* * *
Robert hung up the call, his ears burning as Owen’s voicemail echoed through his phone. Robert couldn’t believe it. He’d fallen asleep.
“So, where is the superstar?”
He turned to the owner of Hord Car Company. He had specifically flown in from Greece for this meeting. Owen had missed it and recovery. Owen had never been late a day in his life. He’d been told about the sponsor meeting. He’d blown it.
What the hell had happened to him? How the hell was Robert going to fix this?
* * *
“I don’t understand,” Tegan asked, her underwear in her hand. Owen had been close to cumming, and she was just getting into the groove when he swore and gently eased her face off his dick. He was now racing around for clothes. “Did I do something?”
“No. No, not at all. It’s my fault. I’m supposed to be at the gym, doing a photo opp thing with a rich bigwig and forgot all about it. Trust me, I’m sorrier I had to stop you.”
He got in front of her and, still half-dressed, reached up to touch her face. “I’m sorry, really. Don’t think you have to rush off.”
“It’s OK. I’ll get going.”
“You don’t have to. Stay as long as you like. I’ve got no idea what time I’ll be back. But stay. If you want. Please?”
Tegan smiled. “Get going.”
“OK, OK... OK,” he said, slipping out the bedroom door. But a second later he opened the door and peeked his head through. “You’re staying, though, right?” She giggled and tossed a shoe at the door before he finally left.
She planted herself on the bed and ran a hand through her tousled hair. Naked, alone in a one-night stand’s house. Well, one night and ten percent of the morning. Did it still count as one night if it was all night? She reached down for her bag and phone. Damn, only twenty-seven percent battery. She would have to freshen up quickly and head out.
She spotted her social media notifications and a handful of missed calls and texts. Most of them from Fiona. Shit, how best to handle this? She called Fiona and nestled herself into the soft mattress, stretching as the phone rang twice before being picked up.
“Hello, you’ve reached Mother Superior Fiona, Holy soother of wanton harlots. For instant forgiveness from the sin of fornication, please say how much of a ho-bag you are.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“This ain’t America, Scarlet Woman. Confess your sin so that you may be saved!”
“I’m still at his place.”
Tegan had to hold the phone away from her ear, such was the delighted squeal booming through it.
“I knew it! You slut! I hate you! I’m going to suck the tongue out of your head, just so I can taste his dick. What was it like? Please, please, please tell me it was good? Was it great? How big is he? Is he kinky?”
“Babe...you’re gonna burst something.”
“Fuck that! My best vibrator is called Owen, bitch. I need to hear this.”
“The fact I’m still here should give you some indication.”
“I’m sorry, the number you have requested is not in our system. Please try again.”
Tegan sighed. “It was the best sex of my life. That’s all you’re getting.”
“And the truth shall set you free!”
Tegan yawned as Fiona could be heard stomping her foot, repeating the word ‘yes’.
“Well, I gotta get my stuff and head off babe. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
“Did you need me to come pick you up?”
“Ha! This wouldn’t have anything to do with wanting to see where he lives, would it?”
“How dare you!” she replied with mock outrage. “I was simply offering to aid a sister in need. I’ve even got an old wheelchair somewhere since you probably can’t walk. Now, my phone may, or may not, make an appearance; selfies at the scene of the crime may, or may not, be taken. And I may, or may not, spend a few minutes rolling around his bed smelling that aftershave...”
“You may, or may not, be sick in the head.”
“I’m Fiona. No ‘may not’ about it. Boom!”
Tegan chuckled as she got to her feet. “I’ll call you later.”
“There she was just a limpin’ down the street, singin’ Do Wa Diddy...” Fiona sang as her farewell.
Tegan hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. Time for a shower, then she’d head home. Should she write a note? Leave her number? Hell, if she wrote a note, it would be several pages long. Was she presuming too much to leave her number? That was OK, right? Not too desperate?
It was safe to say they had gone beyond the label of a one-night stand. The fact he had wanted her to stay last night proved that. The fact she did stay, without any hesitation, proved it too. Whether it was just exceptionally great sex for both of them, Tegan wasn’t sure. But right now, as she stepped into his shower for the third time since arriving here, it didn’t matter.
She checked herself in his shaving mirror. No marks. No bruises. She was sure, with the way the night went on and the more rigorous they both became, there would be some lasting memory of what they’d done. She felt a little disappointed the teeth marks she left on him were the only reminders of it. Oh well. She dried herself and put the same clothes on that she wore the night before.
She double checked her belongings and then picked up her phone to check the time. Two new missed calls from Fiona. A text message too.
Fifi: Babe, have you seen the news?
Tegan opened the web browser on her phone. Her home page was up-to-the-minute local news. Her eyes scanned the headline. The only thing she saw:
MMA STAR IN ROAD COLLISION
Tegan stared at the headline for a few seconds, repeating it over in her head, before clicking the link with a quick twitch of her thumb. She let out a slow breath as the screen came up with a very short paragraph.
Australian MMA Superstar Owen Gasnier has allegedly been involved in a two-car smash on the M5 highway. More information will be released as details are made available...
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she hissed. “That’s it? That’s the info you give?”
Tegan paced the bedroom, trying to push down the feeling of panic in her chest. It’s OK, she told herself. Calm down. You don’t know anything bad has happened. It’s a smash.
She realised she had no way of getting in contact with him. Nor he with her. They didn’t have each other’s numbers. They had swapped bodily fluids but not numbers. But why would he, even if he could? Get a grip! He was a one-night stand that’s turned into a fling. That’s all you are to him. That’s ALL he is to you. DO NOT do this to yourself. Do NOT fall for this guy. Do NOT cry.
A phone inside the apartment rang, snapping her out of her inner war, but it wasn’t her place to answer his phone. It rang out, then immediately rang again. What if it was Owen’s dad? Trying to reach him? What if he didn’t know? Either way, he would surely have Owen’s number and could reach him.
She picked up the handset. “Hello?”
A rather cheery and relieved voice replied, “Oh, thank God. You’re still there. I was hoping you would be.”
It was Owen. She blurted out in relief, “What happened? Are you OK? Did you need anything? Is that why you called?”
“Whoa... Whoa,” he said just as cheerfully. “Everything is OK. I’m fine. No one got hurt. I went too quickly through a yellow light and clipped another car. It’s what I get for rushing.”
“Are you... What? That’s it? You had a prang? The news said it was a two-car smash!”
“They always beat up the story. The only issue was I got out of the car. At first, to see if the other guy was OK. He was and wanted to forget about insurance and all that if I gave him a couple hundred bucks to fix the dent and took a picture with his girlfriend. So, we pulled over, out of traffic. One car saw it was me, so they stopped. Another car did the same. And you know how that song and dance goes.”
Tegan started to relax as his easy-going tone got to her. “So, d
id you need something from here?”
“No. I just wanted you to know I was OK.”
“You did? Really?”
“Well, I figured you might hear or see something, and you don’t have my number. I didn’t want you to worry—ah, shit I’ve got another call coming. Can you give me your number, please?”
Tegan hid the sniffle well as she rattled off, then repeated her number for him. He thanked her and hung up. Only when the line went dead, did she feel she could wipe away the small beginnings of tears. As if, because she wasn’t talking to him, it somehow made it less stupid, showing such relief that he was fine. That she had worried for nothing. Hell, that she had worried at all was confusing enough.
Her phone tinged a message, and she knew it was probably him.
Owen: I did forget to ask one thing you could do for me if possible.
Tegan: What’s that?
Owen: Stay.
* * *
Owen finished texting, then answered his phone, “Yello’?”
“What happened?” Robert snapped.
Owen rattled off an apology over being late but was stopped before he really got started. “Fuck that. With the car, I meant.”
“Oh yeah. I was rushing to get there. All good. No bad damage. No injuries. Just lots of selfies. Hence, the media crap. Traffic is moving now. I’m getting back in.”
“OK, as long as you’re on your way. This guy seems to think the reason you were late is because of this crash. And I’ve let him think it. We still have a chance to get him on board. It’s worth almost two million.”
Owen placed his forearm on the bonnet and waved to a car of yelling fans that drove past. “What have I gotta do?”
“We’ll put his logo on your shorts; that’s basic. But things like appearances at his dealerships and commercials. And of course, no scandals.”
Owen laughed. “I’ll keep my scandals to a minimum then. I’ll time them right, just for him.”
“O, I’m serious. You may think I’m a senile old fool, but we are living off the money made from fights. All our expenses come off that. Training, living, and supplies too. We need another source of income just in case these guys at the top of the business figure out that’s how to get you. I’ve kept you away from sponsors as most of them are leeches wanting to cash in or sharks that treat fighters like puppets to dance on strings. But the time has come. It’s a simple deal based on your popularity. And you don’t have to do anything demeaning or that goes against your values. Number one contender match is in less than four months. We need this. So, get over here and meet the man so we can get the ball rolling.”
Owen sighed. His dad made too much sense to ignore. “On my way.”
* * *
The drive over wasn’t long. Hell, he probably could’ve made it in less than fifteen minutes given the way he was driving before the bump. Or he could’ve been wrapped around a light post. Nothing was worth dying over.
C’mon. Get your head on straight. Focus had never been his problem. He wanted something; he got it. But never in a spoiled, selfish way. He worked at it, broke down its defences, and claimed victory. Whether it was an opponent or anything else in life. There was nothing he wanted more than the title. If his dad thought this was the best way to get there, with his integrity intact, Owen was all for it. So, he had to shake a few hands, pose for a few pictures. Big deal. The fact he hated it wasn’t the point.
People were out there struggling to make ends meet. Like Con from last night. Those were the real fans. The ones that had nothing to offer Owen except thanking him for a brief moment of his time to chat. The little kids that wanted so badly to hug him they sprinted from their parent’s hands and crushed his legs with their bodies, wrapping their arms around them like he was Santa. Those were the people he was excited to meet. The people he wanted to help if possible.
What he had told Tegan was the truth. He didn’t want to believe his own hype or the love people had for him. He didn’t ask to be a role model or a hero. If people thought he was, that was their business. The day he started behaving the way other people expected him to, he might as well throw himself to the wolves. He had to be himself. Always. He owed himself and any fan of his that. What you saw was what you got.
His dad was right about a lot of sponsors. Owen wasn’t a puppet. He wouldn’t dance unless he heard music. He wouldn’t throw a fight for money. He gave his best, in the ring and outside it. Whatever happened after that was out of his control.
Owen stepped inside the gym where Robert and...whoever that was were waiting for him. He was introduced by Robert.
“This is Mr Dominic Damascus.”
Owen shook his hand, thankful to find it firm. “Sorry I was late. Damn traffic,” Owen said with an air of annoyance.
Dominic waved it off. “No matter, my friend. Just as long as you are alright. Just a few bumps and bruises, aye?”
Owen smiled and nodded before Robert interjected, “Let’s have a seat.”
All three sat at a makeshift table. At the moment his arse hit the seat, a tray of glasses and a huge bottle of water were brought over. Girls dressed in sports bras and tight shorts attended to them, all with an imprint of Damascus’ name on the legs of their shorts. “Do you have a cheer squad when you leave the house, mate?”
Dominic grinned. “They are your cheer squad actually. Your co-stars for the commercials.”
“Oh, OK. What are their names?”
Dominic laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. They’re new. Anyway. We have done research, and you rate more popular with women than men, but the numbers are quite close. We believe in equality between the sexes. Women and men buy cars for themselves and each other. Owen Gasnier and beautiful women, selling our cars. Best of both worlds… Speaking of...” Dominic turned and clicked his fingers. A few seconds later a young girl, who looked no more than nineteen, brought forth some stapled pages. What Owen presumed was his contract. As the girl turned to leave, Dominic gave her several light taps on the arse as her dismissal.
“Now, it’s all quite simple...” Dominic stated, but Owen wasn’t listening. He looked at the three girls that had served them their bottle of ridiculously expensive looking water and now had retreated to facing them, their backs to the mirrored wall of the gym. So, this was equality between the sexes?
“Excuse me,” Owen said, interrupting him. Clicks his fingers? Taps her fucking arse? He rose and walked over to the girls, starting from left to right. “Hi, I’m Owen. Who are you?”
Her eyes went slightly wide, a delighted tone in her voice as she replied, “Julia.”
He took her hand and held it, “Hi, Julia, nice to meet you.” One by one he introduced himself the same way. He stepped back and looked from one to the other. “Ladies, I’m delighted to work with you. Would you please have a seat?”
“But there’s no chairs,” Julia said.
“Well, you’re more than welcome to mine. I’m sure the other gents would offer you theirs. There is water too; believe it or not.”
The girls hesitated for a moment, but Robert rose quickly, gesturing to his seat. Though it took a few more seconds, many more, Dominic eventually stood. When he did, finally, and all the girls had sat, Robert poured the water into the glasses for them. Dominic didn’t seem pissed by Owen’s interruption, or if he was, he hid it well.
“So, once everything is filmed and set, you will receive the full amount via wire to your chosen account.”
“If I may ask, what do the girls get?”
“They’ll get a set amount per hour.”
Owen gave a ‘hmm’ sound. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“You are the face of the campaign, and you will be paid according to that.” Dominic looked to Robert as if asking if his son was well in the head.
“Owen,” Robert said.
Owen closed his eyes briefly. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. The clicking of the fingers had really rubbed him the wrong way, plus that they were made to stand the
re and not speak.
He shook his head. Sign the fucking thing. Get it done. Make Robert happy and stress less. It’s for the title. All roads from here lead to your dream.
Owen leant over and signed his name on the paper. He shook hands rather reluctantly with Damascus and took his leave after farewelling the girls.
Once outside, Robert caught up to him. “Owen,” Owen turned and faced him. “You knew what the deal was worth, why bring it up? You don’t talk figures like that in a business deal, you know that.”
“He just...” Owen shook his head. “He pissed me off.”
“What the hell has gotten into you? He pissed you off, so you think to ruffle his feathers? Are you twelve? It’s a multi-million-dollar contract!”
“There are things more important than money. Like self-respect.”
Robert scowled. “What about that made your self-respect come into question? The fact the girls didn’t have chairs?”
“The fact we need pricks like that. We’ve mostly kept away from them. Now it seems when we have gone so long without them, when we are so close.”
“Son, I told you what is going on. Don’t you think I checked the guy out? He wants you to advertise his business. That’s it. You give him time; he gives you your payment. You’ve done all this before, just never when your popularity has been this high. He sees this in you, and that’s why the offer was made. And you give him shit because he doesn’t pay his modelling girls more money?”
“Look, it’s not about that. I get it. The guy gives me shitty vibes. I don’t dance unless I hear music and I don’t pretend to like someone if I think they’re a slimy cunt.”
Robert touched his forehead, frustrated. “You may not like it, but it’s business. And in business, you need to get in bed with people you’d rather not sometimes. It’s just what you do.”
“No, you know what I’m doing, what we are doing? Compromising what feels right for cash. We have never done this. Look, it’s not just about the girls. I read my requirements. I have to agree to appear naked or semi-naked in some of the advertising campaigns. What the fuck has that got to do with selling cars?”
Undisputed (The Undisputed Series Book 1) Page 5