Chapter 38
The week off was starting to drag. On the upside, my phone had been going wild lately. Mostly, that was Peter keeping me in the loop, but it wasn't like there was anything for me to do. I'd tried contacting the local news stations about this mess. They hadn't been interested.
I'd been told rather bluntly that they'd run a segment last week when the death had occurred, but the news cycle had already moved on. So now, I was sitting in my hotel room with a bad movie playing, a case of beer on the table, and one sitting unopened beside me.
It was Friday. I should be getting cleaned up to head to the bar, but I honestly didn't want to. I'd been drunk enough times that it didn't hold any appeal. Yeah, maybe there'd be some women there, but my mind was on this mess - and fixing it.
Someone thumped hard on my door, snapping me out of the pity party I was trying to keep from falling into. Pushing out a heavy sigh, I made my way over, but when I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a pair of boxes. The smell of fresh pizza made my stomach growl. And holding all of it?
Jake.
"Hello, arch neblesis," he said, tipping his head at my room. "I have food. Wanna share?"
So I pulled open the door. "I have beer. Will trade."
"Deal," he said, pushing past me. "Is it Canadian?"
"Shit, no," I said around a laugh. "It's Bud."
Jake put the pizza down on the table, then turned one of the bottles. "Lime? Isn't that Cody's drink?"
"Fuck off. She got me hooked on it because it hides the water taste."
"Fair," he agreed as he popped the top, then flopped down in the chair. "I got pepperoni and meat lovers. Figured one of those should appeal, right?"
"Both," I assured him as I opened the top of the top one and grabbed a slice. "So, do I want to ask why you're stopping by with pizza?"
"Hoping for some news," Jake said.
"Ah." I crammed a big bite into my mouth, set the slice on the top of the box, and headed over to grab my phone.
He just shook his head, but his hands were rummaging.
Packed in between the boxes were a pair of paper plates.
The small kind, like he'd picked them up in the lobby or something, but I didn't really care.
He moved my slice onto one, then put it in front of the empty chair.
The other he filled with a slice for himself.
I made it back before he could even take a bite.
"Ok," I said. "So Peter's father has all three ranches supplying cattle in Nashville calling the Pbr.
Apparently, Merrill's punting them to voicemail, so they've moved on to contacting headquarters.
The staff keep promising there won't be a problem, but seems the cattle ranchers have an ace in the hole. "
"What's that?" Jake asked.
I took another bite, then talked around it. "Peter. Black Hat Ranch has an 'inside source' that has reason to believe the boycott will continue. Since the entire Pbr knows about that relationship - "
"Shit, I didn't until the other day," he grumbled.
"But sounds like it had to be approved," I explained.
"So the Pbr is well aware that Black Hat Ranch isn't talking shit.
They do have a reason to worry, so the Pbr can't make promises, and the ranchers are pushing for a handicap, a guarantee, or something to make this worthwhile for them.
The Pbr can't really do that, so it's got them between a rock and a hard place. "
"And is actually hurting," he said. "Yeah, I heard the president's losing his shit."
That made me pause. Leaning back, I looked my new friend over again. "From who?"
And Jake stilled. "Um, a couple of the guys."
"Who?" I pressed. "Jake, I'm not going to make things hard for them."
"Shit," he mumbled before wiping at his mouth. Then he tossed back a splash of beer as if trying to wash the taste of this conversation out of his mouth. "So, did you know we're allowed to request music for our rides?"
"Nope."
"Well, we can," he assured me. "The sound guy? Yeah, he doesn't want to get dragged into this, but he said something."
I nodded. "And he'd know, right? I mean, if he's upstairs, he probably has heard a thing or two?"
"But only at the events," Jake reminded me. "Or so."
That last part was added on like he hoped I'd ignore it, so I did. "Well, I tried the news, and they're not biting. I thought about calling J.D. or Cody, but I really don't want to disturb them."
"Why them?" he asked.
"Because where they are, Tanner will be. I don't know Tanner well enough to just call him, but if anyone knows what's going on with the bullfighters, Tanner should."
"Or he's been cut out," Jake countered.
"Possible," I admitted. "But my point is that this? It's my last straw. Between us not riding and the bull owners getting pissed, that should put some pressure on the Pbr, right?"
"Should," Jake agreed. "Mr. Merrill is a stubborn fucker, though. If he thinks he's being backed into a corner, there's a good chance he'll let it all burn just to spite us."
I mumbled at that, and reached for another slice. "So, since you're the brains of this mess, what do we try next?"
"We wait," Jake told me.
I shook my head, not liking that. "No. They don't get to shit on Cody's scores, fuck over Tanner, leave us all crashing and burning, and get to just get away with it!" I tossed the slice down on the plate without even taking a bite. "C'mon, man. You have to have something else up your sleeve."
"Shit," he drawled. "Ty, you're the one who came up with the stock angle."
"Cletus did," I admitted. "I also think we need to let the riders know how much you've been helping with this."
Jake waved that off. "No, leave me out of it."
"No," I pressed. "Look, Renato's about to have a baby.
For all I know, he could miss this event.
If he does come, he'll fly in Thursday and out Monday morning.
J.D. said he's coming out. That means he's going to have his own shit to worry about, and Cody will give him her full attention.
Djalu might step up, but he doesn't seem the sort.
He's too chill to really rally anyone behind this.
That leaves me and you, and there's no fucking way I can keep this shit going on my own. "
"What about Dado?" Jake tried. "Maybe Gustavo? The Brazilians know you, and they listen to you, so we can use that, right?"
I sighed hard. "And who's going to speak for the Americans? Kaleb? Wes? No, Jake. You're the top-ranking American right now. Cody should be, but she got fucked, so stop hiding behind the rest of us and help me a bit."
"Ty, I can't."
"Why the fuck not?!" I demanded. "The entire fucking Pbr is falling apart around us, and you're what, scared of the microphones or something?"
"No, it's just a bad idea," he insisted.
"All of this is a bad fucking idea!" I roared. "And you're here pushing me. You're the one who started all of this, so fucking help me already!"
Jake slammed his beer bottle down on the table. "I. Can't."
There was so much finality in his words that my next round of bitching died on my tongue. "What?" I breathed. "Why?"
For a little too long, he sat there, watching the foam in his bottle creep toward the top and finally dissipate before it overflowed. When the risk to his beer abated, he let out a weary sigh and finally looked up.
"Do you remember how I mentioned my father was a bull rider who knocked up my mom when he was passing through?"
"Yeah?" What the fuck did that have to do with anything?
"I got into this sport because of her stories. Because she made cowboys sound so impressive. I thought I'd get into the Pbr, have my name on the big screen, televised across the country, and maybe he'd see it. I mean, that was my dream as a kid."
Why the fuck were we taking a trip down memory lane? "And?"
"And I was riding in Touring Pro when I heard his name the first time.
I mean, from someone besides my mom. Great, I thought.
I knew who and where he was, and I'd become the best fucking rider of my generation, right?
I'd show him I was his son. And I held onto that dream, chasing my points right up until I made it into the Pbr and got to shake his hand. "
I didn't say anything this time. I just kept watching him, convinced Jake had a reason for spelling this out like he was.
"And when I asked if he remembered my mom?
He said no. I told him I thought I was his kid, and he said that was a sick joke.
Yeah, he told me to fuck off, Ty. Took me a bit to realize it's because he's married - was when he fucked my mom too.
He also really doesn't want his wife to know about me.
Shitty, right? Well, the worst part is that I'd made it here.
I was the real deal, and I'd just found out that the fucking president of the Pbr would rather his dirty little secret didn't exist. Yeah, me. "
Oh.
Shit.
"Donald Merrill's your dad?" I asked, needing to hear him confirm it.
Jake nodded slowly. "Yeah. So like I said, I can't help. If I push, he'll push back just to make it clear he doesn't give a shit about me. He'll fuck us all over if it'll make me go away."
"So push right the fuck back!" I snapped.
"I am."
"You're being a fucking pussy, hiding behind everyone else, refusing to get the damned credit you deserve, and all because you're worried your old man might get his feelings hurt!
" I lifted my beer and took a long swallow, trying to drown the anger growing inside me.
Sadly, it didn't help. "Jake, is this why you've stayed out of the spotlight?
Consistently placing in the top ten, often the top five, and you're still not bragging it up?
Fuck, your vest isn't half as packed as Austin's! "
"Well, his isn't as packed anymore," Jake countered.
"You know what I fucking mean!"
But instead of answering, he just said, "The sound guy's my brother."
"Shit," I breathed.
"And Merrill's wife? She's the one with the money," he went on. "If she knew about me, Donald would be a single man. That means he needs me to stay a secret, so if I start pushing, he'll go nuclear just to save his own ass."
But a little idea was starting to form in the back of my mind. Yeah, I needed to stew on that a bit, because right now, Jake looked like he'd just said too much. He had the same expression on his face J.D. had when he'd told me he was bi.
It was vulnerability, and a whole fucking lot of it.
I didn't really know how to deal with that, but I'd recently learned how not to.
I'd fucked up bad enough with Cody to understand how much some things could hurt a person, even if they didn't make sense to me.
Jake had recently become a guy I not only respected, but someone I wanted to call a friend, and this time, I would not fuck it up.
"Who knows this?" I asked gently.
"J.D.," he admitted.
"So Cody and Tanner do too."
But Jake shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they don't. J.D.
traded me. He told me he's bi. He said he's with Cody too.
He left it up to me to figure out the rest, but that's not hard to put together.
" He chuckled. "I saw the room they shared, Ty.
When I helped you pick up their shit. That's when I realized you knew more than you were saying. "
I nodded, accepting that. "Ok. Let me make sure I have this straight. Merrill knows you're his kid."
"And Clay, my brother. He knows too," Jake said. "Donald doesn't know that Clay knows, though."
"Which means your secret still has power, Jake."
"But," he countered, "if I push, my father will push back - and hard. That's the sort of asshole he is. It's why I mentioned training the current bullfighters. It's a worse option, but it is an option. See, Donald's the sort of man who gets stupid when he's pushed into a corner."
"And it sounds to me like you know exactly how to push his buttons." I tipped my head at his beer, reminding him he still had it. "So let's use that. Sure, I'll be the face of this. You can be the brains."
He grabbed the bottle but didn't drink. "You're starting to make me think you're doing just fine on your own, Ty."
Yeah, and that shit felt good. "Been learning from my friend." I gestured to him. "But I want you to think about something."
"Ok?"
"What happens if you stop hiding? I'm not saying push him, because you made it clear you can't do that.
But step up, Jake. Get the fucking credit you deserve for once.
Let your old man see you're better than him.
And when that throws him off, I'll come rub a little salt in his wounds so he won't even notice when Cody and J.D.
remake this whole ordeal to be the sort of sport we can be fucking proud of. "
Jake's eyes lost focus for a moment, then he started bobbing his head slowly. "Yeah," he mumbled. Then a bit louder, "Yeah, I think I like this plan, Ty."
"Good," I said. "We have a week to work it out. Probably the rest of the weekend before anyone else shows up. Since I don't have any interest in going out and getting fucked up, what do you think about hanging out here, sharing some pizza and making a few plans, hm?"
"I'll fucking drink to that," he agreed.