Chapter 74
And just like that, the night's event was done. Ty's bull was the last one; since no one had ridden, so no one had earned a re-ride. Even better, Austin had been bucked off, so he wasn't in the running, but Derek? Yeah, his name was right at the top.
"His first win," I grumbled.
Jake wrapped his arm around my shoulder and turned me for the stairs. "No, but the other was a fluke," he assured me.
Which was when Jackson hurried up, clutching my hat. "Cody!" he called, holding it up so I could see it.
I paused, waiting until he got to me, and took my hat. "Did you know about this?"
And the smirk that took over his face? Yeah, it said more than enough. "Cody, everyone did but you and J.D."
"Nope," Ty said, gesturing for us to keep going. "I told J.D. back in Sports Med."
"What the actual fuck, guys?" I asked, not sure if I was impressed or pissed.
"Well," Ty said, "with him hurt, I wasn't sure if he was riding. Worked out, though. He got Jaxon and Kaleb to run interference for a bit, saying he was worried about Austin."
I groaned, aware I'd been seriously outplayed.
"And Kaleb waited until the last minute to get you up there," Jackson bragged. "That way you wouldn't see any bulls go out without a rider."
"Which was well-played," Jake told him. "Seriously. She didn't notice a thing."
Which was when we reached the warm-up area. Everywhere I looked, men were stripping off their gear and packing it up. And there, sitting on the ground with his legs kicked out in front of him was J.D., grinning like some demented Cheshire Cat.
"You came in second, rookie!"
I grunted. "Doesn't count."
"Fucking well does," Wes said. "If they want to discriminate against us, then we'll fucking stack the deck."
"Like your white ass knows discrimination," J.D. taunted.
"Yeah," Wes said, backing down quickly. "Right. Good point."
"But he's not wrong," J.D. said. "Cody, they've been fucking you over for a while now, so it's about time - " And he paused, flicking a finger behind me.
As one, my group turned to see what had stopped him.
Storming our way was Donald Merrill. The president of the Pbr had the same starched white shirt as all officials, and his straw hat wasn't the cheap kind.
He looked every inch the wealthy cowboy, and the glare on his face made it clear this wasn't going to be a friendly chat.
"What the fuck was that?" he roared as soon as he was close enough. "I want to know whose idea it was to stop riding!"
"Oh, that was me," Jake said, stepping toward him with his chin up. "Why, you got a problem with it?"
"Well, Jake, you've just earned yourself a ten-thousand-dollar fine for violating the sportsmanship clause of your contract."
I felt my heart stall. Shit. They couldn't do that, could they?
"I was in on it too," Ty said.
"Oh, so you want one of those? Fine, ten for you as well.
" Then he turned to the rest of the men in the room.
"And every one of you fuckers who thinks you're hot shit, sending a bull out with just a rope?
Yeah, just know you'd better have ten grand by the morning or you won't be allowed to draw a bull! "
"You can't do that!" Jackson huffed.
"And that's where you're wrong, boy," Mr. Merrill snarled, nearly spitting with his vehemence.
"I am the president of this organization.
I was elected to keep it running, and to keep it profitable.
Y'all's last little stunt? Well, you almost killed the whole thing, so now you're going to try it again? "
"But you didn't ask why," Jake said, sounding so calm in the face of this man's rage. "Is that because you know why, D..." He paused to smile slyly. "Donald?"
"Watch your tone," Mr. Merrill growled at him.
"Nope," Jake said. "See, I'm done being scared.
I'm also real fucking sick of the good ol' boy bullshit you've got going on.
Covering for each other, never mind the secrets and backroom deals.
This shit, Don? It's fucked. It's so far over the top, I'd even say it's corrupt, and is that the record you really want to leave behind? "
"Oh, keep going, Jake. I'll raise everyone's fines to fifteen thousand."
"And you won't have anyone riding bulls," Jake told him. "If they can't pay, the chute will still be empty. Tomorrow is Sunday, Donald. Means no new riders until Anaheim."
"And a small event with actual riders," Mr. Merrill snapped, "is more entertaining to the fans than that bullshit tonight!"
"Doesn't make the judging fair," I pointed out.
Which made him turn on me. "Is this your doing, Cody?"
"Nope," Jake said. "The lot of us actually kept it from her.
Wasn't easy, because we knew she was a team player.
But that's the thing, Don. She is a team player.
The kind who doesn't whine and bitch when it's not all about her.
The sort who follows the letter of the law rather than bending the rules around to make her rich and famous.
She's here for a check, not her ego, but I'm sure that's not something you'd understand. "
"Jake, I don't care about your beef with me," Mr. Merrill warned. "But this? This is my job, boy." Then he raised his voice. "I know you all think you got some big win because your favorite bullfighters are back, but that's only because their sponsor wanted them."
I shifted forward and tugged at my chaps. "This sponsor?"
"This one?" Jake asked, doing the same.
"I got one too," J.D. drawled. "But we can talk about reasons, Mr. President. Oh, we can sit down and have a real long talk about my fuckin' twenty-three rider score yesterday. Shit was only marginally better today. Now, how you gonna spin it that the best rider in the Pbr is suddenly the worst?"
"Everyone saw you get carried off the dirt back in Iowa," Mr. Merrill pointed out. "J.D., if you're not fully healed, there's nothing wrong with taking a little more time off."
"And kissing my man before the show, up on the rail where God and everyone can see?" J.D. asked. "Because I ain't going back in the closet. Cody ain't gonna grow a dick. These brown boys? They ain't gonna get more white, and these educated ones ain't gonna turn into rednecks for ya."
"I think you're blowing things out of proportion," Mr. Merrill said.
"Are they?" Ty asked. "Because we all saw that score. We also know it's bullshit. So either you look to see if someone's paying off your judges, or we take a page from Cody Jennings and go straight to the press."
"About someone's bull riding score?" Mr. Merrill scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure they'll put that on the evening news, Ty. But go ahead. A little controversy will only sell more seats."
"No," Jake said, lifting his hand to let Ty know he had this. "About the hate crimes being ignored. About the unfair rules, the bigotry in the Pbr - "
"Which the fans won't see as a problem," Mr. Merrill said, cutting him off. "This woke shit? Keep up with the news, Jake. We're not here to become a social justice movement. We're here to ride bulls."
"And cheat on wives," Jake said. "And beat women. Yep, that's exactly the country sort of mentality our fans are rooting for, right? Or maybe you have the wrong idea of what it means to be country."
"Think what you will," Mr. Merrill said. "The fine has already been posted to the account of every rider who sent his bull out alone. Tomorrow, it will be fifteen thousand for a second violation. The next time..." He looked around the room, making sure everyone was listening. "Suspension."
"And the line has been drawn in the sand," Jake said.
Mr. Merrill just grunted, making it clear he was sure he'd won. But when he left, he didn't dawdle. He might not be retreating, but he sure didn't stick around to get dragged into the shit he'd just started.
Jackson was the first to break the silence. "Shit. Guys, I don't have ten grand. Means I can't ride tomorrow."
"Me either," Sonny said.
"Barely," Wes admitted. "Might mean I can't make it to Anaheim, though."
"We'll figure it out," Jake assured them. "We made a fund for a reason, right? Just..." He patted the air. "Let me work this out, ok?"
"You can't," Gustavo said. "Look, Brazil will take care of ourselves, but even we can't handle that."
"I got a kid on the way any day now," Renato said. "I can't just throw tens of thousands around like that."
"And we don't expect it," I assured him. "I also get it if y'all ride tomorrow. Look, I know you were trying to help me and J.D., but this is our fight."
"It's fucking all of ours!" Wes snapped. "That's what they don't get. How does that poem go? First they came for something, and I wasn't that, so I didn't think anything of it?"
"The Holocaust one," Kaleb said. "Yeah, I've heard it."
"But it's not wrong," Wes insisted. "The whole point is that it's ok when it happens to someone else, but eventually, we'll all be the 'someone else.' And if we don't stick together..."
"United we stand," Ty said, "divided we fall."
"I prefer 'teamwork is overpowered,'" I told them, but the words were barely out of my mouth before I had an idea. "Shit. J.D., can you pass me my phone?"
"Yeah?" Confusion was on his face for a second, then vanished. "Right. Gotta call your dad."
"Something like that," I told him, swiping at the screen and moving out of the middle of that conversation.
I couldn't help them figure it out, not when I was the one getting all the benefits and suffering none of the consequences.
But I could do something to help. The sort that meant I was going to need to lean on my newest sponsor a little more than I liked, but Rhaven was cool, and there was a slim chance she might not tell me no.
"Rhaven here," she answered.
"Rhaven, it's Cody," I told her.
"Oh, that display today was amazing," she told me. "And Braden just about pissed himself when Jorge punched Austin. I can't wait to hear what that asshole was saying!"
"Yeah," I said. "Um, about that. Rhaven, is there any way Deviant might give me an advance on my sponsorship fees?"
"Ok?" She sounded confused. "Maybe. How much, Cody?"
"Uh, enough to pay the ten-thousand-dollar fine for everyone who didn't ride today?
We just got hit with an unsportsmanlike conduct fine.
I mean, not me because I rode. Hell, I didn't even know they were doing that!
But these men who stood up for me and J.D.
? Yeah, the Pbr has figured out how to make sure this doesn't happen again. That's the only reason I'm asking."
"I can't promise that," she said. "Cody, that's like three hundred thousand dollars."
"Yeah," I breathed. "I know. And it'll be more tomorrow. But they did this for me, and I feel responsible."
"You also didn't ask them to," she reminded me. "You said you didn't even know."
"I didn't, but that whole teamwork phrase y'all have? Yeah, it's kinda like that."
"I see." She made a little noise. "I can come up to your suite tonight and we can talk about it."
"Actually," I said, "most of us are heading to a bar right now to figure this out. I have to wait for Tanner to get done with the closing ceremony, but you should come. At least see why I feel like I have to do this?"
There was a muffled sound, like she'd just put her hand over the speaker. "Hey, Brae? How do you feel about a shitkicker bar?"
"Not what they call it, and could be fun," a man said in the background.
Then Rhaven was back. "Send me the location. I'm bringing my boyfriend. Cody, I'm not safe at those places."
"You'll be safe at this one," I assured her. "I'll make sure of it."
"Then we'll be there," she promised, ending the call.
"Babe?" J.D. asked, proving he'd followed me and heard most of that.
"Three hundred thousand," I told him. "That's what the Pbr will make from all those fines. That's more than ticket sales, isn't it?"
"I honestly dunno," he said. "So, we're payin' em all?"
"I think I might be putting my Deviant sponsorship toward this, J.D. Because this shit? It's wrong. It's also the sort of fight someone has to have, and the price tag is going to prevent most of these guys from even trying."
"Yeah, but not even we can pay this forever," he pointed out.
"And that's how they're going to win," I realized. "Dammit!"