by Lane Hart
"Oh, hey, sweetie. You okay?" he asks.
I try and balance on my own two feet without assistance, now just a little wobbly. "Yeah, fine."
"Good," he says before heading to the gym floor.
"Hey, Dad!" I call out and jog to catch up to him. "Um, you know prom is this weekend and I wasn't sure I was going to go?"
"Yeah."
"Well, um, Jude offered to take me-"
"What?" he exclaims, coming to a dead halt. "Jude? No. He's too old for you," he says before turning around and walking away.
Oh hell no.
"This might be my only opportunity to go with a date. Otherwise, I'll be sitting home alone, making myself sick on raw cookie dough while all my friends have the time of their lives."
"I'm sure you can find someone else to go with," he says, dismissing me and turning to leave again. I latch onto his arm with both of my hands to prevent his escape.
"Daddy, please! Do you really want the dress you paid four hundred dollars for to go to waste?" I ask.
"You can just take it back," he replies with a nonchalant shrug, upping my irritation.
"No, I can't! It's already been taken in and hemmed for my short ass-"
"Language," he warns.
"Please! I'll do anything."
"Anything, huh?" he asks, rubbing his chin in thought. "Even cancel your beach trip?"
I suck in a breath. He can't be serious. I know he's been upset at the idea of me going off with just my friends for a week, but that's a rite of passage after graduation! No adults allowed before we all go our separate ways to college. I've been looking forward to that prospect of freedom for so long, I don't want to give it up.
But for one night with Jude Malone? So worth it. Trying, I can't even imagine how amazing he'll look in a suit. I've seen him always dressed in sweats or shorts almost every day for the past seven years. I have my own spank bank of memories of him in nothing but those very thin, nylon shorts.
Jude could be the poster boy for Men's Health magazine. The fighter doesn't have a single inch of fat on his six-foot tall frame. Since he's a natural middleweight who fights at welterweight to avoid having to officially fight his brother, he's lean and sleek. He works his ass off for six or more hours a day in the gym, so he keeps his jet black hair that matches his warm, dark chocolate eyes shaved close to the scalp for convenience sake since he's constantly sweating. Usually there's a day or more worth of dark stubble along his angular jaw that takes away from his natural pretty boy perfection to make him look ruggedly handsome. If there's a sexy gene the Malone brothers have it in spades.
So while I hate the idea of all his finely sculpted muscles being covered up, I bet he'll look incredible dressed up in a suit fancy enough to accentuate just how freaking gorgeous he is.
"Fine," I say sighing in resignation. "I won't go to the beach."
"Pleasure doing business with you, sweetie," my dad says with a smile and a pat on my shoulder. "You can go to the prom with Jude, but that’s it. Nothing else. He’s too old for you. Oh, and I expect you to help out here a few hours every day after school and several days a week during the summer!"
"I will! Thank you, Daddy!" After a supersonic squeal only the neighborhood dogs can hear, I pull out my phone to call my bestie.
"What did Ryder do now?" Brayden groans in greeting, already anticipating my bitching about the prick I now despise more than Miley Cyrus, which is really saying something.
"Screw Ryder. Guess who I'm going to prom with."
"You finally found a date?"
"Yep. Jude Malone asked me to go with him."
Her gasp is clear through the line. "You're kidding! Are you sure you didn't dream that shit up? Did you just wake up from a nap?"
"No, it really happened, and after some begging, my dad actually agreed."
"Wow," she says dreamily. "And you've only been crushing on him for like forever."
Yeah, crushing on a man who can walk past me three times a day and never look at me, much less speak a word to me unless I initiate a conversation, which I'm rarely able to accomplish. Just being in his general vicinity causes me to forget all words in the English language except for "um" and "ah." So, yes, one night with his undivided attention is both scary as shit and a ridiculous fantasy come true.
"Yeah, but there was one condition. I had to give up the beach trip."
"No, Sadie!" Brayden exclaims. "You can't! Your fourth of the condo is already paid for, non-refundable."
"That was the only way I could convince my dad to let me go with a twenty-one-year-old to the prom."
"A ridiculously hot twenty-one-year-old," she adds, and I can't help my smile. "Wait. Don't you have to turn in a form, so the school can run a background check? You know, since he's not a student but a grown ass man?"
"Shit!" I exclaim. "I hope it's not too late. I'll check with the front office tomorrow."
"Yeah, I think I heard Cassie say she had to turn in a copy of her man Ross's driver's license and all, so they can make sure he's not a child molester."
"Maybe my dad has a copy, so I won't have to ask Jude."
"Hopefully he doesn't and that'll give you a reason to call him," she points out.
"Nah, I don't want to bother him."
"Yeah, save it until you can get him hot and bothered Saturday night." She laughs.
"Brayden!" I exclaim. "That's definitely not going to happen."
"Sadie, prom is just an acronym for Please Ride On Me. When guys ask girls to prom it's for that sole purpose. They're not saying, 'Will you go to the prom with me?' They're asking 'Will you please ride my cock?' They deal with the suits and shit just to get what they want at the end of the night. Therefore, if Jude is like every other man on the planet, he won't turn down a chance to get fucked, or at least sucked, after he sees you in your dress, and he's probably expecting it."
"Oh. My. God. You didn't just say that."
"It's true. Young or old it's what they all want."
"Cynical much?" I ask. "Just because Ryder and Graham only think with their dicks doesn't mean every other guy does the same."
In fact, except at fights when cage cunts approach him, I've never seen Jude with a woman. He spends all of his time here, working up a sweat and looking mouthwatering while doing it. I wish he wanted me, but other than quick and courteous hellos, he's never noticed me.
Until tonight.
"So you're back in on the limo with us?" she asks.
"Yes!"
"Ryder is going to shit himself when he sees you with Jude, and it's going to be awesome!"
"I was so excited I didn't even think about that added benefit."
"Just wait, I'll bet you fifty bucks Ryder begs you to take him back before the end of prom night."
"And I'll double your bet that I'll tell him to go fuck himself."
…
Jude
"Yo, Jude!" my brother Jax yells across the gym to get my attention before I walk into the locker room.
I swipe at my dripping wet face with the towel hanging around my neck while I wait for him to come to me, too tired to cross the room again.
"What's this I hear about you fighting Linc motherfucking Abrams?" he asks with a punch to my shoulder.
"Temporary insanity," I respond. "But now that I signed that shit in my blood, I'm locked into this death match."
My older brother, a slightly bigger mirror image of myself, gives me a wide smile. If I didn’t have to constantly starve myself to make the unnatural weight of one-hundred and seventy pounds I’d easily bulk to his size or larger within days. The reason I don’t? I’ll never be good enough to beat Jax or probably any of the guys he fights.
I wait for him to tell me I'm an idiot.
"That's awesome!" Jax exclaims at my news, rather than making a disapproving remark.
"Yeah, it'll be real awesome if you and Page will visit me when I end up in the hospital. Just remember tulips are my fav."
"What the hell are you ta
lking about? That bastard's reign is finally coming to an end, and thank fuck! He's been gaining on my knockout record."
"Yeah, it's really going to suck when I get knocked the hell out in the first round."
"That's not going to happen," Jax says, to which I just raise my eyebrow skeptically. "It won't! You've got this, Jude. Just...don't let him hit you."
"Huh. You don't say?" I tease him while rubbing my scruffy, sweaty chin thoughtfully. "What a completely foreign fighting concept! Why hasn't anyone ever thought of that shit before now? I think you've missed your calling as a coach, bro."
"Kiss my ass."
"No, please, give me some more of your sage advice. Maybe I should get something to write with so I can take notes," I say, patting the sides of my shorts and looking around for my imaginary pen and paper. "Let me see if I can guess what you'll suggest next. Should I try and maybe hit him, or would that be too fucking risky?"
"I'm about to knock some of the smartass out of you," Jax replies. "But seriously, you and I are going to throw down in here every damn day. We're gonna hit this shit hard, and you're gonna come home with a belt."
"Sure. I can't wait to hear more about this whole don’t-let-him-hit-you plan of yours." I keep joking with him, but I'm actually grateful that Jax at least has confidence in me, even if I don't have any in myself.
"Hey, guys," Sadie says when she wanders up.
"Hey, Sadie. How's it going?" I ask.
"Sadie Hawkins," Jax says in greeting, patting the top of her head that's more than a foot shorter than the two of ours. "Have you already stopped growing? ‘Cause I'm not sure if it ever started."
"Ha-ha, Jax," she replies. "Your old ass hasn't retired yet?"
I laugh at the expression of grumpy surprise on Jax's scrunched up face.
"I'm not even thirty yet!" he scoffs indignantly when he finally recovers.
"Jax is gonna take up coaching with your dad when he retires from the cage. His latest wisdom is, wait for it - don't let him hit you."
Without missing a beat Sadie whistles. "Ooh, that's good stuff. Maybe we should include that incredible tidbit in next month's newsletter, or is it a top secret Malone brother’s only training strategy?" she asks with a smile.
"Screw you guys. I'm going home," Jax grumbles, making us laugh at his ridiculous Cartman impression.
"So, my dad said yes," Sadie tells me once my brother is out of sight.
"Um, okay. What was the question?" I ask in confusion.
"Prom..." she says softly, her smile slipping from her face.
"Oh, yeah! See, I told you he would cave." Fuck. I'd been so hung up on trying to figure out how to survive the fight that I'd forgotten the other unfortunate part of the deal. I glance around us, thankful that none of the other fighters are within earshot.
"So the limo's picking everyone up at my house at six-thirty Saturday night."
"Okay. I'll, uh, be there," I agree. "Shit. I'm supposed to dress up, right? Do I need to buy a tux or something?"
"Yeah, I mean, most guys wear tuxes, but you don't have to..."
"Where do they sell them?" I ask. My closet consists of sweats, hoodies, jeans, and t-shirts with maybe one pair of khakis. That's as dressed up as I get.
"I'm pretty sure the place where I bought my dress has them, Carmen's, over on Fenton Street."
"Sure, I know the place. I'll go by and see about getting one, I guess," I tell her. I had no idea proms were such a pain in the ass.
"Awesome! Thanks, Jude."
This time it really is a drop of sweat running down my spine, so I know I hadn't imagined that shit. I just need a damn shower.
Chapter Three
Sadie
A few minutes before two Saturday afternoon I walk into The Cutting Edge salon for my prom appointment I scheduled months ago. After checking in with the receptionist, I take a seat in the waiting area and pull out my phone to text Brayden one final time to see if I should wear my hair up or down. She immediately sends back "Up”. Yeah, I agree. Up is the only way I can contain my frizzy ass hair.
"Sadie?" a young stylist calls my name and I jump up, ready to get this over with. I'm so freaking excited about seeing Jude tonight I could do cartwheels.
"Hi, I'm Jessica and I'll be taking care of you today," the peppy woman with long blonde hair I’m envious of says in greeting. "So you're getting all dolled up for prom?" she asks, leading me to the salon chair and fastening a black drape around my neck.
"Yeah. Do you think you can tame my horrendous mane for this updo?" I ask, showing her one of the pictures I'd found on the Internet and saved on my phone as an example.
"Sure, but have you ever tried coloring yours? It's all natural, right?" she asks, trying to run her fingers through my tangles. "Or a smoothing treatment?"
"Um, no."
Raised by a MMA coach with my mother living miles away throughout my teen years, I haven't ever really done any of the girly things my friends do like change hairstyles, dress more feminine, or even use makeup. I just figure it's a lost cause.
"If you'll trust me, I can give you a complete makeover. You won’t even recognize yourself and it’ll be so much easier to manage.”
"Really?" I ask with a hopeful smile.
"Yeah. And if you still want the updo after we’re done, we can do it then. So what do you say? I can do your manicure and pedicure while the color and smoothing cream set, and then your makeup when we’re finished."
Eyeing the wild mess in the mirror, I know I want a change, a new me, and I want to look nice tonight. My one and only night with Jude Malone. "Let's do it," I tell the stylist with a smile.
"Great! Now what about waxing? Are you all set or do you need any touching up?"
There's no chance in hell that Jude or anyone else will see my bikini area tonight, but summer is here, and I'll be around our backyard pool with friends and guys from the gym basically every day from now on. Might as well get the unpleasantness over with.
"I think I'd like to go with a Brazilian."
"Definitely, because when we get finished with everything else, you're going to want to be prepared for anything," she says with a smile and a wink.
Jessica's extremely nice and with our casual conversation, time flies by. I get her to do French tips on my fingernails, and paint my toes a shimmering dark blue to contrast with my sky blue dress. After that the woman works some serious magic with full coverage makeup, lash lengthening mascara and thick lip liner, too.
When I look at my phone on the way out of the salon and see it's almost six o'clock, I freak the hell out and run to my car. My extreme makeover took longer than expected, so now I have less than half an hour to get home, get my dress on, and figure out how to put in the contacts that I have stored away in my bathroom cabinet but have never actually used. Tonight I'm gonna lose my dorky glasses for the first time ever.
…
Jude
I'm almost to my truck and in the clear when Jax's black 4Runner pulls up in the driveway, blocking me in. Shit.
I've dealt with my dad's harassment for two days and now I'll have to listen to Jax's. I hear my brother's laugh before he even gets out of the car. Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the side of the SUV where my beautiful sister-in-law and adorable nephew are instead.
"Hey, Page. How's my little X-man?" I ask, heading over to where she's unbuckling Xavier from his car seat.
"He's jacked up on gummy bears and practically bouncing off the walls," she responds with a glare in her husband's direction like he's to blame.
"Ju-ju!" Xavier squeals, looking like my brother’s tiny mini-me, and reaching in my direction with grabby fists. I'm surprised they aren't already taped up from Jax teaching him to fight. He just turned a year old, so maybe Jax will hold off his training for just a few more years.
"Oh no," Page says, hefting the little man up on her hip and refusing to let me have him. "We can't let you get Uncle Jude's tux all sticky and dirty before...before he goes off...to
prom," she sputters the words through her giggles.
"Shut your mouth and hand him over," I order her. She complies, but only so she can bend over at the waist, laughing before Jax joins in with her.
"Nice monkey suit, bro." Jax chuckles and slaps my back. "We wanted to come by and see you off. Oh, and see if you need any of Xavier’s diapers or bottles, you know, in case your date gets cranky."
Page swats at Jax's chest in chastisement but then buries her face against his t-shirt, laughing right along with him.
"Hey, buddy," I say with a tickle to the dark-eyed chubster's belly, making him squeal and squirm in my arms. "You're more mature than your mommy and daddy, you know that?"
"Maybe we can arrange a playdate," Page says. "You know, with Sadie and Xavier." She giggles again, setting Jax off like a hyena.
"All right, well if you two have used up all your jokes, I need to go before I'm late. No good deed going unpunished and all that."
"We're just messing with you, Jude," Page replies, wiping away her tears of laughter. "It's really sweet that you're doing this."
"Uh-huh."
"We're going over to Coach's house too to see you two kids off," Jax informs me with a smirk.
"No, you're not," I counter. "Laugh at me all you want here, but I'm not going to listen to your shit around Sadie."
“Shit!” Xavier exclaims. It’s so damn cute I don’t even feel bad about the slip of profanity, even when he begins chanting, “Shit, shit, shit!”
"We're getting it all out of our systems now, I swear," Jax assures me, still unable to hide his smile at my expense and at his son’s new vocabulary.
"Fine, but I'll kick your ass-pen if you or your wife crack one joke," I warn, catching myself that time.
"We'll be on our best behavior," Page says, pulling out her phone. "Now let me get some pictures of you three tall, dark, and handsome guys together. You look seriously hot, Jude."
"Hey!" Jax scoffs with jealousy at her compliment, and I punch him in the ribs with my free hand, knowing he won't hit me back as long as I'm holding his son.