41 - Johnny
41
Johnny
I thought about Sawyer’s ban from the rodeo for the next twenty-four hours, including during my practice time at Dickies Arena. The whole thing was so insanely unfair, so biased , that I felt like I was boiling with rage. If anyone should have been kicked out of the rodeo, it should have been Appleton for the way he harassed Sophie last night. Going behind the bar, demanding a kiss and getting the crowd to chant for him. Then grabbing her by the arm and calling her a cunt.
I had always known there were favorites in the rodeo. Hell, there were favorites in the world , no matter what you were talking about. Privileged assholes who strutted around like they were hot shit, and got away with everything. But this was so much worse than someone getting preferential treatment.
This was so downright wrong that it fundamentally changed the way I felt about the rodeo.
It distracted me during my practice rounds, causing me to fly from the practice bull, landing on my back in the dirt. After the third time, I decided to call it a day.
When I walked into the locker room, there was one other competitor taking a shower. I couldn’t see him behind the stall curtain, but there was a familiar way he was whistling, and I recognized the boots and cowboy hat on the bench.
“Any luck rallying the troops today?” I called out.
The shower curtain jerked open enough for Eli’s face to pop out. “Abraham’s interested. But he’s the only one. Nobody else wants to risk sticking their neck out for Sawyer.”
“I had about as much luck as you,” I muttered while taking off my boots. “Sawyer hasn’t exactly made a lot of friends over the years.”
“That shouldn’t matter,” Eli insisted inside the shower. “We should all be stickin’ up for each other, goddamnit.”
“Preachin’ to the choir, friend.”
I got my boots off, and was beginning to unbutton my shirt, when the locker room door swung open and the heavy sound of boots stomped inside. But they weren’t other rodeo cowboys finishing up their practice rounds.
“Eli?” I called out in alarm. “We’ve got company.”
Two thick-necked bodyguards paused just inside the locker room, blocking the only exit. One of them nodded to someone out of sight, and then Ted Salmon appeared.
“Just the man I was hoping to speak with,” Salmon drawled, as if this were a friendly meeting. But there was a dangerous tension in the air.
I had a feeling this conversation might change how the rest of my life went.
Behind me, I heard the shower curtain scrape to the side. Eli stepped out onto the locker room tile, dripping water.
“Mister Salmon,” I said. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Pleasure’s the wrong word, Johnny,” Eli said, balling his hands into fists. “This feels like an ambush.”
“Not much of a fair fight,” I told Salmon. “Y’all outnumber us.”
“I don’t know.” Eli cracked his knuckles. “I like our odds.”
“Boys, boys, settle down.” Salmon’s jowls swayed as he shook his head. “We’re just here to talk .”
“Kinda weird, you wantin’ to talk while my balls are hangin’ out,” Eli replied.
“Then you ought to put some fucking pants on, boy,” one of the bodyguards snarled. “Don’t make us look at that.”
“Friend, you’re in a locker room!” Eli cheerfully replied. “Don’t go to the pound and act all surprised when you see a few dogs.”
“I’m not your friend,” the bodyguard snapped.
Eli took a wet step forward. “Aw, and here I thought you were flirtin’ with me.”
The bodyguard’s face twisted in rage, and he took a step forward.
Salmon blocked him with a hand. “As I said. We’re just here to talk.”
“So fucking talk,” I barked. The longer this went on, the more wary I felt. Eli and I were unarmed, and the bodyguards were open-carrying pistols on their hips. I didn’t think they would actually hurt us…
…but I had lost a lot of my faith in societal norms in the past day.
“You know, people come to this rodeo, toss back a few beers, and think they’re part of something.” Salmon adjusted his cufflinks, letting the harsh locker room lighting catch the gold engraving. “They watch the bronc riders, cheer the bullfighters, and convince themselves they understand Texas. But they don’t. Not really .”
He let the words settle, measuring our discomfort before continuing.
“Do you know the history of the rodeo?” He didn’t wait for us to answer before launching into a lecturing tone. “It goes all the way back to 1896. Of course, back then it was called the Southwestern Exposition and Livestock Show, and was established to promote the cattle industry and showcase livestock in our great state of Texas. It was the first of its kind. A gathering of the finest cattle, the best breeding stock, and the sharpest men in the business. It wasn’t some cheap entertainment act—it was about commerce, about power. The men who ran this show? They built dynasties .
“By 1908, they had the first indoor rodeo in the world, right over there in the North Side Coliseum. You ever think about that? Before Las Vegas, before Cheyenne, even before Houston, our fine city was setting the damn standard. And it only got bigger—it survived wars, prohibition, depressions. By the time our boys came back from Europe in ‘45, the rodeo wasn’t just a sideshow. It was the main event. And cowboys like you weren’t just ranch hands: they were the stars .”
He rested a hand on a nearby sink, then took his hand away in disgust. “People forget that,” he continued, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief and wiping his hand. “They think this place—” he gestured around us, “—is all beer and blue jeans, but the truth? It’s money . The right kind of money. Old money. And the ones who understand that? They don’t just ride in the arena. They. Own. It.”
“Is there a point to this history lesson?” I asked. “Or do you just like to hear yourself talk?”
“No question about that ,” Eli muttered.
Salmon folded the handkerchief and tucked it back into his pocket. “The point, if your generation had enough patience to listen , is that this rodeo is bigger than you. It’s bigger than the animals over at your rodeo camp. Hell, it’s bigger than me, if you can believe it!”
“That’s saying somethin’,” Eli said with a smirk. “On account of there’s not a lot of things bigger’n you , Teddy.”
Fury flashed in the bodyguards’ eyes, and for a moment I was certain that Eli had made a fatal mistake. But Salmon didn’t seem offended. He only laughed.
“The rodeo’s more popular than ever. We got this new arena built. The television rights are earning more money than you could ever imagine. Shows like Yellowstone are partly the reason, but it’s mostly because we’ve finally figured out how to market it. Chris Appleton has become the face of the rodeo. We’ve spent millions of dollars worth of ads to promote him. He’s in his prime. The people love him. He’s good for ratings in a way that neither of you will ever be.”
“Well that’s a cryin’ shame,” Eli sneered. “After what Sawyer did to his mug? I doubt he should be the face of anything right now.”
I gave him a pointed look. His mouth was going to get us killed.
“All this is to say that Chris needs to keep his crown for as long as possible,” Salmon said. “And anyone who threatens that? Well, they’re a threat to the rodeo itself.”
“What are you suggesting?” I demanded.
Salmon flashed white teeth at me. “Are you really so thick-headed that I have to spell it out for you?”
“Wait one goddamn second,” Eli said. “You want us to take a dive? Is that it? You want us to lose on purpose?”
“Of course not!” Salmon replied. “I just want you two to hold back a little. You can still make the podium… as long as Chris is the one with gold around his neck. Bull Riding is the main event. Friday night, prime time. High school football isn’t in season, so this is what people will tune into. The advertisers are paying a fine penny for their slots—they’re expecting quite the show. They’re expecting Chris to win. Surely you two can see the big picture.”
“And if we refuse?” I forced out. “You’ll have these two lumps break our legs?”
“Of course not!” Salmon said, as if they weren’t trying to intimidate us. “These boys are the stick, but I came here today to show you the carrot .” He reached into his pocket and came out with two rectangular pieces of paper. “And what a fine carrot it is.”
He handed them to one of the bodyguards, who stepped forward and gave one to each of us. Eli gasped when he saw what it was. But I was already expecting it.
It was a check from the Theodore Salmon Charitable Foundation, made out to me.
And it was worth one-point-one million dollars.
I had never been offered that much money before. Not even close. Just holding the check made my hand tremble.
“That’s an amount equal to the Bull Riding prize money, plus ten percent because I’m such a generous man,” Salmon explained.
Eli made a choking noise as he continued staring at the check.
“You think you can get away with this?” I laughed in disbelief. “This is bribery. Extremely obvious bribery.”
Salmon frowned. “Bribery? Oh no, of course not. That’s an offer for you boys to be officially sponsored by my foundation. Shoot a commercial or two, come down to the foundation once a year and get your picture taken. It has nothing to do with your rodeo performance, I assure you.”
His cruel smile never touched his beady eyes.
“We can’t be bought,” I said, lowering the check to my side.
“Yeah, we can’t!” Eli agreed. Then he glanced at me and said, “Wait, we can’t?”
I gave him a hard stare.
“I mean, yeah!” Eli turned back to Salmon. “We can’t be bought! This is what I think of your offer.”
He then wiped the check underneath his balls, crumpled it up, and threw it across the room. It bounced off Salmon’s chest and landed on the floor.
One of the bodyguards growled and moved forward with more speed than I would have ever expected from a man his size. In the blink of an eye he had grabbed Eli by the neck and shoved him up against the wall.
“Careful,” Eli croaked out while the fingers tightened on his neck. “Our dicks. Are touching. And I like. It rough.”
Somehow, he even managed to wink.
“Jasper!” Salmon snapped.
Like a trained dog, the bodyguard let go of Eli and returned to his master’s side. Eli rubbed his neck.
“I hope you’ll consider my sponsorship offer,” Salmon said, voice devoid of any pretense of friendliness.
The locker room door creaked as they left. But the one bodyguard lingered long enough to say, “Personally, I hope you don’t take the offer. I’d love to come back here and smash your kneecaps into tortilla chips.”
As the man followed Salmon out, Eli blew him a kiss.
As soon as we were alone, I slumped down onto the bench and let out a long exhale. Part of me had legitimately feared we might not make it out of that locker room alive. For a few moments, I focused on steadying my breath the way I did after a particularly dangerous bull ride.
Still naked as the day he was born, Eli ran across the room and grabbed the balled-up check, unfolding it and smoothing it on the edge of the sink. “Do you think they’ll know I wiped it on my balls?”
“They? Who’s they?”
“The bank,” Eli replied, finally grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his midsection. “We are going to cash these, right? What other choice do we have?”
I stared at the check in my own hands.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”