Unbearable Cage (The Grizzly Next Door 3)

by Aya Morningstar

  Lisa handed the papers to Ren. Ren flipped through and saw Lisa’s flowing signature in at least a dozen places.

  “You signed already?”

  “Yeah,” Lisa said, “but you can take credit for convincing me if you want. Give these to Cage, and tell him to at least come see me once more before he leaves.

  “Sure,” Ren said. “And with that out of the way, you’re never going to guess who I’m going out with on Saturday.”

  Who was she kidding? Of course Lisa would be able to guess.

  CHAPTER 11

  CAGE

  Cage had never planned to work as a bouncer any longer than he had to. He’d imagined Lisa signing the papers and then going somewhere very far away—like Alaska—and working as a lumberjack or a fisherman. Doing something somewhere that would ensure he didn’t get anyone hurt, except maybe himself.

  With Lisa not signing, and with Mal in town, he’d need to stay until he’d figured out a solution. And so he needed a job. Any job, but preferably one that Mal couldn’t sabotage. He’d applied to some warehouses nearer to where he lived, but they’d passed on him when he said he didn’t know how to operate a forklift. It was too bad he couldn’t show them exactly why he had no need for a forklift, but he realized he needed to work somewhere downtown anyway. He needed to work close to where Lisa and Ren worked and lived—just in case.

  Dishwasher. That was it. He would be tucked away in back, and Mal would have no ability to pose as a customer and harass him. He tried a few, but it was Saturday night, and most restaurants were busy. The hostess had told him—without even making eye contact—that they weren’t hiring, but that he was welcome to fill out an application and they could call him if they needed anybody. Cage had worked enough short-term gigs since his MMA career had ended to know what a load of shit that was.

  He’d exhausted his options and checked nearly every restaurant within walking distance of the courthouse when he stumbled across one that seemed way too fancy to even consider. But there was a tiny little placard propped up on the sidewalk near the door—this restaurant was too fancy to deface its window with Scotch tape— that read, “Hiring: Plongeur.” Cage had flunked out of French, but it sounded enough like “plunger” that he’d likely be qualified for whatever it was.

  He was wearing a freshly-ironed, button-up shirt, classic white, with nice slacks and polished shoes. He might be applying to be a plunger, but he knew looking good was the best way to stand out from the other slobs. He looked inside, and from the snobbish vibe of the place, he realized he was too minimally dressed to even step foot inside. The place was called Emmanuelle’s.

  Cage stood up straight and walked inside. He caught a waitress checking him out, but the host stood at his little podium with an upturned nose. “How may I help you...monsieur.” Based on the host’s accent on the English words, he was actually French.

  “I’d like to inquire about the, uh, plongeur position.” He faked a French accent but was sure he’d butchered it.

  The host gave a nod of the head and some of his scorn faded. Cage figured that since he’d identified his desire to become a plunger, the host no longer felt obligated to throw the fake politeness at him.

  After a short wait, a man in a full suit and tie came to Cage and then brought him over to a small room with a neatly-kept desk and filing cabinet.

  “I’m Jean,” he said, shaking Cage’s hand.

  “Cage. Nice to meet you.”

  Jean’s accent wasn’t as thick, but he also sounded French. “Strong grip. That will help.”

  “Yeah,” Cage said. “I’ve worked with toilets and plumbing before, so I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

  A disgusted look flashed across Jean’s face. “Erm, Cage, surely you wouldn’t be getting your hands dirty here.”

  “If I’m the plongeur, I sure as hell will! I mean...I’ll make sure the toilet water doesn’t get near the food, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Cage said, trying to give his most emphatic smile.

  This is boring, Cage’s bear groaned. And this guy doesn’t like you, so stop fake smiling.

  Cage ignored his bear. He needed this job.

  Jean shook his head, and the tension in the room suddenly dropped to nothing. “Well, I’ll call you if we need you.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Cage said.

  “Indeed,” Jean said, opening the door.

  Dammit! How had he botched that so badly?

  The host spotted Cage’s slunk posture and said, “Ah, seems they didn’t want you as a dishwasher then?”

  “What?” Cage said. “I was applying to be a plumber, wasn’t I?”

  “Plongeur means dishwasher.” The host smirked at him, reveling in Cage’s failure.

  Shit! I’ll make sure the toilet water doesn’t get near the food. Fucking smooth.

  “Cage! So funny to run into you here!”

  It was Mal. And he was with Ren. And she was wearing a brilliant lapis-colored dress that showed off way more of her chest than he’d ever dreamed of seeing. Her curves were on fire despite the cool blue color, and he wanted to grab her over his shoulder and run away with her as soon as he laid eyes on her.

  What the hell was she doing with Mal?

  Noo! his bear said. You can’t even be a plunger. Now Mal is going to plunge her!

  “Mal,” Cage said in a cool voice. If he showed the slightest hint of anger, he’d explode.

  “Let me introduce you to my date,” Mal said.

  “We know each other already,” Cage said.

  “You two know each other?” Ren asked. She looked at both of them, eyes flickering between each of them, taking in their height and frame. “Oh!” she said. “I can’t believe I missed that.... Mal, you’re a—”

  “Yes,” Cage said. “Seems he kept that secret from you. Among many other secrets.”

  Mal put a hand around Ren and moved closer to her. “So she knows? You shouldn’t be telling humans things like that.... Bad form, Cage.”

  We’ll rip his throat out! his bear roared.

  Yes, there was no rule against ripping throats out in the bear cage. He realized he’d already decided. He was already planning how he’d knock Mal flat on his back. TKO. Or maybe he’d make him submit. Would that feel better? Pull his leg so far back in the direction it shouldn’t go that he’d beg for mercy? Either worked, as long as Mal lost.

  And then Mal grinned, seeing the fire in Cage’s eyes. “Ren, if you don’t mind, it looks like our table is ready, but I’d like to discuss something with Cage. I’ll be right over.”

  Ren nodded but glared at Cage as she followed the waitress to their table.

  “I told you I’d escalate—”

  Cage cut him off. “Me and you, in the cage. If I win, you leave town for good and I never see you again.”

  “There we go,” Mal said. “I agree to your terms, but if I win, I will take things to the next level with Ren. I have quite a taste for big girls like her.”

  Cage flexed his chest, and he felt veins bulging in his neck. It took every ounce of strength to not punch him in the face right then.

  “Ren can do what she wants,” Cage said. “And if you force yourself—”

  Mal laughed. “As if I’ve ever needed to use force to get a woman. Anyway, we can fight, but it has to be the championship match. I want my championship win against you, not just some one-off fight. So you join the league, and we both work our way up the brackets. I trust we’ll see each other in the final match.”

  “I know I’ll be there,” Cage said. “If you’re too weak to work your way up the bracket and get eliminated before you fight me, then you lose and leave town.”

  “Won’t happen, so deal,” Mal said.

  “And until we fight,” Cage said, “stay away from Ren.”

  Mal nodded. “So, shall I dump her right now? She got all prettied up for this date.... Wouldn’t that just crush her?”

  Cage gritted his teeth. “Fine. Finish the fu
cking date, but you both go home alone, and find a reason to let her down easy in the next few days.”

  CHAPTER 12

  REN

  Why did Cage have to show up here? Looking hot too. She felt like Mal was the right guy for her, logically at least. In her gut though, or maybe it was her heart, something stirred for Cage in a way she didn’t feel for Mal.

  When Mal came back, something had changed. He was still perfectly charming, and they had a good time, but it was as if a light had gone out.

  Did she have feelings for Cage, real feelings? Not a stupid crush, but something more? How totally dumb was it to pursue those feelings and give up a good guy right in front of her?

  She pushed the thoughts of Cage to the periphery and lost herself in Mal’s beautiful blue eyes.

  She told him all about how she had confronted Andrea, and he smiled and encouraged her.

  “Don’t let off her,” he said. “Don’t start to feel sorry for her and relent. She’ll sense weakness and be all over you again.”

  Ren listened and internalized the advice, and to her disappointment—or was it just maybe relief?—Mal kissed her on the cheek after dinner and they went their separate ways. When she asked about meeting him again, he gave a noncommittal answer. She’d seen him looking at her body, and she sensed something was there...so why had things fizzled out? Had Cage said something?

  ***

  On Sunday Ren planned to just chill out with some Netflix, maybe binge watch some garbage show and let her feelings sort themselves out.

  Then, at around five, she got a text from Mal.

  Brewhaus at 6pm

  It was kind of cryptic, but it got her up and dressed and ready to go faster than she thought possible.

  She didn’t look as good as she had the night before, but she’d also cooled off a bit on Mal. She felt like she was in some kind of flux state between Cage and Mal, and things could go either way. Maybe seeing Mal again would resolve things for her and she’d be all doe-eyed for him again, or maybe she’d just not feel it when she saw him and Cage would get in her head again.

  She stepped into the bar, and Mal was laughing with his hand on some tall woman in a black skirt and slutty tank top.

  “Ren!” he said. “This is Stacey.” He squeezed Stacey’s waist and then nodded to another woman, equally stunning. “And this is Maya.”

  Ren raised her eyebrows. “So,” she said, the flux state totally collapsing and Mal’s spell breaking apart before her eyes, “why did you text me, exactly?”

  “Oh,” he said, “I don’t know. Three seems like a good number, doesn’t it?”

  “There’s four of us,” Ren said.

  “I meant three women,” Mal said. Stacey and Maya giggled.

  “Why not three men and one woman?” Ren asked. She felt anger flaring up in her. She wasn’t feeling much for Mal...but she still felt something. And he was being a total fucking jerk, right to her face.

  “I’m not into men,” Mal said. “Or did you mean you?”

  “I don’t know what I meant,” Ren said, “but I’m going to go. I don’t really feel like drinking anything.”

  “Hmm,” Mal said, “that’s too bad.” He grabbed Maya up beside him. “I’ll have to use these two wing girls to pull in a new third girl then.”

  “Good luck with that,” Ren said, her fists squeezing into tight balls. She didn’t want him to see that she was angry, but she caught him looking down at her fists.

  “Well,” Mal said, “do keep in touch.”

  “Sure,” Ren said. She had no intention of talking to him again.

  ***

  Monday came, and she had to go to work. She’d looked forward to getting back to work with Andrea defanged, but now the whole thing just felt like a mess. She’d seriously blackmailed Andrea—at Mal’s insistence. Was that really a good idea? Was Andrea really just going to leave her alone now? What about Chad? She’d poked the hornet’s nest with Mal on her shoulder—complete with devil horns and a pitchfork—and now if the hornets came to sting, she’d be alone with no one to help or advise her.

  Mal’s advice had seemed so good, and right while she was still transfixed by him, but now that she’d realized what a total dick he was, it all seemed tainted and stupid. And Ren felt like an idiot for buying into it.

  When she walked in, Andrea was already there. That was odd, because Andrea was chronically late. Had she ever been to work on time?

  As soon as Andrea saw Ren, she looked down and avoided eye contact. Well, that was to be expected, wasn’t it?

  Ren spent most of her morning buried in her monitor. Emails tended to pile up over the weekend, and Ren liked to knock a big chunk of them out first thing in the week while she still had the energy. There was a curious amount of people shuffling around near Andrea’s office, and people Ren didn’t recognize kept going into Andrea’s office and shutting the door.

  They could be customers, Ren told herself. Just ones she’d never seen. Had Andrea worked over the weekend and pulled in a lot of new accounts? About an hour before lunch, the flurry of footsteps died down, and Ren forgot about it.

  She’d packed her lunch, a sandwich with the kind of mayonnaise she liked and cheese and meat. She was going to eat it in the break room too. If she’d had to sink to blackmail, she was at least going to benefit from it. She’d earned the break room and her sandwiches back.

  She sat down to eat and spotted Andrea on the other side of the room, five or six tables away, pecking at a salad. When she spotted Ren, she looked down and continued eating. After a tiny delay, maybe twenty seconds, Andrea looked at her watch and rushed out. So she was afraid to be in the same room as Ren? Fine.

  Sean and Kristen, two programmers Ren got along with well, sat down with her. She hadn’t talked to them in ages, and she realized that losing the break room had nearly lost her two friends. They caught up and joked, and the laughter had her feeling better by the time lunch was over.

  She’d ignore Andrea. It had been wrong to blackmail her—to kick her in the balls—but she had never planned to reveal the affair. It was an idle threat.

  Before Ren could sit back down, one of the women in pantsuits who had been in Andrea’s office earlier in the day stopped her. “You’re Ren?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Sandra, from HR. Can you please come with me?”

  She was taken into a small conference room. A neutral space, Ren thought, heart pounding. Andrea was seated already, and Greg was there. Shit.

  Sandra threw out some HR language that slipped right off Ren’s ears. She didn’t hear it, because she knew what was coming. After about a minute, the blow finally landed.

  “...so given that we cannot tolerate a hostile work environment, and given that you chose to circumvent HR and take justice into your own hands—so to speak—we have no real choice but to ask you to resign.”

  “I’m fired?” Ren asked in shock.

  “No,” Sandra said. “We are offering you the chance to resign with three months’ pay.”

  Kick life in the balls, she heard Mal’s voice rasp into her ear.

  Shut. Up.

  “If I don’t chose to resign?” Ren asked.

  A brief whisper from Greg, and then more HR jargon spewed from Sandra’s mouth. She could stay, but they’d push for termination. She’d likely be gone in less than three months, and with no good references or severance pay. A black hole on her resume.

  “Okay,” Ren said. “I resign then. Do you want two weeks’ notice?”

  “No,” Greg said. “You can pack your things, and we’ll make this your last day.”

  Ren nodded, and then she looked at Andrea and said, “Andrea, I’m really sorry. I was being truly petty.”

  Andrea looked down.

  She went to her office and began packing her things. She said her goodbyes to people she’d gotten along with, and Andrea was thankfully nowhere to be seen.

  When Ren finally took her last step outside the office, she let ou
t a long breath. She realized she felt relieved. She wasn’t glad she had lost her job. Not at all. On the other hand, she hadn’t looked forward to living with blackmail. She had dreaded the hostile looks from Andrea and avoiding Chad and Andrea as much as possible. She realized it would have eaten slowly away at her until she became like Mal. He’d been using her, she realized, and she didn’t want to be that kind of person.