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"Can do," I assured them as I turned to grab my gear. "You strapping me in, J.D.?"
"Always," he promised, pushing away from the rail.
Jake just shook his head, but the man didn't say anything as I collected the rest of my stuff and walked away. This was the second weekend he'd been sweet to me, and I wasn't sure what to make of him yet. Yeah, he seemed nice enough. Plus, he'd given me a heads-up about Ty last week. But a few times, I'd seen the pair of them together. Was this some way to get information about me?
No, that was a girl thing. I was pretty sure guys didn't do that - did they?
Not that it mattered. I had a bull to ride. One that could give me the scores I needed. If Speed Bump was sitting in second place, then he'd cover at least half my score. I just had to make sure I rode well enough to make up the other half.
Passing J.D. my rope and hat, I tucked my braid up and shoved my helmet onto my head. The glove came next, and I was taping it on securely when J.D. found my bull.
"Rope," he told the attendant.
The guy looked back. "This isn't your bull, J.D."
"Nope, it's my rookie's." He gestured to me. "Left-handed."
"On it," the man promised.
I simply added another roll of tape. The bull below me was big, well-muscled, and funky-colored. His head was almost black. Closer to charcoal, really. The beast's hip was almost the same color. In the middle, right where I'd be sitting, he was more red, like someone had bleached his back. The best part, in my opinion, was the big ol' hump that proved he had a little cross breeding.
"Nice," I said as the chute guys worked my rope up right behind it.
J.D. scoffed. "Not so nice for my balls, but you ain't got that problem." Then he slapped my helmet. "Show 'em how it's done, girl."
I nodded and stepped into the chute, keeping my feet on the rails and well above the bull's back. I was the last in this group, so I had a little time. Behind me, gates were clanking and the crowd was cheering.
I waited. With J.D. at my shoulder, we watched two riders make a go of it, pulling off scores that were in the high seventies and low eighties respectively. So, a tough crowd, it seemed.
"Tail," the chute guy said just as the man beside me eased down onto his own bull.
J.D. stepped up to take the rope. This time, he didn't need to step across the chute because of the way the bull was facing. "He's gonna come out to your right," J.D. warned.
"I'm good with that," I promised, even though it should be my weak side.
Then he pulled. Speed Bump was not impressed. The bull shuffled, but it wasn't intense enough to count as a real thrashing. His head did whip around, though, proving this monstrous creature was a lot more agile than I'd expected.
"He's gonna fly!" That came from someone else, making me look up.
Standing there, ready to watch my ride, was Gustavo, one of the Brazilian riders. He was also my main competition for Rookie of the Year. I nodded to make it clear I'd heard, hoping he'd realize the warning was appreciated even if I had heard it before.
"I got this," I promised, turning my focus to my rope.
J.D. held the end up and tight. Using all my strength, I ran my glove over it, warming the rosin and making it as sticky as possible. Again, then again, until the goo was nice and stringy. Then I did the same to my handle, yanking it hard to make sure it'd hold like superglue.
This was the act that put me in the zone. The repetition was calming, almost zen-like. It let me focus, turning out all the rest of the insanity around me. Yet when the crowd cheered, I knew the previous rider had made it to eight seconds. That meant it was time to do this.
"All right," the chute attendant said. "You're a go!"
I shoved my left palm under the handle, gestured for J.D. to pull a little more, refusing to rush this. Then, I wrapped the tail of my bull rope around my hand. Across the palm, around the back, then folded over in my palm just to be sure I could get out of this when I was done. And when I was sure I had it like I wanted, I pounded my leather and rosin-covered fingers down so they'd hold, all that sticky stuff doing half my work for me.
"Ride 'em like you stole 'em," J.D. called to me.
I nodded, not even bothering to look up. The arena was clear. The gate guys were there and waiting. All I had to do was get my ass on the back of this bad boy and it'd be my time to shine.
I eased my weight onto him and Speed Bump lifted his head. That was it. Even better, the big boy stood up a little straighter, giving me the chance to get my legs in like I wanted. From the corner of my vision, I saw a cameraman leaning over, trying to get a shot of me preparing.
Yeah, fuck that. I was J.D.'s rookie. That meant I was here to prove a point and maybe be a little wild. I could feel my lips curling as I pushed my body forward, right up into my hand with the bull's hump working like a saddle. My knees locked into the side, Speed Bump's muscles tensed all along his back - and I nodded before he could blow.
