4. Julius #2
I did choose to stop. Missing it doesn’t change that, and talking about it for ten minutes doesn’t mean I’m planning a comeback. I’d rather work out whether this feeling will last before I give Ramona another reason to worry.
***
The old practice barn is quieter than the main facilities.
Dakota wanted to check the mechanical bulls and the padding and the safety gear we keep stored back here. I unlock the big doors and let her in first, then flip on the overhead lights.
“This is a nice setup.” She walks the perimeter slowly, running her hand along the padded walls. “Better than anything I’ve seen, and the place I came from wasn’t cheap.”
“We don’t cut corners on safety.” I follow her toward the row of mechanical bulls lined up against the far wall.
“I can tell.” She stops in front of the largest one and frowns at it. “But this one’s off-balance.”
“What do you mean, off-balance?” I walk over to stand next to her.
“The part that tilts it is set wrong.” She grabs the frame with both hands and shakes it. “See how it’s pulling left even when it’s sitting still? Anyone who rides this thing is gonna lean too hard the other way to fix it without knowing they’re doing it.”
“We can get that fixed this week.” I make a note to call the equipment guy.
“I know you can fix it, but first I want to show you what I mean.” She swings a leg over the bull and settles into the seat. “So you can feel the problem yourself.”
She hits the control panel and the bull starts to move under her, slow at first, then building speed.
Dakota rides it easy, her balance holding even when the machine bucks hard.
Then she shifts her weight on purpose to show me the issue and I see it right away.
The thing pulls left even when it shouldn’t.
“There, you feel that?” She hops off and brushes her hands on her jeans. “That left pull?”
“Yeah, I can see what you mean.” I nod at the machine.
“You need to feel it, Julius.” She steps back from the bull. “Get on.”
“I haven’t been on one of these in years, Dakota.” I take a step backward toward the door.
“You scared of a practice bull?” She grins at me with a challenge in it.
“Scared of that hunk of junk?” I scoff and shake my head. “Come on.”
“Then prove it.” She folds her arms across her chest and waits. “Unless you can’t anymore.”
Damn it.
I walk over and swing my leg over the bull. The leather creaks under my weight and the old position pulls at a place under my ribs I haven’t felt in almost five years.
“You ready?” Dakota’s hand hovers over the control panel.
“Yeah, just hit the damn button.”
She hits it.
The bull starts to move and my body remembers before my brain catches up.
My hips shift to find the center. My legs grip the sides without thinking.
My free arm goes up for balance. The motion rolls through me and I move with it, adjusting for the tilt she warned me about, correcting for the left pull, staying centered even when the machine tries to throw me sideways.
“Right there.” Dakota’s voice cuts through the mechanical noise. “You see?”
I don’t stop. I can’t make myself stop. My body remembers this. My heart is pounding and I feel more awake than I have in a long damn time.
Finally she kills the power and the bull slows to a stop under me. I’m breathing hard, my hand still locked on the rope.
“What are you looking at?” I wipe sweat off my forehead with my sleeve.
“That guy right there.” She points directly at my chest.
“What guy?” I swing my leg over and hop down onto the padding.
“The one in the picture on your wall.” She’s staring at me with an expression I can’t read. “He’s still in there. I just watched him show up.”
I feel that more than I want to. I turn away from her and grab a towel off the equipment rack to wipe my face.
“We should get that tilt fixed as soon as possible.” I toss the towel into the bin without looking at her. “Before somebody gets hurt on it.”
“Yeah.” Dakota is quiet behind me. “We definitely should.”
***
I find Ramona in the crew kitchen with flour on her cheek and both hands stuck in a bowl of dough. The oven timer is going off, but she keeps trying to scrape her fingers clean with a spoon.
“Can you get that out for me?” She points the spoon toward the oven when she sees me.
I grab the mitts beside the stove and pull out a tray of rolls. Behind me, she frees one hand with a wet slap against the counter.
“How much are you making?” I set the tray down where she’s cleared a space. “There’s dough everywhere.”
“I’m making bread for everyone who works here.” She tries to push her hair out of her face and gets flour in it. “They’ve been staying late all week. I wanted to do a nice thing for them.”
“You could have asked the cook.” I turn off the timer, then check the handwritten recipe beside her bowl.
“She has today off.” Ramona catches me reading and takes the card from my hand. “I wanted to do it myself. You don’t have to look so surprised.”
“I’m reading the recipe.” I show her my empty hands, but she’s already narrowing her eyes.
“You were checking whether I got it wrong.” She points toward the sink. “Wash up. If you’ve got opinions, you can help.”
I do as she asks, rolling my sleeves while she struggles with the dough again. When I come back, I stop behind her and reach around to steady the bowl.
“You’ve got flour on your face.” I brush it from her cheek with my thumb.
“You’ve got hands that could be working.” She turns toward me, close enough that I lower my eyes to her mouth.
“Tell me where you want them.” I keep one palm against the bowl.
Her eyes drop to my hands before she looks up at me.
“In the dough, Julius.” She moves aside so I can reach the bowl. “You can start by telling me why it looks like that.”
She taps my arm with her floury fingers, and I catch her wrist before she can do it again.
“I washed before I came over.” I turn my arm so she can see the flour. “You could show a little respect.”
“Then let me go before I make it worse.” She gives my hand a tug.
I release her, and she immediately plants her palm against my chest.
“There you go.” She steps back to inspect the print. “Now you look as though you’ve helped.”