by TC Matson
Fuck. I sound like a fucking pussy.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress asks, keeping her gaze on me.
Even though Whitney knows I’m all hers, the women fawning over me irks the shit out of her. I smile at Whit as she orders her pretty little drink, and when it’s my time, I keep my gaze on my girl and rattle off a beer. I’ll work it off later.
Just as the waitress hurries off, Whitney arches a brow and tilts her head. “You know you don’t have to keep doing that, right?”
“Doing what? What are we doing?” Candice leans on the table.
“She doesn’t like when I claim her,” I say nonchalantly.
“That’s not true,” Whit says in a hushed squeal.
It’s my turn for my brow to jump high and I only respond with a satisfied smirk.
“You two are disgusting.” Candice purses her lips. “All lovey-dovey. Puke.” She giggles.
The waitress sets our drinks down and after we order our food, Candice and Whit take over the conversation. They discuss the exchange of Whit’s house into Candice’s hands. To look at Candice, you’d never think the girl had a business side to her. Her blonde hair is tight with spiraling coils, her eyes large, round and green sitting on a small round face. My first impression of her wasn’t very high until she opened her educated mouth.
The guys at the other table begin making their way to us just as the waitress takes off with our empty plates. I shift my view to Whit. She’s never been with me when I’m spotted and surrounded by fans.
The dark headed, youngest looking one, saunters in the center as the other two, both with blond hair flank his sides. “I knew it was you. I’d recognize the Striker anywhere. Dude, I can’t believe you’re right here.” He’s overzealous in his approach.
I look up at him. “I prefer Ryker outside of the cage.”
Blond surfer punk behind him takes a long look around the table before settling his view on Whit and points. “I’ve seen you in pictures on the Internet.” He glances back to me. “Dude, you pick the hottest, don’t you? She’s banging.”
I clench my jaw. “Don’t be a disrespectful fuck.”
Satisfied angry eyes smile back at me. “Not like you give a damn. You can have her replaced with a snap of a finger.”
Red flickers and I begin to stand. Whit places her hand on top of mine, halting my predatory urge.
The dark headed guy shoves him in the chest. “Dude. Seriously? Shut the fuck up.” When he spins back to me, he puts his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Carter. Ignore Kurt and Elliot here.” He points to each man.
I shake his hand.
“I’ve followed you since your fight against Emanuel,” he tells me proudly.
It surprises a laugh from me. “That was almost seven years ago.”
He pats his chest and beams. “That fight instantly made me your most diehard fan. That spinning roundhouse to the head? Man, that was the best fucking ending I’ve ever seen.”
I smile at the memory. That was the luckiest and riskiest thing I’ve ever done during a fight. Coming in like a fucking macho ass with everything to prove, I was too inexperienced. If Emanuel hadn’t been exactly where he was, he more than likely would have knocked me the fuck out.
Again, I got lucky.
“So what brings you to a place like this?” Carter asks.
I smirk at Whit. “My girl was hungry.”
Elliot, the other guy, puffs a displeased chuckle. “You’d think you’d take her somewhere better than this place. Is she not worth your money?”
He grabs my attention by the horns, and I grin like the fucking devil. “I’ve got to be missing the reason why anyone would want to hang out with you.”
“You’re a dickhead,” Elliot states.
Before I can smart off anything, Carter slams his palms into Elliot’s chest, shoving him away from the table. “Don’t fuck this up for me. Go back to the table.”
The greasy headed fucker has a chip on his shoulder.
“You here with your girl?” I ask, tipping my chin to Elliot.
He puffs up his wanna-be chest. “Nah, man. I don’t need a girl,” he says, his tone proud and acerbic.
I lean back. “You don’t need a girl or they’re all smart enough to steer clear from you?” My tone drips with a spiteful sarcasm.
He narrows his eyes, drawing his brows down low in a warning.
Like I give a damn…
I arch my brow and smirk.
Both disrespectful fucknuts, Kurt and Elliot, scowl at me.
Carter’s eyes are begging me for forgiveness. “They’re Leveler fans.”
I nod. “Explains it.”
“You don’t deserve another chance in the ring,” Elliot spits.
“He was the end of you,” Kurt adds.
“Thankfully, the smarts aren’t left up to you two,” I state.
It’s Carter’s last straw and he shoves them both back away from the table. Hushed words are exchanged as Carter pushes them back, pointing to their table behind them. Eventually, the knuckleheads comply and leave.
Carter takes a deep breath and turns to me, his expression saturated with a million apologies. “I’m really sorry. You should be around when we’re watching the fights. Elliot’s intensely passionate…or passionately intense. Either way, his rocker broke years ago.” He tries joking through his aggravation.
I take the kid in. His brown hair with blond highlights is a tousled mess. The skin on his face is smooth like he’s never been in a fight in his life. He can’t be a day over eighteen. He’s scrawny and tall with legs like stilts holding up a bird cage.
“I’m surprised I’m not drooling all over you.” His brown eyes spring wide and he raises his hand up. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes out. “I mean…I’ve just been a fan for a long time and you’re right here in front of me.”
I chuckle at him stumbling.
He smiles. “I didn’t mean to bother you. When I saw you, I just wanted to say hello. It was nice meeting you,” he says sounding a bit abashed and turns to walk away.
“Wait,” Whit rushes out. I glance to her and she shrugs, looking innocently sympathetic. “Come join us for a few minutes.”
My girl…huge ass heart.
Shock splatters Carters face. “You sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“Yes, we’re sure.” Whit gives me a pointed glare. “Sit.”
He sits and wipes his palms nervously on his jeans. “I can’t believe I’m sitting at the same table as the Striker,” he mumbles to himself. “My friends won’t believe this.”
“If they’re anything like those fuckheads, I wouldn’t care what your friends believe,” I say.
“They’re not all like those two,” he states. “I don’t even know why Elliot asked me to come today. I can’t fucking drink for another few months.”
“You’re a young buck,” Candice says. “You live around here?”
“Garden Park apartments,” he informs us.
“Those are nice, high class apartments. You must have a good job,” Candice eyes him.
Carter chuckles. “It’s good enough if you think paycheck to paycheck is something of luxury.”
Candice flicks her hand at him. “At twenty, I was a struggling mess.”
“That’s because you blew it partying all the time,” Whit adds.
“How I chose to blow my money isn’t up for discussion.” Candice laughs looking back to Carter. “Why not move in with your parents until there’s a cushion between paychecks?”
Carter shrugs. “My stepdad won’t let me set foot on his property. I spotted how much of a greedy asshole he was from the beginning and tried talking my mom out of dating him. But he ended up talking my mom right into marrying him. I wish she’d get away from the manipulative asshole.”
“What about your real dad?” Candice asks and then takes a sip of her peach-colored drink.
I watch as storm clouds shroud his thoughts. “He left mom w
hen I was a baby and never looked back.”
“I’m sorry,” Candice says heavy-heartedly.
I blame Whitney for my next words. Her and her damn heart of gold I admire so fucking dearly. “You should stop by my gym some time. I could use some help. It’ll give you a few extra dollars in your pocket.”
Carter’s wide brown eyes blink to me. “Your gym?”
I nod. “Yeah. RingSide.”
“Seriously? Dude, I pass by that place daily,” he exclaims.
“Now you know it’s his, you should stop in,” Whit says. “It’s really nice.”
The strands on top of his head bob back and forth. “Does it look like I’ve ever stepped foot in a gym?”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” I say pulling out a RingSide card from my wallet. Whitney’s a step ahead of me and tosses a pen at me with a small smile. I sign the back of it for proof to his friends and hand it to him. “Stop in sometime and we’ll work on that bird cage of yours.”
He laughs. “I know you said it’s yours, but do you work out there?”
Whitney cackles. “All the time.”
“If I have a fight, I’m there every day for too many hours to count. If it’s between matches, I’m only there in the mornings,” I explain.
He looks down and drags his thumb over my name before smiling widely at me. “You’ve got Parsons coming up.”
“I do,” I reply.
“I think you could beat him with one of your arms tied behind your back. He’s got a weak left hand.”
“You’re not looking close enough,” I tell him. “It’s not always soft.”
He looks back to his eyeballing pricks of friends and sighs. “I need to get back to them since I rode with them.” The words have no inflection. He stands. “I’m really glad I got to meet you. You’re not exactly what I expected.”
The statement causes my brows to raise a notch. “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?”
He laughs. “Compliment, man. I figured you’d be an asshole. Turns out you’re pretty fucking cool. Kick Parsons’ ass and get into the pros. You’re going to own that place.” He switches his view to Whit and Candice. “It was nice meeting you. Thanks for allowing me to steal his time.”
He strolls off.
“He was a sweet kid,” Whit says.
“I found him hot as hell until he said his age. I need to be lassoed, not the one teaching the ropes,” Candice says.
Whitney digs her fingers into her forehead. “God, there’s no hope for you,” she snickers.
“Even if there were, hold on to it. I’m having some dangerous withdrawals from good lays,” Candice says.
I chuckle. “You remind me of talking to my brother.”
“Maybe he and I should talk together.” She air-quotes the word talk. “Does he know how to hold the reigns?”
Whitney snaps her head to Candice. “Nope. Off limits. You and Kyce are not happening.”
I drop my head back and laugh.
“He and I will be like Mentos and Diet Coke. He’ll drop his mento in me and I’ll explode,” Candice can barely say through her laughter.
Whitney’s lips are twitching to laugh. She’s doing a damn good job holding it together considering Candice and I are in fucking stitches.
“You’re disgusting,” Whitney’s voice quakes as she continues to refrain from laughing.
“You love me,” Candice replies with sass.
Chapter 3
Lily smiles up at me when I stroll into the office. Her normal beautiful straight blonde hair is curled and cascading to form around her petite face.
“Good morning,” she chirps. “You have a vanilla latte on your desk.”
My feet stop moving. “What’s the occasion?” I ask whimsically.
She giggles. “I stopped and grabbed myself one. Thought I’d be nice.”
“You’re spoiling me,” I titter.
Stepping into my office, I set my purse down and turn on my laptop. I glance to my planner hanging on my wall and smile. Eleven events are scheduled for the next month, most of them corporate events falling into the week. Except a few, and one of those I need to find out if Candice can cover me. It’s the weekend of Ryker’s championship fight and there isn’t a chance in hell I’ll miss it.
My phone chirps and I fish into my purse to retrieve it.
Ryker: Brian just called. I’ve got an event in Jacksonville in two weeks. You’re coming.
Me: Ask nicely. :)
Ryker: That was nice. I was smiling.
Me: That was a demand.
Ryker: Which is a nice way of asking you to come.
Me: I’ll have to think about it.
Ryker: You drive me fucking nuts.
Me: You love every bit of it.
Ryker: I miss the days you were innocent and easily swayed.
Me: It was your charm.
Ryker: You’re telling me I’m not charming anymore? I need to step up my shower fucks.
Me: You’re insatiable.
Ryker: You make me ravenous.
Me: You need to get back to work.
Ryker: I’m sweaty. Does it make you jealous it’s not because of you?
Me: I’m being satisfied by a cup of coffee. Are you jealous it’s not you?
Ryker: I turn you into liquid. Never jealous.
Me: LOL I love you.
“You two make me sick,” Candice deadpans, smiling at my office door.
“How do you know who I’m talking to?”
She rolls her eyes. “Clearly, you’ve never looked in the mirror when you handle anything Ryker. You’re all goofy smiles and small giggles, but the look of being on cloud nine is a dead giveaway.”
“Don’t be envious,” I quip.
“Oh, but I am.” She hands me a white envelope and nods to it. “First and second month’s payment.”
I sigh and reluctantly take it. She chose a price entirely too high for my liking, and I was prohibited from negotiating lower. Only higher. She’ll owe me for years and I hate it. In addition, she hired a moving company—one that comes in and boxes everything up, loads it, unloads it, and places it exactly where Her Highness chooses. She refuses to let me help, saying, “Why do all the work when men and women are hired to do it. They would be jobless if no one hired them.”
“When will all your things be moved in?” I ask, placing the envelope in my top drawer.
“I’ll be sleeping in my bed in my new house tonight. The rest will be delivered Thursday.”
“That’s good. Do you need any help?” I try again.
“Not a drop of it.” Her smile has always been pretty for as long as I can remember. She inherited it from her mother—always bright white with perfectly straight teeth when she beams.
“I need to ask of a favor.” I grab the Powell folder and hand it to her. “Could you take over this one for me? Everything is lined up, ordered, and scheduled. You’ll just need to confirm closer to time and then see if Jenny, the bride-to-be, wants you to go with her to pick up the dress.”
As I talk, she scans through the papers, flipping them one by one. Her eyes examine everything—up and down, left to right—quickly before closing it and smiling to me. “Gotcha covered. Can I be nosy and ask why?”
“It’s the weekend of Ryker’s championship fight. I can’t miss it.”
“Whitney Young—Miss I don’t like violence—dating an MMA fighter and even going to his fights. Never in my life would I have pictured it. I know I give you a hard time a lot, but you two look really good together.”
I grin. “You mean it?”
“Of course. Whitney, you glow around him.”
I laugh. “That’s so cliché.”
“Maybe it’s cliché because there are facts behind it?”
I ponder her thought. Pregnant women definitely glow, unique and beautiful. Is there a glow for happiness?
“I’ve got to get busy.” She taps the folder, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Want
to do Nuckles for lunch? I’m sure Jay would love to see you.”
She beams. “I’ve missed him.”
She leaves, stepping out of my office and into hers adjacent to mine. She’s worked with me since I started the company, Young Eventions. I wanted so badly for her to partner with me, but she couldn’t afford even ten percent at the time. My parents spotted me the rest of the money and within the first year I was able to pay them back plus interest. But not without a fight. My dad refused the extra, so I gave my mother my begging puppy dog eyes. I won and she snuck it without Dad knowing.
However, even though Candice doesn’t own part of the business, I treat her like she does. She helped immensely to get me off the ground and moving along. Together we marketed and pushed hard for people to trust us enough to give us a chance. Now Young Eventions’ reputation is credible and sought out.
The moment Jay spots us being seated, a high-pitched shriek echoes through the restaurant and he rushes toward us, wrapping his arms around Candice’s neck.
“Omigod, I’ve missed your pretty face.” He leans back and runs his hands down her arms. “I’m sorry to hear about your granddaddy.”
Her smile is both happy and wretched. “Thanks.”
He hugs me and kisses my cheek. “The usual?”
We agree and he scurries off.
Candice looks around the fancy little restaurant and inhales. “Damn, I’ve missed being home.”
Jay bounds back to our table, placing our drinks in front of us. “Other than the passing of your granddaddy, how was Arizona?”
Candice titters. “The weather was temperamental and there weren’t any good-looking men. You and I would die there.”
He laughs. “I’ll take your word and steer clear from there.” He looks up to me and frowns. “Where’s the man of my dreams?”
“He’s at the gym,” I reply.
He fans himself. “Do you think he’d get upset if I stood in the corner and watched him?”
“Only if you’re masturbating,” Candice quips with a burst of laughter.