Caged: Cellar Door Series

by Pars, K.

  For all intents and purposes Matt was my manager, public relations rep, accountant and trainer. It was far from easy money for him, especially when he’d been balancing college and my career. Hell, his training with me at the gym constantly was to push my conditioning, stretch my limits. Sometimes I really wondered if he was trying to punish me cause he could be brutal and it was exactly what I needed. Matt might not be as skilled in grappling or striking but the fucker could run you through your paces with cardio.

  “JD?” Matt’s voice called towards the kitchen and tore through my musings as I made myself some coffee. He’d apparently realized I was up and about and one of two things was on his mind. Either the chick I’d heard moving around earlier was a double bagger, one over his face; one over hers and he was looking to get her out the door before I saw or she was right cute and he wanted to show her off. “Yeah bro, in the kitchen.”

  Leaning one hip against the counter, my legs crossed at the ankles, I almost spit my coffee across the small kitchen when I heard hushed voices and the front door closing before Matt put in his grand appearance avoiding looking at me.

  “That good huh? You had to hit the emergency eject so I didn’t see her?” I tried to keep a straight face and failed; however I did manage another sip of coffee without losing it all over the kitchen.

  “Fuck you JD. She had plans today and needed to get going.” Matt pulled out his own mug from the cabinet, slammed in a k-cup and let the coffee fill to the rim as he finally eyed me with a smirk. “Not everybody feels the need to boot the girls out before daylight. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were banging out vampires. All fang and bang.”

  I shrugged; one heavily inked shoulder moving up before dropping back down and smirked. “It’s not like they don’t know what I’m after. Hit it and quit it. I don’t lie to them and it’s also why I go to their place. Hell of a lot easier to leave than to kick them out. You’re the stupid ass that brings them back to your spot.”

  Matt rolled his eyes and moved from the kitchen towards the living room. I didn’t know why he was on a high horse; he wasn’t tapping a regular piece of ass any more than I was. Then again he wasn’t tapping ass as often as I was either though Matt wasn’t lacking, he was a little more selective than I usually am.

  The chicks that hung around Cellar Door liked the rough raw fighter type and had an infatuation with the ink that covered both arms, most of my chest, one side and a fair portion of my back. I still had some room and when the time was right, when something really needed to be documented, carried with me, it would be. All my ink had been purposeful, selected for my own reasons.

  The females at the club were all about the package and appearance so it’s not like I was breaking real hearts, they weren’t in it for me. They just wanted a chance to brag they’d been with one of the fighters, especially a winning fucker like myself. No fame, no glory had to be a running motto with some of them and we referred to them as Cage Crawlers. All over anyone who spent time in the cage.

  Cage Crawlers tried to get down with a lot of the fighters both male and female, it was all about a claim for most of the fight groupies that hung about but they did indeed scratch an itch. Long as you kept covered up, wrapped it before you tapped it, you weren’t bringing back an itch; the kind you couldn’t shake off. Rule number one, one fucking rule I didn’t break for anybody, keep your Johnson covered. I liked my dick right where it was. I damn sure didn’t need to trip over the shit because the fucker had fallen off.

  My place also was a no fly zone for the groupies, at least for me. I had never had a woman stay the night in my apartment and had no desire to start that shit up with one. My bed and I had a long standing affair and I was damn loyal to her so I didn’t sully that by letting some random hook up hang out overnight, hell I didn’t even let them climb in at all. Never mind the whole setting up false expectations with them, nah, I was all good running shit the way I had been. No need to change up something that wasn’t broke.

  “Dude I don’t know why females throw themselves at you.” Matt shook his head and I gave a short sarcastic laugh.

  “The ladies love me. What can I say?” I followed Matt into the living room dropping into the well worn leather recliner, jerking on the handle and laying back glancing over at him. “What?” Matt was completely quiet and looking like he was constipated or something, his fingers steepled, the tips tapping one another.

  “Man, it’s uh..... shit, never mind.” Mumbling something into the coffee cup he retrieved off the table, he raised it for another swallow, his eyes honed in on the TV he’d flipped on. Yeah that won’t cutting it for me.

  Jackknifing the chair upright, my coffee splashed over the top of the cup as I set it on the table beside me before I could drop it all over my lap and soak my shorts. “What? Spit it the fuck out.” Whenever Matt did his stop and start commentary, crap ass news generally followed and I’d never had the patience for him to keep debating if he should or shouldn’t tell me something. It was annoying as hell. If he had something to say he needed to just spit it the fuck out.

  I could see Matt’s chest expand and contract through a deep breath and his nervousness made my fingers automatically flex into a fist, my next to nothing patience evaporating. I loved him like a brother but damn he could annoy the piss out of me sometimes, especially when he would start to tell me something, then stop. If he hadn’t picked then to finish his commentary, he would have been in danger of not being able to speak at all for awhile.

  “I thought it was her. I mean I was pretty damn sure....”

  “Her who?” I cut him off; my eyes narrowed, my pulse speeding up, waiting for Matt to reveal what I already was guessing at. There’d only ever been one her that would make a difference to me that he would hesitate talking about; he and I both knew that.

  “Kylee, bro. I thought I saw her at Cellar Door but I wasn’t sure until I ran into her dad at the bank yesterday when I pulled out the money we needed to lay down on your fights last night. She’s been back for a few weeks now.” Matt looked like he was ready to run if needed and it might definitely have been a need based on what he was telling me. “Look I would have said something to you yesterday but you had to fight and you didn’t need to be distracted.”

  I shot to my feet, the recliner slamming back several inches and paced a tight circle around our living room. Our apartment wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination so it’s not like I could have walked miles around it, I was running a short track of turns, my head spinning. Kylee was in town.

  My one time best friend besides Matt, the one girl that could tell me what to do and I’d move heaven or hell to try to make it happen, hell I wouldn’t even go quite that far for Matt, close but not quite that far, was back in town. I knew she’d graduated about the same time Matt had, a few weeks back but fuck….she came back here?

  As Matt’s words digested I stopped dead in my tracks, my head cranking around to look at him. “A few weeks? What the fuck do you mean a few weeks? She’s been in the same fucking state for a few weeks now? She was at fucking Cellar Door!” My emotions were ping ponging all over the fucking place knowing she was not only in the same damn state as me, but was within miles. I really had bull shitted myself into thinking I wouldn’t see her again.

  Matt’s hands jerked up in front of him defensively. “Hey man, I’m just telling you what her dad said. She’s been gone almost four years JD, didn’t even come home this past Christmas, and didn’t even tell me she’s back home. Maybe she’s been busy playing catch up with her family. And ease the hell up man. She wasn’t in the basement. She was upstairs at the Club with some of her friends from high school.”

  Matt was smart enough to avoid pointing out the obvious, Kylee probably didn’t want to see me. Couldn’t blame her. She’d always felt the need to keep me close, like she could protect me from myself, my dad, stuck up fuckers who looked down at me because of my tats, the whole package. She’d even forced me to do normal shit in sc
hool, claimed I needed the full experience. I’d only gone to the dances and shit because of her. Fucking kryptonite. I could refuse anyone anything but damn Kylee and her big brown eyes, her please….and I was done for. I’d never advertised that fact to her, had kept that shit close to the vest; even gave her an ass load of shit before giving her exactly what she wanted, every damn time. I might have felt like a pansy ass around her at times but I never acted like one. There was just something about making her happy, her giving you that big smile that did you right.

  A few nights before she headed off for college, she’d starting worrying about leaving, particularly about leaving me. No fucking way I could take her future from her, let her settle for something other than what she’d worked so hard for. She’d finally promised she was definitely going and did. After she’d headed off for college I’d learned something that hadn’t dawned on me during all the years I’d known her, just how much Kylee meant to me. I knew I cared for her, knew I’d knock someone the fuck out if they messed with her and I’d do about anything to keep a smile on her pretty face. She was my family, her and Matt both were two of the most important people I had. What I hadn’t known was the depth that she lived in me.

  With her gone, there’d been a gaping fucking wound in my chest along with the crystal clear knowledge that I’d never be the kind of guy Kylee deserved. I stopped answering texts, emails, letters and phone calls to put some emotional distance between us because within hours of her leaving, I was losing it. There was no way I could have survived hearing about her life moving on without me; about her finding her Mr. Right. I had almost had to force her to go off to college, to do the things she had always dreamed of, no way could I risk falling apart and begging her to come back.

  I’d needed to cut the feelings the fuck out and the only way I knew how was to let her go, completely. I couldn’t even cut it in college much less give her the kind of future she was worthy of, the kind I saw her having. Never crossed my mind that she would come back to Bristow, that she’d come home.

  Matt knew what the deal was when Kylee left and the poor bastard took pity on me because he really couldn’t believe I’d been so damn blind. Even though he disagreed with my take on it; I’d gotten him to cover for me and say I wasn’t around if she called his cell. It had taken months before she finally stopped reaching out for me, each time she tried it had been torturous but I’d stuck to my guns. It had been for good damn reasons, but it still had burned like a bitch that I’d severed our connection. Brightest dumb fucking idea I’d ever had.

  Slowly, my frustration ebbed as logic took over and I was able to plant my ass back in the recliner, rubbing a hand over my shirt clad chest like it would ease the ache, my fingers moving over to my arm absently rubbing over the ink on my bicep.

  “Yeah I guess so. Not like we’re tight anymore.” I sat staring at the TV, not seeing anything but a blur of images before I got back up, energy strumming through me like a fuse had been lit. “Gonna head to the gym. Later.” Matt’s mumbled “oh shit” under his breath wasn’t lost on me as I headed to my room to grab my gym bag. I knew Matt wouldn’t be rolling with me and was a good fucking idea on his part. I was in a dangerous mood and training with me wouldn’t have been fun.

  Chapter 2

  I didn’t consciously think about it but somewhere along the line my brain had started to clock watch the number of hours and days from the moment I’d found out Kylee was home right down to the minutes she still hadn’t reached out to me. Six damn days had passed already since Matt had dropped that little nugget of information on me. My temper was off the chain, I knew it and I was snapping off for no reason at all to anyone that had the balls to get in my personal space. It was like watching a train about to wreck, you knew it was going to get ugly but you just couldn’t look away.

  Worse yet I’d become a fucking hypocrite. Refused to have anything to do with her when I couldn’t physically see her, be near her; but she stepped two feet back in town and I was sweating the fact she hadn’t reached out to me.

  Matt had off handedly suggested I reach out to her and I’d almost bitten his damn head off and then would have followed it up by jacking his jaw if he hadn’t relented and shut the fuck up about it. Granted I’d pushed her away when she’d gone to college, but Kylee made a mule’s stubbornness look reasonable. If she’d wanted to talk to me, she would have already, so even though I got the hint, I didn’t like it. Matt had taken to steering clear of me after the ass chewing he’d gotten for his recommendation. Smart man…..

  I needed a fight, really needed one. Like a junkie needed another fix but I didn’t have shit set up for two more weeks while they tried to get together a decent card for the next set of fights. The downside to the single elimination cards the club booked was the time between fights. Fight nights you fought till you won or lost and last man standing for each division took home the cash. You normally got three or more fights on your card for your night, then you caught a break for a week or better while the next set of fights for your weight class were set up and another group of competitors took center stage for their fights. The interest had magnified so much over the past few years, both by competitors and fans that rarely a Friday night went by without any fights scheduled. On occasion, to pump up the cards and give the crowds a great show, it was closer to two or three weeks before the fights would be set. Go figure I was in one of those lulls when what I needed was to be ass deep in flying fists and kicks. Maybe even a submission attempt or two.

  Being a Friday night and having brought my ass to Cellar Door wasn’t helping my mood at all but there I sat. It was rubbing salt in an open wound. I knew when shit was getting ready to be set off downstairs and yet I found my ass planted at the bar in the club area, agitation setting in because I wasn’t fighting. It was like asking an addict to hold onto the goods but not use them. Self imposed torture at its finest.

  Club Cellar Door was one of six clubs in a three state radius that operated as an ordinary night club to the average client on the ground and upper levels, but if you were part of the scene, you knew what went down in the basement level. The fact it was referenced as a basement didn’t do justice to the set up. Each club had a permanent regulation octagon cage, locker rooms for the fighters, seating for the spectators and just about anything else you would expect to see at a UFC fight, except for media. There was no video, no live streaming, not even still photos were allowed. There was a strict no talking policy meaning if word got out about Cellar Door’s lower level, it was a very real possibility one of the main attractions might pay you a personal visit.

  Cellar Door’s extra activities padded a lot of fucking pockets. Messing with a man’s money was like messing with a junkyard dog’s bone. You just didn’t do it and shit, to be real, the woman were probably worse about getting their fights fucked with. The female fighters held nothing back in the octagon or out.

  There was no point in me heading to the basement, it would just piss me off more when I couldn’t get in the cage and pound the hell out of someone and I really didn’t need any additional motive to be pissed. I wasn’t a fan. I wasn’t a watcher. I was a full on fucking fighter and when I couldn’t, I avoided the cage unless I needed to scope an upcoming opponent which was rare. Matt normally did that shit for me. Yeah, my boy did that shit up right. Sometimes I could swear he paid more attention than I did to my upcoming opponents. End of a day, when I entered the ring, only one of two things was going to go down, a win or a loss and I lived to fucking win.

  I was starting to get beyond agitated sitting there doing nothing but hammering back drinks because when all else failed to chill me out, I drank. It was my motto and I’d been living it often for the past couple of years except for the days before I was going to be in the cage. I slowed my roll for that. I never missed training no matter how late or early morning I drug my ass home or how much liquid I ingested.

  I glanced up and tossed a nod at the busty blonde haired bartender who’d been working the c
lub as long as I‘d been coming in. “Sadie, hit me with another.” I was on leave for the moment, no fight in site for weeks, drinking it would be.

  “You alright JD?” Sadie set my shot of bourbon up with a beer chaser, a concerned expression on her face. She was attractive and had given me all the right signals over the years to let me know she was interested but I was at the club too damn often, both upstairs and down in the basement. I didn’t need that kind of hang up following me around and fucking up my favored spot. Never piss or shit where you eat, all I could say. One thing to hit up the regulars that came in, the staff, off fucking limits.

  “I’m tight.” Raising my shot up, I poured the liquid down my throat welcoming the warmth it left behind and then tipped my beer to my lips as Sadie moved down the bar catching the I don’t want to fucking talk vibe I was giving off.

  It was early, most of the regular clubbers wouldn’t be around for a couple hours yet but I’d had enough of the four walls I’d been staring at in the apartment, was damn near ready to climb them and had put in an early appearance at my regular hangout. It was early enough that the music that would be pounding the walls later was still low, conversations could actually be heard.

  Someone tapped on my shoulder and I bunched them, shrugging off the touch with a grunt. I wasn’t in the mood for company. The light tap returned and had me spinning around angrily ready to plant my fist straight into a face. “What the fuck do you wa...” The words died in my throat, my eyes locked on twin chocolate brown orbs that I knew better than my own blue ones. I was struck dumb, stump stupid, unable to form words, just staring, trying to get my head out of my ass.

  “JD? James David?” A set of slender fingers snapped in front of my face breaking me out of my trance as Kylee slowly lowered her hand, a Cheshire cat grin on her face. I swallowed thickly, reached behind me and grabbed my beer like a lifeline as I schooled the shock that was jolting through my system. I felt like I had been gut kicked. Pretty as ever, Kylee Grace was standing right in front of me, the same Kylee Grace that had been back from college for a couple of weeks and hadn’t made a single move to reach out to me, not that I deserved any better.