Extreme Bull

you like it?”
    “You got the top score today. Firestarter’s a tough bull.”
    “You follow bull riding?” Clay noticed that BJ and the blonde girl were getting acquainted as well.

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    “Duh. Yeah, or would I be here now?” Doris smiled provocatively at him, and Clay knew he could have her tonight if he wanted.
    “You like a winner?”
    “Don’t all girls?”
    “Yeah, I guess.” Clay’s attention was drawn across the room by Jeff’s distinctive laughter. He was sitting with a cute girl who was listening to him attentively as he described how he’d held back today but was going to beat Clay tomorrow.
    “Excuse me,” Clay said. “Something I gotta take care of.”
    “You’re coming back, aren’t you?” Doris pleaded, not standing up to let him out of the booth.
    “Sure thing,” Clay promised vaguely. Once Doris stood up to let him by, he forgot all about her, his sights set on the girl sitting with Jeff. He crossed the room and held out his hand to her. “Clay Harris. Noticed you across the room.
    What’s a pretty little thing like you doing with a broke-down cowboy like him?”
    The girl looked up at him, her eyes widening when she saw who it was. “Melissa Harden,” she said, flicking a triumphant look across the room at Doris.
    “Clay, go tend to your own heifer and leave mine alone,” Jeff said with a hint of warning.

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    “Pardon him, miss, he never learned that ladies don’t cotton to being called heifers,” Clay explained. “Let me buy you a drink.”
    Melissa seemed amused at the evident conflict between the two men and a little thrilled to be the bone of contention at the heart of it. “I would be delighted. I had to buy this big lunk a beer.”
    “Not very gentlemanly of him.” Clay held out his arm.
    “Come with me, Miss Mel, and we’ll have a fine old time tonight.”
    Jeff stood up, frowning. “You can’t just come over here and take—”
    “I’m not taking. I’m inviting.” Clay’s eyes danced at the impotent rage evident in Jeff’s. “It’s Miss Mel’s choice if she’s going with a gentleman or staying here with you.”
    “Sorry, Jeff, see you around some time.” Melissa stood up and took Clay’s arm, giggling with delight. “Where we going, cowboy?”
    “Wherever you like as long as it’s in Fresno,” Clay said.
    “I’m hungry,” Melissa announced.
    “Then we’ll go out and get something to eat. See you, Stratton.” Clay tipped his hat politely and escorted Melissa from the bar, never sparing a thought for Doris awaiting him in his booth. If he had thought about her, he would have just Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
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    assumed that BJ would be double lucky tonight. For him, stealing Jeff’s girl out from under his nose just capped off a nicely winning day.

    MELISSA left Clay’s trailer after midnight, claiming her mother didn’t allow her to stay out late at night. Clay offered to take her home, but she asked for taxi fare and said it would work out better for her if she arrived at home alone.
    He didn’t mind. It was like all the other nights on the road: find a girl, do her, and then the emptiness set in. It was as if bull riding was some kind of aphrodisiac, sparking lust in him and creating a desire to bed a champion in the girls who followed the circuit on their TVs. When the tour came to town, it probably gave them their only chance to meet and sleep with a real cowboy. In fact, sometimes it surprised Clay how little the girls wanted from him, as if somehow the tables were now turned and he was a notch on their belts instead of the other way around. He knew from listening to the old timers that once upon a time it was almost a given that if you slept with a townie, you were as good as engaged.
    Not that he minded the way things were; he wasn’t ready to settle down yet. He had things to do and a life that no girl would want to live as he went from town to town in the season, riding bull after bull, trying for the finals.

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    Clay took one last puff on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray next to the bed. A little sleep and he’d be good to go in the morning.

    “WHO’D you draw?”
    “Under Eight,” Clay said. “You?”
    “Got Terry’s lame-ass bull, Weedwhacker,” BJ said in disgust. Then he cheered up visibly. “I heard he hates to have his ears flicked. I’m going to tease him in the chute and see if I can get a better