Blind (Senses Series Book 1)

by Xavier Neal

  Blind

  Senses Series, Book 1

  Xavier Neal

  BLIND

  Copyright© 2014 by Xavier Neal

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Dedication

  To The Universe, thank you for your blessings and may they keep coming for me and others.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 1

  Maxx

  Aside from the pair of boobs I was blessed with, nothing about me says Ring Side Girl. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Erin, my best female friend in the entire world, knows this but has apparently lost the better part of her judgment and is making this ludicrous suggestion.

  “Erin—”

  “I do the wardrobe!” she stomps her, already red high heel covered, foot at me. “I can make you look sexier than you ever thought possible! This is what I do for a living—”

  “You work at the MAC counter in the mall.”

  “Part time!” Her perfectly manicured nail points at me. “And you and I both know I don’t just work there.”

  I knew that would agitate her just enough to distract her from this stupid idea. She’s so easy sometimes.

  “I do the consultations, the homecomings, the proms, hell I even do weddings.” Frustration quickly paints itself on her face alongside her gorgeous smokey eye makeup.

  Oh no. Now I’ve done it.

  “Maxx, you’re being difficult on purpose. You do this whenever we need to have a talk about you. You change the subject to take the focus off.”

  Grumbling as I place a chip in my mouth, “I do not.”

  I so do. But if you had a best friend who, even on her worst day, looked like she literally walked off the runaway, you might get where I’m coming from. Hell, you already might. You see how pushy she is though.

  “You do too.” Her arms fold over her chest.

  Did I mention stubborn? She’s really fucking stubborn too.

  My eyes do a quick assessment of the outfit. A short, skin tight, sheer black club dress. It stops about an inch and a half before her goodies are about to pop out. She’s got long tanned legs, putting her at 5’10 in heels, hair that goes down to her ass, which looks great in everything from dresses to sweats, and more than enough confidence for the two of us.

  So why should I need any? Now you hate her a little too, don’t you? It’s okay. She’s used to it.

  “Look, I know how much you hated your job at the diner—”

  “Understatement.”

  “I also know, you know how to party, Maxx.” She leans down on the bar which is on the opposite side of the island in the kitchen of our shared home. “You’ve thrown some of the best parties in the history of Shady Groove High School. Remember the Toga Party? People still talk about that and we graduated five years ago.” I smirk as I slide another chip in my mouth. The salt on my tongue helps kill some of the insecurity.

  I swear it works! Next time you’re feeling a little down on yourself, eat a chip, see if the salt doesn’t just dissolve your problem away.

  “Look, Frank is looking for an Events Coordinator he just doesn’t know it yet. What he does know is that he is down a Ring Side Girl.”

  “Which one?”

  “Mary.”

  Ah, the Virgin Mary. The girl who looked like she could be captain of the Abstinence Club outside her uniform.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Pregnant.”

  Well, looks can be deceiving. Obviously.

  I try not to scrunch my face at the idea.

  It’s not that I don’t like children. I just find the idea of having to be a parent terrifying. Maybe that’s because my own mother ran away from me when I was ten, only months after my father committed suicide, leaving me to be raised by my aunt and uncle who barely even understood what it meant to have me in the house.

  You think that’s fucked up? You don’t know the half of it. And I want it on record, that even though I came from a screwed up household, I am a well adjusted individual. Well. Most of the time.

  “Anyway, do this for me and I’ll make sure you have a job as Event Coordinator before the end of the night.”

  I dust the chip crumbs off my hands. “And how do you know Frank will even go for that?”

  “I could go with the fact that he keeps trying to get me to do it, or the fact that he eats out of the palm of my hand whenever I ring a bell. Whichever makes you feel better.” My giggle gets her to laugh. “So, do we have a deal?”

  I do have the credentials for it. I mean I didn’t take ass early classes for months to use my license as an event planner for a bookmark. And in case you’re curious, it does make a shitty bookmark.

  A long exhale leaves me.

  Honestly? I need a job. While Erin and her brother Luke wouldn’t mind me living here, in our over-sized suburban fortress, without pulling my own weight, I would. I’m no one’s charity case. And neither is Logan, our other best friend who lives in the house. He pulls his own weight by fighting in these semi-legal events at the bar that Erin is trying to convince me to work at.

  The thought of Logan ‘Unbreakable’ Kellar seeing me dressed like a sex kitten makes me wiggle in my bar seat, both from distress and intrigue.

  Logan is what the Sex Gods worship. When he breathes in the room, women have multiple orgasms. I swear, just the thought of his name in a girl’s head is enough to make her panties disintegrate on the spot. You think I’m exaggerating, but you just don’t know any better. You will. And chances are you’ll be as desperate to have him under you as the rest of us.

  “What exactly do I have to do?”

  A pleased grin slides onto Erin’s face. She knows she’s won. From this point on it won’t matter what argument I try to make because she’s going to get her way.

  Ugh. Brat.

  “It’s simple. You walk out and hold up the sponsor sign. They announce the first fighter, you hold up his name sign. They announce the second fighter, you hold up his name sign. Then you get the hell out of the ring. That’s it.”

  “The catch?”

  “You’re half dressed and have to wiggle your ass just a little to the music while you hold the sign.”

  “How is this better than being a stripper?”

  “You keep your clothes on.” She shrugs innocently, her brown eyes trying to look angelic.

  Like an angel with a broken halo maybe.

  “For the most part. Besides, it pays a grand. Can you really say no to that?”

  “A grand?” I shriek.

  “Please. Compared to the money t
hese fights bring in, that’s chump change. I’m telling you with big names like Logan, the bar almost always runs out of alcohol, plus the cover charge, plus the charge to actually watch them fight. And that’s just the legal aspects. The under the table cash Frank brings in is the reason he walks around like he owns the fucking world.”

  My lips press together suppressing a laugh. The odd love hate relationship she has with her boss belongs on television.

  “So?”

  I strum my mocha fingers against the countertop.

  I can’t believe I’m about to say yes. But what choice do I have? One night as a Ring Side Girl for a thousand dollars? Even if I don’t get the Event Coordinator position that Erin is promising me, at least I’ll have enough money to toss in for bills and groceries while I look for another job. Could you really turn down a grand to walk around for a couple minutes like some overpaid cheerleader? I didn’t think so.

  Pushing up my falling black framed box glasses I sigh, “I’m in.”

  Like a villain in a cartoon, Erin’s smile shows she is obviously up to no good. “Perfect.”

  Chapter 2

  Logan

  Luke looks up from his cell phone as he leans against the side wall in the backroom. “Do you have to jump up and down like that?”

  “Yes.” I bounce up and down on my toes, before shaking out my limbs.

  All of my ripped, bronze colored, tattoo covered skin, shows off the muscles I spend hours perfecting.

  Damn right I do. I’m not just for looks baby. I’m built to live up to the task too. And believe me when I say, I never disappoint.

  “Why do you insist on having me back here before your fights?” Luke asks.

  “Why are your nursemaid panties in a twist?” His gray eyes squint. I chuckle, continuing to stretch. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

  “Not all of us have a line of ass just desperately waiting for their turn.” He puts his phone away and folds his arms across his black t-shirt covered chest.

  And that line gets a little longer with each passing fight.

  “Jealous?” I ask.

  “Of the possible STDs you carry? No.”

  “Oh come on, Luke, you know I always get checked.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes. Finally feeling loose, I step in front of him, my arms now matching his. “Did you check out Frank’s new bartender? Maybe he’s gay.”

  “Straight. And after the way he messed up last week, I doubt he’s gonna end up staying. Anyway, unlike you I’m not looking for something to just put my dick in for one night.”

  He’s full of shit. Every dude is looking for something to stick his dick in whether it is a mouth or pussy. Fact.

  “Two if it’s great.” I add.

  Which it rarely is. Oh what? Like it’s my fault? You can put your eyebrows back down. It’s not like women come with a stats card beforehand. Now that would be handy.

  Luke ruffles his mop top blonde hair. “Why do we even have these conversations? Shouldn’t you be focused on the fight?”

  “Nah.” I shrug it off. “I step into the ring and my mind goes blank. You know that.”

  It always has. That’s what happens after years of having the old man, thank God he’s dead, damn near put his entire fist through my chest. Not to mention years of people always looking to toss a fist in my jaw. It was times like those when Maxx reminded me that I wasn’t invincible, just unbreakable. My Maxx. The sexiest saint I’ve ever known. How any girl can look that hot and lack corruption is beyond me.

  “Where’s your sister? She’s usually busy bothering the bartenders about their eyelashes or some shit by now.”

  “Messing with the new Ring Side Girl for tonight.”

  “Wait. What happened to Mary?”

  “She’s pregnant.” Immediately his eyes lower to a suspicious look.

  Tossing my hands in the air I shake my head. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t knock her up.” The look stays. “What? I’ve never slept with a Ring Side Girl.”

  “Puh-lease.”

  “No bullshit. Frank has a policy about fraternizing with other employees—”

  “Frank can’t even spell fraternizing.”

  “Even so.” I rub my hands together to keep the blood flowing, friction growing. The anticipation, that soon my fist will finally get to explode the years of bullshit that I always keep at bay until the appropriate moment comes, is building like a raging orgasm for my fists.

  And you better fucking believe I love a good orgasm in the ring and in my bed.

  “I’ve never slept with a Ring Side Girl. Never will. And I damn sure would never knock a girl up.”

  “Logan Kellar has morals? Is this new? Did you grow them in a Petri dish for a science project?”

  Chuckling I shake my head. “You’re fucking bitchy dude. Even for you.” Luke slides his hands into his jeans. “All I’m saying is Unbreakable doesn’t break that rule.”

  Luke shrugs. “It’s not like it’s gonna be a problem with the new one anyway.”

  “Why do you say that? Lesbian?”

  I’ve conquered a few of those in my day, I wanna add.

  “She got Maxx.”

  I laugh. Hard. “Maxx? Like our Maxx? Like my stretchy yoga pants and nerd t-shirt Maxx?”

  “That’d be her.”

  I laugh again finding it hard to catch my breath.

  Don’t get me wrong. I think Maxx is sexy as sin, but in a less obvious way. Think of a more toned down version of Gabrielle Union with curves and glasses. She’s not like the Barbies I bring home to play with in my bed. She’s like a classy nerd. No way does she belong in the ring. I don’t even think she can waddle in heels.

  “How desperate is she?”

  “Clearly pretty fucking desperate. Besides, Maxx quit her job at the diner yesterday so she needs the money.”

  “She knows we’ll cover her.”

  Luke shrugs again.

  “I can’t imagine our Maxx strutting around on that stage. That’s gonna be priceless…seriously. Like a baby duck trying to walk across hot coals. When’s the last time we saw her dressed up?”

  His face cringes as he tries to remember. “Graduation? Maybe?”

  “Which was how long ago?”

  “Point.”

  On graduation day she wore a gold dress that was too long, tripped on it trying to make her way over to us, and ended up tearing the bottom half almost all the way off. She used me as a body shield to get to the car without flashing her former classmates.

  “I thought Maxx wanted the least to do with this world. Like you.” I say.

  “Let’s be clear, I’m only here in case you don’t live up to your name or you suffer from a concussion.”

  “Hasn’t happened yet.”

  “There’s a first for everything.” He smirks annoyed. “Anyway according to the text Erin sent me, Maxx agreed for the cash and to be the new Events Coordinator.”

  “Events Coordinator?”

  “Yeah. She’ll start picking the themes, and decorations. Coordinating with the bar for special drinks, posting pictures and promos with the new tech dude Frank hired. It’ll be a good gig if she survives as Ring Side Girl.”

  “That’s a big if…” my voice trails off.

  It’s not that I don’t want my Maxx to survive; it’s more like I don’t want to have to be the one to rescue her.

  Chapter 3

  Maxx

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I look at myself in the staff locker room mirror. “I can’t wear this.”

  Erin pops her face over my shoulder admiring her handy work, curling iron still in hand. “You can. And you will.”

  My reflection shows a girl I barely recognize. I’ve got
on a short black leather skirt, and a button up white dress shirt that doesn’t button more than the bottom three. My boobs are basically falling out, even though they are pushed up so high I’m pretty sure I could motorboat myself.

  Yes, I considered trying. And now you have too. You’re welcome.

  “I look like a slutty secretary.”

  “Exactly.” She puts the curling iron down and fluffs the curls she added to the ends of my dark brown shoulder length hair.

  Did she really just say exactly? I wish I was a naughty secretary so I could screw her boss and get her fired for making me dress like this.

  Admiring the perfect natural glow she’s given my mocha skin, I nibble on my lip gloss covered bottom lip.

  This is the most dressed up I’ve been since my last real date, which was when? Three years ago? Damn it. It’s been three years since my last real date, which means four years since the last time I had sex. God, I think I’m slowly becoming asexual.

  Please don’t judge me for my lack of sex okay? It’s not for lack of trying. Can I have credit for that? Like half a point? Maybe even a full point? Are you the generous type?

  I try to tug the shirt down to a more comfortable position, but it doesn’t move. Apparently it’s happy right where it is. Fitted so tight, it feels like second skin.

  “You can do this,” Erin reassures me. “I can give you a thousand reasons why. In cold. Hard. Cash.”

  She winks at me, and I smile against my will.

  I’ll give Erin this. The girl makes Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother look like amateur hour. I’m walking proof of it. Hopefully, like Cinderella, I can be home and back in my rags, aka my yoga pants and tank top, by midnight.

  Hey, tell the truth, wouldn’t you prefer your yoga pants to this salute to CEOs everywhere?