by Huckster

Created on: April 26, 2008

Flight for a Queen

She came into the restaurant and picked a large table in the center of the dining hall. When she strutted past my table, there was no mistaking Miss Macario, Regional Rodeo Queen, or something like that. I never did find out her official title in the bronco busting world. In addition to her usual elite clan of rough riding fans, she gained a new following in the last few days. These spell bound subjects hung at her heels like unworthy serfs begging for a royal favor.

They shuffled around the table, fighting for chairs closest to their star. Miss Macario had a cute face and bright smile to go with her skill as a rider. But now that she was a queen, she didn't compete much in the bronco busting shows.

For me, one thing was certain: I'd never think or look at her the same again. Not that I had any interest in her at all before that morning two weeks ago, but I never expected to see a completely different side of her, when she called me up at 5 a.m. on a Sunday.

That morning I fought to pull my eyes open as the phone blared under my pillow. My back ached and told me to stay put. I had put up with a late night of, "escorting," a special birthday party for a couple of teens and their friends. Their smooth talking parents persuaded me to baby sit their brats for one night. My other drivers in my small taxi and limousine service were supposed to have the night off, so, gullible as I am, I gave in, just for the extra bucks.

If I lay there long enough, I thought the phone would quit ringing. Of course it didn't. The ear piercing squeal gnawed at the nerves in my head, and I think I let out a scream. I grabbed the cell phone and killed the ringer before I pulled it out and pressed the button to answer the call.

"I haven't had much sleep, so this better be good!"

"Is this Will? Willard Konrad?" the female voice asked.

"You found him," I moaned.

"This is Ravyn Macario. We haven't got much time. Meet me in the parking lot at-"

"Ravyn Macario...." I sat up and switched on the light. My head was so numb I wasn't sure if
I heard the name before. Then I pieced together a news clip from TV and a few articles in the paper. "Miss Macario, the rodeo rider?"

"Yes. Now, get over to the Weston Hills Church. I'll meet you there in the parking lot."

This woman had too much energy for anyone at five o'clock in the morning. Obviously this queen thought she could dish out orders to whomever she pleased. She seemed to be that type who was raised to think she was something special.

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