Beau pumped his arms, striding toward the gate with a huge grin on his face. Banty little rooster man.
He clapped once. “Get your picture took, man.”
Beau would only stand the camera thing for so long, and soon enough he was behind the chutes, getting his back slapped. It was Sam that Beau came right to, though.
“You’re buying supper, champ.” He winked, grinned. His belly wasn’t really up to eating, but that didn’t matter.
“I’m buying the ice pack, too.” Beau couldn’t seem to stop smiling, though.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He stuck his tongue out.
“Making some money finally, eh, Bell?” TJ came up, swacked his back.
Beau frowned. “Watch his neck, man. He fell on his head.”
“Has he ever gotten off a damn bull and not?” The tease was easy, friendly, but it pissed him right the hell off.
Balta came over and shook hands with Beau. “Good ride, huh? You too, Sam. You won the third round. Money tonight!”
Sammy nodded, doing his damnedest to let his fists unclench. “You know it, friend. You coming back to the hotel to eat?”
“I am. You guys, too?” Balta patted TJ on the back before steering him and Beau off.
“Yeah.” After a shower, a pain pill, maybe. Fuck.
“Beau can still buy, even though you get money, huh? He won more than you or me.”
“You know it, Balta. He can even buy the beer.”
“No beer for you.” Jonesy appeared next to him, taking his arm and hauling him down the steps. “Now, Sammy, just let me check your eyes.”
“Jonesy…” He didn’t want the light again.
“I know, man. But I have to clear you, or Doc will send you to the ER.”
“No. No hospital, man.”
“Well, then show me some improvement in your reflex, and I’ll let you go.” Jonesy could sound so reasonable.
“Huh?” Some improvement in his whoozit?
“Your eyes. They were slow, and the pupils were maladjusted earlier.” Jonesy didn’t miss a trick.
“You’re scaring the Champ, Jonesy.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll keep you in line.”
“You know it.” Beau growled it out, hands on his hips.
He sighed, breathing hard through his nose. He didn’t want to hurl again, damn it.
“I’ll give you an anti-nausea jab.”
“That’s fair.”
“Good. Come on.”
Balta followed, jabbering at Beau, which was good. Distracting. Once the no-more-pukey shit was working, things got better, if a little fucking dozy.
