Chapter Seven
The crowd was pumped. Clapping, screaming, ready to rumble.
The mood behind the chutes was about as jumped up. The guys were like a bunch of long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs, everyone knowing that the best bulls in the business were right there tonight.
Bax sat on the rail, watching Jason warm up. He’d done his own calisthenics already, as he was two rides ahead of Jase on the order. That was good, though. He’d get to pull the man’s rope. Watching Jason rough up his glove was like watching a porno tape of a man jacking off.
They’d done the intro, the singing and the praying, and now all that was left was the riding. Bax had drawn Hamburger, which he wasn’t thrilled about. That damned bull would pull you down and try to put your eye out.
Jason bent and rolled, shoulders working, tight little ass shifting. “You feeling it, cowboy?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Gonna be a Hell of a night.” It was always really good or really bad when that kind of energy waspumping through an arena. “You ready? You pulled Ghostrider.”
“You know it. He’s a good ‘un.” Hell, yes. Jason’d ridden that big old beast for 86.25 points last year, sweet as honey.
“Well, you keep your mind in the middle.” The announcer called up AJ, and he and Jason both leaned over the fence, shouting Aje on.
Round and round…six, seven…
“Yes!” They both started hooting and clapping, Jason slapping his shoulder. “Look at that! AJ! You might feed them babies!”
Bax pumped a fist in the air, cheering hard himself. “I told you, didn’t I? He’s a good ’un. And he needed the ride.”
“No shit.” AJ hopped up, trailing his bull rope and grinning ear-to-ear.
“Look at you, man. You almost acted like a bull rider.” Jason chuckled, winked at AJ.
“Way to go, man.” He clapped AJ on the back. “Now, someone come on and pull my damned rope.” Bax was up in two more rides.
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” Jason was right there with him, hand on his shoulder. “Keep your fucking head up on this one.”
Like he didn’t know that.
“Chin down, chest out, blah blah.” He’d been on his first fucking calf before Mini was even born.Asshole. He climbed over the rail, balancing on his hands while he dropped his knees and let the bull know he was there.
“Smart-ass. You break your jaw, you’ll be sucking chicken from a straw.” Jason’s hands were in his vest.
Good thing, too, because that big bastard reared up and yanked down, trying to bash his brains in on the rail.Fuck. Bax clenched his jaw, getting set, his rope good and tight in his riding hand.
Then he gave the nod.
He got one good leap, then that little bastard started spinning, solid as a top.
Hot damn. The G-forces yanked at him, pulling his riding arm almost out of the damned socket, but his free arm stayed nice and up, his outside leg spurred without him even trying, and when the fucking buzzer sounded he was still on top.
Goddamn.
The fucking crowd went wild, Nate waving his arms as Bax fought to let loose of his rope.
His hand just didn’t want to let go, Goddamn it, and just about the time he thought he’d ride another eight seconds, his legs flipped over and he went down in the well, hanging off the side like a tick on a dog.
Fuck. Fuck, he ran like a moonshiner with a posse after him. He could hear Jeff and Nate hollering, feel somebody’s hands tugging the living shit out of him. His hand finally popped free, his chest bouncing off the bull’s ribs, sending him reeling.
He heard bellaring, heard the bull’s hooves hitting the dirt, but what he heard above all that was Jason’s voice. “Goddamn it, Baxter! Move your slow ass!”
Scrambling, he crawled as fast as he could, Coke finally grabbing his vest and hauling him off toward the chutes. Jesus.
Jason and AJ yanked him up, holding him against the fence. “You good? Bax? Talk to me, man. You rode that mean bastard!”
