"Fair," he agreed as he popped the top, then flopped down in the chair. "I got pepperoni and meat lovers. Figured one of those should appeal, right?"
"Both," I assured him as I opened the top of the top one and grabbed a slice. "So, do I want to ask why you're stopping by with pizza?"
"Hoping for some news," Jake said.
"Ah." I crammed a big bite into my mouth, set the slice on the top of the box, and headed over to grab my phone.
He just shook his head, but his hands were rummaging. Packed in between the boxes were a pair of paper plates. The small kind, like he'd picked them up in the lobby or something, but I didn't really care. He moved my slice onto one, then put it in front of the empty chair. The other he filled with a slice for himself. I made it back before he could even take a bite.
"Ok," I said. "So Peter's father has all three ranches supplying cattle in Nashville calling the PBR. Apparently, Merrill's punting them to voicemail, so they've moved on to contacting headquarters. The staff keep promising there won't be a problem, but seems the cattle ranchers have an ace in the hole."
"What's that?" Jake asked.
I took another bite, then talked around it. "Peter. Black Hat Ranch has an 'inside source' that has reason to believe theboycott will continue. Since the entire PBR knows about that relationship - "
"Shit, I didn't until the other day," he grumbled.
"But sounds like it had to be approved," I explained. "So the PBR is well aware that Black Hat Ranch isn't talking shit. They do have a reason to worry, so the PBR can't make promises, and the ranchers are pushing for a handicap, a guarantee, or something to make this worthwhile for them. The PBR can't really do that, so it's got them between a rock and a hard place."
"And is actually hurting," he said. "Yeah, I heard the president's losing his shit."
That made me pause. Leaning back, I looked my new friend over again. "From who?"
And Jake stilled. "Um, a couple of the guys."
"Who?" I pressed. "Jake, I'm not going to make things hard for them."
"Shit," he mumbled before wiping at his mouth. Then he tossed back a splash of beer as if trying to wash the taste of this conversation out of his mouth. "So, did you know we're allowed to request music for our rides?"
"Nope."
"Well, we can," he assured me. "The sound guy? Yeah, he doesn't want to get dragged into this, but he said something."
I nodded. "And he'd know, right? I mean, if he's upstairs, he probably has heard a thing or two?"
"But only at the events," Jake reminded me. "Or so."
That last part was added on like he hoped I'd ignore it, so I did. "Well, I tried the news, and they're not biting. I thought about calling J.D. or Cody, but I really don't want to disturb them."
"Why them?" he asked.
"Because where they are, Tanner will be. I don't know Tanner well enough to just call him, but if anyone knows what's going on with the bullfighters, Tanner should."
"Or he's been cut out," Jake countered.
"Possible," I admitted. "But my point is that this? It's my last straw. Between us not riding and the bull owners getting pissed, that should put some pressure on the PBR, right?"
"Should," Jake agreed. "Mr. Merrill is a stubborn fucker, though. If he thinks he's being backed into a corner, there's a good chance he'll let it all burn just to spite us."
I mumbled at that, and reached for another slice. "So, since you're the brains of this mess, what do we try next?"
"We wait," Jake told me.
I shook my head, not liking that. "No. They don't get to shit on Cody's scores, fuck over Tanner, leave us all crashing and burning, and get to just get away with it!" I tossed the slice down on the plate without even taking a bite. "C'mon, man. You have to have something else up your sleeve."
"Shit," he drawled. "Ty, you're the one who came up with the stock angle."
"Cletus did," I admitted. "I also think we need to let the riders know how much you've been helping with this."
