14. Indie
Chapter 14
Indie
T his rodeo is bigger than the last two which means the prize pot is higher. There are also events I’ve never seen before on the second day. Like mutton busting. And let me tell you, mutton busting is the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen.
Small children dressed in their best western gear and little helmets are put on the backs of big, fluffy sheep. They just have to hold on as long as possible and the one who holds on the longest wins. Many of them fall off right away, and their little faces scrunch up before the waterworks start. Then they hear the crowd cheering and forget all about it, waving to the people. Nothing could have prepared me for the cuteness overload.
The rodeo events themselves are between two p.m. and four thirty p.m. every day. And my guys are performing at all of them. The opportunity for them to make a lot of money is high, and if Ramiro is doing the bareback and saddle, the chances of injury are also higher. Tripp, well, he always has the chance to get hurt. Beau purposely chases the adrenaline that comes with that.
I still haven’t gotten over his words from the day prior. Something about that man stirs every bad intention in me. It would probably be a mistake, but also. . . I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life that haven’t been half as fun as this would be. Maybe that’s just the little devil on my shoulder talking dirty. The angel must have taken the day off.
The women with blue handprints are still numerous through the crowd, but here, there are also families with the handprint, children even. Little kids scream their excitement when Beau steps out on the dirt, and he caters to them more than anyone else. One particular little boy sitting at the lowest point of the stands has a blue handprint on his shoulder. He sits perched in a wheelchair, his mom right beside him in a matching shirt. The cameras pan around the arena as Beau leaps over the bull, chalk flying in the air, and that little boy screams in excitement. That’s what gets Beau’s attention. The scream.
I watch as Beau darts across the dirt, the announcer talking about his movements uncertainly, clearly not understanding what he’s about to do. But I understand. I see it happening and I pull out my phone to take pictures. Beau springs up onto the metal railing and flips over it, making the crowd scream, but his eyes are only on the little boy in the wheelchair. I watch, enamored, as he kneels down to say something to the little boy. I can’t hear it. No one can over the roaring of the crowd—but whatever he says, it makes the little boy’s face light up. He shakes his hand and then stands, but not before he presses his chalk covered hand on the boy’s shoulder, leaving his signature blue handprint behind. The boy starts crying happily and my heart softens just a little more toward the rodeo clown.
“Damn, there’s just something about that man that makes everyone lose their shit, ain’t there?” one of the journalists beside me says. I haven’t seen this one before, haven’t talked to her, and I’m slightly surprised she bothers to speak to me.
“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s the daredevil nature of him. I think it just sends people into a frenzy.”
“That makes sense,” she nods, smiling at me. “I’m Vanessa by the way.” She holds her badge up. “ProRodeo Weekly.”
I hold up mine. “Indie Chen. Saddle & Spur.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Indie,” she says, smiling. The corner of her eyes crinkle. “You know, you look very familiar. Have we followed the same circuits?”
I shake my head. “We haven’t met before.”
Her brows furrow. “Are you sure? I swear I’ve seen you before.” She taps her lip with her pen. “And the name?—”
Fuck. I’d thought I’d escaped it in this industry.
“It’s a pretty common name,” I try, looking away.
Her face lights up. “No! I know you! I remember now! You’re the one who’s dad?—”
“Sorry,” I interrupt, turning away. “I gotta go. I’ll catch you later.”
Which is a lie. I won’t. In fact, I’ll avoid her like the plague the rest of the rodeo. I haven’t run into anyone who knew my history, not in this industry, but clearly, it had been silly to think it wouldn’t ever catch up to me.
I glance back only to see Vanessa leaning over to another journalist. My worst fear hits when she points over to me, clearly explaining who I am. Motherfucker. I’m already the outsider. Now I’ll be the freak, too.
By the time I get out of the arena, I know the rumors are already spreading, evolving, growing worse. There’ll be no escaping it. Not anymore.
My phone rings. The same caller as always. I hit the red button angrily and shove it in my pocket before storming back to my shitty motel to rot.