knew, but
probably not much of one. He shook his head again. “Naw, nothing, girl. It wadn’t
as funny as my mind made it. Forget it.”

“Tell me. I could
use a laugh.”

“Shit, girl. I
cain’t bring myself to even say it. You cain’t bring yourself to sell the
animal to him let alone...”

“Let alone what?
Dammit, Petie. If there’s another way out of this.”

“Ya’self, Dallas,
but I don’t mean that. Forgit I said it. Moran would not be kind to you, girl.
Not at all.”

I smacked him on
the arm. I couldn’t believe he would even think such a thing. “Petie! That’s
gross. He’s a fat old … fucker! He can barely walk.”

“Yeah, but he’d
sell his mom to have ya.”

“Gross!” I said,
making a face at him. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have said it. That didn’t
cheer me up.”

“Warned ya,” he
said, which somehow did make me laugh.

“Gross. It’s going
to take me a month to get that image out of my head. Thanks.”

“Sorry, Precious.
Sometimes my brain thinks of shit that should never be thunk.”

I smacked him on
the arm one last time just for good measure and made my way back toward the
house. Bree sat on the back porch with her head slumped. She looked the same
way I felt, miserable. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were red. Her blonde ponytail
hung over one shoulder and she was playing with the end of it in her lap. I was
so jealous of Bree’s hair. So jealous. When she didn’t have it braided, it hung
down her back like a horse’s mane, slightly wavy, despite how thick and full it
was. Her rosy cheeks were already beginning to draw the attention of boys and
her stylish, but country way of dressing added to her draw. By the time she
reached my age and graduated high school, she would be fighting them off with a
broom. Or my dad would.

He damn near broke
Jimmy Brennart’s nose when he caught him trying to climb the trellis into my
room. He grounded me for a week, even though I didn’t invite Jimmy to do it. I
didn’t even like Jimmy Brennart. The guy’s an arrogant prick who thinks he can
lay any girl he wants. That might be true with other girls in town, but not me.
I like my guys work minded, but civil, refined When I think of a hunk, I
picture someone like Edward Lewis, the business mogul from Pretty Woman. I’d
love a guy like that—someone who’s bold and determined but refined and
debonair. Someone I could walk into a party with and every girl in the room
would burn with jealousy and envy for. That doesn’t describe Jimmy at all.
Girls liked him and wanted him, but he was crude and selfish, talking about the
girls he was with after he was done with them. He reminded me more of Moran
than anything else, which always made my skin crawl.

I walked up and
knelt down next to Bree. Just hearing her sniffle brought my tears back to me.
As if I needed them. I couldn’t help it and before long, we were holding each
otherbawling our eyes out like two brats mourning their dog. In a way, that’s
exactly what was happening. Blaze wasn’t about to die, but to us, he may as
well be dying.

“I hate Moran,
Dallas. That’s what makes this so horrible. He’s going to Moran!” She leaned
back and looked at me as if I could come up with a different answer, but I couldn’t.
The farm needed the quarter of a million dollars that Blaze could bring to it.
I had no way of accomplishing that any other way. If I could, I would. There
was nothing I wouldn’t do to stop Moran from taking Blaze from her. Nothing.

“I know it sweetie.
I know. It sucks, but we have to stay positive. Blaze has a strong spirit. If
anyone knows that, you do.”

“That’s what
terrifies me, Dallas. I’m the only person in the world Blaze will let ride him.
The only person. How do you think Moran will deal with that?”

“Moran don’t give
two shits about riding a horse. He breeds his stallions.”

“Bull shit,
Dallas! You know he shows the horses with riders. That’s how he gets people to
want how he sets the deal. Blaze will have to be broken and Moran doesn’t break
them the way we do. We do it with compassion and love. He does it with force. I
hate this. I hate it … hate it!”

“Me too,
Chipmunk,” I said, lifting her braid in my hand. “I hate it too.”

“No you don’t.
You’re leaving in the fall. Two weeks and you’re gone. College is all you care
about. College and being in a big city.”

“Is that what you
think?”

“Isn’t that your
plan? Miami University, a thousand miles away? You don’t really care about this
farm, or the horses, or our life. You want to get away.”

Ouch
. What she was saying was true to an
extent. Farming wasn’t in my blood the way it was with mom before she died, or
dad’s, or Bree’s. I loved the horses. I loved the peace, but I hated the other
aspects of living on a farm. I didn’t like the smell of pigs or cleaning a
cow’s stall. I didn’t like planting and I hated harvest time. What I hated more
than anything was the uncertainty and being sweaty all the time. It seemed like
every year, we were worried about the weather and what it would do for that
year’s yield. Some years were wonderful and it was during those years that we
were able to add a filly or two, but this year, we would be losing our prize
reward. I wanted a more refined life. I wanted a life where I could afford the
horses, but pay someone else to care for them.

I wanted to debate
Bree. Her opinion was the only opinion in the house that still mattered to me.
My dad wasn’t the same since my mom passed. Most of the time I had no idea what
was going through his head. He went through the motions, but that was about it.
He didn’t give me the chance to argue with her.

“Come in here,” he
said, poking his head at the screen from in the kitchen.

I went into the
house and my dad was leaning against the counter with a beer in his hands. The
can was dented and I could tell by the size of the imprints that he was half
way to bent. The drunker he got, the stronger his grip on the beer can. That’s
how it always went. By the time he was close to finished, his cans would look
like they were run over by a bicycle.

“She’s right, ya
know,” he said, tipping his can toward the back porch. “Ya ain’t got no right
plannin’ ta leave us this fall. We can barely keep the shit goin’ as ‘tis.”

“I’ve worked hard
for this, dad. I have a right to make my own choices.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THE
MEANIN’ OF HARD, GIRL!” he hollered, slamming his beer onto the counter next to
him. It squished as he slammed it, forcing foamy beer to gush out, spilling
onto the counter, dripping to the floor. “You think you work hard? Shi’it! You
ain’t pulled your weight around this farm since you was twelve! Bree? Now that
girl pulls her damn weight and some a yours too! Fuck me?
You
? work hard?”

“I meant that I’ve
worked hard at school, like mom told me to. Like she made you promise you would
let me do!”

“AND I DID,
DAMMIT! DIDN’T I? Did I ever keep you from your studies? No, not once! Did I
ever tell you not to plan for college?”

“Isn’t that what
you’re doing now?”

“Fuck yeah! We’re
about to start losin’ shit, Dallas!”

I started
clenching my fists at my sides.
Not my fault! “
So I’m to blame for the
rain now? Is that it?”

“Yer the matri …
matri … Mom.”

“Matriarch, dad?
I’m the Matriarch? Is that what you’re saying? Didn’t you just finish telling
me that I don’t do enough around here?”

“But you do work
and Bree needs ya. I need ya. Ya keep my eyes pointed forward,” he said, first
jabbing two fingers at the bridge of his nose and then pointing them straight
ahead. “Sides. I never said you didn’t work. You just always have your
prioritizin’ somewares else. Drop the college shit, and focus on the work ta be
done around here and we gota shot at keepin’ our heads above the water. Family
first, dammit! Every mom knows that!”

“I’m not the mom,
dad. Get that through your head. She died. She’s dead. She’s gone. She left us!
Not just me. Not just you and not just Bree. She left all of us.”

“Not by choice,
she didn’t. You remember that, girl.” He had his fingers pointed right at me.
Two of them, curled around each other like snakes making love, directed right
at my forehead. “Your mother was all woman and she knew what was important.
You’d do well to model yerself after her.”