48 - Johnny
48
Johnny
I had intended to take a dive.
I’d intended to lose .
Eli’s performance proved the match was rigged. No matter how well we did, the judges weren’t going to let us get a score higher than Appleton’s. There was no reason not to take a dive and accept Salmon’s offer. At least that way, I would walk away with something to show for my troubles.
I knew all of that logically.
But when I looked up at Sophie in the crowd, I realized I couldn’t do it.
That wasn’t who I was.
If a man sacrificed his principles, then what was left?
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And if I couldn’t, then how could someone else?
How could Sophie?
As that beautiful, perfect woman stared down at me, I knew what kind of man I wanted to be. A zen-like trance came over me. A calmness that came from being absolutely certain about my path forward, having flawless clarity about my life.
I was one with the bull between my thighs, our motions as synchronized as two dancers who had years of practice.
I barely remembered the ride itself. It was the closest thing I’d ever come to an out-of-body experience.
And then I won.
The score surprised me. I was still expecting to have victory ripped away from me by the corrupt judges, given second or third place, or maybe even given a bogus disqualification.
But the score remained.
And the crowd completely lost its shit.
I stood in the center of all the chaos, breathing it in—the boots stomping, voices hollering, the sharp clang of the announcer’s microphone cutting through the roar to announce the final scores. The energy rolled over me like a wave, thick with sweat, dirt, and adrenaline, and for a few perfect seconds I soaked it up. My chest rose and fell, the burn in my muscles a sweet reminder that I’d given everything, and not only had it been the right thing to do—it was enough to win .
First place.
Champion .
I tipped my hat to the crowd, grinning as they screamed louder, but my eyes were searching for her. For Sophie . Because the win didn’t mean a damn thing without her to share it.
And when we came together, I felt all the stress of the world disappear. Winning and losing didn’t matter, so long as I had someone like her in my life.
No. Not someone like her.
I wanted her .
“You did it,” she kept whispering, tears running down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you did it!”
“Me neither,” I said, brushing a tear away with my thumb.
She sniffled, then looked over my shoulder. “They’re waving at you. I think you need to leave.”
“I have to go underneath to sign the score,” I said, “then they’ll call us all out for the award ceremony. Celebrate at Billy Bob’s later?”
She grinned. “I’ll go shot for shot with you. With real whiskey this time.”
I brushed my lips against hers, then tore myself out of her embrace. The crowd cheered for me as I jogged across the arena, and I gave them a final wave of my hat before disappearing down underneath the arena.
After signing the scorecard with the event coordinator, Eli came running up to me. “You crazy son of a bitch! You did it!”
He knocked the wind out of me with his hug, but I didn’t mind.
“Your performance was too good,” Eli exclaimed, patting me on the chest. “Too good to rig! Ahahaha!”
I let out a carefree laugh of my own. It was beginning to sink in.
I’d won the Bull Riding event. I was this year’s champion.
“Look alive,” Eli suddenly whispered. “Applesauce is walking our way.”
Chris Appleton wore a blank expression as he walked toward us. “Hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
“I am, actually,” I said with a grin.
“Hey, what’s up with your face?” Eli asked with mock concern. “You look like you got bit by a whole mess of bees.”
Appleton glared at him. “Bees don’t bite, idiot. They sting.”
But Eli only laughed happily. “Right! I’m the idiot right now, and not the guy who came in second place and is wearing more makeup than a drag queen.”
“You should have taken the money,” he warned. “But instead, you wanted to impress your slut .”
I had been waiting for this, so I only shook my head at the bitter man. “You can’t bait me. Not tonight.”
Angry that he hadn’t gotten a reaction out of me, Appleton immediately stormed away. “You’ve made a big mistake,” he tossed over his shoulder.
My laugh echoed through the underground tunnel. “That’s where you’re wrong, Chris. I’ve never been more certain of any decision in my life.”
Appleton disappeared around a corner, but then a line of men walked into the tunnel. I realized who they were before Ted Salmon’s bloated body appeared, following behind them. I held my breath as they strode toward us, unsure if I should stand my ground or run away.
I glanced at the coordinator to my right. They wouldn’t try anything. Right?
“Gonna be honest,” Eli whispered to me. “My butthole’s puckerin’ real bad right now. What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
I recognized the two bodyguards from the standoff in the locker room, but there were two more with Salmon this time. The five men spread out in a line, blocking our path down the tunnel. “Take a walk, Peter,” Salmon told the coordinator.
He glanced at us, swallowed heavily, and then briskly walked away. As soon as he was gone, the four goons unclipped metal batons from their belts.
Okay, maybe I was wrong about them not trying anything.
“You could’ve done this the easy way,” Salmon drawled angrily. “I offered you both a mighty fine carrot, and you spurned me like an angry lover.”
“Do your lovers ever get angry with you?” Eli called out loudly. “Well, I guess they probably do, seein’ as how they’re usually goin’ through puberty.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. We were going to die in this tunnel, weren’t we?
“When one of my boys mouthed off, they got the belt,” Salmon said. “But you’re too old for that. You need to be taught a proper lesson. Break their legs. Make sure they can never ride a horse again.”
The four bodyguards stepped forward. I took an alarmed step backward. We were caught in a dead end by the coordinator’s table. There was nowhere for us to run.
Fuck.
“Guess I’ll go down in a blaze of glory,” Eli said, cracking his knuckles. “Which one of us is Butch, and which one is Sundance?”
“Does it matter? They both die in the end,” I said, feeling my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest.
Eli managed to grin over at me. “It matters to me. Butch is the good-looking one.”
Suddenly, there was movement farther down the tunnel behind Salmon. A raspy voiced boomed out, “Leave my friends alone.”
The bodyguards froze and turned around to face Sawyer, who was standing by himself in the middle of the tunnel. His black Stetson was tipped down over his face, and his black coat hung loosely around his legs. He looked like a man in a bad western movie who was about to get into a shootout.
In one smooth motion, Salmon pulled a shiny revolver out of the holster inside his jacket and raised it at Sawyer. “Boy, you brought piss to a shit fight. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
Even across the tunnel, I could see Sawyer’s wicked smile. “Am I?”
Heavy, booted footsteps echoed down the tunnel as a crowd of men approached behind Sawyer. I recognized Abraham and Childress first, two of the other rodeo competitors. Collins came next, then MacMartin, then Sterling and Lawson. Within seconds, the entire tunnel was full of rodeo competitors, at least thirty of them, men who had been our rivals before this moment.
Several of them held cell phones—they were recording this clash. The rest carried makeshift weapons gathered from the working stalls. Hammers, rope, leatherworking knives. One even rested a branding iron against his shoulder.
“It seems like you were about to harm my friends,” Sawyer announced. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Salmon the entire time. “I’m sure I just misread the situation, though. You tell me.”
Salmon’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He glanced at the revolver in his hand, and looked at the cowboys who were crowded into the tunnel. Six bullets wouldn’t win against that many men.
He shoved the gun back into its holster and adjusted the button on his suit jacket. “You’ll never work in Fort Worth ever again,” he told me. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Then he and his bodyguards hurried down the tunnel. Sawyer and his army of rodeo cowboys parted like the Red Sea to allow them to pass. Only when they were gone did I let out a long sigh.
“You beautiful son of a bitch!” Eli said, running forward and embracing Sawyer. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Just protecting our own,” Sawyer replied, clasping my hand.
Eli shook his head. “Not that. I can’t believe you called us your friends . Twice! You heard him, right?” Eli went down the line of cowboys, shaking hands and clapping shoulders. “All of y’all heard that. The infamously-sour Sawyer Easton says we’re his friends!”
Sawyer’s jaw clenched, and he looked at me. “This is why I don’t make friends.”