20. Jax
jax
Bonnie Helix was actually really funny.
Since being home, I haven’t made a lot of time to get to know my little brother’s girlfriend. They’ve been through enough stuff that giving them some space was what my family thought they would need.
But now, since we were planning to work on the rodeo school together—or at least try to—I was getting to see a side of Bonnie that I never have before.
“I can’t believe I did that,” Bonnie says, her eyes watering from the choking she inflicted on herself.
We were currently seated at Belle’s Bakery, a staple in our hometown and a place all of us kids used to come to all throughout high school.
Bonnie had ordered a cinnamon muffin, and right after Aveline Hart—Belle’s daughter—had sat it in front of her, she took a huge bite, inhaling the cinnamon and promptly choking.
That wasn’t the funny part.
After the choking had finally calmed down, and I was sure that my brother’s girl wasn’t about to croak in my care, she looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve choked on far worse.”
As her cheeks reddened in realization of what she said, I laughed so hard that I had tears coming down my face.
“Please pretend you never heard me say that,” she says, her cheeks still flushed as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“I will not,” I shake my head, still grinning. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
She smiles just slightly then, clearly embarrassed but used to it. “Trust me, hang out with me long enough and you’ll hear my word vomit plenty.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We settle into discussion then, her with a vision for what we need to do and me following her lead. It seems Bonnie has done her fair bit of research.
“So we need the town’s council to approve it, which the mayor used to be in rodeo school back in his day, so I’m hoping that will persuade him.”
“Who’s the mayor these days?” I ask, a crinkle to my brow in question.
She flips through some papers she has in front of her, looking for the answer, and I take a sip of coffee while I wait.
“Hmm, I just had it…” She runs her finger over the paper and taps it. “Ah, there it is. Jethro Porter.”
I nearly choke on my coffee in surprise. “Jet is the mayor?”
She looks up in surprise. “You know the mayor?”
I nod my head. “I do. We went to high school together. Well, he was a year ahead of me. But yeah, we did the rodeo school together.”
“Huh, well, maybe that can make this simple.”
It was not simple.
Jethro Porter, a.k.a. Jet, is not the same guy he used to be, and according to the slight graying of his temples, he seems to have a lot of stress on his hands.
He stands in front of me, smiling at first with his hand tucked into a pricey-looking suit. “It’s great to see you, Jax. It’s been too long.”
“Right back atcha,” I reply with a nod.
“I’m sorry that I can’t approve the rodeo school. It’s just not a good time for it,” he says, and I feel the woman beside me wilt with disappointment.
Can’t say I blame her. It is eating at me too.
“Is it primarily budgetary?” Bonnie asks, keeping a professional head while I wanted to call Jet an asshole.
“It is the budget, but there’s also the safety of kids. We’re opening up the risk when we start something like that.”
“Listen, Jet, I’ve been doing rodeo for years. I have a ton of experience under my belt now.” I point to my chest. “I’m willing to do this by the book, get waivers signed, get programs going, teach kids who want to be a part of it the safe way to do it.”
“Weren’t you a bullfighter?” Jet asks, taking a step back in his office and leaning against his desk. It was us two against him, but I swear the man had the upper hand in just about everything right now.
“Yes, I was. Which means I’ve had extensive training,” I say, holding my hand up. “I’m qualified to teach people how to do this right.”
He shakes his head and frowns. “It’s just not the right time.”
Just then, his door bursts open, and a kid no older than eight barges in, heading straight for Jet.
“Zade, what are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in school?” Jet stands, his attention fixed on the young boy, worry creasing his eyes.
“He had another fight, Mr. Porter,” an older lady says from the door. “I’m so sorry for disturbing you, but he wanted to see you.”
“No, of course, it’s fine,” Jethro says, soothing the boy and looking at the black eye the kid was sporting with fury laced on his face. I don’t blame him. If someone hit my kid, I’d lose my shit.
Jethro stands, tucking the boy to his side and sighing heavily, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.
“I didn’t know you had a kid,” I say, trying for polite and easygoing.
But apparently failing with my old friend.
“I’m sorry. I need to handle some things. If you’d like, we can schedule an appointment, but I don’t think you’ll get very far.”
With that, we’re dismissed and facing his secretary. I sigh in defeat, and Bonnie heads straight for the secretary.
“What are you doing?” I ask, getting closer. “He doesn’t seem to want to budge.”
“I’m making an appointment.” Comes her sure answer, her eyes on the secretary.
“I don’t have an opening until November,” the secretary, Janet, says, giving us a bored look.
“Fine. We’ll take it,” Bonnie says, her fingers moving over her phone, typing in the details for the appointment as they’re spouted off to her.
“I don’t think he wants the school to happen, Bon. It’s going to be tough.”
“Jax, you don’t know me very well, but I’m not the type to back down from a fight,” she says, marching us in the direction of her truck.
I hop in the passenger side, eyeing her. “You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?”
“Your brother doesn’t seem to mind,” she says automatically, flinching when she realizes her implication.
“Ugh.” I slap my hand over my eyes. “Too much information.”
But I laugh when she reddens, and she reluctantly joins me. “So where do I need to take you?”
My truck was at the bakery, but there was only one place I really wanted to go.
Without hesitation, I direct her to Felicity’s new house.