Bodacious Page 5

  BILL KNOCKS ON THE door about ten minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start.

  “Are you ready to meet the other members of our family?” His smile is so big and contagious; it’s really hard to resist his charm. It’s a good thing he’s in his late sixties, or I’d be smitten.

  “Absolutely. Lead the way.” I use my newly acquired keys to lock the door, tucking them firmly into my pocket and patting them securely. Freedom.

  I’m surprised when we walk into the meeting tent to find a packed house of about a hundred people. There are smiling faces everywhere. “Bill, I thought this was a staff meeting?”

  “It is. Our staff is our family, and we’ve got a very big family.” He winks at me before gesturing for me to take an empty seat up front. I see Braxton over at the left, chatting with a few other riders. He nods at me in acknowledgment as he continues with his conversation.

  The meeting goes on through its business first giving stats of the winners and top rankings with prize awards. Shouts, high-pitched whistles, and congratulations roll throughout the tent in good spirit, but they grow silent as a man in a suit takes the podium.

  “Hello. Some of you know me already, but most of you don’t. My name is Walker Campbell, and I’m the head of security for this tour of the PBR.” The room silences immediately as all faces turn to give Mr. Campbell their full attention. “I get the unfortunate privilege of letting you know we have a thief among us.” Gasps of shock roll through the crowd as it crescendos into a loud roar of words as everyone comments on his last words.

  He taps the microphone with his thick fingers, creating a heavy thumping noise that blares through the speakers. The buzz of the crowd dies down, and all eyes are on Mr. Campbell again. “At first we thought it was the locals that we hire to run the merchandising booth, but the thievery has continued in the last three cities after we replaced them with tour wives. And the money count isn’t adding up. So it’s not skimming from the sale as it happens, it’s occurring after the close of the show somehow. We’ve made some changes, and will be utilizing special bank bags from now on.”

  “Well, who’s been near the money then? Surely that’s a small number since we should all be working or preparing to work and not near the business trailer,” someone in the crowd shouts out.

  “We’re not going to provide suspect names. What we’re asking is to keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. We’d hate to have to end the entire tour for this problem. That alone will cause more loss of revenue for the PBR and you good folks. It will also ruin many people’s chances at a run for a Championship title. So we’re hoping that by making this public knowledge among family, someone will see something and we can get rid of the bad apple, or apples, we have among us. That’s all I’ve got to say.” He nods his head towards the crowd and takes his seat again, next to Bill.

  Bill turns to me and says, “You’re next. Get ready.” There’s no more warning than the few seconds he takes to walk to the podium. The tent is silent again as he starts his general introduction of the new sports medicine doctor the PBR has promised to provide.

  “...Dr. Noa Knight.” He raises his hands above his head and claps them loudly as the room follows his lead. I stand and wave as he gestures for me to take the podium. Holy shit. I wasn’t planning on talking. Loud catcalls and whistles belt out through the noise as everyone gets a good look at me as the heat of embarrassment floods my face. I hate being the center of attention.

  “Hi Everyone. Thank you for the warm welcome. As Bill said, I am joining the tour to help with any sports-related injuries you may already have or experience while here. My specialty is the shoulders and back, which are the more common and prominent injuries for this sport. I’m going to create some office hours that I will hold in the gym that is set up. I’ll also be able to provide some modified physical therapy with the equipment that we have on the circuit. Please reach out to me. I’d love to meet you and help you if I can.”

  I take my seat just as quickly as I left it. My hands tremble as I smooth out an invisible wrinkle in my jeans. As I do my best to calm my nerves, many people around me pat my back and shoulders, providing me with words of welcome. This must be how Monty feels all the time. I don’t know how she does it.

  Bill gives a quick run-through of the week’s agenda before opening night, proclaiming we have a lot of work to do before it’s show time and to get to it. “Meeting adjourned.”

  As we make our way out the tent flaps and back into the sunshine, I hear my name and title repeatedly shouted through the crowd, and decide to stand over to the side and wait for whoever is trying to get my attention.

  Before too long, a swarm of well-wishers gathers around shaking my hand, while others want to talk specifics about their injuries and prescriptions. Many of the wives and girlfriends of the men I speak with are giving me hateful looks of jealousy as they notice I don’t wear a wedding or engagement ring. This will be an interesting year.

  One man waits in the back of the crowd. As I speak to his colleagues, every now and again I catch his eye. He waits patiently, giving everyone else their turn to talk. He never gets upset when another swoops in and takes his opportunity. He simply steps back again to wait. The blue depths of his eyes are cold and haunting causing my ‘caution: warning’ radar to go off.

  I smile and shake my head a few times in shock listening to the overwhelming aches and sheer discomfort of some of these riders. It’s very apparent they need a doctor on staff listening to some of the home remedies they are trying.

  It’s also amazing how much pain the human body can endure for something they’re passionate about. And these people are all overflowing with it in their love of this sport. I hear it in their words and see it in the smiles and grimaces of their faces.

  I promise each one of them to post my hours by mid-afternoon and explain that I’ll probably start seeing people by the evening time. With the number of people I just spoke with, I believe this will be on-call constantly and wonder for a moment what I’ve gotten myself into.

  Finally, he approaches with the stealth of a ninja. He’s dressed all in black emanating a dangerous, almost spooky, air about him. His height blocks out the sun, and my skin goes cold as goosebumps rise on my forearms. He reaches up to remove his hat as he holds his other hand out to shake mine. “Dr. Knight. It’s a pleasure to have you on staff. I’m Wes Stanton.” His granite jaw doesn’t smile warmly at me in welcome.

  “It’s nice to meet you too Wes. Thank you for the welcome, and I’m happy to be here.”

  “I would like to talk to you about some specific injuries and a few surgeries I’ve had performed on the C3 and C4 bones in my neck. Will you have access to those through the PBR or should I bring my records?”

  “I’m not sure what I’ll have access to yet. I’m still becoming acquainted with the process here, so bring your records, and we’ll see what I have and if they supplement that. Okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make an appointment once you get settled. Again, glad to have you with us Doc.” He squares his cowboy hat back on his head and nods at me quickly before walking away.

  What a brief conversation to have for him waiting so long. I stare at him as he gets lost in the crowd. His hat gets swallowed up into all of the others roaming this full parking lot.

  “I’d stay away from him as much as you can. Limit his access to you, and do your best not to be alone with him,” Braxton says, coming up beside me. I turn my head to look at him, lifting it up and squinting as the sun blinds me. He adjusts his stance to block out the sun so that I can see his face, and I instantly know he’s not kidding about Wes.

  “Yeah, I got that feeling, but I’m the doctor on staff. I’ll have to see him alone; I can’t do physicals out in public.” A wide grin brightens his face, coloring it a little bit with whatever dirty thoughts are floating around in his brain. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, putting an exclamation point on his unspoken dirty joke. “Stop it.” I laugh and fake punch t
he bicep he flexed for me this morning, hitting a solid rock-hard wall of muscles and tendons.

  “C’mon, Doc. It’s almost lunchtime, and you’ve got a schedule to post.”

  “I think I’m going to need an assistant. Like an MA or something to help keep records and appointments. I know this is all brand new for the tour, but I can’t do all of this by myself. We have a load of assistants back in my office that help make it all one efficient process.”

  “Don’t short-change yourself, Noa. You’d be amazed at what you can accomplish yourself with enough focus.” He slides his key into the door and opens it for me to enter the door first.

  Home, at last. He plops down onto the lounger in the kitchen, pulling the footrest out. I hope he doesn’t think I’m going to cook lunch. He’s sorely mistaken. I walk back slowly into my bedroom to create my work schedule, taking deep breaths and adjusting to the close confines of the camper. Welcome to life on the road, Noa.

  Chapter 7 – Braxton

  IT’S SUNDAY EVENING and just about time to leave for the next city, Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Everything is packed up and ready to go. Noa appears to be surviving her first week on the tour. She hasn’t complained once about the fast pace of the competition once it starts, even though I know I heard her name a thousand times in three hours. She’s exhausted right now; I caught her napping at the kitchen table so I just left her be to make my weekly call to my son.

  “Hey, Buddy. I just thought I’d call before we hit the road for our next city. How’ve you been?” Something great must have happened because he answered the phone way too quick. Almost like he’s been sitting there waiting for it to ring.

  “Dad. I’m good. Guess what? Mom’s home,” he blurts out quickly, barely containing the excitement in his tiny little body. He was ready to explode with that news, I bet.

  “That’s good, Rowan. I’m glad to hear it. Are you home with her or are you still staying with your grandparents?” God I pray he’s still with this grandparents. That’s the last thing Julie needs during her recovery, is Rowan overly excited and bouncing off the walls.

  “I’m still at Nana and Grandpops place. Mom said we couldn’t return to our apartment, so she’s out looking for another one. I heard her arguing with our old landlord about getting some kind of deposit back as soon as we clean out our stuff.”

  Good Lord. Another move, more new friends and probably another new school. They move around more than I do on tour. “Just make sure you pack up everything, okay? Don’t leave anything behind.”

  “I know Dad. Everything’s already packed up. I barely unpacked from the last move. It’s too hard to pack everything up all at once. Sometimes I think we move a lot just so I have to clean my room. Do you think that’s why?”

  I’m speechless right now. I honestly don’t know what to say to him. He’s too young to know the truth but he’s smart enough to know I’m lying to spare his feelings. “No, Rowan. Sometimes finding a nice place to live is like a treasure hunt. You have to keep looking until you find the right place. X marks the spot in a way. Have you seen any X’s at those apartments?”

  He sighs into the phone and I know he’s considering my question, no matter how stupid it sounds. He’s really smart and someday he’s going to figure me out and I’m gonna be screwed.

  “Nope. I haven’t seen any X’s. I’ll keep looking though; I promise. Grandpop and I watched you on TV last night. You were awesome, Dad.”

  “Oh yeah, you did, huh? Which ride was your favorite?” I love it when we get to talk about the competitions. It soothes my soul and fills that gnawing void I have that the other dad’s don’t with their son’s walking around talking about riding strategy.

  “The second one on Mudshark. He flipped you around like a rag doll, but when he whipped to the left at 6.9 seconds, I knew you had him.” I chuckle at the language he chooses to use. My guess is his grandfather made those statements and he’s just repeating them.

  “Well, thanks for having faith in me, little man. I appreciate it.”

  “I’m coming,” I hear him say to someone in the background. “Dad, I have to go eat dinner. Can you call me back in a little bit? I’ve already done my homework. I promise.”

  “Bud, I’ve got to get on the road, but how about I call back around 8:45 pm. We’ll talk again just before bedtime. Okay?”

  “Deal. Later, Dad. I love you.” I close my eyes and picture those words coming out of his lips every time I hear them. I can almost feel his tiny arms snake around my neck, gripping me with the strength of a bull.

  “I love you too, Rowan. Until later.” I close the call and just lay there in the top bunk of my extra bedroom. My feet are hanging over the mattress, but I’m absolutely comfortable.

  He’s the one thing I’m determined to do right.

  I’m far from fucking perfect. His mother and I never should have gotten married. We were an alcohol-induced week of winning and celebration. I had money burning a hole in my Wranglers from winning my first belt buckle, and she was the hottest ass in Daisy Dukes in Dallas. I don’t think I sobered up from that ride until a few weeks later when she told me she was pregnant.

  She became my wildest ride. Four years of living hell. We’ve been to the highest of her highs and the lowest of her lows. With Julie, there was no medium— it was one or the other. Her parents and I got her cleaned up and on a good path. Then, and only then, was I able to leave to pursue my dream. Her parents agreed with the move and offered to help with Rowan.

  Twice I’ve come close to making my dream come true. They say the third time's the charm. Fuck, I hope so because I’m done after this. My body is broken, and the chasm in my heart where everyday activities with my son belong is getting wider and longer. Rowan needs me, and I sure as hell need him.

  I roll off the top bunk and look straight down the long hallway into the kitchen.

  I can still see her hair flowing over her arm and hanging in the air over the table like suspended lava as she rests her head. Every time I see it, my hands itch to feel its heat and wrap my fingers around it until it shakes the cold from my soul. She’s fire and brimstone, and I could use some soul-shattering heat, but I’ve already been through a woman’s hell, and I won’t go back.

  I write my cell number on a sticky note and place it on her phone screen in case she wakes up and wants to ride in the truck. I lock both doors and head out, going softly on the gas as I turn out, trying not to throttle the glass packs and scare the bejesus out of Noa as she sleeps.

  It’s not too long before we’re out of the city limits and I get a call that she needs to escape the confines of the camper. I pull over into an empty lot and within a few minutes, she’s climbing up into Colossus. “It’s kind of weird riding back there in the silence. I’m a city girl; I need noise.”

  Before pulling out, I check my mirrors and see more circuit campers right behind us. There will be lots of noise now. I was hoping to get a decent head start of everyone. Now when we need to pull over for a pit stop, it’ll be as a convoy.

  Horns honk and people wave as they pass while I pick up speed up this hill. “There’s your noise.” I grunt after saying it, grouchy that I won’t get any peace and quiet on this drive. She waves back at her new found friends, ignoring my grumpiness. Driving is when I think. It gives me perspective and those ‘a-ha’ moments that I can’t get outside of the weekly hustle and bustle.

  “Are you grouchy because we didn’t eat dinner, or just because you can be?” I turn my head slightly towards her and choose to ignore that last part. “Alright. I see. It’s because I’m up in the cab. I can go back into the camper if you want?” She twists and starts to take off her seatbelt.

  “Stop. Put that back on.” I take a deep breath, swallowing my pride with having to admit I like her company. “It’s not you. I’m just not used to having someone to talk to during my drives. And now I feel like I need to dig deep and find some good conversation topics for us.”

  I glance sideways at her an
d watch a smile spread across her left cheek before she leans forward and her hair falls to cover it. When she looks up again, the smile is gone, and she’s all business with her poker face in place. What happened in that millisecond?

  “We’ve got six weeks of road-tripping together that’s full of constant contact. I think that’s plenty of time to get to know someone. Please don’t feel like you have to fill every silent void with noise. You’ll drive me crazy if you do that.”

  I zone out on the rest of the conversation as soon as I hear ‘constant contact’. Images flash in my mind of her kneeling down over me on the bed, lifting her t-shirt up to reveal a green lacy bra and perfect California-kissed skin underneath. She twists the front bra clasp open and tosses it onto the floor. Her sunset-colored hair cascades down around her allowing her nipples to play peek-a-boo between the loose strands.

  “Oh, shit.” I jerk the wheel back onto the road as the right wheel hits the rumble strips, pulling me out of my daydream. “I’m so sorry.”

  I glance over at her, and her face is ashen white with panic. White knuckles tightly grip her seatbelt with one hand, while the other is above her holding the ‘Holy shit’ handle with a death grip while I straighten us back into the lane.

  “If you’re tired, I can drive.”

  “No. I’m fine. I just zoned-out for a second. I have to pull over soon and call my son anyway. We can eat dinner then.” I arch my back and adjust myself in my seat, trying to relieve the pressure my hard dick is putting on the back of my zipper. Fuck.

  We drive in silence for an hour. Her big gray eyes take in the sights of somber, lifeless granite and rolling hills as the night falls around us near Casper, Wyoming.

  We pull into a restaurant and park in the back, away from the other vehicles. I doubt the rest of the convoy will appear. We’re taking an alternate route to try to avoid them. Like Noa says, she’ll have plenty of time to get to know them over the next year. We don’t need to become BFF’s with the entire circuit in one trip.