Page 28 of Spur It On

Halfway down on the left side, a man was reclined back in his chair, swiveling it slowly from side to side. "What do you mean, Cody?" he asked.

"I mean I ride like a girl," I told him. "My center of gravity is lower. In case y'all missed it, that means I have less to get slung around up top. My core's stronger because it's shorter, which means even less slinging to be done. Most of those guys' upper-body strength is good just because they're men. Me? I grew up tossing seventy-five pound bales of hay up to the top of the stack. I worked on it so I could hold on. I pushed myself. I also weigh less than most of those boys, which means the bulls can kick higher, earning more points for me, and I don't have to pull as hard, because my own weight isn't a liability."

"Nice," the guy said.

"So what are you all looking for from her to make your decisions?" Max asked. "Since you clearly wanted to learn about her."

"We're currently running marketing research to see how our consumers will take our endorsement of a woman in a man's sport," the first woman said. "That will be our determining factor."

"I want to see consistency," a man added. "She's only been to two events, so we're interested to see if she has staying power, or if she's going to burn out fast."

"Our main interest," the guy at the back added, "is to have our name on the stage at the end of the show. That means finishing in the top ten more often."

"I have a question," asked another guy. "Cody, are you married?"

"No, sir," I told him.

"Dating?" he asked.

Max lifted a hand. "She would prefer to keep her private life out of this."

"But her availability is half her draw, isn't it?" the guy pressed. "You put a cute blonde in with all those men, and the viewers are going to notice her. Since the majority of followers tend to be men between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, what they'll want is sex appeal. Are you interested in changing your riding attire, Cody?"

"To what?" I asked.

"Maybe more cleavage?" he asked.

I looked at him like he'd just lost his mind. "No! First off, I'm not losing the vest. I kinda like having my bones and organs in one piece, thank you very much. Never mind that my vest comes high enough to hide any cleavage. My shirts are meant to keep my skin attached, not ripped off with the dirt." I looked them all over. "If you're hoping I'm gonna ride in a bikini, then all y'all can fuck right the hell off."

I pushed back my chair and was about to leave when Max grabbed my arm. "And that would violate your contract with Tillman, so it's not going to happen," he promised.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, I pulled myself back to the table. "Look. I'm not here to represent, or make history, or any of that shit, ok? I want a check. In order to get that check, I need to stay on a bull. That's it. That's all I'm offering. If your plans are to have a ton of horny idiots fapping to the PBR live stream, then I want no part of it."

"I like her," said the reclining guy.

But one of the women leaned over the table to catch my eye. "Cody, you realize this is going to be a lot of what you get, right?"

"Like talking about how I should be making apple pie?" I asked her. "Yeah, that was the reaction to waving at my dad in the stands. I was basically told to get back in the kitchen. I've been called a toy, a pretty little thing, and all of that. Don't care. They can say what they want about me. Don't mean I have to get up and go to the kitchen, though, now does it?"

"No, ma'am," she agreed. "It does not."

I nodded to make it clear we agreed. "I'm also wearing pink," I told the room. "Black and pink. I will be making the point that girls do it, I can cowgirl up as much as the boys, and I'm not stopping until the buckle on my belt is gold instead of silver."

"For winning the World Finals," Max clarified for the rest. "According to J.D. Adkins, she has the chance, too."

One of the men who hadn't spoken yet finally blurted out his question. "Are you a lesbian, Ms. Jennings?"

"Are you gay?" I shot back.

"My sexuality has nothing to do with this," he countered. "Yours does."

"No, it doesn't," I assured him. "I'm also not gonna tell you if I'm a virgin, how many people I've slept with, or my bra size." I reached up to scrub at my face. "Let me just make this very, very clear. If you wouldn't ask J.D. Adkins about it, don't you dare think of asking me, because the answer will be the same: fuck off."

"Ok," said the woman who'd spoken last. "So let me turn that question a bit. Cody, would you have a problem being sponsored by a company that takes part in Pride events, supports LGBTQ, Black Lives Matter, or other controversial alliances?"

"Nope," I assured her. "See, I don't have time for politics. I also know that it's none of my business. I'm just here to ride some bulls and show up the boys."

She nodded her head, then looked over and caught Max's eye. He nodded once before looking at the rest of the room. "So, for those of you wondering about her consistency, I'd just like to point out that there's only so much room on her vest, helmet, and chaps. Sponsoring a rider is a risk. Even the best can be dropped by a bull. So, just know that the final decision is Cody's, and at the rate she's been going, it won't be long before the best you'll get is a tiny little sticker that won't show up on live TV." Then he reached over to rub my shoulder. "Any other questions?"

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