Page 63 of Worth the Fall
We hesitated for just a moment, simply staring at each other, neither of us wanting to move.
“Good luck, Colton,” I whispered.
“Thank you, Ally.”
Finally, I had the strength to wave and start walking away.
One of the coolest features in this arena was the Gold Buckle Cantina. It was an iconic social spot, with glass windows looking directly down on the arena floor, made for VIPs to watch the action while seated at a bar.
For how invested Thompson was in the rodeos, I knew he’d be up there, even an hour and a half before the show.
“Good evening, Thomspon!” I said a little too loudly.
He jumped a little, craning his neck as far as he was able to, and nodded slightly. “Legra.”
I took a seat across from him without asking if it was all right. “This arena, wow! Did you ever ride here?”
Yes, after doing some extra digging, I found out that Thompson Avery was a bull rider back in the day. He had been a legend, a rising star, when he had a horrible fall during the NFR. He broke his neck, had emergency surgery, and was never able to ride again.
All in all, he was lucky to have survived that injury.
I had cold sweat running down my back when I read the articles. My heart couldn’t take the images that played in my mind. I respected Thompson a lot more.
He sighed in melancholy at the dirt, shoving a thumb through the strap of his overalls. “A few times. In fact,” he went on, surprising me, “I broke a record here, though I’m sure that’s been broken now.” Thompson finally turned to face me. “You look like you have somethin’ you wanna talk about.”
In all honesty, I was thinking about the fuses in his neck and the fact that he was one wrong move from being paralyzed or dead that day. “Yes, just one little thing, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?” A waitress suddenly jumped into our conversation.
I glanced at Thompson’s whiskey. “I’m okay, thank you. I’m not staying long.”
“Get a drink, Legra,” Thompson said, flicking the glass with his finger. “On me.”
After all this time, working so hard to get on his good side, all it had taken was asking about his rodeo days. I wanted to high-five and slap myself all at once. “Mojito, virgin, please,” I asked the waitress.
She nodded and left.
“Come on, Legra,” Thompson teased, actually smiling.
I leaned back in my seat. “Unfortunately, I am working, Thompson.”
He took a long drink.
“So let me get the shop talk out of the way,” I said, pulling a few papers out of my bag. “Tonight is a big night for the cowboys, with the cowboys and NFR sweet-talking, am I right?”
He nodded.
“Well, I hope it’s okay. I got some of your dealers to bringequipment into the arena, and we’ll do a mini version of the booth we did in Utah. You don’t have to do any of the work, but since we’re the primary sponsor, I got us the main spot in the middle. We’ll probably make some good sales, and it will make some great content for your social media and the website.” I placed the pictures of my mockups in front of him.
He barely glanced at it all. “You’re the boss.”
The waitress set my drink in front of me. “Actually, sir, you’re my boss,” I said with a lighthearted chuckle.
Thompson tapped the pictures with a worn finger. “I don’t understand most of what you’re doing, but we made more money this year than I could’ve pictured. You’re doin’ good work, kid.”
I was about to brush off the compliment, but I thought of what Colton had said, and raised my glass. “I appreciate that, Thompson.”
He lightly clinked my glass back.
