Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  “Well I’ll be,” I say as I take a look at the old pictures of his dad in the ring.

  “He was just an amateur boxer, but he was proud of those championship titles,” he says. Then he frowns as he puts up his phone. “Are you really working at a woman’s gym now?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble as he unhooks our cars.

  “So… what is this, like a company vehicle or something?” he asks as he examines the pink Volkswagen.

  I laugh. “No, but I might start telling people that. After my wife left, that’s all I got in the divorce.”

  “That’s cold man,” he says.

  “You have no idea,” I say.

  “All right, your car should be good. Give it a go,” he says.

  I hop in the driver’s seat, and it cranks. Thank God. The geeky lawyer guy knew how to get my car started, and I couldn’t even find the damn engine. I smile at him, “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem,” he says and starts to head to his car.

  “Hey,” I say, “I’ll see you next week.”

  He smiles again. “Great!”

  I roll my eyes and pull out of the parking lot. I guess for my first AA meeting, it wasn’t so bad.

  35

  Alex was cool enough to let me sit down in her office to go over some paperwork for the self-defense courses I’ve been teaching. My class size has grown… like, a lot. All of the soccer-mom types at the gym have pretty much signed up, and now I’m teaching the course three times a week so that I have room. Alex has also moved me into a larger room to teach the course. I have so much paperwork to go over because, like an idiot, I thought it would be a good idea to do a sort of questionnaire for the women to fill out –a sort of “what would you like to learn” bullshit that I now have to actually sit through and read. Total, there are seventy –that’s right –seventy women. They divide themselves up throughout the week which means every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I teach a class of about twenty-three or twenty four women. That’s a lot of people for a self-defense course.

  Today, I’ll be doing a night class like I do on Wednesday’s. Monday and Friday I do a day-course. We’re in our third lesson, so the women are starting to feel pretty confident with what I am teaching them. Some of them are even talking about taking up boxing now –for fun, of course, because none of these mommy-types would do well with actual boxing. It has apparently been mentioned to Alex, so she’s talking about having me do a beginner’s boxing course on Thursday afternoons which, apparently, will come with a pay raise if enough women sign up for it.

  This is all to the dismay of the actual boxers at the gym –Laurel and her goonies. They can’t stand the fact that the mommies all love me; same goes for most of the other professional athletes who come here. It’s an on-going problem for both me and Alex; half of her clientele are professional, female fighters while about 25% are female athletes in other arenas. It’s the 25% membership of rich soccer-mom types that are keeping me from getting fired, though. Eventually I’m going to have to try to win over the other 75% of the women, but for now I’m focusing on the rich stay at home moms.

  Once I’ve had a chance to look over my paperwork and print off some fliers, I slip out into the main area of the gym where I see Laurel and her girls all crowded around a television near the boxing ring. My instincts tell me to walk the other way, but I can’t help myself. “What are you ladies watching?” I say in the friendliest tone I can muster; I’m desperate to hold onto this job, so despite constantly being ragged on I keep trying to win this group over.

  Britany, who is perhaps the only woman of the group who hates me more than Laurel does, spins around and glares at me. Then she smiles; I don’t think I like that smile –it’s haunting. I know immediately that she’s up to something, “Oh, we’re watching a boxing match.”

  “Oh?” I question.

  “Yeah, why don’t you join us?” she teases.

  “Knock it off, Britany,” the smallest woman of the group, jabs her in the side.

  I glance over their shoulders and I can see that they’re watching a Pay-per-view match of Donte and some up-and-coming boxer. I cringe, and Britany laughs. “You fought Donte, right?” she jokes, knowing damn well that my fight with Donte is what ruined my career.

  “Yeah, twice,” I say.

  “Britany, stop,” Eleanor says again and rolls her eyes. “I swear, you’re such a bitch.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Whatever,” I say and then play coy, “hey, ladies, in case any of you are interested, I’m doing a seminar on self-defense later this month. All of my classes are going to be attending.”

  “Yeah, because we are the ones who need self-defense training,” Britany says with an eye-roll.

  “It’s not a training course I’m inviting you to,” I say, “it’s a seminar. I’m only inviting you because I thought maybe one of you might actually have something to say on the matter to women who are not quite as equipped at you all are.” I throw a couple of fliers down by the television and storm off.

  I’m really getting sick and tired of these women! Who do they think they are? Geeze, I say one thing that gets blown out of proportion, and all of a sudden they all think I’m some woman-hater. Me and big fucking mouth!

  I check my watch; it’s time for my night course. I head to the large, open room where I teach my courses now. There are mirrors alongside one of the walls that allow my ladies to check their stances and see anything I demonstrate for them from various angles. “Hello ladies,” I say as I enter into the room that is already full of women.

  “Hello, Jonathan,” they all sing back to me.

  I can see that there are two new women in the group, and I’m almost positive they don’t attend the gym –or that they haven’t before. I assume that they’re new members –probably drug here by one of the soccer mom’s. I’m really surprised about how popular this course has gotten. I start setting up and tell the women to start stretching without me; one of the mom’s comes up to me while I’m dragging out one of the dummies we practice one. A younger girl, one of the newbies, is standing with her; they look alike, so I assume it’s her daughter. “Hey Andrea,” I say and pray that that is actually her name; it’s hard remembering this many women’s names.

  “Hey Jonathan,” she says, not correcting me, so I mentally allow myself to celebrate now screwing up. “I wanted to introduce you to my daughter,” the girl blushes and smiles brightly at me. I guess that she’s probably sixteen or so. “She’s not a member here, but I got permission from Alex to bring her to your class, well, she said so long as it was okay with you. I’ve just been really impressed with what all I’ve learned here, and I’d love for my daughter to be better equipped to defend herself, you know?”

  I smile, “Of course. I don’t see a problem with it. What’s your name?”

  “Gabriella,” she says, and I cringe slightly. Damn it, now I’m going to think of Gabe every time I look at the kid. It’s a little endearing and all, but it’s kind of rough on me at the same time.

  We get on with the class, and I can’t help but to show some special treatment to Gabriella. I use the excuse that I want her to get caught up, but really it’s because she’s sort of Gabe’s name sake. Plus, she’s a kid. Once the class is over, and it was a good class mind you, Andrea and Gabriella come up to me afterwards. Gabriella gives me a hug, which I got to say, I did not expect. She runs out of the room, chatting it up with another woman in the class who was apparently her aunt. Andrea smiles at me, “Thank you so much for letting her come,” she says, and there is something off about the way she’s acting. She seems sad.

  “Is something wrong?” I pry.

  “No, it’s just, I wish she had learned this sort of thing a long time ago,” she says, and I can tell there’s more to this story. Instead of responding, I wait in silence. The silence gets her, and she continues, “My daughter was raped last year in the parking lot at her high school,” she says and then cringes slightly.

  That really pis
ses me off. I stare at Andrea for a minute, and I’m sure she can see the hate fuming around me. “Raped?” I hiss.

  “When she found out I was taking this class, she begged me to take her. I’m glad Alex was okay with it, because I think she’ll want to come back next week with me. I should have signed her up for something like this a long time.” Andrea hugs me and then heads out of the room like she did not just shatter my very existence.

  Suddenly I have an idea. I head straight to Alex’s office, hoping she hasn’t left for the night. As luck would have it, she was just locking up her office. “Alex, you got a minute?” I call out before she can dart down the hall.

  She pauses and crosses her arms, waiting for me to catch up to her. “I heard your class tonight went well,” she says.

  “I have an idea I want to run by you,” I say.

  She sighs slightly, clearly ready to go home, but she opens her office back up and leads me inside. We sit down around her desk, and I lay it on her. “What would you think about doing a free event here at the gym? Or maybe not even free –we could do a fundraiser for the Battered Women’s House. It would be a self-defense course open to non-gym members –for the general public. I have some guys who would probably be willing to volunteer to help me teach. It would be great publicity for the gym, and we could-”

  “I like it,” Alex said before I could even finish. She smiles, “This gym could stand to do a little something to give back to the community, and since we have a reputation for training up women fighter’s a fundraiser for the Battered Women’s House is a great idea. Plus, we’d be giving our local ladies an opportunity for an affordable self-defense course.”

  “Yeah,” I say, “we could even make it an annual event. We could sell t-shirts and merchandise to raise some extra cash for the event too.”

  “We could even talk to the city about setting up a marathon run too,” Alex adds, “women in this city love that shit. A marathon and all day training courses.” Alex has this big smile on her face. “Would you be willing to put something like that together?”

  “I can totally do that,” I say.

  She smiles, “You are quite the pleasant surprise, Mr. Trial. Okay, get to work. I want you to run the idea by your seminar class to see if people would be interested, though. So, get on it.”

  Want More? Click Here To Continue Reading Fighting For Love Round 6

  36

  Bitches! Every last one of them! I swear, I’m going to sock one of them in the face one of these days. I am really tired of dealing with these damn female boxers. Laurel and her group of psychopaths left a giant ass mess in the women’s locker room, knowing damn well it’s my job to clean it up. I’m not talking a little bit of trash –I’m talking an intentional mess, and I know damn well it was them.

  Shampoo on the mirrors –really? Fuck them! And candy wrapper and spilt protein shakes –who drinks protein shakes in the locker room? These women, apparently! I’m going to have to mop all this shit up. My shoulders drop when I drag the mop bucket into the locker room, and I realize just how big of a mess it is. I ditch the mop bucket to clean up the wrappers and paper towels and… how, dear God, no, fucking tampons! Dirty tampons!

  I’m going to pass out. “Hold on,” I hear Laurel’s voice behind me; I thought she was already gone. “Yeah, yeah,” her voice sings, “I know, I’ll be there tonight, don’t worry. I just left my purse at the gym,” she turns the corner, and I realize she’s on the phone. She sees I’m in the locker room and rolls her eyes, but then she takes a look around. “I got to call you back,” she hangs up the phone, and I let her have it.

  “You’re a real classy girl, you know that? You and your fucking friends,” I grit my teeth, “I’m going to be here for hours cleaning all this shit up!”

  So much for my AA meeting tonight. I’m definitely going to miss it. Laurel looks around; she seems a little disgusted. “I didn’t know they did this.”

  “Sure,” I say and turn around to continue picking up trash, “I’m sure you had nothing to do with this. Sweet and innocent Laurel, right?”

  “I swear, I didn’t,” she says as she heads to her locker to locate her purse. “I’m sure Britany had something to do with it, though, but I’m not sure. You shouldn’t just outright assume that I-“

  I slam the bag of trash down, “I shouldn’t assume? Really? You have given me hell since day one, and you tried to get me fired once already! Fuck you!”

  Laurel throws her purse down on the bench between the lockers and then does another look around. “This is pretty low, I’ll admit,” she says and looks at the clock on her phone. She comes over to me, grabs the bag of trash, and heads towards the stalls where the women had dumped the dirty tampons. She grabs a paper towel and proceeds to throw the dirty tampons away for me. Once she’s done with that, she tosses the trash bag my way and washes her hands. “I can’t make you clean that up, I guess,” she grumbles. “That was just a bitch move.”

  “What’s your problem with me? I mean, really?” I question.

  She tosses some paper towels in the trash after drying her hands and then puts her hands on her hips. “Really? You really need to ask that? Okay, how about your comments about female fighters, for one-”

  “That was taken out of context!”

  “You’re a creepy guy who flirts with drunk women at a bar.”

  “You invited me back to your apartment!”

  “Then when I ask you to not go blabbing your mouth about it,” she grist her teeth, “you tell every last one of my friends!”

  That one’s on me, I suppose, but I’m not about willing to admit defeat. “I can’t stand you!” I hiss.

  She rolls her eyes, “Fine, next time Britany decides to leave her nasty tampons lying around, you can clean it up!”

  “Fuck you and fuck Britany!” I shout. “God! I swear! I took this job to try to get my life back on track, and you bitches are making it damn near impossible! This shit is unreal!”

  Laurel goes and grabs her purse, “I’m sorry the little rich boy got his feelings hurt when he threw his life out the window. There is no one to blame but yourself, Jonathan. You did this to yourself. You can be mad at me all you want, but that’s not going to change a damn thing.” She heads out the door, grumbling about how she’s going to be late for something.

  I shake my head and get back to work. I guess I could have thanked her for cleaning up the tampons instead of going off on her. I spend the next two hours cleaning up the mess left behind. I missed my AA meeting, and I feel kind of bad about that. I hope Bobby doesn’t think I didn’t show because of him; he seemed like a nice guy. I drag myself back home to Tyler’s apartment and pass out on the couch, wishing I had my own bed to sleep in.

  37

  I pull up to Marty’s home, and I feel so jealous. It’s in this nice gated community; sure, it’s nothing like the mansion I had lived in, but it’s still a pretty awesome set up. I wonder if this is how Tyler always felt when he would come hang out with us? It’s probably just me. I can be really petty at times. I haven’t been to Marty’s in a while, but I’m so ready to spend an evening somewhere other than Tyler’s sketchy neighborhood.

  Tyler and I pile out of the pink Volkswagen and walk up the cobblestone driveway. The front door opens up into this nice courtyard with a miniature vineyard-looking décor. “Whazzup, fellas?” Marty calls out when he opens the door and immediately hands Tyler a beer. Assholes know I’m trying to get sober…

  I can smell the ribs he’s got on the grill, and my stomach growls. “I’m starving,” I say as Marty leads us into the courtyard where he’s grilling out.

  “Hey, you want a soda or a water or something?” he asks me while taking a swig of his beer.

  No, dipshit, I want a damn beer. I smile, “Yeah, I could go for a soda.”

  He disappears inside for a minute and returns with a Coke. Tyler is already on his second beer before Marty returns, and I feel like punching him in the back of the head. Marty’s girl
friend is out of town for the week; some friend of hers is getting married. It struck me as odd that Marty wasn’t going with her, but apparently there had been a no date rule for this tiny little shindig in the mountains. There was only about five or six people outside of family who had been invited to the private event, so Marty had gotten the boot. Marty, the social butterfly, can’t stand to spend an evening by himself –so he had invited Tyler and me over for a cookout.

  I won’t complain. Tyler and I have been eating nothing but pizza and peanut butter sandwiches all week. An old fashion grill-out is just what I need right now. “So your girl really didn’t take you to the wedding?” I ask as I sip on my stupid ass soda. “You sure she’s not lying to you and just didn’t want to embarrass herself when she showed up with you as a date?”

  “Shut up, man,” he says, but he laughs. He looks at Tyler, “heard you’re recently single.”

  “Yeah, thank God,” he says, “Why didn’t either of you tell me that girl was crazy?”

  “Would you have listened?” Marty asks.

  “She put out.”

  “So no, then?” Marty laughs; I wonder how much he had to drink before we got here?

  I shake my head as I listen to the two of them go back and forth. Eventually I am able to steer the conversation away from their girlfriends or lack thereof; I bring up the gym. “So,” I say, “the boss is having me set up this fundraiser for the Battered Women’s House. We’re going to be teaching some self-defense courses. The thing is, I need some trainers willing to volunteer their time-”

  “Awe, hell, man,” Marty groans, “you serious?”

  “He’s already got me coming to speak at his seminar,” Tyler gives Marty a friendly punch in the arm, “wouldn’t this be good publicity for you anyways? Your manager was telling you to get involved in something. Boxer have got a rep for being abusive, so raising money for the Battered Women’s House will surely keep you out of that category.”