Bodacious

by C. M. Lally

  “What? No big deal? He hasn’t heard you yet. You sound like a one-woman orgy going on. Geez, that’s kind of hard to miss. He must be a heavy sleeper.”

  “He’s a gentleman and probably wouldn’t bring it up if he did hear it. He’s not like the men we know.”

  “Amen to that. Hallelujah!”

  “You never answered me from before. How is Mr. Dick Wiggler?”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “You know, your bull rider.”

  “Why do you call him that?”

  “From your first day there and he answered the door in his wet towel?”

  “Oh my God. Stop it, Myla. That’s not what I said about him.”

  “It isn’t? Hmmm, must have been how I imagined it to look. Oh well, how is he?”

  “He’s well. He’s staying healthy and seems to be doing all the right things to maintain his fitness. I’m not worried about him.”

  “That’s good. He’s in the best care possible. They all are. I hope they know this and appreciate you while they have you.”

  “They are. Everyone here has been nice to me.”

  “I’m happy to hear that. I miss you like crazy, but I have to go. The director is texting me about some stuff, and I’m gonna need both of my hands to respond. I’ll text you my flight details as it gets closer if we don’t talk beforehand. So you get a reprieve for now.”

  “Reprieve? From what?”

  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changing the subject earlier with all that ‘missing my best friend’ talk, but I have to go. He’s blowing up my phone. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Myla. Later.”

  I roll over and plug in my phone for the night; hopelessly bored to death. I could go out and join him, but I’m not a TV person. It’s so mind numbing it drives me crazy to waste my time on it.

  Muted conversations of people that I cannot see invade my vented windows. I lie still, merely listening to the sounds of the night in a strange city. Hollywood is so loud that I never realized how crazy it is until comparing it to my last few weeks on the road.

  I scoot to the edge of the bed and use my toes to turn the dimmer down on the lights in the room. I should go ahead and turn them off, but push it to the slightest glow of light. There— it’s perfect. There’s a slight breeze pushing against my curtains, and the night air settles in over me.

  “MORNING, DOC,” THE girl that tends to the horses says as I come out of a plank pose.

  “Morning.” I throw a small wave to her before sitting and getting into the Lotus position to end my workout. I use the tail of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face.

  “I wonder why she didn’t say hello to me?” Braxton says. His eyebrows are drawn together, perplexed over being ignored.

  “Maybe she likes you and couldn’t build up the nerve to speak.”

  “That’s Annie. She talks to me all the time.”

  “I don’t know, Braxton. Maybe she didn’t see you.”

  “I’m kinda hard to miss in this red t-shirt and shorts.”

  “Would you like me to call her back and ask her?”

  “No. Let’s move on.” He lifts his left foot and tries to place it on his right thigh, in the Lotus position, but it won’t stay. It just keeps sliding off his shorts and back down to the ground. He growls in frustration after his fourth attempt.

  “Relax, Braxton. It’s not supposed to be aggravating. If you can’t physically perform the move, modify it to fit your abilities.”

  “Like how?”

  “Just criss-cross applesauce. You know, like kindergartners sitting on a rug for reading time.”

  “Kindergartners? If you say so.” He twists his legs like a pretzel and does his best to stretch his back to sit up straight without rounding his shoulders forward.

  Several ladies are walking around the parking lot for their morning exercise giggle as they pass by, throwing glances at us. The oldest in the group pushes two of the younger ladies forward as they almost stop to watch us, making the whole group burst out in a collective laugh.

  “What is so funny today?” Braxton asks.”Are they laughing at me doing yoga? Am I doing it all wrong? Tell me.”

  “You’re not doing it wrong. Stop pouting and breathe.”

  I’d like to know what’s so funny today too, but I have a feeling it’s me and not Braxton. They’re looking at me when they laugh, and I know a catty look when it’s thrown my way. I stand and pick up my towel, shaking the grass from it before folding and rolling it up.

  “How do you feel, Brax? Better, same or worse?”

  “I feel better. I feel energized, but maybe that’s because I haven’t done my cardio yet to wear me down.”

  “That’s great. You should feel energized and awake. You did well. Keep repeating those moves and the muscles will stretch further and further, giving you more flexibility to handle the random jerking motions of the bulls that you ride.”

  “If you say so, Doc.” He takes a quick glance at the time on his phone and waves me away jogging. “Shit, it’s almost time for my practice ride. Gotta go.” He jogs across the grass and out onto the lot. I lose sight of him within a minute between the campers.

  I head back to our place to change into my scrubs before my first appointment. It’s Wes. I groan inwardly. He’s a strange man, and all the warnings from Braxton don’t help any. I’ve dealt with strange men before. Everyone has their little quirks, but some are more prominent than others.

  I’m standing at the stretching tables helping some of the team ropers when Wes walks in. His long, lanky body gives him away in a crowd if you didn’t know his face. The straw cowboy hat with the bright green suede band does nothing to scatter the ominous mood that follows him like a shadow.

  He’s the kind of man you know to stay away from when he enters a room; people who weren’t planning on leaving start to grab their things and eye the door.

  An already quiet place gets even more so as he sits and waits with his large folder in hand. Papers are scattered and peaking out of the confines of the rubber band holding it all together since the spine is ripped and frayed.

  “Wes, are you ready?” The stench of whiskey hits me as I approach. At first I thought it was spilled on his wrinkled clothes, but he’s sweating it out of his pores. Bloodshot eyes meet mine, but he seems awake.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He follows me back to my provisional examine room, shuffling his feet as we walk. He grunts when I ask him to step on the scales to obtain his weight. Without bothering to remove his boots or hat, he grudgingly steps on the panel for a weight check, ignoring the readout on the digital display. He’s underweight for his height. I know that much without doing any math.

  He leans on the edge of the examining table, one butt-cheek desperately clinging to the side while the other barely fills his worn-out jeans. I pull a gown out of the plastic bin and hand it to him. He takes it from me like it’s the last thing in the world he expected today.

  “I’ll be back in a few and will announce myself before entering.” He doesn’t respond, just grunts at me, expelling the sour smell of alcohol and body odor. I grab his records folder gently to see if I can make heads or tails of it while I wait. He doesn’t argue, so I pull the curtain closed and leave.

  I give him five minutes to change because he was moving like a sore man without any will to walk today. “Wes, are you ready?”

  “Yeah, c’mon in.” He’s in the gown that I handed him, so I guess goal one has been achieved. Stained socks peep out at me from the green cloth that hangs well past his knees.

  I start the physical exam process of taking his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature before he speaks. “I’m probably not going to pass this physical. I’m just warning you.”

  I move my stethoscope from his chest to his back, moving around the gown ties to get to his skin and gasp loudly. Ugly black and purpling bruises discolor his torso and into his shoulder area. Broken blood vessels create a roadmap stretching acro
ss his left side. “Did the bull do this to you last week?” I blink back tears that start to form in my eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. Bruises are pretty common for a bull rider. You’ll get used to seeing them.” He breathes deeply for me, in and out slowly, coughing a few times, and I’m thankful that he doesn’t have any issues there.

  I use my lighted pen and look at this vision, having him follow it around. They dilate and move appropriately. He appears to be in good health, despite the overwhelming damage to his body. His reflexes are slow, but that’s understandable for how his body looks. I take a seat at the computer and add in my comments to his record before turning to him.

  “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t sit me out. I need points to stay on the circuit.” His voice is honest and firm. He doesn’t beg, and I can admire that.

  “Tell me. Is the alcohol a problem, or was last night just a rare night out?” I hold his gaze, not letting my eyes drop from his even though he had my attention far longer than was comfortable.

  He releases a long sigh, and that elongated noise gives me a clue that the truth is coming. “I drink every night. It eases my aches, helps me to forget my troubles, and makes me sleep.”

  “Assure me that you don’t practice or ride drunk, and I’ll think about it.” I raise my eyebrow waiting for his assurance. It’s times like these I hate being a doctor and feeling like a mother to each of my patients. He stops tracing the square pattern on the examination gown and finally shakes his head no, but doesn’t make eye contact with me either.

  “No, ma’am. I don’t.”

  “I’m going to write you a prescription for 800 mg of Motrin, to be taken three times a day. You are not to drink any alcohol while taking it. I’ll be watching you.” I sternly point my index finger at him to emphasize my point. “And when you are more healed, I want you to come join me in the mornings for yoga. It’ll be good for your body and maybe those other troubles you mentioned. ”

  “Humph. I doubt that. I’ll take the prescription, but I ‘m not doing the yoga. Thanks, Doc.” He shakes out his jeans and starts to slide one foot into a pant leg, so I ease out of the curtain, dismissing myself.

  Whew. That wasn’t so bad after all. I think his nasty reputation is more bark than bite.

  Chapter 14 – Braxton

  ANOTHER CITY DOWN, another rung up the points ladder. I’m having a great season, but I dare not give it any more thought than necessary. Murphy’s Law will come and take it all away from me with an injury or something. My body feels good, and Doc was right— the yoga is helping. I didn’t feel near as stiff this weekend during my rides as my ass bounced on the back of the one-ton beasts.

  The fifth wheel raises, and I slide in the king pin to hold it in place. Another week done, another long drive. Milwaukee here we come.

  I open the door to the camper to see if Noa is ready to go, but she’s nowhere in sight. Her bedroom door is slightly ajar, but I can’t see inside. I do hear something though; is she on the phone? I stop at the threshold of the kitchen and the bathroom door to listen. Or is she softly snoring?

  I tiptoe down the hallway, not wanting to scare her and stop dead in my tracks. The most sensual moan I’ve ever heard escapes from her throat. I take two more mini steps and grab for her door handle to close it, but in my haste, I just miss it, and the door pushes further open.

  She releases another broken, guttural moan and my dick goes hard just hearing it. Fuck me, no wonder she’s so sensitive about this problem. It’s low and faint, but it turns me on.

  Images flash in my mind of her bouncing on my dick, reverse cowgirl style, while I grip her hair in my hands and kiss her creamy, white shoulders. The pressure of my fully erect dick pressing on the seam of my zipper hurts and brings me back from my dirty thoughts.

  Doc’s right again. I’d have had a very hard time sleeping through that, no pun intended. I inch forward to grab the handle again and look at her sleeping on the bed. Her hair is sprawled across the bed haphazardly, while her breasts rise and fall gently filling out her tank top perfectly. Her arm moves ever so slightly and raises the hem of her shirt up just a little to show a tiny mole on the left side of her belly button.

  I suddenly have the urge to run my tongue over her skin to see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks. My dick jumps in my jeans at that thought, prodding me to finish closing the door. I grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge before jumping in Colossus and moving on. The images of Noa in my mind replay over and over until I drive myself half crazy with wanting her. It’s a good thing I’ve got the open road to distract me for the next eight hours.

  An hour into the drive, Rowan’s face lights up my cell phone screen. “Hey, Buddy. How’s your week been?”

  “It’s been good. Can I come stay with you for a week when school gets out? Please?”

  “Sure, as long as it’s okay with your mother. Have you asked her or are you feeling me out first?”

  “You know I have to make sure it’s okay with you first. I want to ride a bull just like you rode After Midnight. You owned him, Dad. Were you scared?”

  “So you saw the show, huh? Nah, I wasn’t scared while riding him. That comes after, on Sunday — when I talk to my boy and find out he was watching me test the brassiness of a beast and might want to follow in my footsteps.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t want to be a professional bull rider like you are. I just want to do it once to say I did it just like you.”

  “Ah, I see. You know, you can do anything you want to, Rowan. Don’t let anyone put limits on your future, not even yourself.”

  “Good. I wanna be a doctor and help sick people like mama get better.” My chest tightens with pride at his words. He’s such a great kid. His big heart and compassion are going to heal his patients, I know it.

  “Dad, tell me how it felt to ride After Midnight last night?”

  “The adrenaline pumps through you as soon as you sit down on his back and the thrill of the moment takes over. You can’t be scared because you’ve come too far for that now. You slip your palm under the handle, pull the bull rope as tight as you can to the bull, and then wrap the loose end around your hand just once, mind you. You need to be able to let go if he bucks you. Then you scoot forward onto the bull’s shoulders until the handle is between your thighs. Edge your spurs into the bull’s flank with your feet in front of the rope. Raise your dominant hand in the air, nod to the chute keeper and ride the devil for eight seconds with a blank mind. That’s all you need for the ride of your life. Still, want to ride like your old man?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Hey, watch your mouth, Rowan. Cursing is a sign of a weak man. It’s okay to think it, but use better vocabulary when speaking out loud.”

  “Sorry, Dad. I didn’t know hell was a bad word. Grandpa says it at the beginning of almost every sentence.”

  “I remember that about him, but be a better man than that. You have better words to express yourself.”

  “Yes, Sir. I have to go now. I have to finish my homework before bed.”

  “Okay, Buddy. I love you. Call me if you need me, or we’ll talk on Sunday.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m not in school on Wednesday. Mom has court, and I have to go.”

  “Court? For what?”

  “For that day a few weeks back. She got in trouble for that.”

  “Shit. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Rowan. That’s the last thing I wanted when I called for help.”

  “Hey, Dad. Cursing is a sign of weakness. You know better words than that. And I know you didn’t get her in trouble. She found her own trouble. All she can do is face it, and take her punishment. Drugs are bad, and she knows it.”

  “I love you, Rowan. Be safe out there. I’ll check on you Wednesday night, okay?”

  “Okay, Dad. I love you too.”

  That boy. I sigh heavily. I’m not even sure he’s still a little boy if we’re going to have heartfelt conversations like that. He should be play
ing video games and watching endless YouTube videos, not monitoring the drug habits of his mother. It makes me sad and angry.

  I should be there, damn it. I beat my fist on the steering wheel, causing us to go out of our driving lane. The car next to me honks his horn and throws his hands up in the air at me. I gently correct us and mouth “sorry” to him, to which he flips me his middle finger.

  “Unforgiving fuckhead.” Rowan’s right— I have better words for assholes like him, but I’ll save them for now.

  I can’t get the fact out of my mind that Julie has court on Wednesday. I should be there for moral support. I open my phone and pull up Trent’s number.

  “Hey, Braxton. What’s up? I caught last night’s ride. Amazing, man. Congratulations on first place.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. Hey, umm, Rowan tells me that Julie has court on Wednesday for that little fiasco a few weeks back. I thought that would be low key. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Brax. We filed it as a medical emergency, and sent an ambulance for assistance because she was passed out. The ambulance company filed their reports, but that’s customary for every ride they provide. That’s all I know, but I’ll ask around and let you know what I find out.”

  “Alright. I appreciate your help, as always. I wish I didn’t need you so much, but I’m grateful for when I do.”

  “No worries, man. I’m crossing all of my fingers that she gets clean for her and Rowan’s sake. Maybe this one will be her wake-up call.”

  “You and me both. I can only pray for it. Thanks again, Trent.” I press the red dot and end the call. I guess I’m going to have to call her mom and dad, but before I can my phone rings with Noa’s name appearing on my screen.

  “Hey, sleepy head.”

  “Hey. I’m sorry for falling asleep. I was worn out from checking on one of the bareback rider’s concussion all night and then working the show today. Do you need me to drive?”

  “Not now. You can take over after we stop here in a bit.”

  “Don’t you need to call your son?”