I wanted to tell her no. For years, I'd been keeping my head down to avoid my father's wrath. I worked behind the scenes best, but she was right. Doing nothing wasn't helping me anymore, and this? It might just be the push my father needed to change his mind.
"Ok," I decided. "If everyone else agrees, I'll say something. Just be prepared for me to get a little stage fright."
"I hear alcohol and adrenaline both help with that," she told me. "Thank you, Jake. I think I'm going to head up to the stands and start picking a fight. That man made a big mistake when he called me a damned tranny." And she offered her hand.
I clasped it, aware her palms were a bit bigger than I'd expected, but I didn't flinch away. She seemed as much like a woman as every other, and considering I had no interest in talking her out of her clothes, the rest didn't matter.
"I think he fucked up bad this time," I told her. "Now make him pay, ma'am."
Chapter 21
After that,Rhaven left, heading in the other direction, away from the warm-up area. I hoped she'd make this happen. Even if she only had some reporters who were more interested in the strike than the dead rider, that would be nice. But if she could do more?
I didn't want to get my hopes up, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. I needed to step up too. For years now, I'd been telling myself that working behind the scenes was the best way to get what I wanted. I hated drama, so keeping my head down meant I stayed out of it. And yet, this bullshit happening now made it clear that wasn't working.
If I wanted things to change, then I had to stop trying to be the guy no one noticed. I just wasn't sure how that would work. Who I was could be seen as a threat by my father. My very existence was a problem for him - but what if I found a way to use that? Not blatantly. No, that would send Mr. Merrill into a blind rage.
What he didn't realize was I wasmuchbetter at the subtle shit.
I stood there waiting just long enough to make sure no one was watching me, then finally hit that stairwell. I hadn't exactlyplanned on the interruption with Rhaven, and people would notice I was missing soon. Still, Clay wanted to talk to me, and that usually meant it was important.
Jogging up, then up some more, I finally came out at the very top of this convention center. At the top, there were soundboards and video controls all set up for tonight's big show. Half a dozen seats were placed in front of equipment I didn't really understand, but I knew this was how they made us look good.
And all of them were empty except one. With his back to me, Clay was busy tapping at a screen, doing his thing. I pointedly cleared my throat as I moved closer.
He glanced back. "Hey, Jake!"
"Dad caught me," I warned him. "Said I was coming up to make a request."
And my brother smiled. "Good, because I'm making up two playlists. I need to know which to focus on."
"Ok?"
"The ones who ride," he said, tapping at his screen. Then he flipped to another. "The ones who aren't."
"You'll have more of the second."
That was enough to make Clay swivel his chair around so he was facing me completely. "What the fuck is going on, Jake?"
"A strike."
"Why?"
I reached up to shift my hat down on my head. "Well, we're getting destroyed out there because we don't have our bullfighters. The boys know it. The girl knows it. Pretty sure Dad - " Using that term for Mr. Merrill made me want to gag, but it was the one my brother knew. " - knows it too."
"Yeah, he says it's good for ratings," Clay told me.
I grunted at that. "I'm sure, but it's not so good for setting new records. It's shit for our health. So, if the PBR wants to have some kind of silent protest, then we'll do the same."
"How long?" Clay asked.
"Until we get the wolf pack back."
Thrusting out his lower lip, my brother nodded. "Yeah, that's a good bargaining point. Sounds like you riders aren't the only ones trying to make that happen, though. Dad was saying he's getting pressure from all sides, but this has our ratings higher than they've been in a while."
"And you can tell him you heard some guys saying we can keep on doing this for months before the Touring Pro riders will out-point us. Years for some, and we're not giving up until either those boys down there get some training or we get the old bullfighters back."
"Training," Clay repeated. "Ok, that might sway him."
