Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(135)

Maybe you could try to become a stuntman in Hollywood.
Right. And if he wasn’t successful at that, he’d be mooching off Ava.
Ava. The woman turned him inside out. The other night had been nothing short of magical. Standing against the glass partition and looking straight down at the street below thirty stories in the air. Watching day fade to night. Witnessing the lights in the New York City skyline come to life. Dancing with her barefoot across the polished mahogany floor, lights and noise as a backdrop, feeling as if they were the only ones in the world—even amidst a city of ten million. Laughing, carrying her to the gigantic canopied bed, swathed in silk and lace, a bed fit for a queen. Then he’d made love to her, face to face, heart to heart, drunk on the scent of her skin, high on the sound of his name drifting from her sweet lips as a breathy moan, overwhelmed by her. By how much she made him feel.
The computer dinged, indicating a new email. He touched the mouse pad, tapping on the minimized mail icon. The sender was Jackie Ackerman. What? How had she gotten his personal email address? When he opened it and read, Ava, he realized he’d mistakenly opened Ava’s email program. He should’ve exited out. But he didn’t. He kept reading.
Ava,
Ryan’s high school English teacher is pretty computer savvy and she’s more than willing to help. I gave her a stack of Ryan’s pictures to scan. She’s also transferring old home videos into that format you suggested so you can add them to the recent footage you shot. That transfer process might take awhile. Just wanted to give you a heads-up so my portion doesn’t hold up production.
Production? Of what?
I’m glad you’re working on something that might shed some light on this. I never want to see or hear of another mother going through this. I’ll keep in touch. Jackie

What the hell had Ava promised Ryan’s mother?
He found her recent history and opened a flash file titled DOC-WIP current. His face filled up the screen. “What do I like best about ridin’ bulls?” He watched himself scratch his chin. “For those eight seconds we’re fighting to see who owns the most determination. Who’s got the most try. Even a small man can best a beast.”

The frame changed. A squinty-eyed Taz came into view. “What do I like best about ridin’ bulls?” He glanced off to the left. “On a day like today, when I’ve been beat to hell and I can’t hardly wrap my hand in my bull rope because it’s all swelled up?” Taz raised his right hand into camera view and Chase winced. His entire hand was red and purple, puffed up like a bad bee sting. “I can’t tell you nothin’ I like about it. But I sure can tell you a whole heap about what I hate.”

The frame changed again. A grinning Ryan appeared. Grief sliced through Chase like a scythe through wheat. “What do I like best about ridin’ bulls?” Ryan laughed. “Well, mostly that I’m finally old enough to ride ’em.” He reached in his pocket and proudly whipped out his PRCA card, holding it close to the camera’s lens. “I guess what I like is how the experienced riders are around to help out. To offer advice. Like one of my friends said, it’s not me versus him in the arena. It’s us versus the bulls.”

Chase closed his eyes, remembering the day he’d said that to Ryan. Wishing the kid would’ve listened to his other advice.
Wishing things had turned out differently won’t change anything.
He opened his eyes as black letters formed on the screen. Chasing Eight: The Heartbreak Road To Rodeo Glory.
Scenery flew by, speeding to super fast until the time-lapse photography made it seem an entire day had passed. Then again the camera was focused on his profile, front lit by the dashboard lights.