A grin spread across AJ’s face, revealing a set of dimples and two rows of relatively straight pearly whites with what he liked to think was a charming chip in his front tooth. Even though the smile was for The Old Man, he spoke to Diablo when he said, “The stubborn old coot left me no choice. He wouldn’t take my money.”
Henry ignored the two younger men, instead pointing out the painfully obvious: “You’re too old for this.”
The Old Man had a reputation for telling it like it was. Why would that be any different today than it had been fifteen years before when he’d stood over AJ after he’d been thrown the first time?
Back then, he’d said: You let the bull win.
Henry offered a hand.
Today, AJ accepted it.
It was damn good to see the man. His bald head gleamed from a fresh razor and oil, his rich dark brown skin betraying only about fifty of his sixty-four years—even with a salt-and-pepper beard.
Like all riders, Henry had received his share of unintended cosmetic surgery over the years: a bit of eyebrow lost forever, a nose with a few additional curves, a slight droop to the left eye. Time had lightened the charcoal gray of his eyes, but AJ doubted that even death would dim their lightning.
Henry Bowman was an old-school cowboy, a man who had run cattle when there was still a use for it, learning the tricks of the trade on the range rather than in a rusty Houston gym like AJ and Diablo. Henry had been the second Black cowboy to win the PBRA world championship and the first to bring in over a million in prize money. In his heyday, no one had called him The Old Man. They called him Black Butter.
The name, thankfully, didn’t last.
His reputation as the smoothest ride in the history of the PBRA did. Not even AJ could match him there.
AJ tilted his head toward Diablo before asking The Old Man, “Devil drag you in?”
Henry shook his head with a smile. “Nope. Claudio called me this morning,” he said, tipping his hat in Claudio’s direction.
Claudio held up the stopwatch. “30.09 seconds.”
The time wasn’t good enough, but AJ held back his grimace. Henry was right—he was old. Six years ago, he’d have clocked twice that, distractions and all, and with a lot less pain. Returning The Old Man’s smile and adding a shrug, AJ said, “I’ll fire him later.”
“You can’t fire him,” Henry said. “He doesn’t work for you.”
“Can too. He’s here on my dime this morning.”
Henry started, “Now, AJ...”
AJ raised his hands. “I know, I know, I know. You don’t want me ‘wasting any money in this sinking ship,’ but seeing as he’s here timing me, it made sense he’s working for me. Besides, this was the only place I could think to go.”
“Something wrong with the equipment at your ma’s?” The knowing warmth in Henry’s eyes took any bite out of the words.
AJ smiled. “She might catch me...” It wasn’t a lie.
Henry shuddered. He had gone his own rounds with Meredith Garza, and he wasn’t inclined to repeat. He said, “Diablo tells me there’s a bit of nonsense at play.”
AJ shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about all that.”
“You’re coming out of retirement?”
AJ didn’t miss the way both men’s eyes latched onto him like hawks eyeing a mouse. Each would scrutinize every element of his response, so he hedged.
“Temporarily.”
“AJ. Anything you win is still your money. I won’t take it.”
“Not technically.”
Lawyer’s ears piquing, Diablo said, “What do you mean, ‘not technically’?”
“Technically, CityBoyz is the entrant...”
Henry sighed. “And how did an after-school boys program enter a rodeo as a contestant?”
“Email. And we’re not in yet,” he said, his dimple flashing again. “We’ve got to qualify first.”
The corner of Diablo’s wide mouth lifted. “I take it the PBRA Closed Circuit ‘rodeo-like-no-other’ was open to the idea of the great AJ Garza coming out of retirement to sponsor an imploding charity?”
The Old Man flinched. The move was minuscule. AJ only saw it because he was looking so closely.
He might try to hide it, but Henry was ashamed of what was happening to CityBoyz.
A frown drifted across AJ’s eyes, though he kept it from his face, answering Diablo’s question with a slight smirk. “They’ve included it in their newest ad...”
Henry muttered, “I’ll just bet. Now, you know this isn’t necessary, AJ. You’ve only just got back. I talked to Diablo in the hallway. What we’ll do is shut down and regroup, go through and do it proper. Got our Devil out here all the way from Phoenix. He’s going to get us proper nonprofit status so we can apply for real grants. There’s no need for all this foolishness.” Henry gestured toward the bull and Claudio and the stopwatch. “You’re closer to forty than twenty.”
AJ brought a hand to his heart. “You’re shooting to kill there.”
“A bull’s going to end up killing you. I’m trying to make you see some sense.”
AJ gestured toward Diablo with his thumb. “This guy charges an arm and a leg, and it will take you a good year to get enough funding from grants. If I win, CityBoyz will have enough to get through this year and make it through until the donations start coming in—without sending out those letters.”
“You know I’d never charge The Old Man... I have a required amount of pro bono work to do after all,” Diablo said, pretending to be dry and uninterested when he would gladly lay down his life for The Old Man.
Henry sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. The bull whirred.
No one spoke until he said, “Did you tell your ma?”
AJ’s grin faltered, and he looked away. “Not yet.”
Henry’s voice steeled. “No.”
AJ’s grin returned. “It’s a good idea. We might even get some donations coming in faster just by putting the story out. That means money coming in before they even start handing out buckles.”
Henry closed his eyes and sucked in a heavy breath.
AJ held his breath, hoping The Old Man would let him take over some of the weight.
When Henry opened his gray eyes again, they were clear and calm. To Claudio, he said, “Claudio, there’s better things for you to be doing with your time here than this. We haven’t even opened those accounts since your last shift.”
Claudio smiled at The Old Man’s change of heart and tossed the stopwatch to AJ with a look of approval before turning back to Henry. “I’ll be in the office,” he said.
“I’ll walk with you. Looks like we’ll need to pay the web hosting after all...” The two of them left the echoing tin chamber that was the practice gym, and AJ and Diablo were alone.
Once they were out of sight, Diablo nodded toward the bull. “You going to turn that thing off?”
AJ hopped over the rope that pretended to be a fence around a pretend bull, and pressed the big red button. Then he said, “How you been?”
“Good. Phoenix is good. Practicing is good. Making money is really good.”
AJ chuckled, “Sure is. Almost as good as beating a bull.”
Diablo grinned. “Or burying yourself in a woman.”
They clasped hands and pulled each other in for a hug before releasing with a pat on the back. It’d been too long.
“How was South America?”
“Phenomenal.”
“Europe and Asia?”
“I went riding with a duchess in Yorkshire and was proposed to by a breeder in Japan.”
Diablo tipped his black Stetson. “To the buckle bunnies all over the world.”
“Amen, and thank the good Lord.” Warmth spread through AJ’s chest. He had forgotten how good it felt to be in the company of people who knew you ba
ck when.
“So when are you going to quit for real?” Diablo asked.
AJ’s eyebrows came together though the smile remained. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if I recall correctly, you’ve spent the first three years of your retirement on a farewell world tour. Now, being back less than four days, you’re finding reasons to sign up for another rodeo. Makes a man wonder how retired you want to be.”
AJ looked away and pushed his hands into his pockets. He balanced his bulk on the cordon rope, adjusting his position against the low tension of the rope.
He wore a backward baseball cap—a PBRA promo hat from seven years ago—and a few days’ worth of stubble.
At six feet five inches, with a broad, muscled body, a cleft chin, square jaw, creamy brown skin, deep brown half-moon eyes, and stupidly white teeth, he looked more like an underwear model than a “retired” rodeo champion.
When he turned back to Diablo, his smile was in place. “I’m retired—just doing this to help The Old Man out. I’d planned to come back and coach for him anyway. This is just a onetime thing. Then I’m out of the arena for good and on this side of the gate.” He gestured with raised palms toward the space around him.
“Between the two of us, we could have guilted The Old Man into taking the money.”
AJ chuckled, “You tell yourself that...”
Diablo cracked a smile. “Well, not that. But we could have hosted a fundraiser. We could have talked him around to that, at least.”
Smile fading, AJ caught Diablo’s black eyes. “He’s too proud. Told me on the phone after one too many whiskeys that he thought it might be time just to let it lay to rest. Said he was too old. Claudio said he’s got diabetes now. Said he’s been doing less and less. Each year, fewer and fewer kids, things a little more run-down. He needs help—and for more than just paperwork.”
Diablo held his gaze for a silent moment before saying, “He’s entitled to his rest.”
The other man had kept his voice low, forcing AJ to listen close. It was a courtroom trick.
They knew all of each other’s tricks.
“No one denies that,” AJ said.
“But?”
“I don’t think this is the way he wants it to end.”
A pause, then, “He wants...or you?”
AJ let out a laugh that was really a groan. What was family for if not to push you through uncomfortable truths? And Diablo was family, by heart, if not by blood.
They’d been brothers since their first day at CityBoyz.
AJ had been there because his dad had just died, and his mom needed a safe place for an angry boy. If Meredith Garza needed something, she got it, and in this case, it was an after-school rodeo program for inner-city youth. But even missing his dad and looking to hurt things outside as much as he hurt inside, AJ was no match for Diablo.
And neither of them was a match for Henry.
Diablo was at CityBoyz by court order. His nana had pleaded with the judge and promised to take him in hand. She’d been at a loss as to how to do that until she’d met Henry at the grocery store. Fortunately, the judge, an old white hair with deep Texas roots, thought rodeo was just the thing to straighten out the boy. It turned out even the most challenging kid was no match for an angry bull.
Diablo was good but hadn’t taken the sport past undergrad. Back then, he said it was because he didn’t want to risk his pretty face anymore. In actuality, he had found his passion in the law. But it was rodeo that had calmed him down enough to hear its siren call, then helped him pay for college, and prepared his mind and body for the rigors of law school.
It was different for AJ. He had gone pro straight out of high school. It was only after fourteen years, three world championships, and twelve million dollars that he retired. Then there was the world tour. And now, likely, two months with the Closed Circuit—barely enough time to consider it an extension.
Finally, he answered Diablo’s question. “I know he doesn’t want to be forced out like this. This is his life’s work. What else has he got? I think he’d like to pass it on to someone.”
Diablo stared at him for a moment before speaking. “Do you think you can win?”
The question brought AJ’s smile back. “You doubt me?”
Diablo shrugged. “You’re old.”
AJ laughed, “I’m still the best there’s ever been.”
“Might have the biggest head there’s ever been.”
“Only at the tip of my dick.”
Diablo’s stare was as dry as a desert. “Real adult.”
AJ laughed, “Go ahead and pretend you’re not a filthy teenager inside. I won’t tell.”
Diablo ignored him. “Supporting your theory, The Old Man wants to register as an official nonprofit organization. That’s why I’m out here. Told him I’d come take care of it for him.”
AJ’s eyebrow lifted. “Had to come out here to do it?”
It was Diablo’s turn to shrug and look away. “Figured I’d see Nana while I was out.”
And the rest of us, AJ realized with a start. Diablo missed them. Just like AJ had, no matter where he’d gone.
Another one of those things about family.
He asked, “How’s she doing?”
“She’s alright. Old. But that’s no different.”
“Bet she’d still slap you if she heard you say that.”
Diablo nodded with rare openness in his eyes. “Oh, for sure. She might do that even after she’s dead.”
Their laughter echoed in the cavernous space like memories of childhood. But things were different now. Now The Old Man needed their help.
Shaking his head to himself, AJ asked, “Did you have any idea?”
“No. Everything seemed so smooth as a participant. I never wondered where the money was coming from.”
“What I don’t get is how this guy funded the program year after year but didn’t mention it at all in his will.”
Diablo gave him the side-eye. “Bet you have no idea how entitled that sounds.”
AJ punched him. “Shut up. My dad’s dead.”
“You can’t play that card anymore.”
“Get back, Devil. I can play that card forever.”
“Har-har. Anyway, I’m here for two weeks. Whittling away my vacation time back home working pro bono.”
“You’ve gone noble on us.”
Diablo lifted an eyebrow. “Too bad noble doesn’t come with quite the luxury of the Caribbean all-inclusive I was going to take.”
“You know you’ll do both.” A wicked glint lit AJ’s eye. “Come to the qualifier. How long’s it been?”
“Not long enough to get the music out of my head yet.”
“You know you love it.”
“I don’t.”
“So, you going to come?” AJ pressed.
Diablo hesitated. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. The three of us together again.”
“Three of us? What makes you think The Old Man will come?”
“You know he’ll be there. When has he ever missed?”
“No.”
AJ’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Everyone says Caribbean girls ain’t got nothing on rodeo girls...”
“No one says that. I am not going to a rodeo on my vacation. Next thing, you’ll want to drag me to a high school football game. There’s no way in hell.”
“No way in hell? Even for the Devil?”
Diablo responded in a droll voice. “My favorite thing about that joke is how it never gets old. Evergreen, you might say. Don’t you have something to do? Something a regular adult human would be doing?”
AJ shook his head. “I’m free as a bird outside of practice. Retirement is great.” He winked, knowing it’d infuriate Diablo even more.
“Great. I’ll let your mom know you have so much time on your hands.”
AJ’s smile disappeared. “You wouldn’t.”
Diablo took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.
“Do it, and I give Nana your regular email address.”
Diablo’s phone went back into the pocket. He opened his arms wide, and AJ went in for the hug. After three years on the road, it was good to be home. Even if “home” was just the house he’d bought for his mom, a rusty old gym, and a short visit from a friend.
When he’d heard CityBoyz was about to close, he hadn’t thought, just acted. The old rodeo mailing lists hadn’t let him down. Neither had PBRA. Why would they? His little stunt was precisely the kind of thing they were looking for for the Closed Circuit: drama—a way for the rodeo to snag the interest of those tech-addicted kids.
He didn’t doubt they would arrange for it to happen that way if he couldn’t make it on his own merit. The story was just too good: AJ Garza puts off retirement to compete in the PBRA’s first-ever Closed Circuit rodeo tour—for a youth rodeo charity!
But he’d qualify. There still wasn’t anybody out there who could beat him. He wasn’t retiring because he was slipping. Even now, he was in a class all his own. He was just getting tired of beating himself up. He’d broken his collarbone three times, had six concussions, had his forearm crushed by a bull, dislocated his right shoulder countless times, and nearly had his head stepped on by a bronco. And he’d done it not in the name of competition but just to beat his own records.
There was no challenge in it anymore, and nobody liked a show-off, especially one that didn’t know when to quit. He should be grateful he got to go out on top. Rodeo chewed most cowboys up only to spit them out broken with nothing to show.
Diablo cleared his throat. “Earth to AJ.”
AJ started. “Sorry, just thinking. It’s good to be back. Strange.”
Diablo gave the room another three-sixty. “I know what you mean. You going to get your own place?”
“Eventually. After the circuit, now. Probably someplace nearby.”
“Here? You could afford to live in Piney Point.”
“What for? I’m going to be here all the time anyway.”
The Wildest Ride--A Novel Page 3
