Page 39 of Leading the Blind
They were in the middle, him and the bull, and his world was right and tight. Fuck, this was pure magic, and he loved the way time slowed for the last three seconds. He spurred, his leg moving in time with each leap and spin.
He heard the buzzer, and he let go, landing on his butt for a second before Coke hauled him up and tossed him toward the fence, where he scrambled up, feeling wind on his ass as the bull rushed by. He trusted Coke, and he trusted Dillon, who was whooping, “Run, Jase! Woo!”
He climbed down, laughing hard as he heard the air horns go off.Yes. Fuck, yeah. Bring. It. On.
“Ninety-two points, folks!” The announcer shouted, and the crowd went nuts, screaming and clapping.
He waved his hat, and Dillon was there at his shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”
“Prove it,” he shot back.
Dillon whacked him, laughing and speaking into his arena mic, something about what a good first event he’d had back. Then Bax was there, pressing his dark glasses into his hands.
“Thanks. Check, interview and we’re gone, right?” He was going to love Bax into a puddle as soon as they were alone.
“You know it. I’ll hang out, since your eyes are so sensitive to the light.”
He had to grin, because he could almost hear Bax nudging and winking in the words.
“Cool. Good ride, huh? Felt like a dream.”
“You were in the middle, Mini. Solid as a rock.”
“Good ride!” AJ flanked him on the other side.
“Thanks, man. Felt good. Felt like it ought to.”
“Keep that up and the season is yours.” AJ lowered his voice. “When they call you out for the check, Bax and I will take you almost all the way, pretending to roughhouse a little. Dillon will bring you back.”
“Got it.” He felt damn near like he could do it, all on his own.
Not that he would. Lord knew he didn’t need to fall on his facenow.
Talk about awkward.
Funny as fuck, but goddamn bad timing.
He needed to save that for winning the finals. His momma loved that movie where the blind figure skater fell over her roses after she skated like a ninety pointer.
Jason was still grinning when the new interview lady—What the hell was her name? Amy? Anya?—called him over for the check. AJ draped an arm around him and marched him up, Bax blowing an imaginary trumpet or some shit. Good thing they’d always been assholes like this, and he was grateful when AJ deposited him on what had to be his mark.
“Congratulations, Jason. How does it feel to be back?”
Jesus, how do you think? I just won the friggin’ event. I’m terribly disappointed.“It’s been a long road to recovery, but I’m tickled as all get out.”
“I’m sure your fans are excited to see you. Are you planning on going to more events, or just the finals, now that you’ve won?”
Jason automatically grabbed the big piece of cardboard that whacked him on the vest. The fake check. “Well, I’m here to ride bulls, ma’am.”
“Smile, Jason.” Dillon’s voice was sudden and strong in his ear, and he grinned his best aw-shucks smile.
“Well, congratulations again, and good luck on your next event.”
“Thanks!” Jason turned to where the on-camera assistant always was, handing off the big check. His real money would come direct deposit tomorrow.
“Head left, Jase,” Dillon said, and he hoped to God the clown meant his left.
Bax grabbed him and fake gut-punched him. “You did good.”
