Beau gave me a small smile. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done with you, Tessa May.”
Then he stood, gathering up his kit and heading over to Branch. I looked at the man in question, unable to decipher his expression. It wasn’t friendly in any way. Jealous perhaps? Was he worried I was going to steal Beau from him?
He needn’t have worried. For as long as I could remember, you couldn’t say Branch without adding ‘and Beau’ to the end of it. Where one was, the other was probably too. Once upon a time, after I turned about five, it was Branch and Beau and Nugget. Then we’d hit junior high, and they’d noticed girls and ditched me like a sack of poo. They’d turned into pubescent assholes. Branch was talking low to Beau, his eyes on me. Whatever they were discussing was intense, because Beau was frowning, the expression off putting on his normally congenial face. I went and sat with the Brazilian riders, who gave me friendly smiles but continued their discussion. That was okay. I didn’t want a conversation. I just didn’t want to sit in the dunce corner anymore, ostracized and alone.
Wow. Pity party for one? Your table is ready.
Frankie bounded through the door, a huge smile on his face. I frowned. Did he get laid? “Are you high?” I asked, not that he ever did drugs, but you know, there was a first time for everything.
He grabbed me around the waist, and lifted me in the air. He spun me around and around, laughing, making a spectacle.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He dropped me back to my feet, his grin still wide. “Getting you a meeting with a sponsor, that's what.”
My eyes went comically wide. I dragged him down by the neck of his shirt. “Are you fucking with me?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “In front of all these people? Gatinha, I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. “But you know I’m game.”
I slapped his fingers, my cheeks reddening. “Stop it. Go back. Sponsorship?” I hissed.
He stood up, looking stupidly pleased with himself. “Yep. The head of a tech startup. She has a fetish for cowboys and feminism, which seems kind of like an oxymoron to me.”
“You're an oxymoron,” I said reflexively.
“Be nice,” he chastised. “She said that she too operates in a male dominated industry. She wants to have dinner after you ride in Fresno. Figure out numbers and contracts.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet, silently screaming in happiness. I gripped Frankie’s face and pulled him down, and kissed him hard. “You are the fucking best.”
He looked down at me a little shell-shocked, and my cheeks turned red. “Uh, I better go get my gear on.”
I turned on my heel and ran away like a chickenshit. I ignored the feel of four sets of eyes on my back.
Tonight's bull was called Jack Hammer. He was a twisty bastard, and could go left or right. But I knew, in my soul, that if he turned into my hand, I could ride him.
I was going over what I knew about the bull even as we did the walk-on. This time, there was a soft pattering of polite applause, but at least it wasn’t silence like last time. A beautiful woman in tight black leather pants sung the anthem, giving coy smiles to the cowboys. Yeah, she wanted a ride on the mechanical bull. When she looked at Branch, biting her lower lip, in the middle of the fucking anthem, I resisted the urge to walk up and tit punch her.
For desecrating the anthem. Not because I was jealous or anything. Liar, liar.
Finally, we were allowed to head back behind the chutes and out of the spotlight. I didn’t want the glory, didn’t want the adulation. I just wanted the rush. But if I was going to claw my way to the top, then I was going to have to get used to it. I was going to be a novelty for my entire career. I needed to get used to the spotlight.
I cleaned my rope, checking it for wear, generally doing the tiny little tasks that needed to be done before your ride. The routine of it all helped me center myself. Luckily, I was fourth up tonight, so there wasn’t much time before I was being hustled to the chutes by the Chute Boss.
I climbed up to the third chute, watching a veteran named Daniel McVey climb onto his bull. I watched him loop his rope around his hand, the ritual different for almost every rider but the outcome the same.
I moved along the chutes until I reached Jack Hammer. I looked up at the contractor, startling a little when it was a face I recognized. “Mr. Watson.”
“Nugget, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Jack?” Branch’s dad, my father’s former business partner, stood there grinning at me. He looked like Branch in twenty years time, and it was always a little disconcerting. But when he held out his arms for a hug, I didn’t resist. This man had helped raise me. Being raised without a mother, Branch’s mom had become my maternal figure. “Is Judy here?”
Jack nodded. “She’s out in the stands. When Branch told us you were riding, I swear she got this smug look on her face and said ‘I knew she would. That girl had it in her head that she could do anything those boys could do.’ So when I had to come and look at Jack Hammer here for breeding stock, she came. She wouldn’t miss you ridin’ for all the money in the world.”
My eyes welled with tears. I gave him another hug as the rider in chute two settled himself. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”
I didn’t miss Jack wiping his eyes on his sleeve as he looked down at his toes. “We missed you too, Nugget.” He cleared his throat. “Now get up on this bull and show me if he’s worth adding to our stock. You make sure he knows who's boss, Girl.”
Jack Hammer was a black bull with white splotches over his hind quarters. He stood happily enough in the chute, which was good. We needed them to be aggressive, but if they acted up too much in the chute and got declared a no-ride? Then we didn’t get paid.
I cast an eye over him, not as a rider, but as the daughter of one of the finest stock contractors in the US of A. He was a good size, with good lines. He was standing nice in the chutes, but Jack Hammer had been around awhile now. He knew the deal. He had good aggression, unpredictable turns, a good variation between spinning and kicking.
He was a nice bull, and probably worth the hundreds of thousands we’d sink on him. He’d retire to a paddock filled with eligible bachelorettes soon by the sound of it.
As they herded the bull in the arena back through the gates, the chute boss indicated for me to climb in. One of the chute guys threaded my rope for me and I handed it back to the rope man before I settled on the bull. A hand reached out, grabbing my vest securely, low and close to my boob. Not the guy from last week then. When I looked over my shoulder to say thanks, I saw it was Branch.
I almost lost my footing and slipped on top of Jack Hammer.
“I don’t ride for a bit. You need someone you trust.” There was no doubt in his voice that he was that person. As much as his arrogance annoyed me, he was right. There was no one else who I trusted like Branch, except Frankie. But Frankie hated watching me ride after what happened to Luiz. He always stood at the entrance, where he could hear but not see.
I nodded my thanks and settled onto the bull. I twisted my rope, tapping the rope so the ropeman could pull it tighter.
Jack Hammer leaned me into the chute a little and I winced, but someone was there pushing him off the rails and settling him back in. I wrapped my hand, making sure it was tight and snug, and when Jack Hammer jumped a bit in the stalls, Branch’s grip on my vest tugged me up a little.