Page 38 of Eight Seconds to Fly

Davi was up in the chutes, and I stepped closer. It was hard to notice, but the Brazilian’s rode differently. They learned on tamer bulls, so their process in the chute was a little longer, but man once they were out, they looked like they were flying. Like they belonged on that beast. Even back when I was a kid, the Brazilian riders were my favorite. Brazilians for style, Australians for crazy.

The bull Davi was riding was unsettled in the chute, slamming around against the rails, making Davi climb in and out a couple of times, and having to reset his ropes each time. When Davi settled into the chute for the third time, he began his process all over again. Miguel came up beside me. “At this rate they’ll have to offer him a reride,” he said, and I nodded as I looked over at the grizzled rider.

I say he was grizzled, but he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. But this job, it was hell on your body, hell on your mind. You retired young, which is why we all went so hard. You only had so many rides in you before you expired and your earning ability went down the gurgler. Miguel was reaching that time now, he’d be the first to admit it, but as hard as it was on your body, it was harder to quit.

I turned back to Davi to see them put him on the clock. He now had thirty seconds to nod to the gateman or he would record a no-ride. “What the fuck? How is that right? There’s no way he’s had ample time to prepare. That bull is like one bullshit move away from laying down in the chutes!”

Miguel swore under his breath. “Vai tomar no cu!”

I looked at the chute judge and the way his eyes were narrowed. If I wasn’t looking for it, I would have missed the hard glint in his eye. Fuck me.

I climbed up into the chutes, directly in his line of sight. Yeah, I knew his type. A good ol’ boy. Bet he was one of Junior’s daddy’s cronies. Davi hurried through the rest of his process, nodding at the gateman with moments to spare. I didn’t watch Davi’s ride. Instead, I stared down the chute judge. I sneered at him in disgust, and when he spit in the dirt beside his feet, I knew exactly what he thought.

Oh shit. That racist, misogynistic piece of shit was going down now. “Listen here, you piece of- oof!” An arm around my middle stopped me from stomping right over to that fucking judge and letting him know exactly what I thought.

Miguel held me back but I pointed at him. “I’m watching you,” I mouthed, and the smug fuck turned away to move down to the next chute.

“Calm down,Menina.God will judge their actions.”

I wanted to angry-cry. “They are punishing him because of me. I just know it. I pissed Junior off, and now Davi is copping the consequences.”

Miguel let me go and shook his head sadly. “Não.We might not talk about it, but it is always there, the subtle, err, bias?”

“It’s bullshit,” I growled.

“Maybe, but if you ask Davi, there is no way he would change stepping up for you. It is not who he is, and it is better to ride with the bias and sleep well at night.”

I sighed heavily. When I entered this competition, I expected that they’d judge me differently. I should have predicted Junior and the boys’ club. Miguel slapped my back. “Do not stress. It fired up Davi’s blood and he rode that bull for eight seconds to prove them all wrong, look.” Davi was on the rails, and he had the crowd fired up. We all looked at the board, and when he came up with a 85.7, I swore.

“Fucking shit ass ball licking dickholes.”

Miguel blinked and crossed himself, and I laughed a little even though I felt like punching something. Probably Junior’s fat face.

I watched the replay of Davi’s ride, and I just felt meaner and meaner. I was going to burn this sport to the ground and remake it before I was done. There was no way his ride was less than an 87, which would have put him in first place. The bull bucked well, and Davi’s style was immaculate.

“Tell Davi I said sorry he got caught up in my bullshit. I’ll try to make it right, I promise.” I stomped toward the back of the arena before Miguel could say anything more. I needed to vent or punch something.

When I stumbled across Branch and Beau walking down the arena toward the signing tent, I whistled. Beau turned toward me first, and his feet slowed when he took in the fury on my face. I saw the moment when he skimmed through his memory for shit he could have done to make me this angry. Ah Beau. So beautifully open.

Branch frowned, a small crease on his face as he took in the fact I was so tense I was all but vibrating. I pointed to an empty canteen that probably fed the smaller meets. It didn’t work for an event this big.

I pulled my driver’s license from my back pocket and used it to jimmy the lock and stepped into the dark room before the guys had even made it to me. Last thing I needed was anyone seeing us all going into a dark building together. After Branch’s little stunt this morning, everyone knew I meant something to Branch Watson. And everyone knew that without Branch, there's no Beau. So they’d probably think I was in here having an orgy. Let’s face it, on a different day, that might have been an option.

Right now, I was too mad. “You need to go apologize to Junior right now. Hell, I don’t care if you pretend to never speak to me again if you have to. But I refuse to sink your career as well as mine.”

Branch looked at my wild look and frowned harder. “What’s going on?”

As I recounted the thing with the judge, and what went down with Junior, Davi and Miguel, as Branch’s face grew stormier and stormier.

“You should have told me.”

I shrugged. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, Branch. I never have.”

He rolled his eyes at me and I suddenly saw the benefit of physical violence. Beau moved between us, and he looked down at me, his eyes brimming with concern. “None of that is your fault, you know that right? They are grown men who make their own decisions. Davi and Miguel. Branch. Their actions are not a reflection on you.”

Maybe not, but if it hadn’t been for me, Davi would have gone home with twenty-five grand tonight, instead of five grand and a vendetta against him. I looked at the ugly cream tiles that had gone black with age. Beau cupped my cheek, tipping my head back so I couldn’t drop my eyes again. “Say it with me. It’s not my my fault Junior is an asshole, or that both Davi and Branch have white knight syndrome, or that the system is stacked against women and people of color in this sport.”

Damn. Beau. He slid beneath my defenses every time, like he knew how I ticked. Had been inside my chest and my head so often that he knew me inside out. “Kiss me, Beau,” I said softly, and he grinned as he obliged, uncaring that Branch was right behind him.

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