Chapter 33
After convincing most of the other riders to keep striking, I slept in the next day. It felt fucking amazing, but by Monday night, that empty hotel room was starting to make my skin crawl. Renato had flown out. Cody and her boys were gone. That meant it was time for me to move on as well.
I debated heading back home for a few days, but it didn't make sense.
It would take me days to drive to Alberta.
Sure, I could've flown, but then coming back to get my truck just to drive down to Tennessee?
Something about that made me feel tired, so I decided to simply treat myself to a nicer room this time.
But the miles between North Carolina and Nashville reminded me a little too much of Missouri. Missouri reminded me of Cody. Watching the trees pass by on the sides of the road felt like time rushing past and those wild weeks where I'd been sure I had it all figured out.
How fucking stupid I'd been.
Cody had been willing to risk everything to prove herself, and I'd thought I'd just swoop in and become her savior. I'd expected her to think it made me her hero, and the hero always got the girl, so the whole thing had taken me by surprise when she'd pushed back.
She hadn't asked me to do it for her. She hadn't asked me to lead her through it all or make it easier.
All she'd wanted was someone to stand beside her as she fought the world, and I'd been too worried about my own shit to fucking listen to her.
And now, Tanner was facing the same thing.
From the sounds of it, J.D. was going to make sure there was a big fucking target on his head soon too.
The strange thing was that Jake, of all people, thought I was the man Cody had shown me I wasn't. Jake was convinced the other riders would listen to me.
He thought I could somehow rally them or something.
He'd said the other guys looked up to me, so if that was the case, I had some big fucking shoes to fill.
J.D. was the man who had this shit figured out. I'd been convinced he was a crazy motherfucker, but he'd been right the whole time. Sure, he was willing to hurt a few people, but if that was what it took, then wouldn't I throw down to help the ones who deserved it? I hoped I would.
But I'd learned a few things since Cheyenne. First, most of these guys were just like me. They wanted to take, take, take - and the world made it easy for them. The only way to get them on board with this strike, and keep them there, was to show them what they'd get out of it.
That part was easy. Tanner, Jorge, and Isaac were good.
Damned good. All the veteran riders had a story about those men saving their asses at least once.
Bad wraps, bad bulls, and bad rides, it didn't matter.
They weren't here to judge us, just to save us.
And if we got them back, then everyone would have a better chance to earn some money.
Next, I needed to figure out what I could do to stand with J.D.
and Tanner. They wanted to come out, and that meant there'd be backlash.
If I was honestly a good friend, I'd find some way to show my support.
I'd make it clear I didn't see them any differently than I had before.
No, fuck. It had to be more than that. I had to make it clear there wasn't a damned thing wrong with not being straight!
It didn't make them less of a man, or men.
It didn't make them weak, pussies, or anything else.
I wasn't fucking scared of them, and I damned sure wanted to count those two as my friends.
In that short time we'd been working things out with Cody, J.D.
had shown me a whole different side of him, and one I missed like hell now.
But then there was the third thing, and I'd been thinking about this one all weekend long. I was the man the other riders looked up to. I was a fucking winner, the best Canadian rider in the whole Pbr. I had money, fame, and fans. That all translated to power, so shouldn't I use it?
How? What the fuck could I do with any of this that might make a difference?
I was sure Jake would know, but Hannah had said that if I didn't like how getting dumped felt, then the first step was to fix myself.
Well, my goal was to become the sort of man I could be proud of, so I had to figure this out.
I needed to do it on my own - although I wasn't going to be dumb and ignore help when it was offered to me either.
Nope, I was doing my damnedest to change a bit, and the strange thing was, I liked this version of me. It felt good to give the new guys some pointers, offer a hand over the rail to someone I barely knew, and take pictures with the fans without touching them.
When I pulled into the Marriott hotel in Nashville, I upgraded my room, then headed up the elevator. The place was nice, too. I got a little bedroom to go with an actual living space. As I tossed my things down beside the bed, I decided this would make a nearly two-week stay feel a bit more homey.
On impulse, I whipped off a text to Jake, letting him know I'd made it to Nashville.
He'd said he was heading this way as well, but he hadn't said what day.
After that, I grabbed a shower, put on some normal clothes, left my hat in the room, and decided to see if the fancy restaurant the guy at the front desk had mentioned was any good.
Unlike most places, this Marriott had the restaurant at the top.
I asked for a table to myself, then got ready to wait.
Apparently, this place was nice enough to be a date location.
The couples spread around the dining room gave that impression, at least. But over at the side was a man who looked oddly familiar.
He was older, likely in his forties, but not immediately ringing any bells in my mind.
I kept glancing that way, trying to place him. Eventually, the hostess came to take me to my table, leading me right past him. He looked up, and a smile took over.
"Ty!"
"Uh..." And then I realized why I couldn't place him. He wasn't wearing his clown makeup. "Cletus!"
"I'll share," he told the waitress, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Unless you're meeting someone?"
"Nope, just wanted a meal," I said, taking the chair.
The girl took my drink order, promised a waiter would come soon, and hurried off. Cletus stabbed another piece of steak off his plate, then began to talk around it.
"You heard anything from the Pbr about the bullfighters yet?"
My eyes narrowed, wondering if he knew something. "No. Sunday, Mr. Merrill tried to make it sound like we were doing some memorial."
"Oh, yeah he did," Cletus agreed. "I was told that if I don't want to be suspended, I'll toe the line too. And I'm sorry, but I'm currently up shit creek, so I don't have any other option."
"No, I get it," I assured him. "But maybe you can convince those new guys to at least try to help us out?"
"Shit," he grumbled. "Peter's been trying, but Charlie and Stephen think they know it all. Those fuckers won a few awards in their competitions, and now they think they're all hot shit. They're convinced the lot of you are too dumb to worry about."
I grunted, unimpressed. "Yeah, that's the impression we're getting too, but a man actually died, Cletus."
He looked up and smiled. "It's actually Frank, so you know. Cletus is fine, though."
"Trying to not get noticed?" I asked, only half joking.
He shrugged. "Saying I work for the Pbr is a lot more appealing to women my age than saying I'm a clown. So yes, a bit." Then he tipped his head at me. "Just like you, huh? No hat? Shirt's covering that belt buckle you're so proud of?"
"Busted," I said, pausing when the waiter stopped by so I could order my meal. The moment he was gone, I decided to just lay it out there. "We're not going to stop, you know."
"And you shouldn't," Cletus told me. "I can do you one better. If you get me anything to work with - that won't get me fired - I'll even help."
"If you have any ideas, I'm completely open to suggestions," I admitted. "I mean, we need to keep the media push going, but Casey died back in North Carolina, and I'm not sure anyone in Nashville will give a shit."
"Unsafe sport? Potential for gore?" He rocked his head, weighing that. "I'm sure you can get someone to listen. But have you considered going at this another way?"
"Which way?"
"The bulls," Cletus said. "With all of you refusing to ride, those animals are being scored on just bucking. They work harder with a rider. They do better when driven into it, and they know when y'all are off. That means the animals last weekend dropped down a few ranks."
"Ok?" I could see his point. "But how do I use that? I don't know any stock contractors. Pretty sure there's some rule about me talking to them."
"To prevent bribes," Cletus agreed. "Yeah, but it's more of a 'shouldn't,' not a 'don't.' The random draws every day prevent anyone from cheating, and favoritism won't do much to help you. However..." He took another bite, dragging out the pause.
"You want me to beg?" I asked. "Because I will. After last weekend, I'm not too proud to grovel to keep myself in one piece - and alive."
"One of your least favorite people," Cletus finally said, "can help you."
"Austin?"
"Ok, not that bad," Cletus assured me. "I mean Peter McClain. He got into bullfighting because he grew up working with bucking bulls, Ty. His father owns Black Hat Ranch."
"Speed Bump," I realized, because that was the ranch who owned that bull.
Cletus nodded slowly, then gestured to the side. I looked over just as my meal appeared. The waiter asked if we needed anything else, so I told him to put both meals on my check, and to get my friend anything else he wanted. Cletus immediately ordered another beer.
But as soon as the waiter was gone again, I leaned closer. "What are the chances that Peter - he's the one in blue, right?"
"Right," Cletus agreed.
"Why would he help us get his team replaced?"
Cletus just smiled. "Because he's not bad.
He's also getting a little old to be doing this full time.
Ty, he wants to be the backup guy, not the leader of the new main team.
Peter knows he's slow. He's aware those other two are useless, and he feels like shit about Casey.
Hell, he's been blaming himself because he panicked.
He told me that if Tanner hadn't jumped the rail, it would've been much worse. "
"Yeah, it would've," I agreed.
"And Peter told Antonio Sousa he called for Tanner. That's why Donald Merrill didn't bring it up. It's why Tanner didn't get fired for interfering, so yeah. I think Peter might actually help."
"Got his number?" I asked.
"Maybe, but I'm not just handing it out." Cletus jerked his chin at me. "But give me yours and I'll pass it over."
"And then?" I asked.
"Then you ask him how to get the stock contractors on your side.
And when you do that, Ty, you push Donald Merrill's ass into a corner and then keep pushing until he has to give in.
You make this right, because Tanner doesn't deserve any of this.
That boy's a good one, and I don't know where you idiots got the idea that he's gay - "
"He's not," I broke in. "I know he's not, but you know what else? It wouldn't matter if he was."
"No, it wouldn't," Cletus agreed. "I just picked this crazy-ass lifestyle over wife number three. She got the house, and I got a few more years of doing this. You riders risk your lives for it, but at least you end up making some money in the end. Those bullfighters? Know what they get?"
"Our gratitude," I said. "And it's not nearly enough. Trust me, I know."
"Don't forget it," Cletus said. "The wolf pack are the unsung heroes of this crazy thing we do."
"Which is why I'm trying to make sure everyone starts doing a little singing," I assured him. "Hopefully, we'll be able to sing their praises again soon."