Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Once that’s done, I make my way back toward my father’s office. On the way, my eyes linger on the peeling paint across the concrete walls. I remember when some of them were done when I was only a little girl. I used to love this place. The sounds of the crowd and the rush of excitement were so much fun. It would be hard to work sometimes because my attention would always drift to the ring to watch the riders.
Those days are long gone, and the peeling paint feels too familiar. What would I be without this place? It seems to be slowly fading, and I wonder if the same will happen to me.
You’d be free.
That’s what my mind screams at least. Free to do what? Leave? Is that really an option? It’s never felt like one.
As I draw closer to my father's office, the ominous black door is closed. I can hear the grunts even from forty feet out. No matter how old my father gets, all the buckle bunnies he bangs stay the same age. Which now happens to be my age.
I’m almost thankful he’s busy so I don’t have to talk to him right now. I drop everything into the box outside his office and lock it.
“Fuck, I love this fat ass.” My stomach lurches hearing my father as he fucks some girl on his desk. It’s followed by a loud slap and moan.
What’s even more disgusting is how he always shames me for my body. He doesn’t seem to care when it comes to whoever he fucks; he always goes for the curvy ones. I mean, I’ve seen a picture of my mother, and we could almost be twins.
He always refers to her as the trashy whore that left him high and dry with a three-year-old. It’s really where my nickname comes from. My own father created it, except for the whore part. No, he makes sure I remain a virgin. I don’t understand why he cares who I might sleep with. Not that there’s temptation here.
There are other places far away where I could be happy, but I try not to even dream about them, knowing it will only make me ache. I live in a small town, and all I’ll ever be is trash.
Or so they keep saying…
Chapter Two
Bronco
“That should do it,” I say as I pull the metal arm down so it latches across the trailer door. “I appreciate you driving her back.”
“No problem,” Troy says as he tosses his bag in the backseat of the truck. “That extra paycheck is gonna be nice.”
“Anytime you want an extra pickup or two, you let me know.”
“As soon as my wife agrees to let me go for more than a day, I’ll drive your horses wherever you need them to go.”
“I heard you got married last month, congratulations.”
“Thanks, Bronc.” He shakes his head and smiles. “Truth be told, I’m crazy after more than a day away from her too.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?” I think about my parents, and even after forty years together they still can’t be apart. “How about I toss you all my local hauls?”
“I think my wife and I would both appreciate that. And the extra money.”
“I’ll make sure and email Jake when I get home tonight.”
“Are you flying out already?”
“Soon. I got a call about this arena looking to sell, and I might take a look at it.” I nod back to the event center that seems busy for it to be so run down. “Thought I’d take care of two birds since this horse was coming back to my ranch. Thanks again, you’re saving me the hassle of driving her home.”
“I’ll take good care of her.”
“Be safe.” I tip my cowboy hat to him as he climbs in the truck and takes off with the trailer in tow.
The Circle C Rodeo is an event center that hosts some of the mid-level competitions. I’m not necessarily in the market for a new one, but the owner called me last week and invited me to take a look. I’ve never been out this way, and for some reason, I was curious.
Looking around outside, I see the parking lot is packed. There’s no shortage of people coming, I just wonder why when it looks so run-down. There’s trash all over the parking lot and potholes the size of a calf. Hell, even the sign out front is missing lights. People are coming out of the doors, and I notice one of them hangs crooked on its hinges.
Inside, it’s not much better. The area itself isn’t in terrible shape, but the bleachers are dated and wonky. Instead of sitting, people crowd around the arena and watch the last runs of the night. After that, they divvy out the buckles and cut checks. There’s still lots of money to be made in rodeoing, but whoever is running this place isn’t investing in the arena and it shows.