“I’m happy for Scott. He’s been riding well. I think he’s found his rhythm. Oh, wow. Look at this view.” The fountain was right there, the water and the sky both a lovely blue.
“Yeah. I love it down here. It’s quieter than being on the street.” Mark sat, sighing deep in his chest. “Oh, this is nice. I’m so glad I saw you.”
He picked up his water as soon as it was poured. The desert made him thirsty. “So, I guess Paul filled you in on the details. What did you need to know from me?”
“I’m interested to know how you came up with the idea, honestly. It’s damn brilliant.”
“Oh. That was simple, really. You remember when Bo White broke his wrist two seasons ago? It was toward the end of the season, and he was top of his game, right? And then he took that nasty pitch forward over his hand?” The injury ended an incredible run for Bo and took him out for the rest of the year.
Mark winced. “That broke my heart. That kid was on a roll. You hate to see that.”
“Yeah. It was awful. And Jack Boers is friends with him, and Jack says to me, ‘That just shouldn’t happen’, and I started thinking about it. I couldn’t let it go.” The whole thing came out of a conversation with Jack in bed in the middle of the night.
The bullfighters took every wreck personally, but he thought Jack did too, seeing every one of the injuries from on high.
Mark ordered the shrimp thing for each of them and two glasses of wine. He was more of a beer man before an event, but he liked wine too. “Do you go to all of these events? Or are you here because Scott is kicking ass?”
“I come to a lot. I have a booth at every event, so I get great seats, and I love to watch the new guys.” Mark raised his glass casually, then sipped. “I’m also into rodeo—so I attend ropings, little shows, you name it. I like to sponsor the young kids, because that’s the sport’s future.”
He smiled and raised his glass. “Hear, hear. I love that. I’ve got my eye on some of the younger riders too. I like to see what they do that’s different, you know?” Mark was interesting, a money guy that wasn’t all about the money.
“Oh, there are some brilliant damn kids out there. I watch those teeny gals on the barrel horses and just think, I was still having my daddy lift me into the saddle at five.” Mark’s laugh was happy, booming out and filling the space. “You ought to go to a few of the Mountain circuit shows if you don’t already. They’re so much fun.”
“I should; they sound like a good time.” Maybe he and Jack could go, if Jack had some time off.
Mark was great company, and he was looking forward to working with him, but the conversation stayed casual and fun and they never got around to closing any deals. They ate their shrimp, and he made excuses for not having dinner so he could wait for Jack. His wine was very nice though and he finished the glass before it was time to think about heading to the venue.
Mark waved for the bill, the act casual, easy. “So, I don’t know if you’re interested, but I do have VIP tickets. I mean, if you’d like my extra, of course. No pressure.”
How did he say his VIP ticket was hand-picked by the man he was fucking without saying that? “Thank you, but Jack went to some effort to get me a VIP ticket too, and I think it would be rude not to use it.”
“Oh, man. You know that. Would you like to share a cab?”
“Yes. That would be great.” He let Mark pay the tab without arguing, since it had been his invitation. “I’d love the company, that drive is something else.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m not driving it. Saturday night on the strip? No thank you. I prefer a professional.” Mark tapped a few buttons on his phone. “Okay, the car will meet us in the lobby in twenty.”
“You know how to impress, Mark.” He chuckled. “And I’m glad we’re going together because I’m not sure I know where the lobby is right now.”
“I know, right? This place is a maze. I like staying here, though. Everyone has their favorite.” Mark paid, and it made him happy to see the man tipped well. That was an important thing to know about a person.
Mark led the way as they cut through the Saturday night crowd and found the car. “What did you order, an Uber Elite or something? This is nice.”
“Something like that, yes.”
A rough-looking cowboy grinned across the Lincoln. “Boss.”
“Grady. This is Hudson. He invented a new glove for bull riding.”
“Mr. Hudson. Pleased.”
A driver. Damn. “Good to meet you.” Shit, he hoped Paul was smart enough to get Mark’s business card.
“Same. You gonna order some for the website, boss?”
Mark nodded. “Thinking real serious about it, yeah. Especially if you think that I can order junior sizes.”
“We’re working on those now. Those have a few more quality control hoops to jump through because they’re for adolescents.” He hadn’t had anyone ask him for juniors yet, but they were well into development.