Wild Ride: A Bad Boy Romance

by Roxeanne Rolling

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t get a new woman every night. But it meant his manager was hounding him all the time. It meant a lot less money. It meant staying in crappy hotels. It meant he wasn’t sleeping with celebrities…just over-enthusiastic rodeo fans.

  It meant he had to buy cheaper liquor.

  The thing he hated most of all was having to do these events…a few years ago he had been on TV programs, he had been on talk shows. Now he was here in a strip club signing autographs.

  A few years ago, it had seemed like he was going to become a real celebrity, a real star. It had seemed like people would soon know him outside the rodeo world. But that had all vanished.

  He ducked quickly as a pool ball went flying right at his head.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  He looked around.

  A fight at the pool table had broken out.

  Two huge men were facing each other, about to bump chests. They had their hands in fists at their sides. One of them had apparently thrown a pool ball at the other’s head. It had missed, and that’s when it had gone whizzing by Colton’s head.

  “You’re finally here,” said Colton’s manager. He was a short man, who was always rushing around, flapping papers and opening and closing his briefcase. He was the type of man who would have always been on his cell phone, had he had important enough clients. But his cell phone stayed sadly in its holster on his belt, practically unused since Colton’s fame had taken a turn for the worse. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “I slept in,” said Colton.

  “You slept in? It’s practically the middle of the afternoon. Jesus Christ, we’ve got to figure out what to do with you. You know, I’m doing these shows for you. This is for your career. You think I’m having fun doing this either?”

  “Couldn’t you have gotten us a better gig?” said Colton, eyeing the crummy bar with a look of disdain on his face.

  “Look, Colton,” said the manager, an even more unpleasant expression growing on his face. “This is where we are now. I can’t get us any better gigs because of you. It’s your whole image. It’s not me. This isn’t my fault. You can only blame yourself for this.”

  “What the hell, man?” said Colton. “I’m riding better than ever, aren’t I?”

  “That’s right,” said the manager. “But listen, Colton. I’ve been in the business longer than you. I know how everything works. You may be getting better, but nobody cares. Frankly, the public couldn’t give a shit. The fact is, you’re older now, and you’re starting to lose your looks.”

  “I’m losing my looks?” said Colton, growing red in the face. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Look,” said the manager. “You’re a great looking guy. You always have been. But the fact is the women like those 18 year old guys, the taut bodies, all that. Now I’m not saying you have a bad body. I’m sure you could sleep with any of the women in this bar, including the strippers, if you wanted to, and I’m confident that you’ll do so later with some lucky girl.”

  Colton nodded. It was the truth. “I already know the women like me. They don’t mind sleeping with me. I certainly don’t have any problems getting them into bed. So what’s the problem?”

  “Well TV and real life are very different. The young guys look better on TV. And TV determines how popular you are.”

  “That’s it?” said Colton. “It’s that simple?”

  “Basically,” said the manager, nodding. “It sucks. But it’s the truth. Now come over here to the table with me and sign some autographs. We’re going to piece your career back together piece by piece, whether it takes five years or ten.”

  “Why don’t you just move onto a newer and younger client?” said Colton, a scowl on his face.

  The manager laughed heartily, as if Colton had just told a great joke. He turned and gave Colton his fakest smile. “You’re really my only client, kid. I can’t get any more. Trust me, if I had a younger rodeo star, you’d be here on your own.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” said Colton, sarcastically.

  “Well, look at this this way. I’m desperate to make you succeed. That should make me a great manager, shouldn’t it?”

  “It should, but it’s not working. I mean, you really couldn’t get a better gig than this?” Colton eyed the folding card table that had a stack of his pictures. The pictures showed him riding a bull in a very flattering pose, his jeans tight around his ass as he was being practically bucked off by the bull, holding on with just one hand.

  “Let me get you a drink. What would you like?” said the manager, changing the subject.

  “A whisky, no ice,” said Colton, sitting down on the folding chair behind the card table, and staring despondently at the stack of his own photos.

  “One light beer it is,” said the manager, disappearing before Colton could correct him.

  7. KATY

  I walked into the bar.

  It had those cheesy Western style flapping doors. It was dark inside. But my eyes quickly adjusted.

  It was a titty bar all right.

  There were naked women dancing up on poles

  I had always been straight, purely heterosexual. That didn’t mean I couldn’t hang out in a titty bar…enjoying the scenery.

  There were plenty of hot men around…wearing cowboy hats and tight jeans.

  “And now ladies and gentlemen, the man you’ve all been waiting for, the famous rodeo champion Colton Smith.”

  A few people clapped.

  But this rodeo star wasn’t the main attraction. Most people were focused on a Mexican woman with enormous breasts who was dancing very provocatively. No one seemed to be looking at Colton.

  I liked the look of this Colton Smith. He stepped to the stage looking just like a weary cowboy. He was wearing tight jeans that really showed off his ass…tall cowboy boots, a cowboy hat…he really looked the part.

  I clapped harder than anyone as I ordered a gin and tonic…my all-time favorite drink for when I wanted to get blitzed. Of course that wasn’t too common...the last time I had a drink must have been five years ago.

  And, of course, clapping harder than everyone else wasn’t much. Hardly anyone clapped. In fact, it seemed like I was the only one clapping at all. It was a little hard to say, because I was already pretty sufficiently buzzed from the first sip of my drink. I was a real lightweight.

  But, as they say, these were extenuating circumstances…who knew what was going to happen if my business shattered beneath me…if my partner took off with all the money. I didn’t even want to check the online bank account, which Sarah had access too…probably all the funds were gone. How was I even going to pay the DJs and the other small event planners, like the caterers? If all the money was gone, I was screwed…more than screwed…my reputation would be completely trashed.

  It had taken me years and years to get to this level in the business…I had started out bussing tables for another wedding planner. I’d slowly learned the ropes and very slowly gotten my first client. It had taken almost a year to get a second client…the going had been beyond tough. I didn’t know if I had it in me to start again.

  Only one or two people had gone over to see Colton Smith.

  He was sitting there on his own, staring dismally into his beer. His short, fat, and balding manager was standing nervously near by him, a little behind him. The manager wore a suit and was fidgeting. Occasionally, he leaned over and whispered something to Colton, who just shrugged whatever it was off.

  I took a closer look at Colton…I thought maybe I had seen him on TV once a couple years ago, but I couldn’t have been sure.

  If it had been him, he had looked a lot younger in that he had been fresh faced, a young and enthusiastic athlete, the world at his fingertips.

  Now he wasn’t that much older in years. But he looked more world-weary. He looked like he had had some problems, some issues in his life. No doubt he had, if he had ended up here at this strip club, trying to sign autographs for men
who were only here to jerk off under the table to hot busty Mexican strippers.

  He had bags under his eyes. Frankly, he looked hung over.

  He looked beat up too. He had bruises around his neck and around one of his eyes. Probably from falling off a bull. Didn’t they always fall off, or at least most of the time?

  He had some tattoos visible…he wore a western style shirt that buttoned down the front. He had the sleeves rolled up casually, as if he hadn’t cared at all what he looked like.

  He wore a bolo tie around his neck…two strings with beads on them…it was a style that had never caught on all over the country…more of a regional thing.

  I couldn’t tell what the tattoos were exactly. They were only black in color, some kind of complicated design, some lettering that I couldn’t make out.

  He was bulky but athletic looking.

  “Another drink,” I said, to the bartender.

  I took the gin and tonic, and downed it in one gulp.

  “Impressive, lady,” said the bartender.

  “Not interested,” I said.

  “I wasn’t…”

  “Save it for someone else,” I said. “I know you were interested. I have a special sense for these things.”

  He didn’t open his mouth again. Instead, he withdrew to another corner of the bar, by the small refrigerator where they kept the limes.

  I wasn’t normally like that. Normally I was polite and reserved.

  But then again I didn’t normally drink.

  But I did have a good understanding of men and when they were hitting on me…it hadn’t happened naturally. It was just a skill. A skill like any other, one that you needed to practice, needed to slowly develop.

  I made a snap decision. I was going to get this guy…this rodeo champion, or whoever he was.

  I slammed my empty glass down on the bar. And, making quite a clatter, I got up from my stool.

  I must have been a little bit drunker than I’d thought, because somehow I managed to topple the stool over as I got up.

  But I didn’t care.

  I set my sights directly on Colton. I had him in my cross hairs. I was staring at his chest, the side-view of his sexy plump ass in those worn out looking jeans…those cowboy boots that he now had perched up on the card table.

  “How you doing, there, cowboy?” I said, in my most seductive voice. Again, I must have been drunk, because I didn’t usually talk like that. Anyway, I never had much need to really try to go out and get laid. Going to at least a wedding every week would do that to a woman.

  “Hi…” said Colton the cowboy, without looking up. “Would you like an autograph?” He said in a bored robotic voice, as if nothing in the world mattered.

  “Sure,” I said. “But I’d like you to autograph my…” I was about to say “tits,” in order to be (for me) super provocative. But then I remembered I was in a titty bar, a strip club, where there were naked breasts wiggling all over the place. “…pussy,” I finished, surprising even myself.

  Colton nearly fell out of his chair. His cowboy boots fell with a clatter to the floor, as he straightened all of a sudden up in his chair, looking at me for the first time.

  “Seriously?” he said.

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

  I didn’t know what had come over me. I really wasn’t like this…believe me…I was used to the men hitting on me.

  “Well take your pants off then, honey,” said Colton. I could see him looking me up and down, eyeing me from my breasts to my waist, where his eyes settled on my crotch. I could tell he was imagining what was underneath my pants.

  “You like what you see?” I said.

  “Of course, baby,” said Colton.

  I couldn’t believe I’d gotten his attention. After all there were topless women all over the place.

  “Well, what are you waiting for,” said Colton. “Let me sign it.”

  “I don’t think we can do that here,” I said.

  “It’s a strip club,” said Colton. “No one will mind.”

  His manager shuffled nervously over. Evidently he had overheard our little coquettish conversation.

  “Colton, as your manager I would advise you not too…”

  “Shut up,” said Colton, snapping at him. “For once in your life, shut up. You got me this horrible gig. Why are you trying to stop the one good thing that’s happening here.”

  “But the fans…” said the manager. “Part of the problem is you’re too much of a wild card, Colton. I didn’t want to tell you earlier, but that’s one of the reasons they don’t want you on TV. All this sleeping with young women…all the boozing and destroying hotel rooms…there’s even a picture of you riding a motorcycle shirtless…this kind of thing may be good in some areas as publicity. But the rodeo is still old fashioned…you can’t be such a rebel here…well, they want rebels, but they want clean rebels. It’s a hard image to maintain.”

  “To hell with my image,” said Colton. “I can ride, can’t I? Practically better than anyone else, right? I mean, what’s my rank right now in the country?”

  “Number 1,” said the manager, looking down at his feet, as if he really didn’t want to admit this piece of information, as if it was something shameful.

  “What!” said Colton, seemingly growing outraged. He took his beer bottle in his hand and brandished it like a weapon at the manager. I couldn’t help but admire his bulging muscles as he did so, and his tattoos as his biceps flexed.

  I could see one of the tattoos clearly now. It was a man riding a horse, with a bull goring the man and the horse at the same time…it was quite gruesome for a tattoo.

  I also couldn’t help find myself even more attracted to Colton…surprisingly, it was something about his rage. It just seemed so manly.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me I was ranked #1?” said Colton, practically screaming with rage.

  The rest of the strip club stopped completely. They had heard the volume and rage of his voice. The strippers froze in place. Somehow, the music stopped….even though it wasn’t a live band, like in the movies.

  Everyone was staring at Colton and the manager, and I also felt their eyes on me…it made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to being so close to the spotlight. I was used to standing in the back of my weddings.

  “Didn’t want it to get to your head. You have to focus on your image,” mumbled the manager.

  “What!” roared Colton. “And what the hell am I doing in this dump if I’m the #1 rodeo champion in the whole country. You’re really that bad of a manager that you couldn’t get a better gig?”

  “I don’t know…rodeo…not that…bad boy image,” muttered the manager, refusing to look Colton in the face. He was now instead just staring at Colton’s battered hat.”

  “You’re fired!” said Colton, still angry, but his voice lowering in volume.

  “But…Colton…” squeaked the little manager, ruffling his suit. He looked like a little lost bird…a nervous penguin.

  “You heard me,” said Colton. “Get the hell out of here.”

  The manager slunk off to the dark recesses of the strip club, perhaps to try to gather his forces again. He didn’t seem like a man without a plan…he seemed too conniving. I was pretty sure the whole submissive thing during the argument had been little more than an act on his part. He was used to playing Colton, or trying to play him. But this seemed like the first time Colton had actually fired him.

  “So where were we, pretty little lady?” said Colton, turning to me.

  “We were just...” I didn’t know what to say. I was lost for words for a moment.

  “You wanted me to sign something,” said Colton, giving me a big wink. It was amazing how fast he’d turned off the anger, how fast he’d changed tracks.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, regaining my composure. “You want me to take my pants off here, so you can sign it?” I gave him my own big wink, hoping I seemed flirty enough.

  “I don’t think t
hey let you do that here,” said Colton, looking around.

  The music had started back up, and the strippers were dancing once again. I felt like the spotlight was off of us, and I felt a little more relaxed. But just for a moment. I immediately began to feel nervous…nervous because of Colton. But it was that good type of nerves, that pleasurable type of anxiety…I felt like anything might happen. I felt some spark deep within my chest. I felt something…and I looked Colton right in the eye and was pretty sure he felt it too.

  “They let them take their tops off,” I said. “There’s a rule against ladies taking their pants off in bars like this. At least here in Texas, that is.”

  “Well then why don’t we find a place that has more relaxed rules? I just don’t want to leave a fan like you disappointed. You really deserve my autograph, coming all the out here to a place like this.”

  I knew he knew I wasn’t a fan. I knew he knew I’d never heard of him. For one thing, I was about ten years older than the 18-year-old rodeo fans who threw themselves at him. I felt anxious about my body, just thinking about that…I was practically an old woman compared to these young kids…would my body be desirable for a man like Colton? Surely he had had the most beautiful of the beautiful, the youngest and hottest from all around.

  But I gathered myself together. “Somewhere private,” I said. “Why don’t we go back to your hotel room?”

  “I thought you’d never mention it,” said Colton, smiling. “Come on, let’s get out of this place.”

  “What about your autographs?” I said. “And your manager.”

  “To hell with the manager and the autographs. There are no fans here anyway. I can’t believe what a gutter level manager he is. Pure trash. I just can’t believe it. I was young and stupid when I signed up for him. You can hardly blame me.”

  “I don’t think I could ever consider you stupid,” I said.

  Colton took his big arm and put it around me, getting up from his chair.

  We walked like that, with his arm around me, out of the bar, leaving the card table and the manager behind.