Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)

Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11) by Lorelei James

Until the cops tackled him, cuffed him and threatened to arrest him for assault. But ten minutes later they released him, because not a single man came forward to press charges. They all claimed to be too drunk to remember who’d taken the first swing.
But the truth was no man wanted to admit that five-foot-seven-inch Chase McKay had taken on five Texas tough guys, all who topped the six foot mark…and won.
Luckily no one had uploaded streaming video to YouTube of PBR bad boy Chase McKay busting heads. But his ass smarted after Elroy ripped him a new one the following day.
And it was more of the same tonight.
Elroy said, “This attitude isn’t helping you. And we both know this situation has been building for a while, because you, my friend, like to fight and f*ck. Not necessarily in that order.”

Through the haze of anger, he demanded, “How’d you guys get a key to my room anyway?”

“Sheree told the manager you were despondent about your bad ride and she feared you’d do something drastic like kill yourself.”

“Bitch thought of everything, didn’t she?” he muttered. “I get why the big bosses would be upset by what happened in Lubbock. I screwed up. In public. But tonight? I was in my private room. If Sheree lies believably enough to break in there, why wouldn’t Lou suspect she was lying when she told him we were practically engaged?”

“No clue. But it changes nothing.” Elroy sighed. “Bottom line: you’re off the tour.”

Fury lit his insides and Chase got right in Elroy’s face. “This is bullshit and you know it. I have fans. Those fans bring revenue to the PBR. And what do you plan to tell the blogs and trade mags about my abrupt disappearance? Because if this ‘incident’ is presented to the public as I’m a discipline problem, then I’ll fire right back about nepotism with the PBR’s newest Daddy Warbucks corporate sponsor.”

“First off, you signed a shitload of nondisclosure forms. Even if you’re pissed—and between us, yes, you have a right to be—you can’t violate the terms of the contracts. This is short term, Chase. Does this suck? Absolutely. That’s why the PR arm will release news of a recurrence of your previous injury, which is a perfect excuse for why you rode so shitty tonight after being last year’s defending champion. Fans should be happy to know you are recuperating until you’re ready to ride again.”

The PR spin machine thought of everything. “Tell me Winnie ain’t gonna be involved in issuing the statement.” He’d been taunting Winnie, his assigned PR person, for the last year. The woman was too sharp, and saw right through his bullshit attempts to rattle and distract her. Plus, her comments, always softly spoken, grated on him, mostly because she was dead-on in her assessments. And he hated she saw things about him that he tried to hide from everyone else.
“Look at it this way. The PBR goes on hiatus for two months. So you’re really only missing three performances instead of eleven.”

Chase didn’t exactly relax, but he realized if he was going to f*ck up, he’d picked an ideal time to do it—because he might actually have a chance to fix it. “Can you guarantee I’ll be on the roster come August?”

Elroy gave him a considering look. “Two things you need to do before I’ll consider recommending you for reinstatement.”

“Name them.”

“Stay out of the damn spotlight. I don’t wanna hear about you, I don’t wanna read about you in the trade mags or see your naked ass on YouTube. No interviews, no drunken brawls, no excess of easy women, no Chase McKay sightings anywhere. You vanish. Understood?”