Chapter 11 #2
The gate opened and Charles watched intently. He was just as disappointed as everyone else when the ride only lasted five seconds. “Bummer. That was quite a landing though. These guys can really take a beating.”
“Yes, sir.” It was a brutal sport, and getting hurt was inevitable. It was just a matter of how bad and when.
“Oh! That’s…uh. Mack? Right?” Charles pointed to the bullfighter. “He just gets right in that bull’s way. Wow.”
“Yes. He’s the team lead, and he’s fearless. He’s together with the sound guy. His best friend is the safety man. The guy on the horse. He’s a bit of an asshole, but he’s okay.” And a horndog and a half.
Times three.
Charles chuckled. “An okay asshole. Well, I love watching him ride, as if he and that horse have one mind or something.”
“I’ve never met anyone better, and my brothers and folks are all riders.” It wasn’t that he didn’t know how, of course he did. He’d just been riding bulls for a long damn time.
Charles nodded and watched the next several bulls out of the chute with interest. He asked about scoring and how they picked the bulls. He asked about the order of the riders. He asked what the payout was everyone was gunning for. “So some riders have helmets and some have hats…?”
“The helmets are safer, but some riders feel like they mess with your balance. Some riders just want the hat. It’s a preference thing. Some leagues made it necessary, but ours hasn’t.” He hadn’t worn one, but he was a balance rider, not a strength one. Roper didn’t wear one either.
“How well is Roper really riding? He said he thinks he’ll make the finals. Do you think he could win? Is he that good?”
What was he supposed to say? No? He didn’t think so? He thought Roper would make some good money and have a good time but not win. “The numbers aren’t in his favor to win the whole thing, but he can win tonight’s event, or any number of things.”
Charles nodded. “He’s your family, so that wasn’t a fair question, I suppose. I am looking forward to watching him ride regardless.” Charles bumped shoulders with him in a friendly, supportive way.
“He’s good. Damn good. Better than me.” Now, at any rate. He’d been damn fine, once upon a time.
“Better than you? Are you sure?” Charles leaned back in his seat. “I have a confession to make. I googled you.”
“Of course you did.” That made perfect sense. “I googled you too. We’re living together. It would be silly to not make sure we weren’t serial killers, right?”
Charles snorted. “I suppose I’m naive. I hadn’t thought to google you until I found out you’d been a bull rider. I trusted the agency to send me someone without serial killer tendencies. Then again, I fully expected to decide within days that I didn’t need or want an assistant.”
“Well, I’ve never worked for an agency. I wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for Roper, you know? I never would have thought of it.” And wouldn’t that have been a shame?
“Roper got you the job? Did he know someone?”
“Yes, sir. He and the owner had been, uh, boyfriends.” His cheeks were going to set on fire.
“Ah. Well, it’s good to have connections. I’m glad this one worked out in your favor, if not theirs.”
“Oh, they’re still friends. They were just bad together, I guess. Roper said Rog wasn’t into the same stuff.” And that was enough information, full stop.
It didn’t seem like Charles thought anything of it. “And as you can see, I didn’t fire you, so it’s working out well for us. I’m having a good time and we still have the whole weekend—whoa! That guy made it! That was amazing!”
They all cheered, and he watched the score come up. Oh, a ninety. The confetti guns were—
BANG!
They were suddenly covered in colored paper.
“Oh!” Charles jumped and then started to laugh and waved his arms in the falling confetti. “You didn’t warn me!”
“Ninety-point rides get confetti!” He cracked up, taking a single piece to save for his collection. He’d date it later.
“Thanks.” Charles was grinning and his eyes lit up in a way that made him look so much younger than he was. He noticed that Charles took two pieces for himself, which then disappeared into the man’s pockets. “We need more ninety-pointers. That was amazing.”
“Who’s the newbie, Ryder?” Rope’s husband leaned over to grin at him.
Oh Lord. “This is my good friend, Mr.” Charlie. “Charles.”
That was almost a whoops.
“Hey, Charles. I’m Jude. Welcome to the family section.”
“Thank you very much. I feel so privileged.”
“Are you enjoying the show?”
“I really am. This is so much fun. I’m just amazed by these riders.”
Jude nodded approvingly. “There will be more confetti. And some other fun things.”
“Looking forward to it.” Charles was surprisingly friendly for someone who had seemed so introverted at first.
“Where are the babies, y’all?” Between them, Sky and Beckett and Rope and Jude had five ranging in age from two to twelve.
Sky chuckled. “Staying with Beck’s folks at our place.”
Jude nodded. “Ours are with Rope’s parents. This is a short but grown-up vacation.”
Charles still seemed giddy from the confetti. “Speaking of grown-up, have you tried the adult milkshakes? You really must try them.”
“Ooh…” Sky and Beck spoke together, while Rope and Jude gave each other a meaningful glance.
“We have to get some after the event.”
“Highly recommended. Roper’s suggestion.” Charles was watching the riders again.
Beckett’s eyes rolled. “Should have known. I bet he’s glad to have you here, Ryder.”
“He’s doing fine without me.”
Sky caught his gaze, winked. He got it. Sky hadn’t quit on his own terms either.
“Both of those things can be true at the same time.” Charles stretched out an arm and rested it along the back of his seat.
“I think you’re right.” He offered Charles a smile, unsure if he should lean back into the touch or not. He decided to relax. If Charles moved, that would let him know.
“When does he ride?” Charles asked—without moving. “How do they decide what order?”
“There are five sections. The top ten will ride in the short-go. The top three riders tonight will be in the money. And then they do it all over again tomorrow.” He let himself just breathe and relax.
“So we get to watch the same guys have another shot tomorrow?” Charles’s arm was still resting on his seat—not his shoulders, but he could feel the man’s warmth all the same.
“And Saturday. Then the Sunday short-go is for the event win and the big money. The points are cumulative.”
“Got it. Do people put money on this sport like they do on football and such?”
“I’m sure they do, but—I mean, there are a ton of variables, right?” The bull, injuries, the cowboy, whether they threw the ride—it would be way more chance than he was willing to risk money on.
Charles shrugged. “I would guess so. I’m not a betting man.
I was just curious.” The next ride was very good.
Not a ninety-plus, but respectable. Charles moved his arm long enough to applaud the cowboy, and when that arm came back Charles gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“That was great. My heart is in my throat every time these cowboys dismount though.”
“Oh, I hear that. I have seen some wrecks.”
He’d survived some wrecks. He’d barely survived the last wreck.
“I’m sure.” It was gratifying that Charles was interested. He had a lot of questions, and they seemed to be out of genuine curiosity. “Is there a halftime? A time to get a bite and something to drink? Or do we just come and go?”
“You mostly come and go. There will be a ten-fifteen-minute break between the main go and the short-go, but that’s toward the end.” He offered Charles a smile. “If you need anything, I’ll be happy to hook you up.”
“Oh, I was just thinking something cold to drink would be nice. You’re not on the clock. I can get it for myself.”
“I know.” He did, but he didn’t mind. He liked knowing Mister Charlie was settled. “Do you want water, Coke, a beer?”
“A Coke would be very nice, thank you.” Charles pulled out his wallet.
“My treat. You bought the milkshakes.” He winked at Charles and stood. “Y’all need anything from concessions?” He didn’t think so. He didn’t think the guys were even watching the show, really.
They all shook their heads as he passed. “Nope. We’re good. Thanks, man.”
He felt Charles’s eyes on him as he headed through the stands.
Ryder got stopped at least a half dozen times on the way through to stand in line, but it wasn’t terrible.
Folks had been concerned, were glad to see him and, all in all, it felt good.
He stood, flipping through texts when one of Hank’s buddies came to stand next to him. “Hey, man.”
“Back of the line is there.” He wasn’t being paid to be polite anymore.
“Thanks. You’re looking good. Is retirement treating you well?”
“Yessir. I’m having a good time. Staying busy.” And he didn’t want to say anything that could get misunderstood.
Not at all.
“Listen, I know it was weird after the thing with Hank and all, but I was really sorry about your accident, and I’m glad to see you up on your feet again.”
“Thanks.” Okay, he could be polite. He knew how. “I was laid low for a bit, but I’m up and moving. I appreciate all the donations.”
“This business can be generous sometimes. Anyway, it was good to see you.” The guy—whose name Ryder just couldn’t recall at the moment—tipped his hat and headed for the back of the line.
“Ryder? Roper. No, you have to be Ryder, Roper’s gonna ride soon. Can I get a picture?”
“Of course.” He smiled without a single thought, macking for the camera. He had done this ten-thousand times, easy.
The woman smiled with him, put her arm around his waist, and her friend took a bunch of pictures. “Thank you so much. So cool to see you here. Wish your brother a good ride.” She took a step back, and he was suddenly next in line.
“Hey, there. Can I please get a Coke, a Diet Coke, and two waters?” His head tilted. “Can I have some of the fries with the cheese and all too?”