by Jess Bentley
“Hey I get that,” he says. “That all sounds great. I’m not sure why we’re supposed to ask these specific questions anyway. I guess it gives us something to say if we’re stuck.” He pauses. “So… let me see here. What would you say is your greatest fault?” There’s a lightness in his voice. Maybe I am going to get this job after all.
Driving home, I wonder what my greatest fault really is. In the interview I said I was a people pleaser. I figured it might be the most positive fault for a waitress to have. But in all honesty it’s not exactly my greatest one. And now that I’m thinking about it, I’m looking deeper inside.
Jeffrey used to tell me my greatest faults—not in that language of course—were how impulsive I could be, and how I beat myself up over things that I didn’t have any control over. But what did he know? He always seemed in control when he was alive. He was the kind of guy that had everything mapped out. If he had been asked where he saw himself in five years, he could have given a PowerPoint presentation on it, complete with soundtrack. But with what I know now, he was never really all that happy.
And all I’ve got is Taylor Swift. Maybe a new waitressing job. And a fantasy.
Lacey is on the phone, and she wants to know if I want to go out tonight. And not just anywhere, she wants to know if I want to go to the rodeo.
“This your first rodeo, Chastity?” I imagine Kanen saying, in that sweet-tea voice of his, as he puts his index finger under my chin, tips my face up, and covers my mouth with his kisses.
“Yeah I’m not sure,” I say back to Lacey, “I kinda have a lot to do around the house.” Of course, it’s just a lame excuse and she jumps on it right away.
“A lot to do, is that right? A lot of watching TV? A lot of cleaning the bathroom? A lot of picking your nose?”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. “Well, everything but the last one.”
She laughs, though she’s not far off and she knows it.
“You know what I think about ‘you got a lot to do’?” She’s going in for the kill now and I cringe, waiting for her to poke me. “I think you got a whole lot of living to do, girlfriend. And we could start now.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I capitulate. “What time do we need to be there?”
“Not sure. I’ll pick you up around six? That should give us time to get drinks beforehand,” she says.
I guess there’s no avoiding it. I want to ask if it’s a night when Kanen is going to ride? But I know she’ll make mincemeat out of me for that one. And I wouldn’t blame her one bit. And let’s be honest, that’s why she wants me to go.
When I go to my closet, I find myself choosing my sexiest blouse and the soft blue jeans that make my legs look as long as can be. I’m even gonna break out my new cowboy boots. They’re gorgeous. Hand-tooled leather, black, with eagle stitching. Toes so pointed you could put out a snake’s eye with them. At least that’s what the salesman said.
I plug in the curling wand, and start to do my makeup. I find myself putting on a little extra mascara and blush. I’m not sure why. The last thing I want to do is draw the eye of that dangerous man. But somehow, the makeup seems like armor. Like it could protect me. I’m not sure from what. When I almost poke myself in the eye with the mascara, I figure I should probably stop. Sigh. I’ve always been a bit clumsy.
When all is said and done, though, I have to say I look pretty damn good. I even turn around and check out my butt in the mirror. Not bad.
I find myself making finger guns in the mirror, while saying, “You still got it, girl!” and I’m immediately ashamed. I’m shaking my damn head. Does anyone else embarrass themselves when they’re alone?
Four
Kanen
Every cell in my body is electric. The bull I’m riding tonight is the biggest, meanest most badass motherfucker in the whole of Texas, and I’m gonna take him. I’ve been waiting for this moment all day, and as I’m poised above him, I’m full of energy, of unbelievable trilling excitement, of bristling power. I imagine so is the great beast below me, as he huffs and pushes against the walls of the enclosure he’s in, for show. Until I’m dropped on him.
The announcer’s voice turns into a meaningless droning singsong as he revs up the crowd. He’s only on the periphery of my consciousness, because all I’m focused on is the bull. The smell of him, the sight of him. Every molecule of his energy. It all fills me. And I’m ready. I’m so ready.
It’s really just me and the bull. We are the same, me and him. It’s us against the world of people. Of assholes. Of fakery and BS. But when it’s the bull and me we’re cut from the same cloth. We’re made of the same thing. Starlight, anger, and confidence. The sound that indicates the mechanism is going to drop me onto his heaving, black back warns both of us, and his ears twitch and turn. Then it happens.
“Showtime,” I whisper, and then I’m on him, his huge body bucking and writhing as he bursts out of the gate. In split seconds, I anticipate each movement, each motion he makes, compensating for every minuscule twist and turn as it happens. My boots dig into his side, both keeping me on and spurring him to greater and greater leaps and bounds to throw me off. We’re locked in this game, we two, and each second is filled with danger, the possibility of being thrown into the dust. Of breaking a leg. Or worse.
I stick to him like the bad decisions you make when you’re drunk, like the ex-girlfriend that wants you back.
I have no idea what the actual time for normal people would be, but for me it might as well be hours. I try to perceive as slowly as I can, to stay alive and aware every millisecond.
When it finally happens and I’m thrown, as the ground rushes up to meet my head, and the roar of the crowd fills my ears. Hooves rush by my face. A rodeo clown sets out to distract the 2200-pound creature from trampling me to death, and I try desperately to fill my lungs with air. My heartbeat is huge in my ears and I’m full of adrenaline, but it’ll take a moment before I can move or breathe.
When I turn my head, that’s when I see her. It’s Canada, her mouth a round “O,” her eyes wide as saucers. The shock of her presence, here in my audience, watching me with such intensity pushes the air into my body and I can breathe again. That means I can move. I roll up and strut to the door of the arena, narrowly missing the horns of the bull I just dominated. The crowd is going wild, hooting and hollering.
Jack’s waiting for me there. He hands me a towel. I swipe it over my sweat-stained face, and it comes away with the dust of the arena floor on it.
“Holy shit bro, I thought you were going to die out there,” he says, shaking his head. “I was worried about you, bro.”
“Not today,” I smile. “Not today.”
“I guess not. Shit, that was amazing. Some folks are saying that it was record-breaking what you did.” He’s still shaking his head, looking at the floor with his eyebrows raised. “You sure that’s a good idea though? Seems super risky.”
“That’s what I love about it, Jack,” I assure him. “Why would you let yourself possibly get killed by a giant animal like that if you didn’t love it?”
“Well, you make a good point,” he admits. I know I do. “I guess you could do it for money.”
“I have no need for money.” It’s something I don’t talk about, but I’ve been set for money for quite some time now. I had an windfall that I don’t often tell people about. I’m a simple man with simple pleasures, so I give the profits to a financial planner, and he sends me reports every now and then. Mostly I throw them in the trash, open maybe one a year. And that’s enough for me. I know a lot of people have gotten rich offa me, in backdoor bets, betting for me or against, don’t mind me none. I reckon that’s where most of the excitement in the stands came from today.
But not for my little Canada. No, she was there for me, just me, I’m sure of it. She wanted to see me tonight and when I fell, she saw my body, not my effect on her bank account, unlike most of the stands. The way her hands flew up to her pretty face, in happy shock as
I jumped up and shook myself off. The relief in her eyes as I threw her a little wink. She’s something, that little Canada.
I think I’d like to take her home.
Five
Chastity
I never expected the moments watching Kanen would be so grueling. My stomach was in knots as he rode that giant animal. But there was something else too. He seemed in control, unlike the other riders, who were hanging on for dear life, flying around desperately clinging to the animal, every second filled with fear. Kanen was almost majestic, like he was meant to be on that bull.
As the seconds counted down he was low on the bull, his strong arms and shoulders cut in the bright lights of the arena, his tattoos black against his tan skin. His dark hair was flying around in the wind. I’ve never seen someone look so handsome. And when the bull threw him, finally, the crowd erupted in a singular roar, some screaming his name, others with wordless cries of excitement. He lay there for just a little too long, and I was afraid that he was paralyzed, and would be trampled by the bull. But then he turned his head a little, and before long he was up and swaggering over to the side of the stands before jumping to safety.
Did he smile at me, wink at me? I couldn’t tell, but he seemed to, and the tension in my heart melted with the warmth and heat that he somehow brought up in me. There was something inside me that wanted to rush down and go hug him, and tell him that I was glad that he was all right, but I didn’t. It would be absurd, wouldn’t it? I mean I’ve met him once, and we barely know each other, so to do so would be crazy. But still, my heart was telling me to go.
“Hey,” Lacey says. “You okay over there? You haven’t taken your eyes off of Kanen this whole time. He’s all right you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say quickly, tearing my eyes from his lithe frame to look at her. “This is all new to me, Lacey, you know that,” I say. “How do these guys do it without killing themselves?”
“Some people do, I guess,” she smiles. “You want a beer?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, you stay here, I’ll go get us some drinks.”
“Sounds good,” I say. I try not to look back immediately at Kanen, but when I can’t resist anymore, I look up and our eyes meet. He’s wearing a black cowboy hat now, and he tips it at me. My heart flutters. Then he jumps over the railing and gracefully takes the stairs two at a time and slips into the seat next to me, the one that was occupied by Lacey, and says, “Howdy, there, Canada, and how are you this fine evening?”
“I’m okay, but the question is, how are you?”
He laughs and says, “Mighty fine, thank you. What brings you to the rodeo this evening? I hadn’t pegged you for an animal lover.” He looks around. “Or whatever you’d call the people here.”
“It’s my first time, actually,” I admit.
It’s a bit hard to get the words out, and I look down at my hands. He knows exactly what brought me here. His eyes, though dark, are burning into mine, and I can barely breathe. When I do, my lungs fill with the sweet, manly smell of him, and all I want to do is to lean against him and have him put his strong arm around me and pull me close. But the people around are craning their necks to get a better look at him, and whispering excitedly to each other.
“Well here’s the million-dollar question,” he grins. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know actually!” I smile back nervously. “I’m not sure what I think. I mean, is that bull okay?”
“He’ll be just fine,” says Kanen. “Just the momentary discomfort of someone riding him and then he spends his time chewing his cud in the pasture. Pretty peaceful life for the most part.”
“And you?” I manage to say. “Are you actually okay?”
“Honestly? Nothing a little whiskey won’t fix,” he says. “Just a few bumps and bruises.” His smile is intoxicating, and I find the corners of my lips rising too. I’m sure I look like a fool, completely silly and puppy-dog eyed, but I’ve never met a man like him and I don’t know how to react. Suddenly he looks to his side, and down the aisle is Lacey, standing with two beers in her hands. “I see you have a drink coming already. Thanks for coming, Canada,” he says and jumps up. He tips his hat at Lacey and she comes to sit down as well.
“Oh-em-gee,” she says. “Kanen came to sit with you?” Her face is astonished. “I could tell he thought you were pretty and was interested and all, but I never guessed he’d come sit with you.” She looks not just impressed, but awestruck.
“Really, is that weird? You know I’ve never gone to something like this,” I say. “I don’t know what people do!”
I’m kind of embarrassed at the shock she’s displaying on her face. Makes sense though, considering the reaction of the people around me as he chatted so casually with me. They seemed like they were in the company of southern royalty, whispering to themselves excitedly as we chatted.
“Not weird,” she says. “Okay, yeah, it’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rodeo star do anything like that before.” She hands me a beer. “But weird in a good way. Amazing weird.” We both sit and drink some down, staring at the field. I’m a bit in shock honestly. “But apart from that, the whole Kanen thing, you like this place? It’s fun, right?”
“Sure is,” I answer. “Sure is.” For me there’s no ‘apart-from-the-Kanen thing,’ it’s all him, but I don’t want to disappoint Lacey. This is part of her culture after all.
Down by the arena, my eyes meet with Kanen’s again and this time I feel his stare go straight down to my core. I squirm in my chair, mortified to realize that my panties are getting wet again. I can still almost smell him from when he was beside me. Spicy, clean sweat. Musk. He’s incredible, this man, and the attraction is off the charts, at least for me. But I need to remind myself over and over that I don’t want to get involved. My whole reason for coming to Texas was so that I could just have a new life, away from Jeffrey and everything that happened with him. Not to fall in love or lust with some cowboy. No matter how sexy he might be or what he might have in his pants. As enticing as that is.
That isn’t in the plans at all. No way.
He tips his hat again from the arena floor, and his dark eyes flash at me before he disappears into the back rooms.
“He looked at you!” Lacey elbows me in the side, almost spilling her drink on me. “Did you see?”
“Oh, I saw,” I assure her. I can see almost nothing else. I take a long slow sip of the amber liquid, trying to quash the rising flames in my cheeks.
That night, I’m too excited to sleep. All I can think of is Kanen, his body writhing on the bull, and how it would feel if he were writhing on top of me. Every cell in me is singing his praises, but especially the ones between my legs. I’m dripping, and I haven’t been able to calm myself down since he was close to me. Why is he tormenting me like this? I wonder. Why is he playing with me? He’s a cat, a beautiful, dark-eyed black cat, and I’m a little mouse. With nothing to protect myself. Except to hide. That’s all I have.
I have to avoid him, I think, as my hand sneaks down between my legs. I have to keep away. Because if I let him in, he’s gonna eat me alive. There’s no doubt about it. My fingers touch my soft folds, plunging into the wetness there, and I imagine his fingers instead of mine, the bulge in his jeans pushing against me as he smiles that special way. His strong arms around me, lifting me up as I wrap my legs around him, and his tongue in my mouth. No, in my folds, sucking and licking as I buck gently against him.
“Kanen,” I whisper. It’s the first time I’ve done so with another man. I haven’t even gotten to the point where I imagine anything with another man since Jeffrey. It’s like my pussy went out of business for a while. After Jeffrey I didn’t want to; didn’t see the point.
Our lovemaking wasn’t anything that special, I think… but it’s hard to say because I never had anyone else. He didn’t seem all that crazy about going down on me either. He was more into just sticking it in and getting the job done, and going back to our reg
ular routine of Netflix and popcorn. But now I’m too excited, and my body won’t let me forget Kanen. My insides are coiling tighter and tighter, and then I feel it, his name on my lips, I burst into orgasm, coming harder than I have in a long while. Maybe ever.
Alone in the dark, the room seems a lot emptier than it did before. I stare into the blackness, still panting, filled with the thought of him.
Could he be thinking of me?
Ugh. My brain goes back to Jeffrey. The darkness lets my defenses down and I look at things more head-on. Our “perfect relationship.” Ha. Everything we had together was so predictable. We got together in high school, and at the time it seemed we would be together forever. Not necessarily because I felt it, but because everyone expected it to.
Everyone looked at us like we were meant to be, and I never guessed that our love wouldn’t truly last. I was sixteen when we got together. Of course, I didn’t realize how everything would change. Like everyone, I guess, I thought I knew everything at that age, and that everything would turn out like the fairy tales I read. We were in love and that was that. We were together, right? We had to be in love. Simple. And I think he felt the same way.
So what if the kisses didn’t shake me to my core? He was sweet and kind and that should have been enough. I prided myself on the fact that I wasn’t superficial. I knew Jeffrey as a person, as a best friend, and they always say you should marry your best friend. So I figured we were set.
So why did my heart fall into my feet when he presented the ring? He was down on his knees; it should have been a slamdunk as far as he was concerned. And I was so young, only twenty-one years old. My brain was telling me that my dreams had come true, but my body was telling me to run. Run as fast as I could to get away from Jeffrey. Instead, I did what a good girl does, and held out my left hand, fingers spread, as the tears rolled down my face. Of course Jeffrey figured I was just overwhelmed by the feelings of being proposed to, but deep in my core I knew I was crying because I was betraying my deepest self.
