Page 18 of Just Hold On

Chapter 17

When I sawTy with his arm around some pregnant woman, I'd been shocked. Granted, it wouldn't be the first time a bull rider had cheated, but I had no interest in being a part of that. I'd just been trying to figure out how to break it to her - privately - when she'd cleared things up. Evidently, I wasn't as good at hiding my expressions as I thought.

Come to find out, I liked Hannah. She was nothing at all like what I'd imagined for Renato. First off, her accent clearly wasn't Brazilian. If I had to guess, I'd say Texas or New Mexico. Secondly, she didn't really look like the typical fan. Her hair was black, her lips were painted red, and her clothes? Well, combat boots would probably be a pretty comfortable choice for a pregnant woman spending the weekend on her feet.

But when Renato arrived, there was no hiding the affection between them. I traded over Emilio's helmet for my hat, passed that to Ty, then focused on getting my hair out of this braid. It gave me an excuse to not stare when the couple kissed like they'd been separated for years instead of hours.

Unfortunately, being twisted on my head all day meant my hair was wavy - very - but it would be ok hidden under my Resistol. I just wished I'd thought about makeup a little earlier. Not enough time, now, and I had a funny feeling there would be at least one closeup of my face, but it didn't matter. No one cared if I was pretty. They just wanted to gawk at the girl who'd been silly enough to decide riding bulls was fun. That I'd proven I was good at it? Yeah. For the first time in years, I couldn't wait to brag a little. All those people who told me I couldn't do this? Well, they were wrong, and it felt like the riders of the PBR were a whole lot more understanding than the boys I'd competed against at the local rodeo.

"All right," I said, taking back my hat. "How do I look?" I hoped he approved. Oh, God, I really hoped he did, but I refused to let him know that.

Ty pushed himself away from the wall and let his eyes roam across my body. Then his lips curled. It was subtle, but I noticed.

"Beautiful, Cody. Real glad I'm gonna be right beside ya, because otherwise, I might end up makin' a fool of myself out there."

I ducked my head, well aware that my cheeks felt a little warm. That was exactly what I'd been hoping for. "Keep talking like that, and I might start to believe it."

"You should," he insisted, offering a hand to pull me up against him. "If nothing else, you'll be the best-looking thing on that stage in a few minutes."

"Not by a longshot," I assured him. "And certainly not with you standing beside me."

Ty leaned to my ear and lowered his voice. "Well, then I guess it all depends on who you ask. Promise I'll be checking out the very nice fit of your chaps."

Oh yeah. I was perfectly ok with that. I might even put a little sway in my walk when I left the stage - or limp, as the case may be. And who needed makeup when Ty McBride liked what he saw? Never mind how nice it felt to be tucked into his side like this. I wanted to just lean my head up against him, but that might be too much. I was supposed to be staunchly against dating any bull riders, wasn't I? But damn, a girl could only be so strong, and this was Ty McBride. So I slipped. Sue me.

About that time, men with clipboards and headsets started moving through the crowd of milling cowboys, calling out names. I was shocked that mine was one of them, but Ty just helped me make my way over. They wanted us to line up, in order of ranking, so their finale would be that much easier.

When the lights began to dim, we all made our way out to form one long line. Another prayer was said, thanking God for those who'd made it through without injury and asking for healing for those who hadn't. Then the announcer began calling out names. Mine was fourth.

He only listed five of them, but we all lined up across the top of the bullpen, shoulder to shoulder, and waited. Music played. Pyrotechnics flared. The big screen showed clips of the best and most terrifying rides, and then the important part began. Starting from tenth place and working up, the announcer listed each rider's placing at this event, his combined scores, and where that put him in the overall PBR rankings. When he got to Ty, I was shocked to hear he was sitting in seventh place overall. Then a girl in a sequined dress stepped up holding a pretty wood case that held the buckle I'd heard about.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't concerned about what was stamped on the silver. It was the girl's skin-tight dress - and her massive boobs - that had me feeling jealous. I shouldn't be, but I most certainly was. I knew Ty would look. He had to. All guys did, and I had nothing that could compare. But somehow, he managed to accept his buckle with a sweet smile and kept his eyes on the woman's face. Ducking my head, I giggled.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here," Ty said just loud enough for me to hear. "But cut me some slack."

I barely shook my head, knowing the camera was panning to me next. "Not happening. I know how you cowboys are."

"And now," the announcer said, "the surprise of the weekend. Not only did we almost miss this, but for the first time in the history of the PBR Tough Enough Series, a woman has not only ridden three consecutive successful rides, but Cody Jennings came out in the top five here at Tulsa!"

Even over the music, I could hear the crowd cheering, and it felt damned good. I lifted my chin a little higher, unable to hide the smile.

"Already this year," he went on, "she's earned an impressive two hundred and seventeen world class points, to slide right into twenty-first place overall! If she can hold onto that for just three more months, we might even get to see this little lady riding at the PBR Finals!"

If only I could figure out a way to make that actually happen. My entire life had been spent working to just make it into the Tough Enough Series. A shot at the finals? That was a dream I hadn't dared consider because the money just didn't exist. Hell, I'd thought a buckle was the culmination of my career in bull riding!

"And," the announcer added, "for coming in fourth place, she gets a check for ten thousand two hundred and eighty dollars. Let's have a round of applause for the pretty new face of the PBR!"

At that moment, I didn't mind that he'd just made me sound like a toy for the boys. I could barely keep my focus on the woman handing me the wooden box with my buckle. All I could hear was that I'd just earned more in one weekend than I typically did in a year! Then the model held out her hand.

"Congratulations." When I took it, she added, "I can't tell you what an inspiration you are. Good luck!"

"Thanks. Thank you so much," I told her, immediately forgiving the woman for being so pretty, then I looked at the buckle.

I wasn't about to tell the guys, but it was the first one I'd ever won. When I was younger, I'd worn my dad's until people started making fun of me for it. Then I'd gone to something boring so no one would notice, but this? It wasn't huge, but it was big enough to show off the bull - and the cowboy lying against its back. That the PBR logo was etched in color and trimmed in gold? There was no way to fake it. This was the kind of buckle that only the real bull riders wore, and I was going to make sure it got plenty of use.

"Eventually," Ty said, shifting a bit closer when the awards girl moved on, "you get so many you don't know what to do with them, but the first one is always special." Then he tugged at the waist of his jeans.

That was when I realized that his looked very similar. The gold wasn't as bright, and the logo had lost its color, but he wore it proudly. I had a funny feeling he was trying to make sure I knew it was ok to be excited, and that was the sweetest thing anyone had done for me.

In the background, the announcer was still going, but the camera was off us. So long as we stayed on the makeshift stage, no one really cared what any of the riders did, so I followed his lead and stepped toward him.

"Hey?" I tugged at my sparkly belt. "You willing to help me swap out buckles before I go? Figure you have a screwdriver in that truck of yours."

"Promise. That's the perfect belt for it, too. Shame the rider's a guy, but it works."

"Yes, it does," I agreed.

I was on cloud nine. My life couldn't really get any better, not even when the announcer mentioned that J.D. Adkins had just gotten a check for almost forty thousand dollars. It was just more incentive for me to keep going, keep riding, and keep showing these boys that I wasn't going to give up easily. I figured we were done. Any second now, they'd turn on the lights and the crowd would start making their way out, but J.D. proved me wrong.

"Hey!" he yelled, beckoning the clown, Cletus, to come closer. "We aren't done yet. I got something."

"You rang?" Cletus asked, playing the part of the idiot.

J.D. just waved him closer. "I wanna say something. Get me a mic."

"Oh-ho! Y'all hear that? J.D. Adkins wants to say something. Guess this is gonna be something real important."

J.D. just huffed like he was trying to force out a laugh, but behind him, the buckle girl was carrying over the microphone he'd asked for. Watching him take it, I was a little impressed. He didn't leer like most of the other guys. He also touched her arm lightly, acknowledging her as a person. Oddly, I hadn't expected that. He'd been decent enough with me, but I hadn't seen many bull riders act like this.

"Ok, can ya hear me?" J.D. asked, smiling up at the crowd.

He acted like a celebrity. I knew he'd been doing this for a while, but he was so comfortable and in control. When the crowd cheered, proving they heard him just fine, he held up a finger and turned around, walking back to where he'd started. Once there, he knelt and picked something up. It was about the size of a football and wrapped in a black bag, but he held it in one hand easily.

Then he turned to look at me. "All right, so this weekend, we made history. For the first time, a woman not only entered the PBR Tough Enough Series, but look at her." He grinned. A second later, one of the spotlights shifted over to land on me. "Yeah. Fourth place. I can't remember the last time I saw a rookie bust onto the scene like that. Know what makes me even more proud?" He jerked his head up to the stands. "This little girl isn't from Australia, Canada, Brazil, or even Mexico. She's homegrown, from a little town just a few hours north of here in Missouri. Our very first female bull rider is a true-blooded American."

Oh, God. I had to slap on a smile, but inside my guts were tight enough to make diamonds. This was so far from my initial plan of flying under the radar that I just prayed I'd make it through this without puking.

"But here's the deal," J.D. said, making his way over slowly, bringing his spotlight with him. "Cody, you're real good. I can't think of a single time I heard you whine, moan, or have a tantrum. Not even when the guys started picking on you about being a girl. Then earlier, when they pulled one of those practical jokes and ruined your bull rope? Yeah, you just cowboyed up and kept going. Now, I gotta say a little thanks here to Canada and Brazil. See..." He pointed back to the big screen behind us. "She kinda looks like some international mess with that Canadian bell hanging from her rope and the Brazilian helmet on her head, but that's because we stick together in the PBR."

The last thing I'd expected was for my rides to be on replay, but they were. They had Disco Breakout hitting me, Overdose falling on me, and Yellowbelly bucking like a real champ. The weirdest thing of all was that I looked good. I looked real good. Evidently, a high-quality camera really did make all the difference.

"But as the top-ranking American rider, I can't let some other country take care of my rookie. Girl, you make me proud to be your mentor, but there's one thing I expect from all my riders. We're Americans, and that means we gotta look better than the rest, get me?" Then he thrust out the football. "So I'm gonna make it a little easier. Open that up."

The end had a drawstring like a child's coin purse. Pulling that loose, I reached inside. That sure wasn't a football. Slowly easing it out, the first thing I saw was pink. Bright pink, neon pink, and even dark pink crawled along the length of what ended up being a helmet.

"Pink?" I asked.

He grinned, lifting the mic back to his mouth. "I expect you to wear the helmet every time you ride, just like I do. This is a dangerous sport, and we sure don't need any more help with getting hurt. My friends over at InVinci Bull agreed to donate that so that our first female rider in the PBR always looks good on camera when she's done." He winked. "Wasn't even that hard to talk them into the pink flames, because girl, you're burnin' this up. Gratz, rookie. I'm proud of ya."

"Thanks." Unsure of what else was expected, and all too aware that every single person was looking at me, I pasted on a smile and held up the helmet. "You may regret this when I out-ride you next time."

J.D. just laughed. "Keep dreaming. Ain't no one rides bulls better than me."

"All right, all right," Cletus groaned, marching up to the side of the makeshift stage. "We all know how good ya are, J.D. No need to rub it in with the new girl." Flapping his hand, he all but demanded the mic back.

After J.D. relinquished it, the clown kept going, wrapping up the show. It wasn't hard to tune him out; I was looking at the very pink helmet I'd just been given. It was actually rather cool. Granted, pink wasn't really my favorite color - ok, I hated it - but the design wasn't bad. It also wasn't baby-girl pink, which made it a little easier to tolerate.

"Size seven," J.D. said, patting my shoulder.

"How'd you know that?"

He just pointed behind me. "Some guy crushing on you made an ordeal of asking just about everyone if they knew who wore a helmet that little. I mean, figured I can't have those foreigners getting all the glory, right? So I talked to one of my sponsors, and they thought it'd be a great idea."

"But pink?" Never mind the part about Ty crushing on me.

He nodded. "Told ya, your colors suck." Then the foolish grin he always wore vanished, and he leaned closer. "I'm gonna tell you a secret. The only way to win is if you stop chasing us, and start making us chase you. Stop trying to ride as good as the guys. Ride like a girl and be damned proud of it. That's why I had them make it pink - so you'll remember."

Which made a strange kind of sense. For years, I'd been fighting to prove that I could ride as good as the boys. And yet, it always seemed like I'd been playing catch up. Maybe I needed to look at this a little different. I wasn't a man. I would never ride the same as them. I was lighter and had to rely on my legs and core more than my arms, so I'd learned how to compensate. In other words, I rode like a girl. I'd also just come in fourth place at my first event.

What I needed to do was make them work to ride like a girl. I had to own what made me different and make it something to be proud of, not a fault to hide. I had to stop letting it bother me that I was the only woman standing on this stage - and start rubbing it in their faces. I also had to accept that maybe Ty was right. Maybe my problem with bull riders had more to do with me and my own insecurities and less to do with the guys I'd spent the weekend competing against.

They just wanted a check. I did, too. In other words, no matter how we all went about it, we were the same. As the event ended and the lights came back up, I eased my new helmet back into the bag, aware that it was about a whole lot more than protecting my head. It was their way of saying I was one of them. I had finally been accepted; I just had to accept myself.

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