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"She is a girl!" Ty snapped.
"Don't mean she has to act all wimpy and shit," J.D. countered. "Fuck that, Ty."
"Look," Ty told me, "don't worry about the sponsors. You're doing fine so far, and we'll make sure you can get to the next event, no matter what. You're qualified, Cody. That's the big thing."
"I'm qualified," I mumbled under my breath as I headed over to the pen my bull would be in.
There were three riders to go before me, and Cletus was currently doing his jokes, so I had time. Time to think, which wasn't really a good thing. The bit these guys didn't understand was that I needed this. I wasn't here to prove I was a badass. I wasn't trying to make history. I was just trying to ride my way into a better life than what I'd left back in Missouri.
That was why being a bull rider mattered so much to me. Back home, people grew up and got married, settled down to have some kids, and went to church on Sunday. Every blue moon, someone managed to break the cycle. My daddy had tried, and he'd had a real shot at it, up until Mom had died.
Then he'd given everything up for me.
All my life, I'd watched that man wake up, go to work, come home, take care of me, and count the minutes of his life passing him by. He'd had big dreams - and the skill to make them a reality - but he'd ended up with none of it because of a stupid car accident! For twenty-two years, he'd just been going through the motions because there weren't any other options for people like us.
So if I wanted to make a few new chances for myself, I had to get sponsors. I had to ride the shit out of these bulls, make sure I got noticed, and bank enough money to buy myself a new life for after I got hurt. I wasn't dumb enough to think I'd be the next big thing, but I was damned sure going to make myself big enough to get noticed.
The clank of the gate made all of us look over as Wes Gilbert came out of the chute. His bull took a big ol' leap, flying up into the air, and the poor guy was pushed back. While the clock on the far wall spun out the seconds, the cowboy did his best to cling to that bull's back. He almost managed, too.
A split second before the buzzer went off, Wes was in the air, but that boy hung on to his rope. The pyrotechnics went off, Wes slammed into the ground, and the screens around the arena all declared that his ride was under review, which bought me a few more seconds.
"Hat," Ty demanded.
I traded that for my helmet, flipping my hair up. While I worked that on and secured the buckles, J.D. was holding out my glove and tape. It was a little too much help, but they were pretty cute. Soon enough, I was passing my rope over to the chute guys to work under Monologue, and the crowd was cheering another full ride.
"Your bull should be moving in," Ty told J.D. "Promise I got this."
"Take care of my rookie," J.D. said, slapping Ty's arm even as he caught my eye. "This bull," he told me. "Just this one, Cody."
Ride him like I fucked. Just this bull. Spur. Yeah, I was pretty sure I had it, and as I stepped over into the chute to start working on my rope, those words spun through my mind like a mantra. The chute beside mine opened, rider and bull burst into the arena, but that didn't matter. On this side, Ty could pull my rope from the alley.
"Tighter," I told him.
He caught the tail and pulled hard enough to make this fat red bull grunt. That was when I started warming up the rope. I wanted it sticky. Real sticky. If I was going to get in there and make this bad boy do what I wanted, I needed something holding me on.
When that was ready, I reached down to repeat the process on the handle. Around me, the world began to fade. I tugged the handle to the side, setting it up right where I wanted - the same place Ty had suggested back in Tulsa. When I glanced at Ty again, he pulled even harder, making sure it was all secure. Sinking down as close to the bull as I could get, I completed my wrap and then eased myself onto my bull's back.
Fat was an understatement. I could feel the padding under my thighs, and Monologue didn't seem to like my legs in his armpits. Didn't matter, though. The arena was empty. The crowd was waiting. I was in the zone, and this was my time.
I nodded.
The gate clanked as the latch released. The hinges creaked as the metal swung open. I pushed my far heel into Monologue's fat ribs, and the bull got the hint. As soon as there was enough space for him to get out, he exploded.
Up. The lights were so bright that I couldn't see the stars beyond, but I shouldn't be looking up there. Pulling my chin back down to my chest, I found my center, locked my core, and dragged both heels up Monologue's sides. He repaid me by kicking his heels up high.
Unlike J.D., I didn't weigh much. For this fat fucker, I probably felt like nothing, and I made him buck his heart out. Ride like I fucked? Well, I was going to ride him the way I wanted to be fucked. My hips were right up on my hand, rolling with every movement of this bull, and as I spurred, I pulled my legs up so high that my knees were above the bull's back.
When his head came up, I pushed him to the left. When his ass flew into the air, I leaned back, seeing my chaps flying around my legs at the edge of my vision. I had this, and I knew I did, but I wanted more.
Which was when this bad boy decided to double back. Monologue did a dirty reverse buck, throwing my body forward. I leaned, unable to stop it, then let his next rear put me back in place. I didn't fight it. Nope, I rolled with it, taking what he had to give and demanding more. Right now, I was his master, and this boy was going to do everything I asked.
He turned to the right, forcing me to ride out of my hand. This was supposed to be the hard way, but I could handle it. I just wanted more kicks, and my bull was getting tired. I felt his hops getting weaker and his kicks weren't as intense, so I had to work for it.
For just a moment, it was me and the bull. Nothing else mattered. I forgot about the crowd, ignored the judges and the sponsors. I didn't even care about the guys. Somewhere back there, people were cheering for me to keep riding, spur him, and whatever else they always said, but my attention had narrowed to nothing more than me and this bull.
Every twist of my hips shifted his shoulders. The feel of my heels running up his thick skin worked his ass. The harder I pushed into my hand, the more he wanted to get me off, so I pushed. Like a tick on his back, I did my best to annoy him just enough to keep him going, and it was working!
From the edge of my vision, I saw the fireworks filling the back line of the arena. At the side, I caught a flash of purple. I knew I'd made eight seconds, but I kept riding for two more, just to prove I could. Only then did I lower my arm and flip my wrap over, releasing myself.
