Chapter 27
W e had to check out at ten a.m. and when Dylan still wasn’t back, we loaded his gear into the truck and took it with us.
We waited around in the parking lot for an hour, Beau blowing up his phone, but all his calls were going straight to voicemail.
Finally we left, Frankie driving my truck and Branch in his.
I could see Branch struggling, not being with me, but I needed the space anyway.
Needed to comprehend this whole clusterfuck in silence.
Frankie knew when I needed silence. We’d drive all the way to Mesquite today, on the Nevada/Arizona border. Without Dylan.
My phone rang and I almost ignored it. But it might be Dylan or someone for the WbrP.
“Hello?”
“Tessa? It’s Caly. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you’d seen…”
“The massive headline calling me a whore? Yeah, I’ve seen it. Was it you?”
“Excuse me?”
Calypso was the only person I had told. And then two weeks later it was on the news? That was a little too much of a coincidence. “Did you tell the press that I was sleeping with the guys?”
Caly made a noise somewhere between a screech and a growl.
“Girl, I know you're hurting so I’m going to let that one slide, but I would never, ever sell out a friend like that. And I like you, Tessa, so I’m going to consider you a friend even though you just insulted the shit out of me.
To answer your question, no, I did not tell the press you had four boyfriends, even though I don’t think it's something you should be ashamed of.
“ She lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper through the line.
“But I might be able to help. Where are you staying this week?”
“Mesquite.”
She was silent for a long time. “Skip it and come to Vegas. Meet me at the Luxor tomorrow night. Bring your guys.”
I cleared my throat. “Dylan isn’t with me but the rest of us will meet you there.”
“Oh, Honey.” Calypso’s voice was filled with sympathy, and I was going to fucking break down into a heaving, sobbing mess. Again.
“It’s fine,” I choked out. “We’ll see you then.”
“Okay, Girl. You have my number. Just… don’t use your phone much until you meet up with me, okay?”
“Um, sure?”
With some pleasantries, I ended the call. “That was fucking weird.”
I repeated what Caly had said to Frankie, and he frowned. “Why shouldn’t we use our phones?”
I shrugged and went back to feeling miserable. Just what I needed, another problem to rub salt in the raw wound of my heart.
Despite what Calypso had said, we decided to spend at least one night in the hotel in Mesquite.
It was a tiny town with barely any people, and the hotel was so quiet we were the only guests.
There was a cloud of sadness, overlaid with barely restrained rage, that seemed to wrap around our group all through dinner at a divey little Mexican place and well into the night.
They surprised the hell out of me by all crawling into the one bed with me that night.
Frankie and Branch on either side of me, Beau at the bottom of the bed, my feet on his chest as he rubbed the arches.
It wasn’t sexual. It was comforting and even though my brain was whirling a million miles a second, I went off to sleep bracketed on all sides by their warmth and their strength.
The following morning I woke up less sad and more angry. How dare they fucking breach my privacy like that? How dare they shame me like this is the fucking eighteenth century and my only worth was how close to my virginity I was!
That rage had me slamming around in the bathroom and all the guys staying well and truly out of my way. I would just rant and rave, and they would all agree. Smart men.
When housekeeping knocked on the door to our room at 9:30, I was in fine form.
But it wasn’t housekeeping on the other side of the door. It was Dylan.
All the fire left me like I’d been doused. He looked terrible. His hair stuck up at odd angles and he looked like he hadn’t slept. He was in the same clothes, and they were rumpled. “Tessa…”
I swallowed hard, and opened my arms. The look of relief on his face was heartbreaking. He rushed into my arms and squeezed me tight, pulling back to pepper my face with kisses.
“I’m so fucking sorry that I’m such an idiot.
So goddamn sorry. I love you. I know it's probably too soon to say that, but I was staring at the bottom of my tenth glass of whiskey and I asked myself what I was more miserable about? Losing my sponsor? Or the look of sadness on your face when I left? And the answer was so damn clear, Tessa. So damn clear. Fuck them. Let them pull my sponsorship. I’ll scrape by.
I’ve got enough saved to pay the entrance fees. But I can’t do it without you.”
He kissed me with so much feeling, I felt tears track down my cheeks. He kissed away each one and then just hugged me to his chest like he could make us one person.
“It’s okay, Dylan. You had to work some shit out. It’s okay. I love you too.”
Branch made a rude noise. “I was giving you another day and then I was going to track you down and beat the smart back into you. You’re family now asshole. We’ve got you. Let the sponsors pull your contracts. We are for better or for worse.”
Gah. My heart. “One thing is for sure. Whoever wrote that article is not getting away with it. I’ll sue their asses for defamation of character. I know some good lawyers.” The firm that had handled my estate were friends of my father. They’d kick some serious stalker ass.
I dragged Dylan to the bathroom. We had half an hour to be out of here and on our way to Vegas, and I was personally going to show Dylan that he’d made the right decision.
I might have imagined the weird looks I was getting when I walked into the hotel bar inside the Luxor, but this whole thing was making me paranoid.
The guys were spread out around me, Branch striding in out front, looking ready to maim anyone who so much as spoke to me out of turn.
I spotted Calypso with two other people.
One was her cameraman, Matty, and a woman I didn’t recognize.
They were all talking quietly in a booth right at the back of the bar, their faces serious.
Caly looked up when she sensed us approaching, and the smile she gave me was genuine.
I was going with my gut on this one, taking her at her word that she didn’t sell us out.
Frankie was more skeptical, but I hoped she was going to prove us wrong.
She looked over at Dylan. “Good to see you pulled your head out of your ass, Montaigne,” she said, and now she looked a little pissed on my behalf. Yeah, she was on my side.
“I grovelled hard,” he admitted sheepishly.
She gave a firm nod. “I hoped it involved copious orgasms for pain and suffering. Come sit.”
We slid into the empty side of the booth, and Beau kissed my cheek. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
I squished between Frankie and Dylan, and Branch pulled up a chair from an empty table nearby.
“This is Patience O’Fey, from the Chronicle. The paper that published the article.” My eyes narrowed, and Caly held up a hand. “She didn’t write it, but she knows who did. I called in a few favors to find out.”
My stomach churned as I waited for the taa daa moment.
“And?” Branch asked impatiently.
Caly flicked him an annoyed look. “It was Stan Wilfred Senior. He hired a private investigator to trail you around and gather dirt. He wants you out of the competition and banned from the WbrP. I have it on good authority that they are holding an emergency board meeting about the PR disaster now in California.”
My heart fell to my feet. Shit. I looked at Dylan, whose jaw was flexing. Then I looked at Frankie and Branch. Just yesterday they’d stood in front of me and told me that they loved me more than bull riding, and now it was my turn to decide.
Beau placed a drink in front of me, something with an obnoxious yellow umbrella. I glanced up at him, my eyebrows nearly hitting my hairline. “This is the weirdest looking beer I’ve ever seen.”
He slid in beside Dylan. “I told them to give me their happiest cocktail.” He screwed up his nose. “I saw how much liquor went into that thing. If that doesn't make you happy, you won’t care after the first sip.”
Fuck. I loved them. I loved them more than bull riding. More than my soapbox. If it came down to a choice, well, there was no damn choice. But I wasn’t going down without a fight. They picked the wrong woman to screw with, I’d make sure of it.
Senior was going to wish he’d never crossed me.
“They better decide in the right direction, otherwise I am going to shake up this industry alright. I’m going to bring the misogynistic old fucks to their knees.”
Caly blew out a breath. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Because I’ve got a plan, and it's going to be rough. But once it's done, neither Wilfred scumbag will ever walk over another person ever again. That's where Patience comes in.”
As Caly unloaded her plan, I chugged my cocktail and the happy buzz I was getting both softened the blow of her words and raised my ire for the men who decided to derail my career because they were too selfish to see past what they wanted.
They were goddamn animals, and sometimes rabid foxes needed to be put down.
The fire in Calypso’s eyes told me she was happy to be the one pulling the trigger.
It was simple really. We were using their own rope to hang them. Their own tactics to sink them to the bottom of the pit of filth they liked to wallow in. But I didn’t understand why Calypso felt so strongly about it.
“I’m in, but I want to know why you’re willing to do this. You have to know it’s career suicide, right?”
Caly shrugged. “What good is a career if I can’t rest easy at night?” Matty gripped her hand and lifted his chin toward us.
“You should tell them so they understand.”
Caly took a deep breath. “Stan Wilfred Senior is my father.”
Well, I didn’t see that one coming.