Chapter 30
Bodie’s week had gone well. He’d covered four of the five poles. Three of them had been in the high eighties, and one had been a damn high ninety-three point five.
He was going to win the event one way or the other, no question, but he had to ride this bull for the eight seconds to win the championship. He had to.
He sat in the chutes waiting for the tractor to straighten up the dirt, giving the bulls a chance to get reset, and giving the audience a chance to go pee. He was just going to sit there and worry.
“And in just a few minutes, Bodie Jimenez is going to ride Roy Morneno’s Atlas, right?” He heard his name and glanced toward the announcer booth.
“Right, Atlas has been giving riders hell all week, but this is Bodie Jimenez. Reigning champion, undisputed winner of today’s event already. He’s one ride away from another championship.”
“Exactly. I mean, I don’t think there’s anyone out there who thinks Jimenez can’t sit this bull for eight. It doesn’t even have to be pretty, you know?”
The talking heads went on and on about him as Atlas was loaded up.
He wasn’t stupid. The chances of him riding this bull were the same as any rider, but he just had to focus.
Eight seconds. Just hold on.
He looked out into the seats, searching the crowd. His dad was here, his trainer. His friends, fellow riders. But he only had one set of eyes that he needed to see.
Cole wasn’t shy about being found and waved at him. “Kick that bastard’s ass, champ!”
His little group of supporters cheered and hooted and waved. He nodded, waiting.
It’d be the last ride of the season, and no matter what, this was the last bull ride of his life.
They finally got Atlas settled. “Let’s go, Jimenez, you’re up!” George Vittor, who was there to hold his vest, waved him up. Tomas was right there too, ready to pull his rope.
“Vamos fazer isso, eh?”
“Sim, amigo. Bom passeio.”
He didn’t know a lot of Brazilian, but he knew that.
Good ride.
He got his bull rope set, handing it to Tomas. There were riders everywhere, chattering at him, talking to him in Spanish, English, Portuguese, and whatever the fuck the Aussies spoke—distracting him and letting his body sink into what it needed to do.
Atlas was a pro too, and he could feel the huge muscles bunching and tensing under his thighs as he nodded.
The bull took a huge jump out of the chute, then immediately started spinning into his hand. He started going down into the well, and he corrected.
Eight seconds, motherfucker, he told himself. All I have to do is hold the fuck on.
“That’s it! Show them what you’ve got, son!”
“Hold on, Bodie! He can’t take you down!” Cole’s shout was even louder than his father’s. “Don’t you let go!”
He counted in his head, and he knew at seven seconds he was going down. It was inevitable. He made one more huge correction, keeping his free hand up, away from the bull, and he prayed, clinging like a tick.
“Hold on, hold on!” He heard all the familiar voices from the stands shouting to him.
“Oi, that’s eight, mate. Let him go.” Tommy’s voice broke through the shouting and the blood pumping in his ears. He hadn’t even heard the buzzer. “Fucking champion is what you are.”
Bodie met the bull fighter’s eyes and opened his hand, going flying off the bull and landing with a thud. He was up and running for the fence before he even thought.
“We need the final word from the judges, but if they don’t see anything off, I think he’s done it.”
It felt like the whole arena was frozen while they waited for his score. Even the announcers went quiet.
The seventy-two wasn’t great, but it didn’t matter.
It was enough.
It was a ride.
He met Cole’s eyes. He’d done it. He was a champ. Again.
Cole was grinning so wide it had to hurt, and he mouthed one word as he applauded. “Champ.”
“Take a lap, mate! You’ve done it!” Tommy gave him a push. “Go, go, go!”
He did a back flip off the top of the fence, then ran to the middle of the arena and waved to the crowd, the confetti flying like mad.
The cheers were louder than he ever remembered, and the sound guys turned the music up loud.
“Bodie Jimenez!” The announcer called his name out. “Two-time league champion!”
He pulled off his hat, waving it, his heart pounding in his chest.
He’d fucking done it.
He went through the motions—getting his big check, talking to the press, his buddies congratulations—but it was as if he was… out of his body.
The next thing he knew, he was being herded out of the arena by the bullfighters and greeted in the chutes by the cowboys. Fellow riders, handlers, all kinds of people were shaking his hand and patting him on the back, but there was no sign of the man he really wanted to see.
Bodie needed his fiancé.
Now.
When he finally saw him—standing next to Dad and Jacob, he couldn’t stop smiling. “I did it.”
“You did it. You fucking did it.” Cole pulled him into a hard hug. “I knew you would. I knew it. Congratulations.”
“I love you.” He whispered the words into Cole’s ear.
“I love you, babe.” Cole finished off the hug with a manly clap on the back. “You have some people here we need to celebrate with.”
“Not bad for a slacker.” Jacob held out his hand, grinning like a fool.
“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. Guess what?” He winked at Jacob. “You’re fired.”
“Oh, no.” Jacob shot back. “Your boss here says you have to keep in shape for your endorsements.”
“Boss.” Cole snorted.
“Son.” Dad stepped up, awkwardly not offering him a handshake or a hug. “That was something to watch. You make your old man proud.”
He stepped up and hugged his pop hard. “Thank you, Dad. Time to retire.”
“You know it. Start living the good life.”
Cole led them away from the crowd. “He’ll announce at the press thing tonight before we leave town.”
“Yeah. I want the fans gone, for the most part, so we can get it done quietly.” Bodie didn’t want a big deal. He just wanted to bow out gracefully.
Cole rolled his eyes. “There is no quiet, babe. You’re a two-time champion retiring at the top of his game. This isn’t going to be quiet.”
He grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing wrong with being a three-million-dollar cowboy, though.”
Nothing wrong with that at all.
Cole laughed at him. “Not in anyone’s book.”
“Dinner is on the champ.” Jacob crossed his arms. “And I need to raise my hourly for you.”
“Talk to the boss,” he shot back. “He’ll take care of you.”
“Are you going to change for the press conference, babe? Or go as-is?”
“I think I’ll go as-is. Then we can go have supper the bunch of us.”
Then he and Cole could go home.
In fact, he was so looking forward to their private celebrations.
“Well, let’s head over. You have a lot to say. It’s a big day.” He could see that Cole felt the same way just by looking in his fiancé’s eyes.
“Yeah.” Suddenly Bodie couldn’t even move. It had been a whole year working for this, working toward this, and now it was here, all of it.
He was terrified that it was a dream.
“You coming?” His dad’s voice seemed very far away.
“Hey.” Cole stepped right up in front of him and took his hands, giving them a squeeze. “You did it. This is good. A lot, but good. You need to get through this, and we can process it all later.”
Right. He had shit to do. He just had to do it. “I’m on it. Let’s go.”
He had a retirement to announce.