Page 51 of The Pieces We've Lost

What makes them so bad?

I knew nothing about the other people competing. I guess that’s what happened when you alienated yourself from an entire sport.

Ace

They’re just arrogant.

More than you are?

Ace

Jeez, Blaze. Good to know what you think of me *wink emoji*

They’re much worse.

I took the liberty to make a quick Google search. They were the runners up for last year’s NFR Average. They were both from Oklahoma, and Colter was right: they were arrogant. There were a few videos of them online “celebrating.” I rolled my eyes and typed out a text.

They seem…fun

Ace

I guess that’s one way to describe them.

The team before Kingsley and Marlow clocked in at six-point-two seconds. Not enough to clinch a win.

“Our last roping team of the night hails from Stillwater, Oklahoma. They nearly brought home gold from last year’s NFR. I know you know them, folks. Dash Kingsley and Wayne Marlow!”

I scoffed at the announcer’s introduction. As if they needed more of an ego boost. I’d seen videos of them competing. There was no denying they were good. Dash seemed to be a bit of a sex symbol, too, and I wondered how much of his time was spent riding versus getting rode.

Just looking at him, I already knew we wouldn’t get along. He was exactly the type of cowboy that Ididn’twant to be involved with.

Right before starting, Dash looked out into the crowd, like I had seen him do in every video. I would have wanted to focus on the task at hand instead of charming women in the crowd, but that was his prerogative I guess.

A moment later, they were off. Both of them had determined looks on their faces, like they would ratherwalk through hot coals than lose to a young team from Montana.

Their reputation preceded them. They were fast.

“Four-point-five seconds! Ladies and gentlemen, it appears that two of our teams had the same time when looking at the tenth of a second. We’ll need to review the times to determine our team roping champion.”

A chorus of, “oohs,” and, “ahs,” rose through the crowd like waves.

It only took a couple of minutes to review the clock, but it felt like an hour. The camera panned over both of the teams. Colter and Reid looked nervous, while Dash and Wayne looked confident, like they had it in the bag.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our officials have reviewed the times. Colter Carson and Reid Lawson had a time of four-point-five-three seconds.”

The arena went quiet, everyone eagerly waiting for the scores for the crowd favorites. The announcer paused for effect.

Just get on with it, I thought as my heart beat rapidly.

“Dash Kingsley and Wayne Marlow had a time of…”

Another fucking pause. I get it, it’s dramatic but Jesus.

“Four-point-five-four seconds.”

My jaw dropped. They beat them by one-hundredth of a second.

The camera was locked on Dash Kingsley as he mouthed something vulgar enough to get him a fine and threw his hat on the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Wayne finally pointed up at the screen, telling his partner off. Dash’s temper would be something that would hurt them in the long run, I was sure of it.

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