Chapter 8
I was fucking seething and trying my best to play it cool while Ty explained himself.
Then again, throwing my beer against the wall didn't exactly fall into that category, but hearing Ty had gotten some shitty fine?
Not suspended, not even fined for fighting at the event, but a pathetic mark on his record that would be just enough to show he'd been punished?
Yeah, I could see straight through this bullshit.
My whole life, I'd dreamed of following in my father's footsteps.
If I could just make it into the Pbr, I'd told myself, I'd make him proud enough to claim me.
That had lasted right up until I'd made it.
Then I'd met him, told him who I was, and realized my whole life was nothing more than a mistake.
His mistake, my mother's mistake, and now my mistake as well.
From a stupid hookup to deciding to keep me, and even my own bad decision to ride bulls, I felt like my life was nothing more than a comedy of errors, and not the Shakespearian kind.
Although meeting my father had made me sure about one thing: he thought he was untouchable. Worse, he was damned close.
So with all the eyes in this bar on me, I lifted a hand, catching the eye of a waitress. "Can I get another beer and tip whoever has to clean up my mess?"
The girl nodded and turned for the bar. Well, that said enough, but sitting only a few feet away, Ty shook his head and chuckled.
"What's going on, Jake? Pretty sure my fine didn't piss you off that bad," he said. Worse, thanks to the soft and sullen ambiance in here, most of the other guys heard.
"Stop and think about it," I said, glancing around to make it clear that wasn't just for Ty. "Back in Iowa, they chased off our bullfighters. Now we're all eating dirt. Well, what happens when someone has a bad wreck?"
"They spend time with Doc and Anthony?" Tim Moore guessed.
"Or a funeral home," Kaleb muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
I grunted, showing I agreed. It might be gallows humor, but right now, that was the best most of us had. It also put the reality of our situation in the spotlight.
But Renato spoke up before I could tell them where I'd been going with that. "The seats fill up the next night."
I pointed at the man. "That," I said. "Well, you know what prevents a wreck?"
Wes groaned, understanding immediately. "The bullfighters."
"Our beloved matadors," I agreed, using the term we normally taunted those guys with. "Yeah, they keep our asses in one piece, but breaking us makes the Pbr money. What else makes money?" I asked.
There were far too many eyes looking at me blankly.
Ok, maybe some of these guys had started out without a helmet to keep their brains from scrambling.
Or maybe they all just had bad cases of testosterone poisoning?
I wasn't sure, but it was becoming clear none of them had ever thought about this before.
So I pointed at Ty. "Drama. Watching real men act like men. Seeing us have a fit because we got bucked off, or pissed off, or anything else. A fight? That's the kind of mess that makes for damned good television - and don't think the Pbr isn't watching their viewership as much as the ticket sales."
"Damn it!" Ty said. "I just wanted to make it clear..." His words trailed off.
But Kaleb couldn't let it go. "What? Make what clear, Ty?"
Well, well. I'd been slowly but surely putting all the pieces together, but Ty hadn't made sense. I'd assumed he'd been shut out when Cody took the two-for-one option. I thought that had been why they'd had a falling out, but I was starting to reconsider.
Ty knew.
He'd made it inside the guard those three constantly kept up.
He had more information than anyone else, and I was starting to realize he'd rather get kicked off the tour than spill any of it.
He wasn't on the outs because Cody had picked the other two.
He wasn't with her because he'd fucked up - which explained what he'd meant when he'd hinted I should chase her, and be good to her.
J.D. had told me he was bi. Didn't take a lot to figure out that if he was with Cody, and Cody was with Tanner, then Tanner and J.D.
were likely together as well, since Austin seemed so fucking convinced Tanner wasn't straight.
How Austin knew about that was still murky.
He said he'd seen a guy coming out of Tanner's room, but that was bullshit.
I'd also overheard him saying Tanner had been talking to someone in Sports Medicine, and he'd heard a little too much.
That made more sense, but I couldn't exactly verify it.
The problem was Austin did know, and he wasn't wrong.
How he'd found out didn't matter as much as that he had, and now Tanner was suspended.
Jorge and Isaac refused to work without him.
At first, I'd thought it was a way to pressure the Pbr into reversing their decision and bringing Tanner back.
Now I was starting to believe it was their form of self-preservation.
But Ty could only delay or ignore Kaleb's question for so long. "I knew Austin was going after Cody. Tanner stood up for her. That made Austin go after him, and the next thing we knew, the press was asking about Tanner cheating on Cody."
Which was all but quoting what Cody had told the press. It also proved my suspicions. Well, maybe "proved" was too strong of a word, but I knew Ty well enough to know how he thought. More than that, I could see all the other riders in this room watching him like his opinions actually mattered.
So I casually added, "With J.D. Tanner was supposedly cheating on Cody with J.D. Adkins."
Ty merely gestured at me. "Because J.D. is Cody's mentor, and that man is real protective of her."
"But if he's gay," I said, pushing a little more, "that doesn't really fit the Pbr's ideal image of what a man should be."
"Fuck that!" someone grumbled.
I looked over to see Jackson Cloutier, the kid who'd recently begun to idolize Cody.
His palm was flat out on his table and quite a few empty bottles were in front of him.
He was Canadian, so he could handle our American beer easily, but wait.
He was Canadian. They were supposed to be a bit more accepting, weren't they?
"Which part?" I asked him.
"I don't give a shit who someone's fucking!" Jackson snapped. "I mean, if it's not me, then it's not my business. Shit, look at most of us. We're sticking our dicks in anything we can. How'd any of us like it if the Pbr said we couldn't? That's just bullshit!"
Which made a few others murmur in agreement. The problem was one of those new boys. He lifted his chin and asked, "Wait, so J.D. Adkins is gay?"
"Not gay," Ty grumbled.
Which made everyone look over at him again.
Yeah, that could be useful. They were seeking out Ty's opinion before making their own.
Then again, he was one of the top bull riders on the Tough Enough series.
Renato was better, but he'd been fading out of the limelight lately due to his family.
Ty? He'd finally started to step up. I had a feeling I could use this.
"You sure J.D.'s not gay?" I asked, convinced Ty's answer would be the right one. It was almost like he knew the playbook those three were using.
Ty just scoffed. "Seriously, do you think J.D. would be this intense about Cody if he wasn't interested in women at all? The fucker took her under his wing, and he's ready to chase off anyone who isn't good enough for her. Trust me on that. I got chased off."
"Not that chased off," Jaxon chuckled. "You're still hovering."
"And being a fucking gentleman," Ty assured him. "There's something about liking my kneecaps that keeps our little chats to nothing more than riding order and making sure she's safe."
"You also talked about," Wes said from his table, "how we're all gentlemen, secure enough to take our scores like men, and willing to stand up for the little lady who's keeping up? I mean, that's about what your little speech in Des Moines said, wasn't it?"
"Because she got fucked on that ride!" Ty snapped. "I was on the same fucking bull, and he made me work for it. Cody? She rode the fuck out of him and the judges screwed her over!"
Bingo. Ty was all in on this, and he didn't even know it. I also was getting the impression he wouldn't be offended, and right about now, I needed someone to make these guys listen. If that meant I had to nudge Ty a bit to make it happen, then I'd shove that man just as far as I could.
So I said, "Which means you took home the money."
"That week!" he huffed, just like I'd hoped. "And when J.D. comes back and I'm no longer the favorite? Or now that Renato's here, and his score blew past everyone else's? How the fuck are we supposed to compete if the judging isn't fair?"
"We're not," I said, making the mostly sober riders around me murmur amongst themselves.
"Fuck that," Renato said. "I'm with Ty on this. I worked my ass off to get here. I packed up my shit and came to this country, battled with the immigration system, leased some land, and have plans to settle down. I built my life on this!"
"Same," Wes said softly.
"And that life," Renato went on, "depends on making it out of the arena in one piece.
Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't give a shit who gets my ass out of there when things go bad.
Man, woman, gay, straight, or anything else.
What I want from a bullfighter is someone willing to make the save, turn the bull, and get it the fuck off me. Nothing else."
A few other guys were nodding, but I couldn't help but wonder how much Renato knew.
He and Ty had a reputation for sharing a little too much.
Well, they used to, up until Renato met his girl.
Now, Renato was acting respectable and Ty was spending a lot of time with J.D.
And yet, their anger was real, not an act.
Ty kept going. "How can any of us make a living out of this if our entire career is predetermined by the Pbr? C'mon, we all know when our ride is amazing - and when it's shit. We're also spending a whole lot of money running across the country to get to each of these events."
"My bar tab's pretty impressive," one of the new rookies, a guy from Australia named Sonny, joked.
"Oh, it'll get worse," I assured him. "From the wear and tear on your truck to buying flights, hotels, meals, and more. Yeah, Ty's got a damned good point."
"Yeah," Wes said, "but what can we do about it? I mean, I'm not the only one who's been doing his best to play the Pbr's game. We all know they want a certain look, will ignore a few of the dumbass things we do, and yet if we get too far out of line, we won't be riding."
"And you're fine," Renato said. "Right now, what we need to be worried about is not dying out there."
"Yes, but it's not that easy," Wes shot back. "Renato, you're exactly what they want, but the rest of us?" He scoffed. "J.D. got famous for being an asshole. Ty for his looks. You for your spurring. Most of us? Shit."
"Most of us don't want to die," Jackson Cloutier said, his words just loud enough to cut through the room.
And for a moment, everyone looked around, trying to judge how the others were taking that.
To me, it said more than they knew. They were scared.
Really and truly scared, but unsure how to handle it.
Men who chose to climb onto fifteen hundred to two thousand pound animals for fun?
We weren't used to feeling our balls crawl up inside us like this.
Then that Australian rookie put it into words. "I'd rather head home in one piece than in a body bag. No offense, boys."
Around the room, too many of them began nodding in agreement.