"So he's cool again?" I asked, just needing to be sure.
"Yep," J.D. said, looking over and jerking his chin, making me aware my guys were headed over. "How you holding up?"
"J.D., only my hands are hurt."
"Weren't the case when Ty showed up," he reminded me. "No bullshit, Tanner. How you doin'?"
"He's a little stiff and a bit slow," Jorge said, "but he's not off, and he's right where he needs to be. Probably want to give him a real good rub down tonight - I'll let you decide how that works out - but he's not full of shit this time."
"I'm not," I assured him.
"I might have a concussion again," J.D. admitted. "Doc says it's borderline. Said I shouldn't ride, but this? Yeah, this is to make a point, and I don't want thosefuckersto think they can scare any of us off, get me?"
"Oh, I get you," Jorge replied before I could. "Now go relax."
"Thanks for the assist," J.D. said, looking up at his score.
With a shake of his head, he headed back, but it made me curious. I turned to see the big screen. There, he had a pathetic 78.25. It was better than yesterday's, but still not at all what he deserved.
But I wasn't pissed about it. I'd reached the point where I wasn't surprised at all. Sick of it, sure, but I'd burned out all my anger earlier. All I had left now was disgust, and the kind that was starting to turn putrid.
The next few bulls were easy things, though. All of them came out without a rider. One of us shooed them toward the bull gate. Someone else grabbed the rope when it came off and took it back. Then we swapped out, letting each of us get a rest in turn.
I was just starting to find the rhythm of that when Jorge grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer. "Austin," he warned. "And yeah, he's riding."
"How we playing this?" Isaac asked.
I grunted, making it clear what I thought, but Jorge had his own ideas. "He wanted the B-team? Well, let's show him how it feels to be on the receiving end of that, hm? Tanner, you get to play Peter. I'll be Stephen, and Isaac, you play Charlie."
"Same dumb shit they do?" Isaac asked.
"Nah," Jorge said. "Make it more like the Three Stooges version."
Yeah, I could handle that. A whole lot of tripping over our feet, fumbling around, and crashing into each other while accomplishing nothing? Well, if the PBR could call their bullshit "fair judging," then we could call this bad comedy act "bullfighting," right?
Then we waited. In the chute, the bull thrashed, making Austin have to rewrap his rope. Just when I was sure he had it, he waited a little longer. Then a little more. I was about ready to give up when that prick finally nodded - and the gate swung open.
Charcoal and rust, the bull came out five feet up in the air. Then again, that was Speed Bump's style. He flew. He always flew, and that was what made him the second-best bull in the entire PBR. Up on his back, Austin flopped back with the power of this animal, then forward when they hit the ground.
And when Speed Bump went in for his spins, I could see that dumbass slowly tilting, leaning ever more toward the outside. I didn't move closer, though. Nope. Fuck him.
But somehow, he saved it. Barely. The bull offered another traveling buck, getting some real distance under his feet, and it gave Austin the chance to pull himself back into place. Too bad for him, that didn't last long at all.
The bull bucked, kicking his legs uphighbehind him. The first time, Austin's head snapped up. The second time, his body tilted forward. The third time? That stupid motherfucker got punted right off the bull like a slingshot.
And I watched as he landed face first in the sand.
"Ha!" Jorge yelled, moving toward the bull. "Watch the feet!"
Isaac ducked as the bull kicked out in protest. Heels went over his head, and then he jogged behind him, but I simply crossed my arms over my chest and turned to keep my eyes on Austin.
"You fucking piece of shit!" Austin roared as he climbed to his feet. "You fucked me over!"
I simply lifted a brow, aware I was on camera, and if my lips didn't move, then there was proof I didn't say shit.
So that idiot stormed toward me, slamming his chest into my crossed arms hard enough to push me back. "Do your fucking job, bitch!"
I took a step back, aware of the newly forming bruises on his face, but the anger was building up, and fast. "I am."
