A window along the side of the house pops open. I roll forward a little to see Kayley’s head, hair smothered with shampoo and piled on top of her head sticking out. “Don’t die, alright!”
I wave, giving her a wry smile that I’m sure she can’t really see with the amount of soap and shampoo tracking down her face. She smiles at me wantonly, giving me the hand signal we made up when we were kids. When Mom was asleep and we didn’t want to wake her or the babies.
L with our right hand.
You, two fingers up. Our version of a U, not a V.
Which translates tolove you.
Out of all my sisters, Kayley and I are the closest. We’re the oldest. She was old enough when Dad left that she looked after Mom and the younger girls while I took care of the ranch.
There’s no telling how much a heart can break until it’s done breaking. Mom was a mess when Dad left. I can’t blame her. She loved that ingrate more than she should have. Fast forward countless years and we’re all better off without him. Closer and stronger because of it.
I raise my left hand.
L
U
And rotate the hand to mean the number two.
Love you too.
She waves before swiping soap from her eyes. “Shit!” Her head disappears back through the window, leaving me staring at the weatherboard along the house.
On that note, I’m outta here before I cave and find something better to do than get pummeled into the dirt by a two-ton raging animal to make a buck.
The drive from Clinton to Rimbey, Alberta, took longer than it should in my old truck. I roll into the rodeo grounds around sunset. A long fucking day. Just in time for a full-on night.
Trailers, pickups, and trucks filter into the fields surrounding the grounds. My phone lights up as I find a parking spot by an old oak and kill the engine.
“When you gonna upgrade your old rig? Been here over an hour waiting on you, bud.”
Brady.
I tap out a reply and climb from the truck.
Horses whinny and cattle bellow as they settle down in the back holding yards.
The smell of dirt, shit, and pure unadulterated excitement flood the air. Once the sun’s disappeared, folks will start turning up for their Friday night entertainment.
I make my way to the small rodeo office to pay my dues and pick up my number, finding Brady leaning by the door, his hat pulled down over his face and arms crossed. I swear he pretends to be asleep to drive home his point.
His team shirt covered in sponsors does that all on its own.
He got made in the drafts, I didn’t.
Brady is a paid athlete who can afford a decent truck. A bull rider who is paid regardless of his ride. Well, almost.
Me... I only cash in if I ride well enough, as an independent, and win a place. I was gunning to be drafted into a team, any team. Missed the mark by who knows what metric. Now I’m determined to make the cut.
“Jonesy, had a solid nap waitin’ on ya, bud.” Brady’s wide-ass smile stretches his stupid handsome face. Blond hair sticks out from under his white hat. His bright blues lit up with mirth as he slams my shoulder playfully with his fist.
“Yeah, least I won’t be sleeping on my ride. Who’d ya pull?”
“Not done it yet. Levi’s waitin’ on you.”
He rolls off the wall and pushes through the door. His hat is in his hand the second he walks up to the desk beside me. I slide my own from my head and hold it in front of me as the woman looks up from her desk. “Cutting it close, Jones; Levi’ll start without you next time.”
