Rough Rider (5 page)

Grady signaled the bartender, ordering Janice's drink and another shot.

Dirk called for another beer.

Janice frowned. “Are you sure you should be drinking tonight?”

“It's only beer,” Dirk protested.

“You think that doesn't count? You've done rodeo long enough to know it's a bad idea to drink anything after getting knocked out.”

“I wasn't knocked out.”

“Sure looked that way to the couple thousand people watching,” she argued.

“Told you I already have a mother, Janice,” Dirk snarled.

“Fine. Be an idiot.” She snatched up her beer.

“Don't mind him, Janice. He's having a bad night. Rachel just dumped him and his brother's already moving in.”

“With her father's blessing,” Dirk muttered. “Doesn't like her slumming with rough stock riders. Thinks we're a bunch of lowlifes.”

“That so?” Grady spun around on his stool. “What else did the dickwad have to say?”

“He thinks Rachel would be better off with Wade. That about sums it up.” He jerked his head toward the couple on the dance floor. “And if I wasn't all busted up I'd be kicking Wade's ass about now.” He was pissed as hell and would love to knock his brother's lights out, but he was in no shape to take Wade on tonight. Tomorrow, however, was a new day. He'd be feeling more up to it then.

The dancers broke up a few minutes later when the band started up a piss-poor cover of “Cowboy Up” by Chris LeDoux. Dirk caught Rachel searching the room for him. This time he turned his back.

“Her ol' man called us lowlifes, huh?” Grady downed his second shot with a thoughtful look—the one that usually meant trouble. “Guess we can't kick
his
ass.”

“No.” Dirk gave Grady a warning look. “
We
can't.
”

After a Garth Brooks number, the band announced a twenty-minute break.

“This is Carson's party, ain't it?” Grady asked.

“Yeah. It's all on his dime,” Dirk replied. “Money's no object when it comes to Rachel. He wants her picture in all the magazines and big papers. Uppity sonofabitch thrives on the spotlight.”

“That so?” Grady rose from his bar stool. “If it's attention he wants, why don't we help him out?”

Janice laid a hand on his arm. “Where you going?”

Grady gave them a wicked grin that boded no good. “I just got an idea to shake things up a bit. I'll be back directly, Sweet Cheeks.”

Dirk watched his buddy wend his way through the crowd to the stage where he tipped his hat to the DJ filling in during the band's break. The burly Charlie Daniels look-alike offered his ear then gave a vehement head shake. Further persuasion ensued in the form of cash. The encounter ended with a hand clasp.

Grady swaggered back to the bar with an even bigger grin stretching his mouth.

“You know him?” Janice asked.

“Yeah. He's an ol' buddy of mine,” Grady replied. “I greased him up to do me a favor. At first he was afraid of losing the gig, but who can hold him responsible for a request, right?”

Janice's gaze narrowed. “I s'pose it would depend on the kind of request.”

“What do you think a low-life cowboy would ask him to play?”

“Dunno.” Janice shrugged. “Maybe ‘The Rodeo Song' by Gary Lee and the Showdown?”

“Close but not raunchy enough. Ever heard of Rehab?”

Janice's brow wrinkled. “No. I don't think I have.”

“The DJ has an old copy of their original album, before they went and cleaned up the songs. He's gonna play ‘Sittin' at a Bar.'”

Dirk nearly choked on his beer. “Carson'll shit a brick.”

“Least I didn't ask him for Chinga Chavin's ‘Cum Stains on My Pillow.' He had that one too.” Grady laughed and downed another shot. “If you really wanna stick him in the craw, you and me could go out there and make it a karaoke version.”

“You know if we do this, we're gonna get tossed out of here on our asses,” Dirk said, but he was too pissed off at the world to care much about repercussions.

Grady shrugged. “Won't be the first time…and I doubt it'll be the last. 'Sides, do you really want to stay here after what that asshole said?”

Dirk shook his head. “Hell no.”

“You remember the lyrics?” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dirk said. “All right, Grady, I'm in.” He rose too quickly, or maybe it was the effects of four beers. In either case, he had to steady himself on the bar.

“Care to make it a trio, Sweet Cheeks?” Grady asked Janice. “You can sing backup.”

“I don't think so. I don't even know the song.”

“Doesn't matter,” Grady said. “You can just lip-synch.”

She looked from Grady to Dirk and back again. “Sorry. You two can make jackasses of yourselves all you like, but this is too much for me.”

“You're bailing on us?”

“Damned straight.” She grabbed her purse and rose.

Grady grabbed her by the arm. “I don't think so. You came with me. You'll leave with me.”

“Let go of me, Grady.” She tried to shake his hand off, but he held her. She looked to Dirk.

“Let loose, Grady,” he said quietly. “She doesn't want to stay.”

“Keep out of this, Pretty Boy.” Grady's gaze narrowed, his threat clear. “She's with
me
.”

Maybe it was the whiskey, but Grady seemed to be itching for a brawl. He was unpredictable on a good day—add alcohol to the mix and he became volatile as hell—friendship be damned. On any other night Dirk might have indulged the impulse to mix it up but tonight he was in no shape for it.

“Dirk's right,” Janice replied, tight-lipped. “I don't want to stay. I promised I'd have one drink with you and I did. That's as far as it goes. Thanks for the drink.” She jerked her arm free and made a swift exit.

For a second or two Grady looked as if he'd go after her, but then he visibly relaxed. He took up his drink, raising it to his lips with a shrug. “I'm not likely to get any from her tonight, so why waste the effort?”

Dirk breathed a sigh of relief that Grady had abandoned his designs on her. But by the look of things, he'd either get his brawl, or just pass out shit-faced before the night was out. Seconds later, a third option presented itself in the form of a brunette Dirk recognized as Rachel's friend, Mary Jane.

She edged up to the bar, eyeing Grady up and down until her gaze rested on his crotch, her red lips curving into a seductive smile. “Impressive…buckle.”

“Mary Jane.” Grady tipped his hat with a wolfish grin. “Been a long time.”

“It has.” She acknowledged Dirk with barely a nod and then took up Janice's vacated seat. “I'm thinkin' maybe too long. Buy me a drink, cowboy?”

Grady's smile widened. “Sure thing.”

“I watched you tonight.” Gazing up through lowered lashes, Mary Jane scored a painted fingernail up his forearm. “Do you always ride so hard?”

“Depends on what I'm ridin', sweetheart…and how much they can tolerate. Some can take a whole lot more of me than others.” He placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Oh yeah?” Her brows arched. “Lotsa cowboys
talk
a good ride, but put to the test, most of 'em ain't worth their salt.”

“Then you've been hanging with the wrong cowboy. Whatcha havin'?”

“I dunno.” She pursed her lips and then one side of her mouth curved up. “Think maybe I'm in the mood for a Suck Bang and Blow.”

Grady's brows shot up. He slid his hand down to her ass, his fingers reaching into the gap of her waistband to stroke the bare skin. “Maybe you'd like to chase that down with a Multiple Screaming Orgasm?”

“That's a real tall order, cowboy.”

“I can fill it.”

“That so?” She reached into her purse for her card key and slipped it into his hand. “Number two twenty. Just give me fifteen minutes to get rid of my pain-in-the-ass roommate.” She slid off the stool with a wink. “Guess I don't need the drink after all.”

Grady stuck the card key in his shirt pocket and watched her walk away, his eyes glued to her denim-clad ass. “As I recall, back in high school MJ gave a helluva BJ. Wonder what other tricks she's learned?” A moment later, the DJ gave them a nod and began playing “Sittin' at a Bar” by Rehab.

Shit! Dirk had forgotten all about Grady's request, but the music had started. It was too late to back down now.

Grady threw his head back with a guffaw. “Showtime, cowboy.”

With drinks in hand, Dirk and Grady made their way a bit unsteadily toward the stage where Grady picked up the mic to join the song mid verse, “‘I'm sittin' at a bar on the inside, waitin' for my ride on the outside. She broke my heart in the trailer park, so I jacked the keys to her fuckin' car. Crashed that piece of shit and then stepped away…'”

They barely made it through the chorus before the speakers went dead. Seconds later, the deafening silence was broken by a chorus of boos and hisses from a handful of drunken cowboys.

Wade appeared at Dirk's elbow, hissing under his breath, “What the fuck was
that
performance?”

“Long story that begins with your own performance with Rachel,” Dirk slurred.

“Look, you ungrateful asshole, I was helping you out.”

“Helping me?” Dirk repeated. “How the hell do you figure that?”

“She said you wanted me to stand in for you. Told me you weren't up to all the PR stuff since you got busted up.”

“The hell she did!”

“Whatever.” Wade shrugged. “I'm not going to argue with a drunk.” He looked to Grady who eyed him back with close-fisted belligerence. “And I'm sure as hell not going to pick a fight with one. Start anything with me, Grady, and I guarantee you'll spend tonight in the county jail. 'Course you might be sleeping there anyway, since Carson's asked you both to leave the hotel.
Now.
If you go quietly you'll be saved the embarrassment of an escort by hotel security.”

“Rachel wouldn't let him do that,” Dirk argued.

“Oh yes she would,” Wade said. “Given it was her idea.”

“Shit!” Dirk groaned.

“Oh yeah. You've fucked it up real good tonight, big brother. If you broke her heart there's a whole lotta guys willing to help her put it back together… And I don't mind sayin' I'll be first in line.”

* * *

Janice glanced twice over her shoulder as she darted toward the exit, but to her relief Grady hadn't followed. She'd watched the interplay between Dirk and Grady in the last few minutes with growing tension. She suspected there would be a fight before the night was over and knew she'd made the right decision to cut out. Cowboys, especially the rough stock variety, always exuded an excess of testosterone and frequently needed to blow off steam—especially after an event. She'd heard enough to know that rough sex and bar fights were the preferred means.

She'd never understand how guys could beat the shit out of one another one minute and then share a beer in the next, slate wiped clean—usually with blood. Sometimes she envied a man's freedom to live for the moment and act out physical impulses without thought of repercussions.

Maybe the male way was better.

Women were vindictive, often carrying grudges for years without achieving any kind of resolution. She wondered what life would be like without overthinking every little detail—less complicated for sure—which brought back the whole scene in the ladies' room. She wondered what had actually transpired between Dirk and Rachel, who seemed to be the rodeo world's most perfect couple. They hadn't spoken to each other from the time she and Grady had arrived and seemed to be purposely avoiding one another, except for the exchange of baleful looks. On top of that, Rachel had been flirting outrageously with Dirk's brother, Wade.

Janice shook her head. What a stupid move that was. Wade might be taller and maybe even better looking in the conventional sense, but he wasn't Dirk. Janice didn't know a guy around who could hold a candle to Dirk—at least not in her estimation. He just seemed to personify everything a man should be—strong, honest, loyal. Dirk had integrity. He didn't cheat. He'd never stepped out on Rachel, to her knowledge, and Janice was in a position to hear. Cowboys weren't above gossip—especially concerning who's banging who.

Rachel's revelation that they hadn't slept together had come as a shock, but now only reinforced Dirk's strength of character in Janice's eyes. How many other guys would have waited all this time?

If
only…
She sighed.

Dirk and Rachel might be “off” at the moment, but they'd be back “on” again soon enough. They'd probably announce their engagement within the month. Maybe that would be better anyway. If they were engaged, if he took that definitive step, she could maybe give up this ridiculous hope.

Hope
of
what? Get real, Janice. Do you think he's gonna suddenly fall at your feet and beg you to bear his children?
She gave a derisive snort.
Not
likely!

She thought about Grady with a grimace. He was the kind of guy she'd probably end up with—a swearing, swaggering, smoking, drinking, cheater—a man just like her own father, or at least like he used to be before he gave up bull riding. Her mother had simply accepted the drinking and whoring as part and parcel of the cowboy package.

It wasn't what Janice wanted, but what other kind of man was she ever going to be exposed to? Her life outside of home was spent with livestock and cowboys.

Still contemplating her dissatisfaction with her lot in life, Janice returned to the Events Center. After changing into sleep shorts and a cami, she crawled up into the gooseneck of her trailer. It had only the most rudimentary living quarters, and she hated sleeping in it while on the road, but she hadn't thought to book a motel room until it was too late to get one. With the rodeo finals there were none available in Casper. She figured she might as well get used to it anyway, as she'd be camped out at a different venue every week for the rest of the summer. The trailer saved her money. Every penny she didn't spend was more money in her pocket—money she'd need if she ever wanted to go anywhere or do anything with her life.