by Amity Cross
“I almost always am.”
Her lips began to curve upward. “I like how you said almost.”
I smiled back, but right in the pit of my stomach, I could feel the familiar ball of jealousy stewing in its own juices, sloshing around like a toddler in a wading pool.
I wanted my ‘place.’ I wanted it so bad that sometimes it was all I could think about.
I had my job working for the Hayes Twins in Sydney, and in a way, it was my zone. Lights, cameras, fashion, style, hot men, and the matching paycheck. All of it was a dream come true, but something was missing. Or rather, someone. I wanted an Ash Fuller of my own. I’d tried to make Hamish into the man I wanted him to be, and it’d blown up in my face.
“Just tell me one thing,” Ren said, handing me back my phone. “Did you break up with Hamish because it was the right thing to do, or was it for him?”
“Him?” I asked, trying to play dumb.
Her eyes narrowed in warning. “Dean.”
It’d been an excuse, right? Using my harmless little crush on Dean Hayes to get out of seeing Hamish? Even as I thought it, deep down, I knew I was trying to fool myself. I could’ve just told Hamish it wasn’t working out between us for the myriad of reasons we both knew were true. Neither one of us wanted to change for the other despite the feelings between us. It just wasn’t working. I could’ve told him that, but no. I had to pull the Dean Hayes card like a bitch.
Was there more to this crush than I first thought? Or was I fixating on Dean because he was the next and only single man on my radar? I sure hoped not. That was shitting where I slept. If I stuffed things up with him, then it was bye-bye best job in the world, and hello dreary, soul-sucking office monkey.
“Josie,” Ren said, breaking me out of my internal shame spiral.
I blinked about a million times before I could even utter, “Huh?”
“Just think about it before you do anything, okay? Promise me.”
Damn, I couldn’t fool Ren Miller. Not even for a second.
“I promise.”
I sure hoped I could keep it, but first, Dean Hayes needed a tongue-lashing of a different kind from his PR manager.
And I was going to enjoy watching his dumb ass squirm.
4
Dean
We flew back to Sydney on Monday morning, and it was straight back to the grind that afternoon.
By we, I meant Josie, Lincoln, Violet, and myself. Coach was sticking around in Melbourne for a while to spend time with his daughter Ren, and we’d been left in Josie’s capable hands until he returned. Josie didn’t know a thing about training a pair of pro MMA fighters, but she did know how to keep us on the straight and narrow.
Linc and I had our own private gym set up not far from the Sydney CBD and super close to the beach, which was something we’d never had living in Melbourne. Not a surf beach with lifeguard towers, bluebottle jellyfish invasions, and rips that could suck you out into the open ocean. Swimming wasn’t my strong suit, but occasionally, we went out for a change of pace from the same four walls.
It was the polar opposite of Melbourne, and I missed home sometimes, but we had it pretty good.
Glancing at my phone, there were no messages. Deep down, I knew Monica wouldn’t call or text, but I couldn’t help but hope. The door was pretty much closed, but I still had my boot jammed in the crack, keeping it open…just in case.
A laugh sounded from the opposite end of the gym where my brother and his girl were tangled together, and I frowned.
I looked at Lincoln and how he was with Violet, and I wondered how they did it. They’d been together for a year and a half and still hadn’t toned down the public displays of affection. It was still like day one, and I wondered if that’s what it was meant to be like when you found the right woman.
How would I know?
Throwing my phone into my gym bag, I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it, too. Wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that were stamped with the sponsor’s logo, I padded across to the bars, one eye on my brother and his girl. They were full-on going for it, kissing like they needed a bloody room, and I felt a weird pang of annoyance. It’d never bothered me seeing them together before, so why now?
I could probably have a good guess and hit the nail right on the head. I was the last man standing.
Shit, the realization kind of pissed me off when I thought about it like that. The one woman I did want had never really wanted me back.
What was I going to do about it? The hell if I knew. The only thing I had in my control right now was my training, so I trained.
I curled my hands around the bar above me and pulled myself up, relishing the feel of my muscles tightening as my arms bore the weight of my body. My chin cleared the bar, and I held for a moment before letting myself down again. My feet didn’t hit the mat as I went for a second repetition.
I was up to ten when Josie appeared in my peripheral vision. I was vaguely aware that her arms were crossed over her chest. As always, she was dressed in business casual with a pair of black slacks and a pretty top, her six-inch heels dangling off one finger. Heels and gym mats didn’t mix.
“What’s up?” I asked, pulling myself up for rep eleven of twenty.
She didn’t answer straight away, and I knew she was pissed. There were two things I knew about that woman and one of them was her silent treatment. She was formulating a response that didn’t include expletives, and it was taking longer than usual. Which could only mean one thing.
Somehow, she knew I’d gone to see Monica on Sunday.
She couldn’t seem to formulate any words, so she held up her phone. Glancing at the screen as I lowered myself, I caught the headline. AUFC Star Dean Hayes Spotted at Fitness First. Then there was some garbage speculating about a potential sponsorship.
I snorted and pulled myself up on the bar again. “That’s just junk. It’s not even an official site.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Josie said. “Sponsors read this shit, Dean.”
“That’s what you’re pissed about?” I asked as I dropped to the mat, my arms swinging. “I thought you were going to rip strips off me for going to see you know who.”
“That’s a whole other argument,” she retorted.
I shrugged. “Post something on Facebook. A picture of me training with the actual sponsor’s shit. That oughta shut them up.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Sponsor’s shit?”
“Calm your farm, Cunningham,” I said with a chuckle. “These things blow over in like a day. It’s a tiny little piss in the ocean compared to other fighters in the comp.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
Stepping closer to her, I asked, “What’s there to get?”
“Everything you do is scrutinized, Dean. Everything. Do you know how many times I’ve had to clean up after you?”
I hesitated, watching her expression. What had happened to her between Ren’s wedding and now? She was the one who broke up with Hamish, not the other way around, and she’d seemed fine after…until Monica appeared. What did she have to be all angst-ridden about?
Besides, she’d never gotten on my case about shit before. I was known as one of the bad boys of the AUFC. Linc and I had our light and dark thing going on, and the fans fucking loved it, so we hammed it up all the time. Nothing about that was a mess Josie needed to clean up.
“Clean up after me?” I asked, pointing at my chest. “What’s there to clean?”
“Would you like me to rattle off some bullet points? I’ve got plenty of them.” She held up her hand and began ticking off some of my many indiscretions on each finger. “That time you screwed a ring girl right after a fight and almost got caught on camera. The time you drank Powerade instead of Gatorade on camera. The time you said the thousands of dollars of gym equipment the sponsors sent over was shit, and it was caught in the background of someone else’s post-fight interview. Do you want me to continue? Because that’s the tip of the iceberg. There’s a whole
load of it under the surface.”
“The word camera is making a feature,” I drawled.
“That’s the whole point!” she practically shrieked. “It’s your image, Dean. It has to look good or sponsors will sever contracts, you won’t get any more fights, and the AUFC will drop you from the roster. That’s the bottom line of being a dumb asshole in the public eye. Shit, kids look up to you! You!”
She had a point, but I didn’t like to be told.
“So what do you want me to do about it, Jo?” I asked, beginning to lose my grip on my control. “Do you want me to tell you why I went there? Do you want me to say I’m sorry and I won’t do it again? Tell me what you want me to do.”
“I shouldn’t have to! Not after all this time!” She waved her heels in my face, and I leaned back in case I got smacked in the eye. “When are you going to grow up?”
I stared at her and waited for the moment when she calmed down, but it didn’t look like it was going to happen.
“Is this about Hamish?” I asked. “Some reaction to breaking up with him on Saturday?”
“Oh my GOD!” she exclaimed. “I want to punch you in the nuts, Dean Hayes. Hard.”
“Right,” I replied, her anger sliding off my back just like it always did. We’d be cool tomorrow when she’d calmed down and the sponsors were all happy as clams again. Then we’d probably do this dance again in a couple of weeks.
“Being seen at a retail gym like Fitness First is crossing brands,” she declared, sounding fed up with our circus of an argument. “Do it again, and I’ll string up your balls with barbed wire. While you’re still attached to them.”
Ouch.
Pivoting on her heel, she padded across the mats. When she reached the door, she dumped her heels, slid her feet into them, and snatched her bag from the bench. Then she left with a bang as the door slammed closed, the electric lock beeping as it engaged.
Somehow, I felt like there was something she wasn’t saying, but I was too dumb to know what it was.
“What was that all about?” Linc asked, slapping his hand on my shoulder.
“Fucked if I know,” I replied, shaking him off.
“We all know who works at Fitness First,” he shot back, sinking his imaginary fist of truth into my stomach.
“You saw that?”
“Google Alert, mate. I can show you how to set one up. You rely too much on her.”
“Isn’t it her job to handle this stuff?” I asked, sitting on the bench by the windows.
“Cleaning up your personal mess isn’t part of her job description,” he replied, sitting beside me. “And she does it far too often.”
Casting my gaze outside, I studied the flat horizon of the ocean beyond. Endless, just like my stupid perpetual boner for Monica Miller.
“We’ve been up here for what…” Lincoln thought for a moment before saying, “Two and a half years? And you’re telling me, in that entire time, you haven’t noticed how hard Josie works?”
“Are you really asking me that?” I shot back.
Of course, I noticed Josie. I saw her here every day. I saw her at the press conferences and weigh-ins. I saw her at the charity events and meet and greets. I saw her at the training camps we helped the AUFC with for sick and less fortunate kids. I saw her.
“I’m really asking you because I don’t think you’re really seeing everything, Dean.”
“Where’s Violet?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“She left somewhere between you telling Josie she was worried about junk and the bit about the cleaning.”
I snorted and ran my hand over my face. “So between my finest moment and glory, huh?”
“Dude, sometimes, you’re the smartest prick I know, but then for three hundred and sixty-four days of the year you let your brain rot.”
“Don’t you have a fight to prepare for?” I asked sullenly.
Lincoln laughed and shook his head. “Nope. That’s you. We can’t do the switch out anymore, you tattooed stud. I’ll be at the weigh-in on Friday, so no funny business.”
“You’re such a loving brother,” I drawled.
Even if I was a dumb bastard like everyone seemed to claim, at least I had my better half. My identical twin was my constant in this crazy life, and even though he was all loved up, it didn’t mean a single thing had changed. The thing about Linc was he was usually right like a goddamned Buddha.
As he left me to sulk in peace, I couldn’t shake the feeling he was probably right about Josie, too. Smartass.
Maybe I wasn’t seeing everything.
5
Josie
Staring at the backstage scrum at the latest AUFC weigh-in, I sighed.
Fiddling with my lanyard that granted me behind-the-scenes access, I ran the edge of the laminated card underneath my thumbnail, trying to deal with the fact I had to put on a smiling face when I was still angry.
“Hey, Jo.”
I scowled at the sight of Dean behind me, pushing away the stupid feeling of jealousy and annoyance that had done nothing but grow since the wedding last weekend.
“You’ve been avoiding the gym,” he said when I didn’t answer.
“Yep,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Was I that much of a douche?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
I snorted. “When did you start growing a brain?”
He smirked and leaned closer. “Linc loaned me some of his sense. Am I putting it to good use?”
“Sometimes, I wish you thought before you did shit, Dean.”
“I needed to go there,” he replied, looking sheepish. “I needed to put some things to rest.”
I began to soften toward him and wondered if he’d actually put Monica behind him. If he had…
“And did you?” I asked.
He shrugged, bursting my tiny bubble of hope.
“No more crossing brands for the time being,” he said with a smirk.
“Shoosh,” I scolded him as event staff gave everyone a five-minute warning. “It’s about to start.”
He frowned and moved off to stand beside Coach Miller, who’d returned the day before from Melbourne. Lincoln offered me a reassuring smile, and I knew they’d been talking about Monday’s argument at great length. As far as I knew, no one—including Dean—had an inkling that I had a crush on the twin who was currently waiting to weigh in. At least it was one thing working to my advantage.
Glancing out into the arena, I took in the small crowd of fans that had turned out for tonight’s proceedings. Dean wasn’t the only fighter up tonight. There were multiple bouts being announced for lightweight, featherweight, and heavyweight with those fights also happening right here tomorrow night. The hard-core fans always turned up to these things to cheer on their favorite fighters, and afterward, they usually hung around for the chance of getting autographs and selfies. Needless to say, Dean Hayes lapped up the attention like it was going out of fashion.
Spotting Violet and Lincoln just outside in the VIP area, I shimmied my way through the wall of security and joined them to watch the show.
Up on stage, the announcer tapped the microphone in his hand and began the event, introducing himself and the fights they were calling for this week. “Welcome to AUFC Fight Night 35! To get things started, we’d like to welcome our octagon girls, Kylie and Fiona, and the AUFC director, Charlie Freeman!”
I rolled my eyes as the skimpily clad girls filed past me, closely followed by the head honcho of the entire Australian arm of the league. Kylie and Fiona, or whatever their names were, wore tiny pleated skirts that rode up around their flaps and crop tops emblazoned with the AUFC logo that barely covered their tiny boobs. It was a male-dominated sport, and that’s what the majority of men liked, but it never ceased to make me want to puke. The fact that Fiona was one of Dean’s almost on camera conquests didn’t help, and I instantly wondered if there had been any funny business backstage. There was certainly unrestricted access.
&nb
sp; The announcer shook hands with Charlie Freeman and took center stage again. “First up, let’s announce the fighters up for the featherweight division.”
We stood by and watched the fighters weigh in for the lower weight classes, waiting for the middleweight, which was where Dean was placed. Violet stood beside me, really getting into the spirit of things, hanging on every word the announcer was saying. That girl had come a long way since the first day I met her, and her devotion to her man and his sport was something else. She was Ash Fuller’s little sister and had been his personal cheer squad for years, so it was only natural she was there for Lincoln in the same way. Dean had come into her equation by default, as did all things where his twin was concerned. The two men were inseparable. I’d hate to see the day when they’d inevitably have to fight one another.
“Now the middleweight fight,” the announcer bellowed. “I’m sure you already know these guys. They’re heavy hitters in the cage, and you love ‘em for their roughish good looks. The bad boys of the comp are here in AUFC Middleweight 35! Dean Hayes versus Gabe O’Connell!”
The crowd cheered, and there were a few catcalls, but I was glued to the side of the stage, waiting for Dean to appear.
The announcer flipped the card in his hand and said, “First up to the scale is Dean Hayes.”
Violet grabbed Lincoln’s arm and jumped up and down as Dean walked out onto the stage, followed by Coach Miller. Shucking his shirt and trainers, Dean stepped up onto the scales, staring right down the barrel of the camera, ignoring the whole scene around him. He was one of the most focused and professional fighters I’d seen on the circuit despite his shenanigans off it, and he was well known for his no fuss approach with his fists.
“Eighty-one point three kilograms,” the announcer bellowed. “Dean Hayes!”
Good. That was a good weigh-in for middleweight.
He stepped off the scales, and Coach scooped up his shirt and shoes before they moved off to the opposite side of the stage.