Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Coke and Dillon showed up early the next morning. Jason liked that they’d gotten to the hotel before the rest, giving him the lay of the land before things got serious.
He felt like he’d done pretty fucking well yesterday. He hadn’t snarled at the fans in the lobby or fallen out of the elevator. Then there’d been the dancing—both the horizontal and vertical kind. That hadn’t been bad at all. Jason grinned, thinking how acrobatic Bax had been feeling.
Sometimes it was worth it, renting a hotel room where the whole of the world wasn’t on springs and tires.
Bax pinched his arm. “Gramps texted. Wanna go have second breakfast?” They’d had some coffee and granola bars in the room.
“Yeah. In the restaurant?” He could do coffee and a sausage biscuit pretty easy.
“Yep.” Bax took his hand. “Gramps says Dillon is buying.”
“Rock on.” The clown made more than any of them. Silly man. Dillon was a good guy, though, and God knew Gramps loved the son of a bitch like no one else.
“Yeah. I like when he buys. I can get steak and eggs.”
“Spoiled brat.” He got his shirt tucked in, his belt fastened. “I look okay?”
“Perfect. You’ve always been snazzy.” Bax kissed him, then mussed his hair. “Come on.”
“Listen to you.” Of course, that was exactly what he did these days. He listened.
“True. That’s why I mussed your hair. Too perfect and folks will look harder.”
“I’m fixin’ to put my hat on anyway.”
“Right.” Bax’s chuckle made him smile again. Someone just liked to fuck with him.
“Be good. So we go left out the door and down the hall a ways?”
“Yeah. I’ll poke you when we’re at the elevator. Count the steps?”
“Yeah.” They did that, and he could remember forty-five and right. “Forty-five, man.”
“Forty-five,” Bax echoed. It helped to say stuff out loud.
He nodded and found the down button, tracing the braille with his fingers.
He wanted to know how to do that, how to read it.
He wasn’t a big reader like Gramps, but he would love to be able to navigate the world better, and he missed Louis L’Amour.
Surely he could learn, right? He wasn’t the brightest lightning bug in the swarm, but he wasn’t all that stupid.
The elevator dinged. Slow thing.
“You ready for this, Mini?”
“I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.”
Bax tugged him into the elevator, and he kept his eyes open determinedly, not wanting to get queasy.
They made it downstairs, hearing Gramps’ booming voice before the doors even opened.
“—shit, Marthy! I swear to God y’all are something else. You kids best be good or I’ll set Coop on you.”
“Coop is like a zombie rooster,” Dillon chimed in. “That’s serious shit.”
“True that. He’s working with a broke foot and he’s grumpy.”
“Oh, man.” Really, Coop probably needed to retire, but that wasn’t his circus or his monkey. He had enough shit to worry on—whether a bullfighter retired wasn’t none of his.
Coke and Dillon both called to them, and Bax took his elbow to guide him over to sit.
“Hey, y’all. How goes? Your rooms good?” Coke sounded happy, settled in his bones today.
“Yeah, it’s real nice,” Bax said. “What’s up, Gramps?”
“Ace is going to come down for this one. Kynan’s riding too. Just so you know.”
“Ace Porter? What’s the boss doing coming down?” Jason wasn’t ready for that shit, was he?
“Who the fuck knows? I just wanted you to know.”
“Dillon?” Bax sounded a little panicky. Dillon was really the brains of this operation.
“Never fear, mis amigos.” Dillon’s voice held laughter. “I have a plan.”
“Does it involve me wearing makeup? Because if it involves me wearing makeup, I’m out.”
They all cracked up, to a man.
“Hey, guys.” That was AJ Gardner pulling up a chair. “What did I miss?”
“Jason in drag,” Bax deadpanned.
“Huh. Nah, man. You’d look way better in a dress than Jase.”
“What?” Dillon leaned forward. Jason felt the air shift. “How did I miss this?”
“Like Jason Scott would wear a dress, even as a joke.” Coke’s laughter boomed out. “I’m not sure he wears anything other than Wranglers and button-downs.”
“True. But Bax did once. He lost a bet. That was back in our tiny tour days, right, Jase?”
“Fuck yes. He was pissed, but he didn’t welch, not one bit. He came strutting out from behind the chutes, and the clown—I don’t even remember his name no more—damn near swallowed his tongue.” Jason felt the laughter just trying to bubble over.
Bax snorted. “At least I didn’t have to wear high heels. I woulda killed myself.”
“Missy puts them things on for church. One day she’s gonna go ass over teakettle.”
Coke’s chuckled sounded fond to him. “Oh, Aje, girls are good at that shit.”
“Spoken like a man.” That voice was female, and not Missy at all. Did he know that voice?
“Oh, my best girl!” Dillon sounded over the moon, damn near tripping over his boots.
“Hey, clown.” There was a great scraping of chairs, so Jason stood, figuring that was what cowboys did for a lady.
“Emmy!” Even Coke was tickled. “Hey, girl. Have you met Jason Scott and Andy Baxter?”
“I haven’t. I know all about y’all, of course. I’m tickled shitless to meet you.” Emmy took his hand, the motion easy as anything. “Mr. Scott. Emmy Sayer.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Jase, this is Cotton’s wife. She’s the lady in charge of communications for Ace.”
“Oh, you’re the new webmaster, huh?” Bax liked the new website.
“Among other things.” She chuckled. “May I sit?”
“Absolutely.” Dillon was up to something. Jason could hear it.
“Thanks. Man, I could use a cup of coffee.” A chair scraped back. “Thanks, Dil.”
“You’re more than welcome, honey.” He could hear everyone pulling in tighter, drawing together.
That meant it was time to lower voices and have a come-to-Jesus moment.
Bax was right there, right next to him, and he was fucking grateful for it.
He needed to know that Bax was watching while he listened.
Together they figured shit out but good.
Separately, they were the kings of fucked-up-ness.
That had always been the way, even before they were what they were now.
“Okay, so.” That was Emmy, and she sounded all business. “Dillon asked me to get a few things going.”
“Like what?” Bax asked.
“Earpieces. Dil’s going to be the dude who’s wired up, at least in the big show, but he’ll be able to give Jason here clear direction.”
“Why Dillon? Wouldn’t Bax be the smarter choice?” Jason asked.
“Bax is going to have to do his job up on the chutes. Dillon’s mic is off during the rides and he’s used to flipping back and forth.
Andy will have to learn for the little shows, but you’re going to have to announce your intentions soon.
” Gramps sounded worried, so he’d been hearing the same rumbles that Jason had.
Fuck a doodle do.
Jason swallowed hard. “I been winning too much to stay down. People are jawing.”
“You know it. We do this, we do it big and we take the whole purse.”
“You say ‘we’ like Jase has a mouse in his pocket, Gramps.” AJ sighed. “I mean, y’all know I got your back, but there’s gonna be hell to pay from the big guys. I got the ranch, but what about you, Dillweed? Emmy, you work for the lot of them. You talked to Cotton about this?”
“I have. He’s got a couple of good bloodlines going at the ranch. We’re good.” Emmy said it firmly. Solid.
Dillon snorted. “I have an ironclad contract, boys. If they break it, they owe me more than they pay me annually. I make a hell of a lot of money.”
“Gramps?”
“You couldn’t get rid of my happy ass, son. I’m in, all the way.”
Jason sat there, about as numb and honored as a blind man could be.
Bax laughed, the sound suspiciously watery. “Is this gonna distract Jase? I mean, what if Dillon shouts, and he jumps off or something?”
Dillon tsked. “Have some faith. I know when to shut up.”
“We’ll have to practice some. That’s this weekend, huh?” He swallowed hard, but he was willing and at least reasonably able.
“It is.” Someone touched his hand. He thought it was Emmy. “We’ll do a dry run here at the hotel. All clandestine and spy-like.” She giggled softly. “I rented us a conference room. Told them we were having a team-building exercise.”
“You’re evil, Em. I like it.” Dillon slapped the table. “When is Nattie in, Coke? We need him.”
“He’ll be here around noon. He’s picking up tacos.”
“Good man.” Tacos made every adventure easier.
“Mmm. Tacos.” Bax hummed. Always thinking with his stomach.
“So, we’ll meet in the conference room about noon, and we’ll work this out. The boss doesn’t show until tomorrow morning. It’s his lady’s birthday and they’re having a ‘spa day’.” Emmy couldn’t have sounded more wicked.
“Oh, man, someone needs to get pictures.” Dillon was positively gleeful.
Jason wasn’t a hundred percent sure he knew what a spa day was, but he knew that he didn’t want one, not with that tone of voice.
“Yep.” Emmy had a great laugh, kinda throaty and deep. “Okay, we’ll mobilize after tacos. Save me two chicken.”
“Bawk, bawk.” Dillon was a dork.
“Oh, I’ll show you clucking.” The sound of a scuffle started up, ending abruptly when he heard Cotton shout, “Hey, that’s my wife!”
And didn’t the little redhead sound tickled as fuck about that fact, still?
“Lord, what a ship of fools,” AJ said. Man, he sure was down.
“What’s up, Aje? It cain’t just be all this with me.” Jason knew AJ too well.
“I’m just tired, man. Tired of the game, and Benji’s not…well, he’s not getting any better, and I got the new babies at home. It ain’t fun no more. I have somewhere else to be.”
“So, retire. God knows you got enough work on the ranch.” AJ’s people had a ton of land.
“Yeah. I’m… I’m in for you, buddy. Then I’m gone.”
“Oh, Aje.” He reached out with one hand, and AJ grabbed it, just squeezing. “Thank you.”
“You guys know I would never let you down.”
Bax snorted. “Unless you cook.”
“Fuck you, Andy.”
“That’s Jason’s job.” There was a second of silence at Dillon’s words, then the wild laughter rang out.