“Yeah. He’s probably going to get surgery after the finals.” Dillon put the platter of food in the microwave for Bax and Coke to heat later, and sat with his breakfast. “Okay, we need to talk sponsors, Jase.”
“How so?” Jason managed to use his fork and the toast to get eggs.
“Well, I said I’d help go between with them, so we need tocome up with an official story. You can’t put them off forever, or they’ll start calling around to find your doctor.” He’d seen that with Ace’s old buddy, Steel Flanagan, when he broke his face.
“Well, me and Bax have been talking on it. I might be able to do a little event in a month or two, maybe. I’ve been on ten bulls or so.”
“That many?” God damn. Dillon munched some toast, pondering.Oh, buttery goodness.“Well, maybe we ought to get some pictures of you on a practice bull. That would tell your sponsors you’re working up to it.”
Jason nodded. “That’d be easy. I’m more worried about the commercial stuff. I ain’t facing a camera.”
“Not yet, no. But there aren’t so many at the minor events.” They’d have to make a plan for dealing with the video cameras.
“But what about the sponsors? Like the Nuva folks? They want a TV spot.”
“We’ll come up with some sort of montage. You can do a voice over.” That kind of shit was what Dillon knew he was good at, coming up with media shit.
“Oh.” He grinned as Jason sort of slumped in pure relief. “Oh, that works.”
“Sure it does. We can tell them that you’re just not up to live camera work, that you want people to see you at your best.” Dillon sopped up some yolk, pondering. “And the potato chip people could do some sort of bag prize instead of that big tour they wanted. For now, anyway.”
“Yeah. Yeah, they’d prob’ly do that.” Those eyes skittered all around, damn it was unnerving. “Dillon, you think we should tell Ace?”
“I think we should, yes.” Everyone was iffy on that, but he knew they would have to. “Maybe not until you win your first minor league event—or even arodeo.”
“Yeah? I say no. Bax says we gotta because Ace’ll kill us all if we don’t.”
“What you got to remember is that it may be all corporate now, but the league is Ace’s baby. If we don’t tell him, he could kick us all out when he finds out—and he will.”
Ace needed to know.
“He’ll kick me out one way or the other.” Jase chewed on his bottom lip. “But I wouldn’t fuck you guys over, not for anything.”
“He’s not going to kick anyone out when you win the title.” Jasonwouldwin the title. “So that just leaves us with Latigo jeans. What do you have on your plate with them?”
“They wrote me a check for twenty thousand dollars two weeks before I got hurt. I haven’t even cashed it. Haven’t told nobody. It’s in my wallet.”
Oh, man. “Okay. Well, I’ll need to see the contract. Do you think Bax can email it to me on the road? Then we can call them.”
“Yeah. I may have it in my duffle. I don’t know if Bax took anything out.”
Jesus, didn’t anyone take care of these kids? Dillon stopped, grinned. That sounded like Coke in his head. Now he could see why a little.
“We’ll hunt it later. Eat up before it gets cold. Oh! Orange juice?” He loved orange juice—and apple.
“Sure. The bacon is real good. Thanks.” Jason chuckled. “Man, I don’t want to know what you did to Coke to get him to sleep so late.”
Dillon grinned, bouncing in his seat a little. “Nope. You really don’t. You’d make the ‘ew’ face.”
“Yep. He’s family. Not… Not in the whole…sexy range.” Jase shuddered.
“To you, maybe.” To each his own, right? “I’ve been searching for a long time.”
Jason nodded, the motion slow, but sure. “I get that.”
“I bet.” Hell, he could tell that Bax and Jason had taken that last step, one he hadn’t been sure they’d ever come around to. “Man, if the guys don’t get up soon, I’ll eat their breakfast, too.”
“I’m up. Don’t you eat my eggs, now.” Coke wandered in, scratching his belly, stretching some, hand landing on Jason’s shoulder in greeting. “You sleep okay, son?”
