Page 47 of Worth Fighting For

I look warily at James. “Um, don’t we have an early start tomorrow?”

“We do,” James says. “But who cares? Who needs sleep when they’re young, am I right?”

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” I say. “As fun as the Squealing Pig sounds.”

“Uh-uh,” James says. “No can do. It’s part of our ritual. Come on, touch up your makeup or whatever you girls need to do and meet out front in ten.”

Is he humanly capable of saying anything that does not make him sound like a complete douche? I walk toward Mushu, who is deep in conversation with Christopher. “Sorry, Christopher, I just need to borrow my cousin for a sec.”

The two of us walk to the far side of the backyard. “What’s up?” Mushu says.

“Did you hear what James said? We’re going to a place called the Squealing Pig?”

“Oh yeah, Chris told me about it. They’ve got one of those mechanical bulls. I’ve always wanted to ride one.”

“Oh my god, you’re not in college anymore, Mushu,” I groan. “A mechanical bull? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with that? Sounds fun to me.”

“Oof.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We’re setting off early in the morning tomorrow, so let’s not stay out too late.”

“We’re trying to win over clients,” she points out. “What would your father do?” And to that, I have nothing to say.

The Squealing Pig is about as bad as I was expecting. It’s a bar in the middle of the town center, and even from a block away, I can hear music blaring out of the space. And once we get inside, the thumping bass is so loud that it reverberates all the way through my bones. I can feel my teeth chattering to the stomping rhythm. It seems to be a cross between a Western-style bar and a nightclub, and the patrons here are probably mostly people from the city who stay at nearby ranches and have come for the full ranch experience—there are plenty of cowboy hats and cowboy boots being worn. Still, Zhou, or Ranch Mulan, would plunge into this whole thing headfirst in the name of pleasing her potential business partner. I give my head a little shake, trying to perk myself up. I can do this. I am Ranch Mulan. Ranch Mulan does things like chop firewood and shear sheep. What’s a little romp through a nightclub?

The group makes its way through the crowd to the bar, where James orders everyone except Shang and Thomas, the designated drivers, a shot of tequila. The last time I had a shot was in senior year of college, and my roommate and I ended the night taking turns puking, so I take the shot slowly instead of downing it like everyone else does. Even so, the drink burns a fiery trail down my throat, making me cough.

“To the ranch life!” James hoots.

The others cheer along, Mushu loudest of them all. James orders another round, and Shang says, “Take it easy, man, we’ve got a full day of riding tomorrow.”

“Some of us want to actually live while we’re young,” James says, and passes around the second shot.

I look down at my half-full shot glass in one hand and a newly filled glass in the other. I meet Shang’s eye and he shrugs at me, as though to say I shouldn’t drink it if I don’t want to, but then James claps me on the shoulder and says, “What the hell? She hasn’t even finished her first drink! And you think you’ve got what it takes to run a whiskey company?”

“James—” Shang says in a warning tone, but I shake my head.

“You’re right,” I say, and in one smooth motion, I down the full shot glass and chase it with the half-full one.

James cheers as I try hard not to gag. Someone thrusts a glass of ice water into my hand. Shang. I nod at him with gratitude and chug the water. It feels as though the tequila is rushing through my veins, and the next moment, I feel my limbs relaxing as the drinks take effect. Maybe it’s not so bad after all, taking shots. A warm glow rises from my belly and fills the rest of me with a relaxed, quiet joy. I ease into the music, letting my body sway along to it. We all snake onto the dance floor, joining the crowd, and for the next hour or so, I lose myself in the music. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out dancing, and I’ve forgotten how much I enjoy it. The only reason I stop dancing after a while is because my feet, inside the new boots, are absolutely killing me. I hobble off the dance floor, only to be yanked to one side by Mushu.

“Mechanical bull time!” she hollers.

Mushu is first to go on, and she manages to last ten whole seconds before being flung off, at which point James hops on and is unceremoniously tossed off within two seconds. Mushu nudges me forward, and I take a deep breath and step toward the bull. I don’t meet Shang’s eye, but I can feel his gaze on me as I climb on. Back in high school, I did gymnastics. I wasn’t good enough to compete at the regional level, but I was decent, and as I settle on the bull, my reflexes kick in, my thighs tightening around it, my core strong, but the rest of me relaxed and fluid. The bull starts up and I move along with it, taking controlled breaths and imagining myself as a bamboo stalk whipping around in a gale. Strong core, flexible upper body. The crowd gets louder the longer I stay on, and the bull bucks harder and harder, until it becomes almost humanly impossible to cling on. Just before I lose my grip the bull winds down, and I climb off, my entire body buzzing with adrenaline, and bow to the wild cheering of the crowd. When I straighten up, I lock eyes with Shang. There’s that look again, like he’s half surprised, half amused. His eyes linger on mine before trailing down to my parted lips.

“Woo! That was awesome!” Mushu cries, grabbing me and leading me past Shang back to the bar.

I’m out of breath and my cheeks feel hot and I don’t remember when the last time was I’ve had so much fun. What with the endorphins coursing through me, I almost forget about how much pain my feet are in. Almost.

“Damn, you were amazing up there!” Mushu cries.

I grin and take a huge gulp of ice water. Shang slips through the crowd, coming to my side. He stands close enough to me that I can see each ridiculously long eyelash of his.

“Nice job on the bull,” he says.

Before I can reply, James, Christopher, Thomas, and Ryan stumble to the bar. “Dang, Zhou!” Christopher shouts. “Who would’ve thought you had it in you?”

I cock my head to one side and say, “What, like it’s hard?”

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