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"Winning is one way," Max assured me. "Throwing punches like J.D. did is another. I think you're figuring out a third. The first woman on the PBR's Tough Enough series, making it clear she really is 'tough enough?’" He canted his head in something like a shrug. "The outlier. The underdog. The rebel. I don't care what you call it, but you are the thing people tend to root for."
Which gave me something to hold on to. "Ok, I can do that," I agreed.
"Good," he said, "so at least try to smile when you're out there? Don't let any of those fans know that the pressure's getting to you. Make it clear that you, Cody, are stronger than that."
I grunted, making a face at him as I shook my head. "I dunno about smiling, Max. I had boy problems today."
Max immediately looked over at J.D., who shook his head. "Ty," J.D. whispered.
"Ah," Max said. "I'm sorry, Cody. I really am. I'd offer you a willing ear or a shoulder to lean on, but I have a feeling J.D. already has that covered. Just know that any time, for any reason, I will listen." Then he leaned in, wrapping me up in a hug. "I'm so sorry."
For a moment, I tensed, unsure what to do, and then my arms went around his waist and I hugged back. Max didn't let go. He didn't relax his grip. He just hugged me the way I hadn't realized I'd needed until something inside me began to soften a little. I dropped my head to his shoulder, feeling my breath rush out as the tension I'd been carrying all day finally found a way out.
"And now," J.D. told me, "you got this."
He wasn't wrong.
Chapter43
People wearingPBR shirts flooded into that main room. Someone in headphones called out a name, lifting his hand. I had a feeling that was last place, which was always who they sent out first. J.D. made sure our gear was packed away. I took my hair out of the braid and gave it a little fluff under my hat. Then we headed to the back of the line.
He was the big winner this weekend. I was just in seventh. The irony was that three weeks ago, seventh would've made me feel like I was on top of the world. Now, I knew I could do better. That was why I was annoyed with this.
And annoyed was the best word I had. I wasn't pissed. I couldn't make myself feel that angry. Every time I tried, my mind immediately went to Ty, and I had to push back sadness. This entire weekend had just sucked! Only a few days ago, I'd felt like I'd had my dream right at the tip of my fingers, and now it was slowly falling apart, one piece at a time.
Counting down, I found my spot in line, then wanted to groan. Right in front of me was Derek, the asshole who'd tried to play keep-away with my rope. I put a little space between us, but there was only so much I could do. Letting out a dry chuckle, the idiot turned around to run his eyes over me.
"Well, well," he taunted. "Looks like you're not as hot as you think you are."
I grunted, making it clear I wasn't falling for his crap. "Right. Funny, because I'm above you."
"And she's sitting at sixteenth overall." That was a voice I didn't know well, and it came from behind me.
I turned to see Wes, one of the younger riders on the circuit. He gave me a gentle smile, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his chaps. I nodded my appreciation - because he'd just stood up for me in his own way - then turned back to the front.
But of course it couldn't be that easy. Eli made his way over to slip in behind Wes. "Who'd you blow to make it into the top ten?"
"The announcer," Wes replied. "Got a little rug burn on my knees now, but it was worth it."
That was enough to make me spin around. The question had been for me. We all knew it, but Wes's answer wasn't throwing me under the bus. The guy had just thrown himself in the line of fire - for me? And when I looked, I saw him shrug with a silly little smile on his face as if he'd just told the best joke ever.
"What?" he went on when Eli didn't reply. "You did ask."
"I fucking meant her!"
"Weren't specific," Wes said, reaching forward to grab my shoulders and nudge me forward. "I mean, we losers have to do whatever it takes, right? Ain't that what you been tellin' me all year? Fuck off, Eli."
That was when the line began to shuffle forward. We had to walk all the way through the alley to make it out onto the arena, which kept Eli or Derek from saying anything else. There, the fans could see us, and the cameramen were crowded close, doing their best to make sure our faces were up on the big screen at the right time.
One by one, we walked through the spotlight, had our name called and listened to the crowd cheer for us. Then we were lined up in front of the chutes in two arcs that would make a pretty display for those watching at home. The arena was now dark. Lighting effects swirled across the dirt. The bullfighters and Cletus were set up in the very center, and the announcer was spilling out names as fast as an auctioneer.
But the moment we stopped, I leaned over towards Wes. "Hey, thanks," I told him.
He shrugged it off. "Those four hit all the rookies. Last year was hell for me, so kinda feels nice to give them some back."
"Yeah," I agreed, "but it's even nicer when someone speaks up."
He nodded before offering me a smile. "Just so you know, a few of us are cheerin' you on, even if you usually beat us."
