Tapout

by J.C. Valentine

  Alyson grinned and did what she was told. Within an hour, they were out the door and headed for a night of fun.

  EIGHT

  Jami sat in his hotel room surrounded by angry, yelling men. After Spencer turned up missing from the hotel for the entire morning and afternoon, Don had sent Dwayne, Will, Bobby, and Collin—Jami’s personal bodyguards—out to find him. Between the six of them, they spent hours combing the city, calling every hotel, bar, casino, and cab company they could think of and turned up nothing. Then, half an hour ago, as they were preparing to start calling the local hospitals, Spencer strolled in.

  He looked like total shit. His hair shined with oil, indicating that it’d been a good while since he’d bathed, his clothing not much better, and the air around him smelled heavy of cigarette smoke. This wasn’t the same man Jami had left with from Ohio. Or maybe it was. He’d been seeing signs that something wasn’t quite right with his friend for a while now, but he’d stupidly turned a blind eye, figuring he was a grown man who could handle his own problems. Right now, though, he wasn’t so sure.

  “I told you, I was out. I don’t need to explain myself.” Spencer was irate, combing his fingers through his hair repeatedly in frustration.

  “We have been looking for you for hours,” Don nearly shouted. “You damn well do owe us an explanation!”

  “Screw you, Don! You might think you’re Jami’s old man, but you sure as fuck ain’t mine. I don’t owe you shit.” Spencer spat the last word at him, looking as ferocious as Jami had ever seen him.

  “Let’s just calm the fuck down before management kicks us out,” Jami reasoned. The tension in the room was palpable, setting everyone on edge. The last thing they needed was for Spencer to run off. With less than a day left before the fight, the last thing they needed was to waste more energy and more time on tracking him down.

  He looked between the two combatants, letting the warning sink in. When Spencer crossed his arms and stepped back to lean his slim frame against the wall, Jami sucked in a relieved breath. “Okay, then. Don,” Jami said calmly, drawing his cool steel gaze to him, “I need you to sit down and back off, or leave.”

  Don’s eyes narrowed. “You’re taking his side?”

  Jami shook his head. “I’m not taking anyone’s side. But I need for everyone to cool their heels or go. Yelling and screaming at each other isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  Don studied Jami for one intense second then huffed. “Yeah, whatever. I’m leaving. Call me if you manage to knock any sense into this one,” he said, glaring at Spencer as he stalked past him and out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Jami rubbed his eyes. He didn’t need this shit right now. He should be in the gym, but instead he was sitting here staring at someone who felt more and more like a stranger every day, and wondering what in the hell he could do—if anything—to get him back.

  Feeling five sets of eyes on him, Jami breathed deeply, searching for patience. “You all can take off. Grab some dinner or something,” he told his guards.

  Dwayne cast a doubtful gaze at him. “Are you sure?” His question was short and simple, but held so much meaning.

  Jami looked at each of his men. They all wore the same tight expression. They weren’t sure they should leave him alone. When Jami looked up and found Spencer’s angry gaze focused on him, he could understand their hesitation. But as fucked up as Spencer was right now, Jami wasn’t concerned. They’d known each other for years. Spencer would never do anything to hurt him. He also knew that if he was going to get to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on with him, he was going to have to get him alone.

  “I’m sure. You guys go on, relax, and enjoy your evening. We’ll meet up tomorrow.” Jami’s gaze cut to Spencer and held. As his men slowly filed out the door, Spencer’s irritation grew. Once the door clicked shut, he exploded.

  “This is total bullshit!” he roared. Jami watched silently as Spencer shoved off the wall and began pacing the floor. His shoulders rolled with each step he took, making him look more and more like a caged beast with each passing second. “You all think you can just push me around, dictate my every move, and question me like I’m a goddamn kid,” he muttered, then, in a sudden burst of fury, slammed his fist into the wall. “Fuck!” Spencer doubled over, clutching his injured fist to his chest and stomped his foot, cursing a few more times.

  “Wanna talk?” Jami offered calmly, not at all sympathetic to Spencer’s obvious pain. Judging by the power he put into that punch, and the flurry of expletives still pouring from his mouth, he’d probably broken something. At the very least, a fracture. It was the price he paid for being an idiot.

  “What the fuck would I have to talk to you about?” Spencer said with his voice taut with anger.

  Jami clenched his jaw. There was entirely too much attitude coming his way, but he sucked up his urge to lash back, reminding himself that he was here to help not harm. “How about we start with where the hell you’ve been all day?”

  “Like I told Don, it’s none of your damn business.”

  “How about you cut the attitude and humor me? Everyone took a chunk out of their day to try to find you, so the least you can do is give us something. A fucking bread crumb, Spence. That’s not a lot to ask.”

  Spencer inspected his hand, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word Jami said. “Shit’s starting to swell. I need some ice.” He started for the door, and Jami moved to intercept him.

  “Ice can wait. Now sit down and shut up, ‘cause you’re not walking out of here until I get some answers.”

  “So, what? Now I’m your prisoner?” Spencer sneered, but he turned and walked back into the room, flopping down on the edge of the bed.

  Scrubbing his hand over his face, Jami drew in a controlled breath, and then leveled his friend with a stern look. “Let’s start with where you’ve been.”

  “And then you’ll let me go?” Spencer’s eyes darted to the door. He seemed more than just angry over being questioned. Jami thought he looked agitated, on edge, and maybe even a little wired. Shit, he’d better not be high. They’d left that shit behind years ago.

  “Depends on if I like your answer,” Jami returned as he continued standing in front of the door in case Spencer got any ideas in his head about making a break for it.

  “Careful, you sounded a lot like Coach just now,” he smirked. Jami just shrugged. Spencer’s smirk transformed to reflect his change in mood, curling up on one side as he explained, “I was at the track. I placed a couple of bets and enjoyed the view. Satisfied?”

  Not even a little bit, but it was a start. “That all? You were missing for over six hours.”

  “Well, I did stop to take a dump. I’m sure that burned some time.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to,” Jami snapped back. “Right now, I’m the only friend you have, and I’m giving you a chance to smooth this over, because let me tell you, I’ve been watching you, and whatever is going on with you has been happening for a long time now. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s nothing good. You lost your woman, you’re losing this crew, I’m pretty sure you’ve lost your damn mind, and if you’re not careful, you’re going to lose me next.” Jami caught Spencer’s eyes and held him there, allowing him to see that he wasn’t playing around. He meant every word he said. Spencer had been flaking out on everyone and everything for far too long.

  “Your little disappearing act today was the last straw, so you either level with me about where you’ve been—really been—all day, or you’re on the first flight back to Ohio.”

  Spencer’s mouth gaped as he weighed his words, trying to judge how serious Jami was. After a lot of thought, he seemed to come to a conclusion. Jami watched as all the anger and all the impertinence dissolved. Spencer hunched forward with his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I’m so fucked, man,” he said tremulously.

  Jami’s brows pulled together. He took a step forward and stopped. Spencer was starting to open up, an
d he didn’t want to make the wrong move causing Spencer to shut him out again. So, he stayed silent and unmoving while Spencer explained himself.

  “I just wanted to make a little extra dough. You know, to help out. You weren’t really making anything on the fights when this all started, and with all the hands in the pot, there was hardly any money to pay rent, let alone fund the trips and the hotels and that fancy fucking chef. And honestly, I could cook half of that shit myself,” he said, his head shooting up. He had a wild look in his eyes that Jami didn’t like.

  “So fire her,” Jami said with a shrug. He didn’t give a damn about having a chef. She hadn’t even been invited along this time around, and he was fine with making his own food, or hell, even ordering in. There were plenty of places that made good food. It didn’t have to cost an arm and a leg.

  Spencer’s wide eyes blinked, as if the simple solution had never occurred to him. He grew quiet, looking down at his shoes. Jami could see him withdrawing back into himself, and prompted him to continue, but he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like what he heard. “What did you do? Spencer? What exactly did you do?”

  Time seemed to drag while Jami waited. When Spencer finally lifted his head to look at him, his eyes were bloodshot, his expression strained. “I just wanted to bring in a little extra cash, until things really got moving for you,” he said softly.

  Jami’s muscles tensed at what he was hearing, and he stepped closer, his words laced with venom. “What the fuck did you do, Spence?”

  Spencer straightened his spine. “I made a couple of bets. I didn’t expect to win. It was a lot of money, man,” he said, beginning to ramble. “I was able to provide you with everything you needed, and it was so easy. So I made a couple more bets. I lost a couple times, but the ones that paid off paid off big.”

  Jami thought back to the all the posh hotels, the wild parties, the limos, first-class plane tickets. The fucking chef. The chef that Spencer now had the nerve to complain about. A tremor of fury began in the back of his neck and traveled down his back to his arms and legs, making him feel stiff and brittle, in danger of snapping any minute.

  “Everything was great, man. Every bet I placed was gold. There was so much money coming in, and everything we ever wanted was happening. You got the gym, a nice nest egg, I got my townhouse.” The excited light in his eyes drained out. “And then the luck ran out. You have to understand,” he said urgently, holding up his hands in front of him. “I couldn’t stop. I knew, if I just played the right hand, I could make it happen again.”

  “But it didn’t happen again,” Jami interjected, predicting where this story was headed. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and the idea of seriously hurting Spencer crossed his mind.

  “No, it didn’t. I tried. I tired so damn hard, but then the money started to run out. About a month ago, there was a game. I did my research. I talked to everyone. It was a sure thing. I just needed a little more cash.”

  Jami closed his eyes. “You better not tell me what I think you’re gonna tell me,” he warned. If Spencer told him that he was indebted to a loan shark, he was going to murder him and bury the body in the middle of the desert.

  “It was a sure thing,” Spencer insisted, his voice rising. “Marco offered to help me out.”

  “You took money from a god damn loan shark?” Jami snarled. He took a threatening step forward, and Spencer leapt onto the bed, scrambling to the other side.

  “I didn’t know he was a loan shark! He said he would lend me the cash I needed, and I could pay him back when I won, with interest.”

  “That is the definition of a loan shark, you stupid motherfucker!” Jami jumped onto the bed and grabbed for Spencer, ready to throttle him, but Spencer was fast. He darted away, leaving Jami grasping at air. “How much?” Jami demanded. “How much do you owe?”

  Spencer shook his head, terror written across his face in big bold letters. “How much!” Jami bellowed in outrage.

  “Twenty-five!” Spencer was trembling as Jami backed him into a corner.

  Jami froze as his words struck him. “Thousand?”

  “I’m sorry, man. You gotta know that I would never have made the bet if I were sure I couldn’t win it all back.”

  “That’s the problem, Spence,” Jami bit out. “You didn’t win.”

  “I know. I know! But I can. I mean, I’m gonna. When you fight tomorrow night, there’s a bet that—”

  Jami lunged. Spencer tried to run, but this time, he wasn’t fast enough. Wrapping his hands around his neck, Jami squeezed. “You risked everything! After everything that I’ve done for you, everything I’ve worked for—I found you in that rat infested dump, nothing but a strung out piece of shit selling dope on every corner. I took you away from that,” he reminded him, pressing his nose to Spencer’s... “And you risked it all for a stupid bet!”

  Tears rolled down Spencer’s face, dripping off his jaw onto Jami’s forearms. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it…” He kept repeating himself, his face turning redder as Jami tightened his grip.

  The urge to kill him was overpowering. All Jami could think about was all they’d been through together. How he’d always thought they had each other’s backs. Only to find out that his best friend—his only friend—had been stabbing him in the back the whole time. He looked into Spencer’s blue eyes, watching the life slowly drain out of them and wondered how he could have been such a fool. If they had ever been friends or if he’d just been dumb enough to think so.

  His arms shaking, Jami roared in frustration and slammed Spencer’s back against the wall. He spun away, unable to look at him. Behind him, Spencer sputtered and coughed, gasped and panted, as he dragged oxygen into his lungs.

  “You tried to kill me,” Spencer said through choppy breaths.

  “Sounds like I’m not the only one,” Jami said flatly. “How long do you have to pay this Marco his money?”

  Scraping himself off the floor, Spencer approached him from behind, stopping a few feet away. “He wants half by tomorrow. I have a week to pay the balance.”

  Jami’s eyes squeezed shut. “Is this why you and Liv broke it off?”

  Spencer drew in a long, regretful breath and released it slowly. “I never wanted her to get into the middle of this. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I did, and I can’t take it back. I can’t take any of this shit back.”

  Jami spun around, startling Spencer. Looking him dead in the eyes, Jami asked, “Would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “If you could take it all back, if you had a do-over, would you?”

  “You mean if I had the chance to not place that first bet, not ruin my life, my friendship, the best relationship I’ve ever been in, would I take it back? Hell, yes. In a heartbeat.”

  Jami and Spencer stood there, locked in a staring contest. Finally, Jami nodded. “If you really mean that—”

  “I do—”

  “Then let’s fix this. Together.”

  Overcome with relief, Spencer sagged on his feet. “Dude, thank you. Really.”

  Jami held up his hand to stop him. “Don’t thank me yet, because if this doesn’t work out, it won’t be Marco you’ll have to worry about.”

  NINE

  Alyson stood at the bar feeling slightly out of her element. The last time she had been to a club of any kind, she was happily single, but now, all she could think about was Jami. How would he react if he saw her right now, dressed as she was, looking the way she did? She knew the answer right away. He would flip out, dump her over his shoulder, and haul her ass home.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Liv scolded her. “You look amazing.”

  She did. Alyson didn’t make a habit of tooting her own horn, but a brief glance in the mirrors lining the back of the bar told her what she already knew to be true—she was hot.

  She and Olivia had spent the day out. Their first stop was to a little nail salon tucked between a tattoo parlor and a palm reader located on the
shabbier side of town, but for all the anxiety it caused her, it turned out they did great work. Spreading her hand out on the bar top, she admired her French manicure again. She couldn’t stop staring at her nails. They made her fingers look long and tapered, delicate in a way that no amount of home manicure could accomplish.

  Their next stop of the day was the mall where they spent more money than she should have allowed considering that she could no longer count on a steady stream of paychecks coming in. Just like when they were teenagers, they spent hours walking the long corridors. They did their fair amount of window shopping, indulged in doughy pretzels on sticks, and smeared in warm cream cheese. At the end of it all, they walked away stuffed to the gills with junk food and a couple of dresses that were hardly worth the price on their tags, but were too fabulous to pass up.

  Hair came next. Liv ended up with an up-do, her pretty blonde hair sleek and shiny in a perfect French twist that made her look like a model. Alyson’s took the longest to perfect, but she was thrilled with the finished product. Even hours later, and after being subjected to the overwhelming amount of near stifling body heat hovering in the air, it still managed to look good. Each mahogany lock curled just right, spiraling down and collecting over her left shoulder where they were held together with a dozen or more bobby pins. Not a single hair was out of place, and when coupled with the nude sequined dress, she felt daring and sexy. Yes, Jami would definitely throw a fit if he could see her now.

  “Hey, Liv,” she said, an idea forming. She turned to her friend and held up her phone. “Let’s take a picture.”

  Olivia chuckled. “Trying to make Mr. Hot Pants jealous?”

  Alyson feigned shock, pressing her hand over her chest. “I would never do such a thing.”

  “So you’re not going to send him the picture?” Olivia asked, leaning in and placing her chin on Alyson’s shoulder.

  Alyson held the phone out as far as her arm could reach and smiled widely. “Of course, I am,” she said through her teeth. The flash went off, momentarily blinding them. Alyson blinked away the blind spot circling her vision and checked the photo to make sure it was satisfactory. She and Liv looked amazing, as she knew they would, and both of them had a slightly glassy look in their eyes from all drinks they had consumed. She found Jami’s number and sent the picture. “I just want to reassure him that we’re having a good time, and no one has kidnapped us.”