The Bad Boy Arrangement

by Nora Flite

  It was time.

  The voice over the intercom boomed the name of the stop we pulled into. I heard it through my earbuds, clutched my purse and stepped out onto the platform. The station was busy, packed with people who were beginning their night out. Saturday in Hollywood, it was always crazy.

  In my comfortable flats, the dress kicked around my legs as I jumped the stairs that led to the streets above. It was bright out, they'd decorated every palm-tree with Christmas lights for the season. They lit my way, the red and blue fading when I ducked down a side-street. Where I was going, there would be no delightful holiday spirit.

  Zipping my jacket higher, I wandered the familiar alley. The walls around me displayed graffiti, random swears and esoteric symbols. Buildings crowded me, all so lifeless; or at least, they looked that way. Finally, I halted in front of a wide, rusted door. It looked like a garage. I knew better.

  Not knocking, I slid the door upwards, ignoring the metallic screech. Yellow light hit me, illuminating the alley I wanted to run back out into. If only I could have.

  Quickly, I ducked inside and gave up on my urge to run away. The room was bigger than it looked from the outside. Equipment sat, unused and ghostly. Heavy bags, thick ropes, weights... it was an abandoned gym. Well, I say abandoned. I knew where everyone was.

  Crossing to a door, I cracked it. The noise echoed below, rolling up the stairs and telling me clearly that the underground space was going to be packed.

  The Dog House always was on Saturday nights.

  Unlike the folks above, strolling Hollywood and getting drunk in the clubs... the people here had a specific taste. They screamed for blood.

  I didn't need to be quiet, but I tried to, anyway. When I reached the bottom level, I saw the crowd around the ring. Shit, it's seriously packed tonight. Checking my cellphone, I confirmed that I wasn't late—it was only nine—and also ignored the two texts from Eliza. I could predict what they said: “Are you coming back?” or something like “Huck keeps asking for you!” Alright. Maybe not that last one. I shouldn't have even joked about it.

  “Hey, Zoe!”

  Turning, I saw the thick, muscled man approaching. I recognized him, of course. No one just forgets their ex-boyfriend, even if it'd be a blessing. Towering over me, Reese was a figure from a heroic story of legend. I mean, people weren't supposed to look like that anymore. No one else existed that compared to Reese.

  Except, hadn't I met a guy who did, earlier tonight? The memory of Huck's smooth skin and rough hands made my belly flutter. It was a challenge to erase my blush by the time Reese reached me.

  Dressed in black shorts, a tight, fitted tank-top and hand-wraps, he was ready for the upcoming match. I appreciated that, even if I still felt ill watching Reese pummel his challengers into broken messes.

  He was a violent man—I hated being near him.

  But I fucking had to.

  “Glad you made it,” he said, reaching down to wrap me in a hug.

  Flinching, I shrugged out of the embrace. “Of course I made it. I always make it. It isn't like I have a choice.”

  Reese wrinkled his nose, scratched his shoulder. “Yeah, well. Anyway. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I got you something.”

  In the two years we'd dated, on and off, not once had he remembered my birthday. I'd always waved my hand, made excuses. Fuck, I was so good at excuses.

  I wanted to tell him how shocked I was. I never got to speak.

  Reese was on me, fingers catching my upper arms, lips crushing on mine in a kiss. He didn't get far, but I hated that he had touched me at all. Jamming my nails into his forearms, I shoved him back until he stopped. “What the hell?” I gasped, cradling my cheek like he'd punched me.

  His square jaw hung low, brown eyes almost... hurt. But no, I knew this man. It sucked that it had taken so long to figure him out—to accept the kind of person that he was—but now I knew. It helped that I'd had a nice wake up call when I'd walked in on him at our apartment a month ago, balls deep in some girl I didn't even know.

  Reese wasn't sad from my rejection.

  He was fucking insulted.

  “What the hell?” he repeated me, tilting his head. “I thought you'd like that. I was trying to be sweet for you.”

  “You have no right to be 'sweet' to me—to even touch me!” Rubbing my lips frantically, I didn't mute my disgust. “You lost the right to do that when you cheated on me. Remember?”

  His thick shoulders went up to his ears. “Oh, come on! That was like, weeks ago! I thought we could make up, that you'd forgive me by now.”

  “Why would I ever forgive you?”

  Energy boiled in his glare. Those flames of danger, the heat that had once enticed me to Reese, now turned my heart chilly. “Because you fucking owe me, Zoe.” I didn't like the flat edge in his voice. “You know you do.”

  This was what made my situation dreadful. There were many parts of this that I hated. The constant threat over my head, though? That scraped at my soul.

  Reese knew he had me. Without him, I was fucked.

  With him... I still felt fucked.

  So why was I putting up with him? Why did I let him touch me and coerce me and constantly try to use my body, all when he was a worthless piece of shit? He always reminded me that I 'owed' him. And... he wasn't entirely wrong.

  But that didn't mean that every time I saw him, he was allowed to put his hands on me.

  Something inside me fractured away. It drifted and became dust, burned by my rising, self-righteous heat.

  There are moments where ignoring our pride would serve us best. This was probably one of them. I should have agreed with my ex, bowed my head, and gone on with my night. Instead, I locked my eyes on Reese's. “I don't owe you shit.”

  Laughing, he threw his hands in the air. “Yeah? You think so? Fine. Enjoy your evening.” Twirling, his broad back was all he showed me. Long legs took him halfway up the stairs in a blink.

  “Where the hell are you going?” I asked, following in his wake. My panic was rising. “You have a match, Reese!” Oh god, it's happening. He's really abandoning me.

  Pausing, he tossed me a smile so bitter that I could taste it. “No. You have a match. I've been doing this for you, remember?”

  “You promised me that you'd help me with this! You're supposed to fight in each match until I've paid off the fucking loan!”

  “Guess I just feel like I don't owe you shit, Zoe.” His teeth were dark grey in the stairwell shadows. “Have a good night. Say hi to Nehro for me.” I heard him even after he vanished, heavy steps—the metallic crunch of the building door.

  Fuck. I should have bit my damn tongue.

  Roughing up my hair, I tugged at the roots. What was I supposed to do now? I had a god damn contract to fulfill. With my ex gone, who would fight in the pit? Nehro was going to kill me. No, I thought, my lungs going tight. Worse. Way worse. My debt ran deep. I knew what was facing me.

  Without a fighter, I was breaking the agreement. Reese... he'd been to every match since the start. I should have foreseen that the breakup would have made him less willing to help, but... I never thought he'd bail. I should have seen this coming.

  Fucking hell, I was so tired of this crap. I blamed myself for the mess, I'd made too many wrong choices. I wasn't going to let Reese walk all over me, though. Fuck him for thinking he could betray me and then just get back in my pants. Use me because without him...

  Without him I was screwed.

  Biting my thumbnail, I looked around the room. There was a match about to start, how long did I have until mine? If Nehro found out I'd come up empty, I was done. I knew what he had planned for me.

  Like I'd summoned him, I saw the tall, long haired man coming my way. Nehro dressed like a Gothic vampire, all latex and boots and spikes. It was funny, though he was anything but.

  When I'd first met him, I'd thought he was a joke. Then he'd handed me the money I needed, and I'd decided he was someone to take seriously.

/>   I ached for the days before I knew what he had planned. I'd been ignorant. Ignorance was nice, sometimes.

  “Zoe,” he purred, his hands deep in his jacket pockets. “I saw Reese leave. Do tell me he's coming back.”

  Shivering, I swallowed my bile down. “No. He's not.”

  Arching a thin brow, Nehro sighed sympathetically. “Oh dear. That's awful—for you, I mean.” Looking around, he eyed the place as if he could see my future among the rabble. “What are we going to do about that?”

  Sweat ran down my ribs. “It's fine, really. I'll find someone to fill Reese's spot.” The lie spilled free, my courage fake and hollow.

  The dubious stare Nehro shot me didn't help my confidence. “Who could you find at this hour to stand in?”

  “I've got someone in mind. Just give me thirty minutes, okay?” I didn't have a clue who I'd find. He couldn't know that, though. I had to figure something out.

  Like a spider, he inched towards me and set long fingers on my shoulder. Nehro rolled a strand of my hair, tugged it with false affection. “Thirty minutes. You find a replacement, or we move to the default section of your contract.” Dipping so that his lips tickled my earlobe, Nehro chuckled—a grizzly sound. “I look forward to your failure. Working off your debt with your body won't be so bad. Trust me.”

  Keeping my urge to vomit down, I stood there as he walked away. I had no parting comment, no response. Nehro was a monster. I didn't want to test how far he'd push that fucking contract. It's true that he couldn't legally force me into prostitution.

  Legality doesn't matter when the life of a loved one is on the line.

  Wiping my palms on my dress, I started to dig for a tissue. I wanted so badly to scrub at where he'd touched me. Shuffling in my purse, my fingers brushed something flat. The sharp corner pricked me. What the hell?

  Into the light, I held the business card high. I'd like to pretend that angels sang and bells twinkled. Here was my answer, and just having an answer should have been uplifting. But calling in favors was the thing I hated most—it's what had gotten me where I was. I didn't want help. I just... needed it.

  Turning the card, I read the scrawling crimson letters against their dark purple background. Huxton Blake. Muscle for hire. Isn't that what I'm looking for?

  Scrunching my eyes shut, I yanked out my phone and climbed the stairs. I felt Nehro's intense stare the whole time. He probably thought I was trying to bail. I would have, if that was possible.

  Breathing deep, I held my lungs at full capacity. When I went dizzy, and still no other solutions came to mind, I let the air rush out. This was it. I had to fucking do it.

  Seeing Huck again wasn't ideal. The guy threw me for a loop the way every tough acting, confident bad boy type did. I hated that, so the easiest path was to step back and avoid him... and everyone like him.

  Reese had been the final straw. I was soured on assholes. They seemed strong and acted like they were into you, but they always bailed when they couldn't get you to spread your legs. They thought with their damn dicks.

  I knew better. Even if Huck had made me swoon with his rock-hard body and cocky attitude, I fucking knew better. I would get out of this whole mess. Except to do that...

  I had to beg him for help.

  This would be the last time. God, let it be the last time.

  Lifting my phone, I eyed the card and tapped the numbers in. The ringing was a gong in my skull. Part of me didn't want him to answer. My gut knew he was my only option.

  The ringing was cut off. “Hello?” Huck's smooth voice, it had my blood tingling. Even when he wasn't close to me, he was getting under my skin. “Who is this?”

  Pacing through the gym, I clutched the phone. It was astounding that my tongue was working. “Huxton? This is Zoe.” I paused, debating how to explain. “From the birthday, earlier.”

  “I remember.” Was he smiling? It sure sounded like it. “Honestly, I didn't think you'd call so fast.”

  Standing straight, I didn't dwell on his implication that I would have called him at all. “I have... sort of an emergency.” Lifting the card, I read it again, giving myself strength. “When you said you could be hired for muscle, did you mean it?”

  Maybe the frantic, breathy quality to my words gave him the hint that I was nervous. His voice dropped, fierce and without question. “What's wrong. Tell me.”

  His bluntness cut right to the point. I appreciated that. “Can you get to the cross-street of Hollywood and Oak in thirty minutes?”

  Something jingled in the background. His keys? Was he already moving? “Yes, but you need to tell me why.”

  “I know. I'm pretty sure you won't like the reason.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Picturing how Huxton had shoved Kit out the door, I steeled myself. “Huck, have you ever been in a fight? A real fight?”

  On the end of the line, there was a moment of quiet. Cold ice rolled down my back, my brain quick to imagine him hanging up and leaving me without a solution. What was I thinking? I didn't know this guy, he'd been a stranger who'd rubbed up on me at my party. There was no way he'd want to show up somewhere in the middle of the night just because I rang his damn number.

  Why would Huck ever fight for me?

  I wasn't ready for his laugh, or how genuine and rough it was. “Hollywood and Oak, you said?” That time, I recognized the sound of an engine revving. “See you in thirty, sugar.”

  I turned the card in my hand for the twelfth time. The edges were bending from how I fingered it. It was all I had to convince myself I wasn't about to get fucked over. Again and again, I read those words and tried to find some faith.

  Muscle for Hire. He'll do it, it's a job to him. I was going to be rescued by a male stripper.

  Footsteps on the stairs reached my ears. I watched as Nehro climbed into view, his smile too sweet. His voice was candy and arsenic. “It's time. Unless your fighter is invisible...” Craning his neck, he mocked me by searching the gym. We both knew no one was here. “I'm about to have some angry customers, Zoe.”

  Cringing, I held the business card so tight it cut into my palm. “He's coming. I swear, he'll be here any second.”

  “Who is he?” Strolling towards me, Nehro held his shoulders back; a proud walk. “Is it Reese, did you call him and ask him to return?”

  “No,” I snapped. “Of course I didn't.” I had no plans to ask him for help. He'd already tried to abuse the frail nation that I owed him for introducing me to Nehro. A thing I regretted every fucking time I walked into this building.

  Dark, silky hair slid over his neck when Nehro angled his face like an owl. “Begging your ex to save you is worse than spreading your legs for me, I take it.” The jagged edge of his smirk turned my stomach.

  Crushing the piece of cardboard, I felt my optimism fading. Huck wasn't going to show. Time was up for me. “I'd fight in the ring myself before I'd let you make money off of my body.”

  “Fighting is making money with your body.” He studied me, smugness shifting into curiosity. “You know the men wouldn't go easy on you in the ring. You'd let someone bust up your pretty jaw, just to save your pride?”

  “Save my pride,” I chuckled cynically. “That's a polite way to phrase not wanting to be whored out to pay off a debt.”

  He wasn't smiling any longer. “I can stop being polite, if that's what you prefer.” Two steps, he was on me. Nehro's aura was a razor on my throat. He didn't need to hold the weapon for me to feel the danger. “You're out of time, Zoe. I'm not about to let you get destroyed in the ring. Your body is worth much more.”

  Looking down his nose at me, his slippery smile grew anew. He said softly, “I'd fight you myself. I could guarantee you came to no real harm.” Nehro scraped a fingernail along my forearm. “Just enough pain to show you this path ends with your pink lips and sweet cunt filling my wallet. It ends with you on your knees, until you're cleared of what you owe me.”

  True terror locked up my tendons. I
wanted to spit on him, and all I did was hold my breath and pray for a fucking miracle.

  Echoing through the gym, the tapping on the door made me flinch. Nehro blinked, glaring at the entrance accusingly. Again, sharper than before, the knocking came. “Hello?” Huxton called, muffled through the wall. “It's me, Huck. You in there?”

  Nehro shared a look with me. Breaking away, I ducked and wrenched the door up so fast it pulled my shoulder painfully. “Yes! I'm in here!”

  Standing in the blue of the night, his body lit up like a fucking angel in the golden glow of the gym, Huxton was as close to a saint as I'd come across in a long while.

  He wasn't nearly-naked like I'd seen him last, nor was he in the stuffy suit he'd stripped out of. In dark jeans and a closed leather jacket, he looked casual—wonderful. I spotted the motorcycle in the alley behind him. It explained how he'd gotten here so fast... or just fast enough.

  The tattooed man took me in, his grin extremely pleased. “Hey there, long time no see.”

  What a fucking joker. But he'd made me smile, though I think it was from relief more than anything else. “You made it. I thought—” Cutting myself off, I jammed the card into my purse. It didn't hold a square shape anymore, my palm was covered in red lines from the tension of squeezing it. “Come on, we need to get you ready.”

  “Right, ready.” His attention shot over my head. I followed the look; Huck had noticed Nehro. Lowering the door, he spoke to me softly, never taking his wary stare off of the other man. “You could start by telling me what's going on.”

  Nehro cleared his throat. “So, you're the one she called.” Extending a hand, he waited for Huck to shake it. “I'm Nehro Grant, her... employer.”

  Standing to his full height, making me realize he was just big enough to look down on Nehro, Huxton shook his hand. “You don't say? I'm Huxton, guess I'm technically Zoe's employee for the evening.” He winked at me, and I knew he had no clue how serious all of this was. How could he?

  Shit. Calling him had been a selfish move. What was wrong with me? Self-preservation, I told myself firmly. Desperation. I had no choice. It didn't make me feel any better.