Page 33 of Jump Back On

"This way." He turned in the opposite direction, knowing I'd follow.

The building was air conditioned. Sure, it might be cooling off a bit from the heat of the Southern summers I was used to, but that wasn't the same as cool. After eight seconds on a bull, wearing what we were, all of us ended up sweating - bulls included!

And this place was nice. As we made our way around the oval outer hall, I saw the vendors working to set up the concession stands and put out PBR merchandise. When I caught a flash of pink, I clasped J.D.'s arm and pointed.

"They have my shirts!"

He turned, chuckled, and gestured that way. "Red ones are mine. They just got a picture of me on a bull, though. Not as cool as yours."

I groaned and tugged him onward. "Yeah, because they have enough pictures of you looking pretty on a bull."

"Usually in finals," he admitted. "They also really like making that buckle on my belt gold."

I reached over to tap the scuffed and faded buckle in question. "Tell me, is that from number one or number whatever you're at now?"

"Number one," he assured me. "First one's the only one that matters. After that, it's almost like cheating. Ah, here we are."

Sure enough, a line stretched out before us. The event didn't start for a few more hours, so the fans hadn't begun arriving yet. Nope, this was the line for us bull riders to check in, draw a bull, and pay our bill. Back in Tulsa, I'd been scrimping and saving to make sure I had enough to cover the five hundred bucks to do this. Now? My sponsors paid me back for the entry fee, and my bank account was fuller than it had ever been before.

The pair of us fell in line. We weren't the first, and I was pretty damned sure we wouldn't be the last. Slowly but surely, the group of us shuffled forward. There were two windows open where the clerks would be checking us in, but we had only one line.

"So," J.D. said, dropping an arm over my shoulder, "you gonna be in the top ten again today?"

"Oh yeah," I decided. "I mean, I've been doing pretty good at that so far, right?"

"Even with shit scores," he agreed.

But that was what my mind was stuck on. We didn't always have the same judges, so had it just been the crew in Cheyenne? Would I have a better run this weekend, or was this how the PBR was trying to get rid of me? Did they even want to, or was I just being paranoid because a few of the other riders didn't like having a woman as competition?

Not that I could change it. All I could do was ride my best, and my best had been getting a lot better. Besides, Max had said something to me last weekend that had stuck. Being a woman wasn't seen as a sin. It wasn't anything more than a freak chance of birth. Being gay? Bi? Pansexual? Yeah, that wouldn't go over as well, but once the glass ceiling had been broken once, it would get easier each time it needed to be shattered.

So if I wanted to make sure J.D. and Tanner ever had a chance of coming out and admitting who they really were, then I couldn't give up. Maybe it was stupid, but that thought was what I was going to hold on to. It was easier than wondering why I was doing this, because I could now recite a reason. I was doing it for everyone who'd come after me, and I was determined enough to actually take this all the way.

Soon enough, the pair of us reached the window. J.D. waved me forward, letting me go first. I slapped my PBR issued ID card on the counter and smiled at the woman on the other side.

"Cody Jennings, Spring Creek, Missouri," I told her.

"Ok..." she tapped at her screen a few times. "All right. It's gonna be thirty, five-fifty."

"Excuse me?" Because those numbers didn't make sense. "How much?"

"Thirty thousand, five hundred and fifty dollars," she said.

"What?!"

That made J.D. push in. "What the fuck?" he demanded. "Thirty grand?"

"Well..." The lady on the other side looked a little nervous. "I show here there are two fines for fighting. Fifteen thousand each. The notes say Cheyenne."

"Those motherfuckers!" I hissed. "I get jumped and they put the fine onme?" Yeah, but that wasn't the worst part. "How the hell am I supposed to pay that? I have a daily limit on my cards!"

"We do take checks," she assured me.

"I don't have checks!"

"Fuck this," J.D. grumbled, pulling out his wallet and slapping a card down. "Run that."

"What?" My head snapped over to his. "J.D.!"

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