I know exactly who Outlaw Heritage is. Every rider on tour does. They are one of the biggest names in Western headwear. Their hats are everywhere—TV ads, billboards, magazine spreads, and commercials. It’s a huge brand with big money behind it.
And Bryce is the face of the brand.
I blink. “You’re kidding. You guys are giving up Outlaw Heritage?”
“Nope.”
“Whew. For a second there, I thought you’d lost your damn mind,” I quip.
“We want you to be the next face of Outlaw Heritage, Ax. I love the brand. I care about the company. Want to keep it in the family.”
I’m stunned silent.
“Shawn and I met with their CEO and CFO last week, and they’re on board.”
I let out a low whistle. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
My eyes drift back toward the arena, though I’m not truly looking at it anymore. Instead, I see possibilities. Opportunities. The future.
Bryce continues, “It’s a two-year deal. Mid six figures.”
I nearly choke. “You’re screwing with me?”
He laughs. “I’m not.”
Holy shit.
I stare at him.
That’s more money than I’ve ever made from a single endorsement.
Bryce keeps going. “It’ll be print campaigns, television commercials, in-person appearances. And of course, you’ll have to wear one of their hats on that ugly head of yours every time you walk out the door.”
“Of course.”
“Then they’ll renegotiate after two years. Assuming things go well.”
I rub the back of my neck.
This is real money. Life-altering money. Money for my future family. The ranch.
“And if you’re winning …”
I finish the sentence. “They’ll pay more.”
His smile widens. “The more buckles you collect, the more valuable your image becomes.”
“Especially wearing their hats.”
“Exactly.”
I look down at the dirt.
Then back at him.
“I’m ready.”
