‘What do you think you’re doing here? Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!’
Jesse was too far back to hear her, the swell of the crowd cancelling all else out as the bronc riding was announced. Huge screens in the arena showed the first rider, his arms up to the crowd.
‘Back off,’ I said, watching as one of her friends came jogging over, her face just as thunderous as Chrissy’s. ‘This has nothing to do with you.’
Head tilted, hands on her hips, she took another step forward. She was pushing me towards the exit leading out to the stands, where small groups of spectators stood beyond the gates.
‘The hell it doesn’t,’ she hissed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. ‘You can’t just show up and expect to walk back into his life after what you did.’ Behind her, her friend was nodding.
‘Listen, I’ve got no problem with you . . .’ I said slowly, my anxiety giving way to building anger. ‘But if you don’t leave me the fuck alone, that’s going to change.’
She shook her head slowly.
‘Who the hell do you think you are, waltzing in here and assuming you can help yourself to him again? Huh? He’s moving on, okay? With me.’
I stopped, fixed on her face, looking for the lie – hoping to find it beneath the self-righteous anger. But I couldn’t.
‘You’re . . . together?’ I breathed, a horrific wrenching sensation in my chest as she nodded, a cat-like smile rising on her lips.
‘Oh, honey, you have no idea,’ she replied, taking a sip of her beer, glancing at her friend. ‘We were together for over a year before, in case he didn’t tell you,’ she added, her expression brightening as the pain inside made it through to my face. ‘We’ve picked up right where we left off.’
I just stared at her. My pathetic, breaking heart wouldn’t quite let me walk away.
‘Fine,’ I choked. ‘But I still need to talk to him, just to clear some things up between us. It won’t take more than a few minutes.’
I tried to move forward, but she reached out, pushing me back hard.
‘No, he doesn’t need this right now,’ she said, shaking her head, her glossy blonde hair falling down her back. ‘He doesn’t want to see you ever again. He told me.’
I glanced down for a moment. Part of me, the larger, broken part, was ready to back off. But the other part raged at being pushed – at being told what I could and couldn’t do – and decided to push back.
‘I don’t care,’ I snapped, looking up at where Jesse still sat with the two other cowboys, oblivious to the gathering shitstorm. ‘It’s up to him, not you.’
She cried out as I shoved past her, dodging the rest of her drink as it fell from her hand.
‘How dare you!’ she cried, her friend joining in. ‘Fucking bitch, get back here!’
I ignored her, now wholly focused on Jesse, on reaching him.
A vice grip on my arm yanked me back around as she used all of her weight, what little there was, to pull me back. I vaguely heard someone calling her name, calling mine from the staircase area, but as I tried to shake her off, her grip slipped and she reached out towards the front of my shirt instead. With another almighty yank, she ripped the front of it, tearing through the fabric and taking off the whole row of buttons in one go.
Feeling eyes on us, more heads turning from close by, I decided that if this was it – if Jesse was lost, and this bitch was the reason why – thenIhad nothing left to lose.
‘That’s your doing, not mine,’ she snarled. Her friend backed away as I approached. Chrissy’s eyes widened as I stopped, gently took off my hat and tossed it into the dirt nearby. I stared her down, watching her begin to squirm as I shrugged off what remained of my shirt, letting it fall to the ground at my feet.
‘You owe me a fucking shirt,’ I hissed, watching as her eyes travelled across my tats, over my bra: my favourite shade of purple, the colour of a bruised sky.
‘Chrissy! What the fuck!’ a female voice called from behind us – one I vaguely recognized.
‘I don’t owe you shit,’ she said as I drew close, my fingers itching to slap the self-satisfied expression off her face.
‘You know what?’ I purred, taking a last step right into her space, feeling no small satisfaction in the way her expression faltered. ‘It doesn’t matter. Clothes never stayed on very long when I fucked Jesse. He’ll like it better this way.’
With a scream she launched herself at me, nails gouging into my arm as she swung with her other arm. I dodged out of her way, grabbing her shirt by the collar in my fist, twisting it as I pushed her back, all but cutting off her air supply.
‘Get off her!’ screamed her friend, stumbling backwards in her eagerness to get away as I turned to her for a moment.
Chrissy struggled against me, panic rising in her eyes.
