Page 5 of Storm Warning
Of coursehisshortcomings would bemyfault.
“Right.” I emit the word as if he spent his whole life disappointing me. But the truth is, all men have, particularly one who shouldn’t,my dad. And it’s getting old that none have proven me wrong. “You can go fuck yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take my bitch ass elsewhere.”
Turning away from him and avoiding the crowd, I do my best to leave. His bony fingers wrap tightly around my wrist, stopping me from my departure. “Come on now, don’t be like that, darlin’. I can forgive just about anythin’ that passes those pretty lips as long as my dick follows.” The words hiss from his mouth. “I like my women a little rough around the edges, anyway. They’re always more fun in bed.”
My desire to make a fool of him grows with the intensity of his grip. Ripping my hand from his, I grab a drink off a hightop table that sits near us and splash its entire contents in his face.
“You fucking bitch,” he grumbles out. Anger rises within him and he makes an audible growl, trying to hold back an outburst that would draw more eyes our way. I could tell him exactly where to shove it, but the effort seems wasted on such a dull excuse for a man. After all, if my dad taught me one thing, it’s that there’s no point in putting energy into someone you don’t care about—even if they are your own fucking blood. Telling him he’s an idiot was fun at first, but at this point I just want to escape to a place that doesn’t feel so claustrophobic before I suffocate in this shithead’s presence. Spinning away from him, I try to leave and am immediately stopped by what feels like a brick wall.
Warm chocolate eyes meet my gaze as I scan the man’s features, landing on a proud shit-eating grin. That same cowboy I just rolled my eyes at from across the room. Thebig shot, I guess.
“Sorry about that.” His tone is warm, but I can tell he’s not sorry in the slightest. “Everythin’ okay over here?” he asks, making a subtle nod toward the guy who is now drenched in whatever drink I grabbed.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, positioning myself on the other side of him. Honestly, it’s better than fine, because he now stands between me and the douche bag I’m trying to get away from. I use this distraction to my advantage. “I was just leaving,your small pecker pal here has been looking for you.” I point toward the guy who never gave me his name. His cheeks turn a darker shade of red. What was once anger has now seemingly shifted to embarrassment, and I’m not sure if he’s more mad at me blowing his cover or dismantling the little manhood I assume he’s got.
Confusion consumes the big shot when he turns to look at the asshole who grabbed me, but I don’t wait for him to reply. Sliding through the crowd, I make my way out of this hell. For once, thankful that a stupid cowboy stepped in, even if his intention wasn’t to save the day.
3
RHETT - MARCH 6, 2004
Notice Of Intent To Foreclosure.
The letter I found this morning hidden in the mail replays over and over in my mind like a death knell tolling. Fuck. The foreclosure price of the ranch, my family’s home, is only a few dollars off from the prize money for today’s winnings.
I don’t hear the announcer as one of the other riders urges me to move toward the arena. My intro song plays throughout the speakers and I do as I’m told, but this time I’m too distracted to put on a show, too distracted to do anything besides get out there and get this shit done.
Before today, I’d been riding the high of last year’s big win. Taking home the bag at every competition since, and putting myself on a fast track for round two at PABRA. But no pressure, right?
If I outperform everyone today, I can earn my parents another few months to turn shit around. To start making money instead of only losing it. To gain their bearings after losing more than half our cattle and crops last year to the drought and the fire it caused. I wish they had said something, instead of just pretending everything was fine. The ranch hasbeen in our family for generations, it’s all we’ve known. I can’t imagine they would let it slip through their fingers so easily, but maybe they hadn’t realized it until it was too late. Right now, I’d do anything to help my parents. I’d take back all the trips I took to Vegas, covering all my friend’s tabs, and I’d take back all the dumb shit I bought. Surely, I didn’t need a collection of Stetsons or a whole set of boots to match. Had it been a nice, new truck, I could have sold it. Hell, I wouldn’t have thought twice. Had I known, I could have stopped spending money like an idiot.
I know at twenty-three it’s not my job to take care of them, but I should have, at least, realized they needed some damn help.
Rolling my shoulders, I try and fail to clear the disappointment I have with myself and my previous actions. I nearly trip on nothing, causing the crowd to laugh.
Fuck. Get your shit together.
I know no good has ever come from distractions, and today is the worst time to be pressing my luck. I need everything to go right.
Not realizing it, I’m nearly at the gate and I don’t even know what bull I got.
The announcer sputters off something about how amazing I am, and the fans lose their shit, a compliment I normally eat right up, but there isn’t an ounce of satisfaction to be found within me. Not today. Today is different. For the first time ever, I’m distracted and my head isn’t in the game. Each step I take closer to the chute feels heavier, harder. Like my feet are trudging through quicksand and my destination keeps moving farther away. Every step I take pushes me further out of touch, focused solely on my family and not this ride. The announcer’s voice raises an octave and draws me out of the stupor I find myself in. The only thing I hear, which resounds through my mind like a broken record, is a single word.
Helfire.
Motherfucker this is not my day. My shoulders slump and the weight of my disappointment feels just as physical as it does mental. I usually amp up the crowd when they announce my bull, give the ladies a little extra love with a wink or blown kiss, but instead I keep my eyes down, biting my bottom lip in frustration.
“You’ve got this, Rhett,” I hear Dad scream from the stands. A greater pressure settles on me as his words reverberate through me. His voice is just a simple reminder that my whole family is here watching in the hopes I’ll win. Ma and Dad, probably more so than Duke, because if I do, this could fix everything.
I tap the side of my leg to the beat of the music, trying to distract myself in the least obvious way possible.
This ride is no different than any other. I’ve beat him before, I’ll just beat him again.
I reach the rusty red gate. Shimmying my body, I try to loosen up the tension coiled tight within me before climbing the bars, hoping to find any other bull within its walls. Disappointment settles over me when I make eye contact with the animal within this cell. Sure as fuck, it’s Helfire.
Of course, it is.
We haven’t met since last year, and he’s been out for blood with every rider since. I try to play it cool. The last thing I need is for this fucker to feel that I’m tense.
