Anger and Muscles

by Peter Presley

  Table of Contents

  About Peter Presley

  Korbin

  Callie

  Anger and Muscles

  A Muscles and Tattoos Bad Boy Romance

  Peter Presley

  Contents

  About Peter Presley

  1. Korbin

  2. Callie

  3. Callie

  4. Korbin

  5. Callie

  6. Korbin

  7. Callie

  8. Callie

  9. Korbin

  10. Callie

  11. Korbin

  12. Callie

  13. Callie

  14. Korbin

  15. Korbin

  16. Callie

  17. Callie

  18. Korbin

  About Peter Presley

  Hello!

  Peter Presley is the alter ego of Piper Presley. Piper writes shorts at 10K and under; Peter writes novellas.

  Thank you to my street team member Jenni Bishop for coming up with the title ANGER AND MUSCLES!

  Thank you to my street team member Leah Mossor for coming up with the name Korbin! Follow Leah on Twitter at @bookblogger1984

  Are you on Facebook? Join Peter Presley’s Street Team and enjoy free books, contests, and more!

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  Excerpt

  We’re in my apartment, and I’m watching Callie take off her jacket and her shoes. If there’s one thing about her, when she thinks she’s right she’s stubborn as shit. What does she expect me to do, just let some guy move in on her? Hell no.

  On the way up here on my motorcycle, with her arms wrapped around me, I was thinking about all the ways I could punish her. I’m still thinking about that now.

  I’m standing in the doorway of my bedroom. My coat and my shirt are off. Callie is sitting on my sofa.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.

  “Get up and get over here,” I say.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just get over here.”

  I sense a mixture of fear and desire on her face as she gets close.

  KORBIN

  1

  Korbin

  “Murphy, this is your last warning. Get the fuck out of my bar!”

  Pat Kelly, the owner of this shit-hole, is screaming at me, something he’s done before. He’s telling me that if I don’t leave his place now, he’ll call the cops. I’m standing, but I haven’t started walking toward the door yet. Instead, I’m staring at the asshole who got me into this situation.

  You should see him. He’s a pretty boy, a blondie, sitting in a chair, with ice over his eye, crying like a little bitch. I can tell he’s not from around here. I don’t know who he is. I don’t care who he is. All I know is that he wouldn’t be sitting here with a black eye if he hadn’t fucked with me.

  I’m Korbin Murphy. I’m 26-years-old, Irish, and I’ve been living in Chicago all my life. If you ask me, I think I’m a nice man. But if you ask most everyone else, they’ll probably tell you I fight too much, and I drink too much.

  Are they right about that? Sometimes. I don’t know why I get into so much trouble, but I just do.

  I guess I should tell you some more about me. I’m from Mount Greenwood, South Side Chicago through and through. I grew up with five brothers and sisters - James Jr., Brendan, Alice, Kelly, and Katy - in a little house with just three bedrooms and one bathroom. My parents stopped having kids after my sister Katy was born. Mom says they would have had more, but it wasn’t in God’s plan. I get it, the whole Irish/Catholic thing, but it’s probably good my parents stopped having kids after Katy. Just sayin’.

  It was pretty crazy growing up in my house. Crowded, laundry everywhere, arguments all the time. But we never missed Mass with Fr. O’Donnell. I went to Catholic schools all my life, too, but I never went to college. My parents told me if I wanted to do that, I’d have to pay for it. So, I never did it.

  My mom is a good, Catholic woman who stayed at home and took care of the family. She dealt with six kids, and she put up with my dad who was a drunk and a womanizer. There was a lot of stress on my mom, but she never once complained. She always had a smile on her face.

  So, I guess I’m like my dad. In fact, we look just alike, or, we did before age and alcohol got the best of him. I’m good-looking like he was, and I’ve got muscles like he used to have. He got his from working construction, just like me.

  The only difference between my dad and me is he fooled around and I don’t. I don’t have any desire to cheat on a woman. The ladies never last long enough for me to get any sort of relationship going anyway. They say I’m trouble.

  I guess I am. It’s not like I haven’t tried to change, but every time I try I fail. Why bother with it? I am who I am.

  Pat stares at me from behind the register. He’s a tall, redheaded Irishman with a big beer gut. “Murphy, I’m going to tell you one last time, and that’s it,” he says, pointing his finger at me. “Get the fuck out of my bar. You got me?”

  He could probably land a good punch on my face if he were that sort of a person. But he’s not. He’s got a loud mouth, though.

  I still don’t do what he says, and I know I’m pushing my luck. I’ll leave in a minute.

  How did I get into this jam? Like I told you, it’s because of the asshole I’m staring at, Zach, the rich blondie. He bet me at pool, and I said sure, let’s bet. When I saw the Rolex, I could tell he had money. So, I figured I’d go for a big number, like $300, which he was more than cool with. I was grinning from ear to ear because I’m good at pool and I knew I could beat him. When I did beat him, and he ended up owing me the cash, he had a little fit and told me he wouldn’t pay it. The bitch is going to bet me money and then not pay it? Yeah, I don’t think so. I confronted him.

  He got in my face and said to me, “What do you plan to do about it?”

  I told him, “I’ll show you what I plan to do about it,” and I knocked him on his ass.

  I knew the money was in his pocket. So, I held out my hand. He gave it up, and he gave it up quick. Now he’s in the chair, whining about how I knocked him down. And Pat, who doesn’t like me anyway, is taking his side.

  Okay, I admit that the fights I get into are getting old. But, as I said before, that’s just the way it is.

  What exactly do I have going for me? I live alone in a one-bedroom apartment. I got no girlfriend. Women are attracted to me because of my looks, but once they see me fighting and drinking too much, they leave just as quickly as they came. I work hard every day at my construction job. What else is there but to drink and fuck motherfuckers up?

  Speaking of women, I can’t take my eyes off of Blondie’s girl. She’s sitting by his side listening to him whine, and then she’ll look up at me with a dirty look. Then she’ll look back at her boyfriend, or whoever he is. I sure would like to spend some time with a woman like that. Long dark hair, slender body, the cutest little nose I’ve ever seen, and big brown eyes. She looks like the girl-next-door type, the kind of woman I’ve always been attracted to. I’m sure she’d leave me just like the others have. But at least I could spend a little time with her before I scared her away.

  2

  Callie

  Right now, I’m in a crappy South Side bar with my new boyfriend Zach who I’ve been dating for just two weeks. We’re North Siders, and I’ve never even been in this part of town with him. But Zach has a client out here, and after I waited for him to be done with that, he said he wanted to get a drink around here. I asked him why we couldn�
�t just head back north, but he insisted on coming to this hellhole.

  The last two times Zach has taken me to a bar, it’s been classy. But for some reason, today, he decides he wants to try this neighborhood bar. I try not to be a snob, but this place is a total dive. On top of that, he insisted on betting this guy that he could beat him at pool. I tried to warn Zach not to bother with it. I mean, I sort of had a suspicion Zach wasn’t that great at pool, and you know what? I was right.

  To top it all off, the guy bet him $300 and Zach, who walks around with lots of money in his pocket, said yes. I could tell this guy knew Zach was a sucker for the bet. Anyway, I watched the jerk beat Zach easily, but then Zach didn’t want to pay the money. So, the jerk punched Zach in the face so hard he fell to the ground.

  Now my boyfriend is sitting here with a busted eye and a bag of ice over it. I’m not sure how he’s supposed to greet clients with his eye like this. He’s just sitting here staring at the ground. I’m a nurse, and I recommended he get some medical attention, but he just wants to be left alone. So, all I can do is sit here with him until he decides to get up and leave this place.

  I keep looking at the jerk who caused all the problems. I think his name is Kory or Korbin or something or other. I’m giving him the meanest look I can now. How dare he knock my boyfriend to the floor? What a bully!

  The owner had said the jerk has to leave immediately, but he’s still standing there. And, I guess I should confess something to you. There’s another reason I keep looking at the guy. As much as I hate to admit it - he’s gorgeous. How can somebody so horrible be so gorgeous? He’s got a thick head of dark hair. His eyes are mysterious. His face is incredibly handsome. His body is really fit. Maybe that’s why he’s such a jerk. Maybe he knows he’s gorgeous. Or, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he doesn’t realize how good-looking he is. Maybe he’s just a jerk because that’s his rotten personality.

  The owner claims he’ll call the police. Well, if this guy doesn’t get out of here, I’ll call the cops myself. Frankly, I want to press charges, but my boyfriend waved me off when I mentioned it. He obviously doesn’t want to look weak in front of this guy. I don’t know. I just want to get the hell out of here.

  My name is Callie Johnson. I’m 28-years-old, and I live in Chicago, in the Rogers Park area. I’m a nurse, but I’m studying to be a nurse practitioner. I’m a pretty good nurse, but I’m ready to take it to the next level. It’s hard, and it will take time, but I know I can do it.

  I’ve only been with Zach for two weeks, or maybe, two and a half. Anyway, it’s only been a short time. We met at the grocery store. I was looking at some apples, and he just walked up to me, told me I was beautiful and started talking to me.

  I was flattered, and Zach is a good-looking guy. When he’s not wearing a suit, he could pass as a surfer. He’s got this blond hair that’s always a bit messy. But messy hair doesn’t stop Zach from making a fortune in the corporate world. His condo is sick, and he drives a Porsche. I don’t care that Zach has money, but it’s nice to date a rich guy. I can’t lie about that. He bought me some diamond earrings. I don’t know how often I’ll wear them, but they had to have cost him a fortune.

  Anyway, I’m sure Zach won’t do anything stupid like this again, at least, I hope he doesn’t. Zach takes the bag from his eye. It looks a little better, but not by much.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna hit the can, and then we’ll get out of here,” he says. “Wait here.”

  I watch Zach walk to the bathroom. After Zach enters the bathroom, I look back at the jerk. I want to say something to him, and I think I shall.

  “You were asked to leave,” I say to him. “Why are you still here?” I’m mad, and I’m trying to look mad, but this guy is really hot. I can’t let him know I think he’s hot.

  “Excuse me?” He smiles. “My name is Korbin. What’s your name?”

  I stand a little taller. “I’m not telling you.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. You sure are pretty, though.”

  “Callie,” Zach says exiting the bathroom and heading toward me. “Get away from him.”

  “Callie, huh? Maybe I’ll see you again, Callie,” Korbin says, still smiling. And then he walks out of the bar.

  Zach pulls me toward him. “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. He’s gone, and now we should leave, too.”

  It’s a good thing Zach doesn’t know how fast my heart is beating right now. Korbin is a good-looking man, and when I was standing close to him, that became quite obvious. But, I don’t want to think about him anymore.

  “I might just press charges on that guy, after all,” says Zach.

  “Then why didn’t you do it while he was still here?” I say. “He’s gone now.”

  “He’ll be back. I bet he practically lives here.”

  “Just leave it alone, Zach. Okay? Let’s just go.”

  “Yeah, yeah, we’ll go. What did he say to you anyway?”

  I roll my eyes. “Nothing, Zach. I just told you.”

  We leave the bar and walk out to Zach’s car. I don’t see that Korbin guy, which is good. We don’t need any more trouble. I get in the passenger seat, and Zach gets behind the wheel.

  “Damn,” he says. “I left my coat in the bar. Stay in the car, babe. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, hurry.”

  After Zach gets out, I lock the door and then lean back against the leather seat and close my eyes. This has not been a good night at all, and I hope we don’t have another one like it.

  I open my eyes and look to my left. It’s that Korbin guy, getting on his motorcycle. I have another confession to make . . . I love a guy on a motorcycle. I wonder if Zach has ever been on one.

  Oh shit! The guy sees me staring at him. He’s smiling at me again. I look away. Then I hear the rumble of the motorcycle as he takes off down the street. My heart is pounding all over again.

  3

  Callie

  “I’m going to be out of town this upcoming week,” says Zach.

  I’m lying next to him in his bed. He lives in a penthouse apartment on Lake Shore Drive, and as I lay here, I can see Lake Michigan out his window. I feel like a rich princess in this bed. But now I’m worried. Right after the bar incident, he was out-of-town for a week, and now he’ll be gone again.

  “You have to leave again? I don’t get to see much of you in this new relationship of ours.”

  Zach looks at me in a serious way. His eye is almost completely healed, but he did have to greet clients with it not looking so good. Looking at me now, he would seem even more serious if he didn’t have messy blond hair that hangs over his face like a surfer dude. He’s this big corporate executive with surfer’s hair. Don’t get me wrong I love it. It’s just strange to me.

  “Honey, you need to understand that the work I do requires me to travel quite a bit,” he says. “We’ll spend time together next weekend. Besides, you’ll have more time to study this way.”

  Zach is right. Our relationship could totally overshadow my schoolwork if I let it. It’s important to be organized, but it’s easy not to be when there’s a new guy.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I kiss him on the lips. “I better go. I have to get to work soon.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?”

  “No. As much as I love riding in your fancy car, I’ll get to work on my own this morning.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Off you go to work.”

  I give him another kiss, smile, and head to his massive bathroom. He bought me all these bath oils, washes and lotions from this expensive Parisian company. I’ve never had stuff like this before. I didn’t date Zach because of his money, but the perks sure are nice.

  It’s midweek. Zach isn’t here, but I wish he were. Today is my day off, and I’d love to see him tonight. I’ve got all day to study. The night would have been so much more fun with him in
it.

  Maybe I’ll call one of my girlfriends, and we can see a movie or something. I need a break from the books. In the meantime, I need to get out of here and get something to eat. My refrigerator is bare. I haven’t been grocery shopping in two weeks. I’ve just been grabbing stuff as I go. I know it’s not good for me to do that, but sometimes I get lazy.

  Now I’m on the L to the location of my favorite Mexican restaurant. I’m like a pregnant woman right now with my craving for Mexican food. This place is better than all the other ones I’ve been to. So, I’m going out of my way to get there.

  Wait? Is that Zach I see through the window? I thought he was out-of-town? And who is that woman he’s with?

  Oh, my God. Now they’re kissing! What the fuck? I’m taking a picture before this train pulls off. He doesn’t know I saw him. I don’t even know what to say right now. I’m shocked and super pissed. I’m not even sad, at least not right now. I’m just really, really pissed. Mark my words, Zach and I are done. We just started dating, and already he’s fooling around on me? Fuck him!

  The incident happened on Wednesday, and now it’s Friday. My cell is ringing. It’s Zach.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Hey, babe. I’m back in town. You didn’t respond to my last two texts. Did you get them?”

  “Hmm . . . no, I guess I didn’t.”