"My Deviant Games rep is setting up a press conference," I told him. "Jaxon, I need you to tell everyone. Ty and Renato first, but telleveryone."
"Except Austin, Derek, and Eli," he said with a nod. "Yep, got it." Then he lifted a hand, pointing down at me like he was gesturing to someone else. "Wes! Keep an eye on Cody."
"Uh... sure."
"And tell him about the press conference," Jaxon said before turning and jogging out of the room.
"Press conference?" Wes asked as he sauntered over.
I nodded slowly, my resolve rushing back quickly. "We're all doing a press conference, Wes. The PBR tried to change the subject, and my Deviant rep just made sure that's not fucking happening."
"Nice," Wes breathed, turning to gesture to the handful of others in the room. "Guys! Press conference after this."
"Instead of awards," I added, flipping back to my texts.
Because I wanted to make sure my father knew he should keep watching. We weren't done yet.
Chapter 25
Within minutes,J.D., Tanner, and Rhaven made their way down to the warm-up area. Slowly, the men who'd already "ridden" began to trickle in. As the room grew packed, Rhaven explained that she was gathering the press in the press room - and where that was. Anyone who wanted to say something was encouraged to attend.
And the whispers were moving fast. A few guys left, but since they were headed back towards the chutes, I hoped it was just to tell the others. J.D. yelled for the rest to follow us, and an entire herd of bull riders made our way around to a large open space that reminded me a bit of a theater. There was a stage with a table on it, and microphones were placed in front of each chair. two women were draping something across the table that said Deviant Games on it. On the other side was a pit with chairs, clearly for the reporters.
"What's going on?" I asked Rhaven when I saw it.
"Deviant Games is well known to tackle problems head-on," she explained. "This sounds like a problem. The banner is one we're trying to get approved for hanging in the arena, but I think this is a better use of it." And she flashed me an impish little smile. "So let's start a fight, Cody."
"The polite kind, right?" I asked, knowing exactly how much this woman's company was paying me.
But she shook her head. "Nope. This is the time to let it all go. Right now is when youstopbeing nice and show these boys - both the ones here and the ones watching - that you will not takeanyshit."
Those words. I couldn't even put my finger on which part hit me hard, but they lit a fire in my belly that made me want to stand a hell of a lot taller and glare even meaner. But when I headed to the table, both Jackson and Jaxon gestured for me to take the spot in the center. Renato and Ty would end up on either side of me, and down the row, more men were claiming chairs. The rest were lining up in the space behind us.
Soon enough, the lights came on. A moment later, Renato and Ty hurried in, looking a little out of breath - like they'd run to get here. Their asses were barely in their chairs before Rhaven stepped up and gave a little introduction. The moment she moved aside, a woman in the front row stood with her hand up.
"Claudia Watson with CNN," she said, introducing herself. "The PBR says tonight's display was out of respect for the death of Casey Davis. Yesterday, riders made it sound like this is a form of protest. Are those two things connected?"
"Yes," Ty said, leaning in toward his microphone.
"Can you explain how?" Claudia pushed.
"Uh..." Ty looked at me, clearly hoping for some help.
So I leaned in. "Friday night, one of our fellow riders lost his life. Now, while that's a tragedy, many of us think it was preventable. Our fear is it will happen to us next. Casey already gave his life for this sport, so don't we owe it to him to refuse to ride until we receive the sort of protection that would've kept him alive?"
"Are you claiming negligence?" a man called out.
It was Jake who took that one. "No. We also aren't saying it wasn't. What we're saying is this is the toughest sport on dirt - and we riders no longer feel confident we're getting the protection we need."
"What sort of protection?"
Renato leaned in. "Bullfighters. You might call them clowns, but they aren't. Those three men down on the dirt? They're the ones who get us free when we're caught. They all carry knives to cut us loose. They're trained to understand how the cattle move. They are called the safety team for a reason."
And now was the time to up the ante, so I added, "But we don't feel safe."
For a moment, the entire room paused.
Claudia spoke up again. "What changed?"
