Bax crawled over the fence, back behind the chute, snarling, “Give him the nod, for fuck’s sake.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” He got this wild, pure wicked grin and that black hat dipped.
The gate swung open, Triple-Dip jumping strong and going for the right, just like always.
Jesus, that man had balance and grace and pure-D strength. Bax watched every jump and spin, the bull trying to pull Jason forward and missing by a mile. Shit, Mini was spurring, looking as if he was having a ball. Eduardo and Buck were screaming their heads off, AJ pounding Bax on the back as the clock hit eight seconds.
Bax pumped a fist in the air, all but leaping off the gate when the bull turned back and took a swipe at Jason’s ass. He liked that ass in one piece.
Jason took a leap, hanging on the gate, hat going flying as the son of a bitch laughed. “Did you see that, Bax? Did you see that bastard?”
“Fucking A, man.” Leaning across, he grabbed Jason’s shoulder, laughing like a loon.
The scores came in—89.75. Not bad. Not bad at all. The crowd went wild, Jason waving, grinning wide, heading up and over the chute.
“You’d best go do your interview now, or she’ll track you down back in the locker room in your skivvies.” Bax put an arm around Jason’s back a minute, pounding a little.
“That’d show her, huh? Me and my BVDs?” Jason dumped his bull rope, brushed some dust off one cheek. “So, twenty bucks says she wants to know how I feel.”
“No bet. She wants to feel you all the time.” He winked as AJ hooted and made a rude motion.
“Ew. Bastard.” Nasty.
Nas-ty.
The laughter followed Jason out to the cameras, that microphone that got shoved into his face.
“So, Jason, that looked great out there. What is it going to take to win the championship round, do you think?”
Was this woman stupid?
“Uh. I gotta stick on the bull for eight seconds?”
“Jason! Great ride. How do you feel that this affectsyour ride to the finals?” The chick with the microphone just had this scary, toothy smile.
“It’s always good to be healthy and on a streak.” Better than being beat to Hell and in a slump.
“Do you think you’ll be able to keep the streak going? Kynan Daley is getting closer in the points range.” Lord, the questions these people asked over and over.
“Well, assuming I keep riding, I got hope.” He could see the guys, down the tunnel, making fun of him.
“Well, good luck. Great ride.” She said the same shit, all the time.
“Thanks.” Thank fuck. He headed back toward the little pods of pure-D assholes, watching the little fucks scatter.
There was one little boy, waving his cowboy hat madly, eyes huge. “Jason! Mr. Jason! Please!”
Fuck. “Okay. Okay, son.”
He grabbed the hat and the pen, signing the brim and handing it back, ignoring the rest.
No more.
He hated glad-handing.
Bax was waiting for him, a big old grin about to split that brown face wide open. “Such charm. Such sophistication.”
“Fuck you.” He swatted Bax’s ass but hard, the sound echoing.
