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"Cody, Cody, Cody," Mr. Merrill said, shaking his head like I was a bad child. "What are you doing back here?"
"Just left Sports Medicine," I said. "You?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "You know, that little attitude of yours doesn't work as well without Jake Cunningham standing beside you like a bodyguard."
"Or a friend," I countered. "Because, whether you believe it or not, I don't need to be babysat."
"Funny that," Mr. Merrill said. "I was just talking to Harold here. Seems you're planning to ride injured?"
Harold. Wasn't that the name of one of the judges? I wasn't sure. Shit. I really should've paid more attention! I'd seen the name on the PBR's website, though. I knew that much.
"I'm planning to ride, Mr. Merrill," I assured him. "The state of my last dismount doesn't really matter. Whether I can stay on for eight seconds does."
"And how well someone as small as you can manipulate the animal's movements," he said smugly. "I'm sure you've been working on it, though. After all, just look at your recent scores."
I felt my jaw clenching. My molars were grinding together. Yeah, that was meant to be a threat, but fuck him. Fuck all of this. If he thought some poor scores were going to chase me off, well, I had some bad news for him.
"So long as I stay on, I still get points," I countered. "Guess that means I'd better spend more time learning consistency from Jake, hm? It's funny how so many of these cowboys are willing to help me, wouldn't you say, Mr. Merrill?"
"Now you listen here," the man snarled, losing his cool so fast it made my head spin. "The PBR is a business. We're not worried about history, women's rights, or any of your social justice issues. We are here to give the fans what they want, and that isit!"
"Same." I thrust out my lower lip and nodded like he'd just made a good point - and as if I wasn't intimidated at all.
"This company has a reputation to uphold," he growled, lowering his voice and moving closer until he was all but looming in my face.
Behind him, Harold was still just standing there. The man's face said nothing, but his posture looked awkward and uncomfortable. Almost like he didn't want to be here. Not like he was ashamed, though. Sadly.
So I lifted my chin. A sensation, huh? The guys had blazed their own trails with arrogance and power. I couldn't. That meant I had to come at this a different way. I needed to become a thorn in their side. A brat, even. It didn't matter, just so long as I stuck out and refused to ever be knocked down by any of this.
"I'm not quitting," I warned him. "If that's what you're getting at, then save yourself the effort. I'm not quitting, I'm not going to be scared off, and I'm not going anywhere. If the PBR wants to get rid of me, then you're going to have to find a real good reason why I can't ride, because if you change the rules now, I'll sue the shit out of you for sexual discrimination."
In truth, I had no clue if I even could, but everyone kept saying we'd sue, and that sounded like a good reason to do it. But when Mr. Merrill's eyes widened, I realized I'd hit the mark perfectly.
"The fans want to see men be men out there," he said, his tone sounding like a warning. "They aren't here to worry about little girls. This is the toughest sport on dirt, and that's what made it so damned popular. That's why we can sell out arenas in every major city in the United States!"
"Not lately." I flicked my brows.
"And lately we've had a few issues to tackle, haven't we,MissJennings?"
"Kinda not my job," I said with a lazy shrug. "See, I'm just one of those dumb riders. I'm here to make a check by holding on for eight. Thought you would know that, having been a rider yourself, and all."
"Cody..." He tilted his head like he was getting just a little too angry.
So I stepped into him, proving I wasn't scared of his shit. "You don't want me here," I said, letting all my frustration fall out in my words. "Yeah, you're making that real fucking obvious. But fine. Do your best. I don't care if that's having another rider try to beat the shit out of me, more fines, or anything else. You bring it, Mr. Merrill. Go ahead. You give me the worst you got, becauseI am not quitting!"
"You will," he promised. "Oh, I promise we know all about you now, Cody. The press made sure of it. Sounds like you're a daddy's girl. How convenient that your father is here this weekend. Now imagine how he'll feel when he gets to watch his little girl get run over in the arena and carried out on a stretcher."
"Won't be the first time," I assured him.
"And your boyfriend? Did you hear he's suspended now because of you?"
"What?!" That made me twitch in place. He was admitting this was to chase me off?
"Sounds like he left the arena because your..." The man lifted a paper he was holding and glanced at it pointedly. "I believe you told the press J.D. is your 'best friend.' Well, your boyfriend left his post because he was trying to protect your little bestie, huh? And now he's being reprimanded for it. So stop before anyone else has to suffer for your foolish little crusade."
"This," I snapped, stabbing a finger down at the ground where I was standing, "isn't a fucking crusade. This is my chance to get out of fucking nowhere, Missouri. This is the one damned thing I'm good at, Mr. Merrill, so I'm going to keep on doing it. I'm not here to make you like me. I'm not here to be pretty, to remind you of apple pies, or anything else! I'm here to ride the fucking bulls, and you know what?" I pulled in a hard breath. "I'm damned good at it."
"You can't keep up with the men," he snarled.
