Chapter 12
Jason Owens was my holdout. Austin, Eli, and Derek weren't even being told about the plan, but almost everyone else liked the idea except that new guy from America. He was a hothead who thought this might be a chance to move up a few rankings.
"And I'm dead fucking last right now," Jason pointed out. "One spot is one place closer to staying on this tour next year. Fifteen gets me into finals where I have the chance to earn enough to actually compete."
His facts were all true, but not quite right. "And you have two and a half events until that. You won't make it. Just trust me, Jason."
"Fuck you, Ty. Maybe it's easy up there at the top, but down here, we're not scared of getting hurt."
"Casey Davis died!" I hissed. "If that doesn't scare you, then fine. Ride."
The asshole just laughed in my face. "And if you think I'm not the only one who'll do it, you're dumber than you look. Trust me, half these guys are saying they'll play your game, but when their turn comes, they'll be getting points, not a big zero."
"Ty!"
The sound of that feminine voice made me forget all about this prick and his youthful ego. "Cody!" I called back, waving her over.
"Hey," she said, hurrying over to drop her gear beside mine. "So, I heard..." Her voice trailed off as she saw the new guy. "Cody Jennings," she told him, offering her hand.
Surprisingly, he took it. "Jason Owens. Heard you're the real deal."
"I am," she promised. "I'm also really hoping this strike works." And she looked at me. "Are we even warming our gear? Or are we just being belligerent?"
"No, we're playing this out," I explained. "The plan is to act like everything is normal until the riderless bulls start going out."
She nodded. "Good. I can do that."
And a little piece of tension lifted from my shoulders. "So you're ok with this?" I asked her. "I know you've been worried about them trying to push you out."
"But if no one is riding," she said, "then they can't fuck with me. Ty, I really am a team player. Besides, this isn't exactly my first time to have the powers that be try to fuck me over."
Yeah, I'd forgotten that part. To her, this was pretty normal. Hell, that she'd even qualified for the top level of professional bull riding was more impressive than she knew, but Cody wasn't a quitter. She'd just kept pushing and pushing until she had the points she needed.
But the new guy looked confused. "So you're ok with throwing away points? Aren't you competing for Rookie of the Year?"
"Technically," she said, rocking her head like she didn't think that was possible. "Gustavo's got quite a few points on me still, and the judges have been fucking me on the scores, so it's not like I have a lot to lose. I do, however, have a shitload to gain."
"Like?"
She glanced at me as if checking to make sure she wasn't overstepping. I just tilted my head at the guy, letting her know she could have at it. I hadn't been able to convince him, but Cody? She had a way of disarming these guys.
"You've never ridden with our real bullfighters, have you?
" she asked, the question clearly rhetorical.
"Well, it's a whole different game when you're confident about taking a risk.
Throwing on a suicide wrap for an intense bull because you know Jorge will get you out of it?
Or maybe spurring so hard your legs are off the beast's hide?
" She shrugged. "I've done both without fearing for my life.
That mess yesterday? Casey had a re-ride.
He should've bailed the moment that bull fouled itself on the chute, but he couldn't. Know why? "
"Because he didn't have the room to get off," I answered. "The bullfighters were letting that bull run the rail instead of blocking it from the wall. And getting your leg crushed between the wall and one ton of beef? That's how the best bull rider in history got pins in his knee."
"Really?" Cody asked. "J.D. didn't tell me that."
"Shit," I grumbled. "Cody, that man has so much metal in him it's not funny. Trust me, Des Moines wasn't the first time he got carried out in an ambulance. It is, however, the first time I've heard him scream."
"Yeah," she said. "But that's what you're risking, Jason. Besides, if we all refuse to ride, the Pbr will listen a lot faster."
"How can you be sure?" he asked.
Her eyes darted to me again, then back almost too fast for me to be sure. "Because the press is here."
"Yeah, well, I'll think about it," Jason said as one more person moved in to join us. "Jake."
"Jason," Jake greeted the guy. Then, "Cody. Ty?"
I waited until Jason had left, heading back to his own gear. "He's riding," I grumbled.
Jake waved that off. "Let him. I'm pretty sure at least twenty-nine of us are boycotting this." And he looked at Cody.
She grinned. "Does that make me lucky number thirty?"
"Yep," he said.
"Or so we think," I countered. "Jason says a few are saying they will but still intend to ride. They're hoping for the points to get into finals."
"Shit," Jake drawled. "They're - " And he stopped hard.
"Listen up!"
That was a voice that clearly expected to be listened to.
Turning, I found Donald Merrill, the head of the Pbr, standing in the middle of our warm-up area.
The man was carrying a clipboard like it was supposed to make him look official.
But as he scanned the group of riders setting up their ropes, his eyes landed on Cody.
"Miss Jennings," he almost growled, "is your boyfriend here again today?"
"Last time I saw him, he was naked in my hotel room," she replied. "Why? Did you need him?"
Mr. Merrill clenched his jaw. "Well, I thought we could talk about his little stunt yesterday. He's suspended, in case you forgot."
"Trust me, we can't," she told him, somehow sounding so calm and in control. "The dead guy made it hard to miss. You know, the same one who would still be alive if our real bullfighters had been here."
"Enough!" Mr. Merrill snapped. "If you're looking for a fine..."
"I'll pay it," Jake said, his voice as cold as ice.
"And I'll get the next one," I said.
"Guys!" Cody said around a laugh. "I'm making enough to pay my own fines now." And she patted her vest, right over an Under Armour patch. "Blazing trails and all that. Granted, I'm starting to think the whole 'unbecoming' thing applies differently to me than everyone else."
"Don't get mouthy with me, young lady," Mr. Merrill snapped.
Then, before she could reply, he turned to look at the rest of us.
"I want all of you to be prepared for the increased media attention.
Yes, Casey Davis succumbed to his injuries last night.
His family has been notified, but the local news is aware of the incident.
Do not be surprised if they want to ask you about it.
However, I'd like all of you to remember that his family might see your interviews, so please be respectful. "
And Jake lifted a finger at Cody. The gesture was clear, he wanted her to wait, but what confused me was that she did.
I also noticed when those two locked eyes and something was shared between them.
I didn't know what, but in the pit of my stomach, that old feeling began to rise up again: jealousy.
I pushed it back down as hard as I could. So she'd noticed Jake, had she? Of course she had. He was proving himself to be a damned good man, and as much as I wanted to hate him for that, I couldn't. I also had a feeling he'd be real good to her.
But Mr. Merrill wasn't done. "With the increased media attention, your sponsors will expect you to mention their names. Now, let's all remember that tonight, we're riding in Casey's honor, and let's show the world why he loved this sport so much."
Men murmured at that, but there wasn't the sort of cheer Mr. Merrill seemed to have been hoping for.
Instead, he gave Cody one more warning look, then stormed off the same way he'd come.
Across the room, one of the Brazilians grumbled to his buddy in Portuguese.
I didn't speak the language, but I could still tell he was cursing the man out.
"I just have one question," Cody said. "If we're not riding, then we're not coming out of the arena."
"Correct," I said.
So she looked at Jake. "So how do we talk to the press?"
Her words rocked him enough that Jake leaned back. "Fuck!" he said.
"Ropes," I told her. "If we're sending our gear out, then we'll have to collect it. Even if the arena stewards bring 'em to the gates, well, that puts us down there."
"And a strike will make them ask more questions," she said, looking to Jake again.
Ok, I really hated that. I had a feeling it meant I needed to look at why, but not right now. I was going to make this mess work out; I could worry about my stupid reactions later. Hopefully when I was alone, but definitely before I did something else stupid.
"Cody, what are you planning?" I asked.
She reached up to pat the middle of my chest. "A strike only works if we have demands, Ty. Someone has to tell them we're not riding until the real bullfighters are back. Someone has to make it clear Casey died because of incompetence."
"But then Casey's family could sue..." I let the words trail off. "Fuck, I'm an idiot."
"Nope," she assured me. "You're keeping up, Ty. Even if his family isn't listening, I have a feeling his attorney will go back through everything. If we say enough to put pressure on the Pbr? Well, what's the harm?"
"Actually, a lot," Jake said, tossing cold water on the idea. "Cody, if the Pbr has to choose between 'it was a tragic accident' and 'we made a mistake?' One of those means they'll pay out. The other is called plausible deniability."
"Shit," she breathed.
"So how do we walk this line?" I asked Jake, since he seemed to be the one in the know.
"We don't say why the bullfighters are out," Jake told us. "We just say we don't feel safe anymore, and that we want them back. We will not ride until the Pbr gives us the safety team we deserve."
"I like it," Cody said.
"Same," I agreed. "It also means we need to get all of these guys on the same page, because reporters will shove a mic into their faces when they're least expecting it."
"I can help!" Cody said. "I'll talk to Jackson and his friends."
I just pointed. "Over there. I'll keep an eye on your gear."
"Thanks!" she said before hurrying off.
But Jake was giving me a sly look. "What are you doing?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Not me this time." And I tipped my brow toward him. "What are you doing with her, Jake?"
"Friends."
I scoffed. "I'm a fucking idiot, and I'm pretty sure that's a bald-faced lie."
"It's not," he promised. "I happen to know that woman is off the market. She's very, very taken. I have a feeling you know it too. That's why you didn't want me in their room." And he lifted his chin to meet my eyes. "Theirs, Ty. J.D. told me."
"Yeah? So you're chasing her now?" I asked.
"I'm on her side," he corrected, "and you're starting to act like an idiot."
Which made me hang my head. "Fuck," I muttered. "I was just going to say you should be good to her. She really is that impressive. I also think you'd be good for her."
"Me?"
I nodded. "Yeah. You. Jake, I fucked up with that woman, and trust me, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. You haven't, so don't let a good thing slip through your fingers. She deserves to live a little."
"Sounds to me like she's doing just fine on that front," he countered.
"And that's not the deal she has." I turned to pull out my rope. "Trust me. She's worth doing something stupid for."
"Or something smart," he said, reaching for his own gear. "And this, Ty? This is a very smart thing you're doing."
I looked over with a smile. "And you're a shitty nemesis."
"Neblesis," he corrected. "That's like all the competition, none of the hate. Some people even call it friends."
"I'll take it," I decided, aware he was never going to let me live that down. "Neblesis it is."