Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Ty, how did you sleep?” Bill asked. He stood and gave my hand a quick shake.
“Good, thanks.”
The waitress walked up and smiled when I looked at her. “What can I get you?”
“A bloody mary, and just some scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, and a bowl of fruit, please.”
She nodded as she wrote it down, then asked Bill and Rich, “Anything else, gentlemen?”
They both answered no.
“Hair of the dog, huh?” Rich asked with a laugh.
I groaned. “I’m getting too old for this shit. How do these guys do it and then climb onto a bull?”
Bill laughed. “You should know—you used to be one of them.”
“Yeah, well, I guess being twenty-three versus twenty-nine makes a big difference in endurance.”
“Oh, most definitely. Just make sure you’re ready for today. You did great yesterday, and the bosses loved it. That’s all that matters.”
“So, what are you guys going to do about Rachel?” I asked, thanking the waitress for my drink and taking a long swig.
“I spoke with Kim this morning; she’s going to handle it.”
With a nod, I took another drink.
“So . . . you and Rachel dated?” Rich asked.
I almost snorted. “Hell no. We fucked, a lot. But it wasn’t anything exclusive.”
“Never were one to mince your words,” Bill said.
“Why should I? That’s what we did. She was a regular on the circuit, pretty and very willing. I didn’t care who she slept with, and she didn’t care who I slept with. It was good for both of us. And now it’s not.”
They both nodded.
“Can we move on from my past sex life, please? Tell me what I should be expecting if I take this job.”
Bill gave me a confused look as he turned to Rich, then back to me. “If? I thought it was pretty much a done deal.”
The waitress set my food down in front of me, and I dug into it like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. “No, I didn’t sign a contract. I told them I wanted to see if this was something I wanted to get back into. It took me a long time to get used to the idea that the PBR wouldn’t be a part of my life anymore, so coming back, and into something totally different, is something I need to think about. I’m not ready to make any long-term commitments.”
Rich leaned back in his chair. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed or honestly confused, like Bill seemed to be.
“Sam didn’t say anything about this being a test run.”
“‘Trial run’—those were the words he used,” I said, a smirk on my face.
“Ty, why wouldn’t you want to do this? The pay is great, you get to travel, you’re surrounded by friends you’ve known since you were, what . . . seventeen?”
“I didn’t go pro until I was twenty.”
Rich closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Clearly he wasn’t in the mood for fucking around this morning. “You’re the guy we want. The guy we need.”
I chewed my toast, swallowed, then took another drink of my bloody mary. “Why me?”
“Why you?” Bill asked, a befuddled expression on his face. “Have you looked in the mirror lately, Shaw?”
“I have. This morning. What do my looks have to do with this?”
Rich shook his head. “The PBR and CBS are trying to pull in more of an audience. Women are one of the fastest-growing populations of viewers. You put a pretty face in front of the camera, a guy who used to ride . . . and you have a tragic story to tell.”
“Which I’m not telling. That’s all in the past, and I’d like to leave it there.”
This time, Rich and Bill exchanged a look that said they knew something I didn’t. I put my fork down and wiped my mouth, dropping my napkin onto my plate. “What are they not telling me?”
“Sam wants to make your comeback more like a documentary. They want you in Colorado so they can keep an eye on you, film you as you get back into the world of PBR. They’ve already talked about interviewing some people who rode with you—some who rode after, some before. They were even planning on contacting Brock and your folks for interviews.”
I was positive my lower jaw was on the table. “Are you fucking kidding me? They didn’t say a goddamn word about this to me in New York.”
“That’s because it was in the contract. They were probably hoping you’d sign and not look at it.”
Laughing, I looked at them both in disbelief. “I wouldn’t read it? I may not be able to ride a bull again, but I didn’t hit my head and go stupid. I would have had my lawyer look at it.”
Bill spoke next. “Well, that’s the plan. Listen, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you want the documentary done or not, but Rich and I both think you’ll make a great addition to CBS Sports. You know this world like the back of your hand. You were a damn good rider—probably even better than your brother.”