Chapter 21
After that, Rhaven left, heading in the other direction, away from the warm-up area. I hoped she'd make this happen. Even if she only had some reporters who were more interested in the strike than the dead rider, that would be nice. But if she could do more?
I didn't want to get my hopes up, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said.
I needed to step up too. For years now, I'd been telling myself that working behind the scenes was the best way to get what I wanted.
I hated drama, so keeping my head down meant I stayed out of it.
And yet, this bullshit happening now made it clear that wasn't working.
If I wanted things to change, then I had to stop trying to be the guy no one noticed.
I just wasn't sure how that would work. Who I was could be seen as a threat by my father.
My very existence was a problem for him - but what if I found a way to use that?
Not blatantly. No, that would send Mr. Merrill into a blind rage.
What he didn't realize was I was much better at the subtle shit.
I stood there waiting just long enough to make sure no one was watching me, then finally hit that stairwell. I hadn't exactly planned on the interruption with Rhaven, and people would notice I was missing soon. Still, Clay wanted to talk to me, and that usually meant it was important.
Jogging up, then up some more, I finally came out at the very top of this convention center.
At the top, there were soundboards and video controls all set up for tonight's big show.
Half a dozen seats were placed in front of equipment I didn't really understand, but I knew this was how they made us look good.
And all of them were empty except one. With his back to me, Clay was busy tapping at a screen, doing his thing. I pointedly cleared my throat as I moved closer.
He glanced back. "Hey, Jake!"
"Dad caught me," I warned him. "Said I was coming up to make a request."
And my brother smiled. "Good, because I'm making up two playlists. I need to know which to focus on."
"Ok?"
"The ones who ride," he said, tapping at his screen. Then he flipped to another. "The ones who aren't."
"You'll have more of the second."
That was enough to make Clay swivel his chair around so he was facing me completely. "What the fuck is going on, Jake?"
"A strike."
"Why?"
I reached up to shift my hat down on my head. "Well, we're getting destroyed out there because we don't have our bullfighters. The boys know it. The girl knows it. Pretty sure Dad - " Using that term for Mr. Merrill made me want to gag, but it was the one my brother knew. " - knows it too."
"Yeah, he says it's good for ratings," Clay told me.
I grunted at that. "I'm sure, but it's not so good for setting new records. It's shit for our health. So, if the Pbr wants to have some kind of silent protest, then we'll do the same."
"How long?" Clay asked.
"Until we get the wolf pack back."
Thrusting out his lower lip, my brother nodded. "Yeah, that's a good bargaining point. Sounds like you riders aren't the only ones trying to make that happen, though. Dad was saying he's getting pressure from all sides, but this has our ratings higher than they've been in a while."
"And you can tell him you heard some guys saying we can keep on doing this for months before the Touring Pro riders will out-point us. Years for some, and we're not giving up until either those boys down there get some training or we get the old bullfighters back."
"Training," Clay repeated. "Ok, that might sway him."
"It'll take months to get them working together," I pointed out. "Clay, there's no way to get even one of those men up to snuff in time for finals, and the riders know it. More than that, they're talking about it."
"But telling Dad that means he's not backed into a corner, Jake," Clay countered. "C'mon, you know as well as I do that he will shut down if he thinks he's losing. It's what he does!"
"Yeah," I grumbled. "But right now, we're losing everything. Shit, Casey gave his life."
"And Dad's thrilled because the stands are packed now." Clay sighed. "He keeps saying things like, 'such a tragedy, but he ended up doing some good for the Pbr in the end,' and shit like that. It's almost like he knows he shouldn't be using it, but can't help himself."
"Don't forget the kid yesterday," I said.
"The rookie?" Clay asked. "Jake, he didn't die."
I felt a little relief at that - and guilt. I'd almost completely forgotten about him, and while he hadn't looked critical, I still should've checked.
So I asked, "What did happen to him?"
"Torn ACL," Clay explained. "He's sidelined, but he might make it back next year. Looks like some punk from Guatemala is moving up to take his place."
I caught that word. "Punk?"
Clay chuckled. "Yeah, the J.D. sort. Real badass with a temper, but from the looks of it, he can ride. Not sure he speaks English, though."
"He probably does," I assured him. "Might not when it's convenient, but most of these guys learn it so they can keep up. I'm just wondering how Dad's taking it. I mean, a Latino?"
Clay shrugged. "He's fine with that. Tough guys are what he wants, not 'soy boys,' and certainly not any more women - although there are a couple others in the lower levels. I only know because he's been bitching about it."
"Blaming Cody?" I asked.
Clay nodded. "Yep. Not that she's the reason. Some of these women have been riding almost as long as she has," he said.
"And let me guess," I grumbled, "he went looking to see because she pissed him off?"
"Basically," Clay said. "Dad was so sure she had to be some kind of freak, but guess what?
She's not. And sure, half of the women in the Pbr ride two-handed.
It's allowed for some of the levels, but not here.
Well, the problem is the ones who aren't. He keeps bitching about how it's too easy now, never stopping to think about all the reasons they might be more prepared. "
He had a point, but it sounded to me like this was a lot bigger than I thought. "So what's he doing about them?"
"Shit," Clay mumbled. "Jake, he's doing everything he can to run her off.
He can't flat out refuse to allow her to compete.
That would give her a sexual discrimination lawsuit, and the Pbr isn't broke.
Oh, he'll try to say it is, but we're still buying Superbowl commercials, and those aren't cheap. "
"There's that," I agreed.
So my brother leaned over his knees, resting his forearms on his legs. "Dad's problem is he feels like this sport is being tamed. He keeps complaining about how 'in his day,' it wasn't like this or like that. He hates how everything is so safe now, and no one's willing to take a risk."
"Because we don't want to fucking die!" I hissed.
He nodded slowly. "Oh, I get that. But Dad also thinks our generation is too soft, and he whines about us being all woke and shit. We don't hate the gays. Our girls are more manly than our boys, and all that crap. You've heard it before, I'm sure."
"Far too much," I admitted.
So Clay reached up to rub his face. "Jake, we both know Dad just wants to go down in history as the man who made the most money for the Pbr.
It's all he has left now. J.D. Adkins blew his records out of the water.
Doesn't matter if that's for most rides, highest scores, or most money earned.
Dad was the big man in this world up until that crazy fucker showed up.
Now? He feels like he's nothing but a has-been, and his sport is changing too fast for him to keep up. "
"Yeah, but without riders on bulls," I countered, "he'll be even more of a failure. Hasn't he considered that? Sometimes, it's better to be a footnote in history than a whole chapter of what not to do."
"Ain't that the truth," Clay agreed. "We just have to figure out how to convince him of it."
"I'm trying," I assured him.
"And you're going to keep failing," Clay told me. "You, Jake Cunningham, are the bastard he doesn't want to admit exists. You're just one more of his failures he now has to see over and over."
"Yep," I agreed. "But I'm not the one who made his mistakes."
"You're just repeating them?" Clay taunted.
I shook my head. "Nope. I'm figuring out how to be the man he should've been. The kind of man who doesn't need to be at the top to hold his head high."
"And yet..." Clay gestured out toward the empty arena. "Don't know how to break it to you, Jake, but you're at the top. Right up there."
"But not the very top," I countered. "This year, I've figured out how to be ok with that."
"Which means you're twice the man Dad is," he said.
"So is that why you wanted to see me?" I asked.
Which made him crack a smile. "Mostly I wanted to know if anyone's riding today or not."
"I'm sure Austin, Derek, and Eli will."
Clay scoffed. "Yeah, because Dad's bribing them."
Ok, that had my complete attention. "What do you mean?"
Slowly, my brother leaned back in his chair. "You didn't know?"
"Oh, I had a feeling there was some kind of tie there," I admitted, "but not what. Do you know?"
"Austin is bleeding sponsors," my brother said. "I'm not sure when it started, but earlier this year."
"Before or after Cody showed up?"
"Before," he assured me. "The first was one of his minor ones. Ariat, I think. Said he wasn't placing high enough for them to keep investing. That's what started it."
"Started what?"
"Austin had a fit, Dad heard, and our old man sympathized. Said companies want the toughest of the men, not necessarily the top-ranking."
I murmured, not agreeing. "I don't think that's true."
"Was back in Dad's day," Clay pointed out.
"But that's the thing, Jake. Dad's still living 'back in his day.
' He doesn't want to admit things are better now.
He loved how he could prove his 'manliness' or something.
I don't even know, but he always makes it sound like he's more of a man than we could ever hope to be. "
"Yeah," I agreed, getting back to the point. "But you said he's helping Austin? Why him?"
"Because Austin thinks like Dad," Clay explained.
"I mean, Dad knows about those guys fucking with Cody.
Shit, he's been encouraging them. And since Austin is desperate for sponsors, Dad has a little leverage.
All he has to say is he'll put in a good word, and Austin's just about willing to drop and suck Dad off.
I can't say his buddies are any better." He grunted out something resembling a laugh. "Manly men, my ass."
"So how is Tanner getting suspended tied up in all of this?" I pressed.
Clay shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think Cody may be right.
I mean, what she told the press back in.
.. Was that Iowa? She said they went after Tanner to get to her.
I think Tanner was already a target - because real men aren't gay or something - and suspending him happened to hit two birds with one stone. "
"But was that Dad's idea, or Austin’s?" I demanded.
"Jake, I don't know," he said. "I wish I did, but he's not going to talk about breaking the rules in front of me. Shit, he's already worried enough about what you know."
"Yeah, and if he knew we talked..." I didn't even have to finish the thought. My brother knew how that would end as well as I did.
"Yep, so get the fuck out of my sound booth," he said. "Now that I know what you're looking for, I'll text you if I hear anything you need to know."
"Owe you, little brother."
He just scoffed. "It's three fucking months!"
"Still counts." And I clapped his shoulder once before heading to the door.
Because this was the last place I wanted to be with my father in a bad mood.
Neither Clay nor I wanted that man to figure out that not only did we know we were related, but we'd actually grown close.
Mr. Merrill was convinced that if Clay found out about me, then his mother would know next.
Since she was the money-maker in their family, my old man would be so fucking screwed.
And that, right there, was my real ace in the hole.