by Lane Hart
When she doesn’t reply to try and push the issue, I know I’ve busted her. And it sucks. A lot. I can’t help but worry about how deep this self-consciousness goes, but you better believe that I intend to find the fuck out.
Since we’re currently driving through the small, rural town of Wilson, there’s not a whole helluva lot of places to eat at. Definitely no convenient fast-food chains for a broke dude like me. I eventually take an exit that advertises, Parker’s, a home cookin’ restaurant. Sure enough, as soon as we walk through the door and seat ourselves, I look around and notice that the décor is a few decades old. The red leather booths and chairs are worn and tattered with shreds of cotton lining exposed, and there’s a black and white checkered floor. To me, all those things just add up to the conclusion that the food is gonna be fucking delicious.
“Well, now, ain’t you two just a match made in heaven,” a heavyset waitress with a hairnet covering her short salt and pepper hair says to us when she places plastic menus down in front of me and Hailey.
“Why, thank you, ma’am,” I reply and then wink at Hailey when I see her flustered, wide-eyed, gaping mouth expression, since I fail to correct the waitress’s wrong assumption that we’re together.
“What canna getcha to drank?” she asks with a heavier southern drawl since now we’re getting further away from the city and deeper into the smaller, rural communities in North Carolina.
I nod to Hailey for her to go first. “Diet Coke,” she of course says. Diet. What the fuck?
“Sweet tea for me.”
“Comin’ right up, sugar,” the waitress says with a smile and a nod before wandering off.
“So…what are you gonna have?” I ask Hailey as I glance over the menu. When I’m met with only silence, I look up and find her gnawing on her bottom lip, forehead creased like she’s being asked to decide which college to attend or which house she should make payments on for the next thirty years. There’s apparently some type of counting involved in this major life decision of hers based on her twitching fingers and barely moving lips. “Hailey?”
“Huh?” she asks, finally looking back up at me.
“What do you want to eat?”
“I dunno yet.”
“Yes, you do,” I say. “What’s the first thing that popped in your mind?”
“A burger and fries,” she replies with a slight upward curve to her lips.
“There. Now, was that so hard?”
After we both put in our order for cheeseburger plates, we quietly pass the time during the wait on our phones. I’ve got a few texts that came in while I was driving. Two from girls in my “harem” as Linc called it, one from Claire asking me to check in along the way to let her know we were okay, and one from my training partner and good friend, Senn. The two of us are both light heavyweight fighters, pretty evenly matched size wise. Since he’s been fighting at Havoc for almost four years and I’ve only been there nine months, he kicks my ass on a regular basis. I get in some good licks and occasionally get lucky with a submission hold when we grapple. The two of us got along right away. We usually hang out a few nights a week and hit up all the local clubs and bars on the weekends. I know he’s glad to have another wingman since his boy Linc fell for my sister, and their friend Nate, the welterweight ginger, is not the most magnetic guy on the planet when it comes to the ladies.
I open up the chat log I’ve got going with Senn, and curse aloud when I read his most recent text.
How’s my girl? Is her ass not the finest thing you’ve ever seen? She said any shit about me?
Sonofabitch. Not only does Linc warn me off Hailey, but it turns out that the guy who’s practically my best friend also wants her. Sounds like he’s really got it bad too, since the tough guy has thrown his pride out the fucking window and stooped to asking me grade school questions about her. And he called her his girl.
Just my fucking luck.
I text back:
We’re on our way, and no, she hasn’t. If you want, I can pass her a note with check boxes. Is it hard to text with your fingers in your vagina, u big pussy?
He instantly retaliates with:
Fuck U. Get ready for a beat down, dickwhore.
The conversation is pretty much our usual razzing, only now I’m somewhat jealous of the fact that he and Hailey could possibly have a past, or he’s hoping they can have some sort of future. Obviously, Linc hasn’t laid the law down on him about staying away from her. So it’s just me he doesn’t want to be with his sister. Awesome.
The third strike on the whole keeping my hands off Hailey issue would be that, according to my agent, as part of my deal with the IFC, I’m supposed to remain single, date and be seen with lots of different girls before my upcoming fight and after for the sake of the media. Apparently, with Jax, Jude and now Linc settling down, they need new, fresh meat with at least the appearance that I’m available for the female fans’ fuck fantasies.
Seeing multiple women has never been a problem for me. In fact, the more the merrier. So even if I wanted to only see one woman, which would be required if I ever hoped to be with a classy, beautiful woman like Hailey, then I’m shit out of luck for the time being. Not that I want to give up my women anytime soon. I have a helluva lifestyle that most guys only dream of. Lucky me. So why do I feel like a lonely, wandering drifter when I climb into my already occupied bed each night? A warm, willing body is always waiting for me in the apartment I’ve lived in for over two years, but it still doesn’t feel like home. Nowhere has felt like home since the morning my mama left for the hospital and never came back.
Finally, our food is placed before us, gladly interrupting my depressing thoughts. My mood is lifted further when I see it’s a feast fit for a motherfucking king. The biggest double cheeseburger ever made sits in front of me, piled high with lettuce, tomatoes and onions, dripping with mustard and ketchup and making my mouth water. I grab it up, barely able to hold it in both hands and take a bite.
Damn that’s good. I can’t eat shit like this very often, especially not with a fight coming up, but I'll enjoy the hell out of it before I go back to all the healthy shit. Having to make weight is the one thing I hate about being a fighter since I fucking love junk food. Eating healthy isn’t cheap either. Fruits and veggies cost a lot more than the damn dollar menu, that’s for sure.
While I chew slowly to make the greasy indulgence last, I watch Hailey approach her much smaller, single burger cautiously with a knife, like it might attack and bite her first. She touches the top of the sesame seed bun with only two manicured fingertips as she cuts it in half and then into quarter pieces. Threat apparently neutralized, she puts the knife down and picks up a tiny triangle, eying it for several seconds before nibbling on the pointy edge. It’s a good tiny bite though, because her eyes close and then she lets out a moan that startles my cock awake. The big fella gets hard in a hurry, thinking he overslept and is gonna miss a ride on the pussy train. Down boy, she’s just eating. That sound though, and the blissed-out look on Hailey’s face…goddamn that was sexy.
“Best burger ever, right?” I ask. Her eyes pop open and she nods. Her next bite isn’t as small, but she doesn’t make the same noise unfortunately. I look away before I scare her off, like a wild animal coming out of the woods to eat human food for the very first time.
The entire burger in front of her surprisingly disappears along with a few salty, crinkle fries. I’m finishing up on my own delicious meal when she starts looking around the restaurant. I suddenly have a bad feeling about what's getting ready to go down, or come up as the case may be.
“I’ll be right back,” Hailey says, and then she and her purse are gone faster than lightning down the narrow hallway where, according to the sign, the restrooms apparently are.
Fuck.
I wipe my face on a napkin, pull out enough money for the check and a tip from my thin wallet, and stand up to follow her. Halfway to the women’s bathroom, I hear the first sounds of her retching. My chest constr
icts so hard it feels like it’s caving in. I barely resist slamming my fist through the fucking wall.
How could someone so…perfect lose their grip on reality in such a horribly, drastic way? Did someone say some bullshit that caused her insecurities? Because if so, and I find out who they are, I will choke them to death with my bare hands.
Even though we just met a few hours ago, I feel like I need to do something. She’s probably gonna hate me for it, but that’s tough shit. It’s time for someone to do something dammit! Doesn’t her family know how bad this is for her mentally and physically? Or her friends?
I watched my sister spiral out of control until it took her life, so I’m not gonna sit back and watch that happen to anyone else. Yeah, Vito Scarfone may have had a hand in taking Mandy’s life, but she let herself get to the point of no return. It was only a matter of time before she would’ve ended it herself with a drug overdose because of her depression and self-loathing. I couldn’t save Mandy from her demons, but maybe I can help save Hailey.
Unable to listen to another second of her making herself sick, I push the women’s bathroom door open and call out, “Hailey, are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine,” she says from one of two stalls. Thankfully, the rest of the small bathroom is empty. “W-what are you doin’ in here?”
“You don’t sound fine,” I reply. “I heard you throwing up.”
There are several moments of silence before she says, “I thank it’s just a stomach bug. I already feel better.”
I don’t know why she bothers lying to me. Doesn’t she know that I know? Do I look that stupid? But fine, if that’s the game she wants to play, we’ll play. For now.
“Shit, sweetheart, that really sucks,” I say, while swiping a palm over my face in frustration. “You need anything? Wet rag? Crackers? Water?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Well then, I guess I’ll go start making arrangements, but you just take your time,” I tell her after the perfect evil idea comes to me.
“Wh-what?” she asks, but the door is already closing behind me.
Waving goodbye to our waitress, I step outside the front of the restaurant, squinting at the bright sun, to look down the street. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a bed & breakfast sign right when we came off the exit into the small town. Sure enough, about two blocks down is the place. Walking in that direction, I pull out my phone to call Linc.
“Mace? What’s up? Where are you guys?” he asks when he answers.
“Just stopped to eat in Wilson, so a little more than three hours away. But here’s the thing, your sister’s really sick.”
“Sick?” he exclaims. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s upchucking everywhere. It’s a goddamn mess.”
“Ah fuck. Is she car sick or what? Did she eat somethin’ bad?” Yeah, she sure as shit ate something she thought was bad - food. But the way he sounds so surprised…maybe he doesn’t know his sister’s bulimic. And more than likely, anorexic.
“She said she’s pretty sure it’s a stomach virus, so I think we better camp out here tonight in case it’s one of those twenty-four hour bugs. There’s no fucking way I’m gonna rush out of here and have her throw up all in my car.”
“Damn. You’re right, that would suck.”
“I'd never get that awful stench out of Sally,” I say, playing it up. My goal has been accomplished. I’ve put her family on notice of her throwing up so that if it happens again this week they’ll maybe catch on without me having to rat her out. I hope that it will also be enough to keep her from making herself sick. Getting her to stop long term? Fuck, I have no idea.
“Do you think she needs to go to the doctor? Or the emergency room?” Linc asks in concern. Yeah, she needs a doctor all right. One of those head doctors with a couch to lay her down and figure out what short circuit in her beautiful mind is causing her to do this awful shit to herself.
“If she keeps getting sick, I’ll take her to the hospital so she won’t get dehydrated,” I assure him, even though it’s unnecessary. “Hopefully with some rest she’ll feel better. I’ll get her some Gatorade tonight, and I bet we’ll be good to go the rest of the way in the morning.”
“Damn, I hope so. Tell her to call me or Mom when she can to let us know how she’s feelin’.”
“Will do,” I tell him as I step up on the porch of the B&B.
“Thanks for takin’ care of her, Mace. I owe you one, especially after the shit I said earlier.”
“Ah, it’s no problem,” I tell him, only feeling a little guilty about my plan and how much I still want her despite his warning. I end the call to make reservations, putting a big dent in what little money I have in my bank account.
Chapter Four
Hailey
I freshen up with the folding travel brush and toothpaste I keep in my purse and redo my ponytail before steppin’ out of the diner’s bathroom. Pressin’ the back of my hand to my cheeks, I still feel the warmth of embarrassment from when Mason walked into the women’s bathroom on me. Who does that sort of thing?
Since he’s no longer sittin’ at our booth and there’s money on the table, I walk outside to look for him. His ridiculous purple car that he somehow makes hot as hell is still in the lot, but there’s no sign of him in the small, country stretch of town.
I climb into the passenger seat and pull my phone out of my purse while I wait. The first thing I notice is that I have several missed calls and texts. One from my mom and Linc, both askin’ if I’m “feelin’ better” and to call them. Linc also texted me while we were eatin’ to say he was sorry if Mason flirts inappropriately with me and that I shouldn’t encourage him because quote, “Mace is a player with a different girl or two every single night.”
What the hell? Mace called and told my family? What exactly did he tell them? And of course he’s a player! I mean, I predicted as much as soon as I saw him. All guys as hot as him are bound to hop around from one girl’s bed to another.
“You know, you look way too sexy to have just had your head in a toilet,” Mason says when he suddenly speaks from beside the car. Glancin’ up, yep, he’s still just as badass, hot as fuck as I remembered. I quickly look away from him after his comment confirms that my brother called it all right.
“I’m ready to go if you are,” I say, keepin’ my eyes lowered to my phone, assuring my family that I’m perfectly fine.
“Great, let’s go,” Mason replies, gettin’ in and startin’ the car. We pull out of the restaurant lot and he drives for maybe ten seconds before he puts on his right turn signal and comes to a stop in front of a house.
“What are ya doin’?” I turn to him and ask when he shuts off the car.
“Turning in for the night,” he says with a smug smile.
“Ah, no we’re not. It’s only like two o’clock and we’re just a few hours away from the beach.”
Ignorin’ me, he gets out, grabs my bags and his from the trunk, and walks up the porch steps of the white, two-story colonial with green shutters. He then goes right through the front door without knockin’!
I sit there like a surprised statue, my jaw hangin’ open, waitin’ for him to come back. He doesn’t come back. What is his deal? Lookin’ around to see if I'm on candid camera or somethin’ equally ridiculous, I find the black and white sign that reads, Miss Debbie's Bed & Breakfast. What the hell?
With a sigh, I reluctantly get out of the car and follow up the same steps to ask Mason what he’s up to. I’m not the type to just waltz into someone’s home, so I knock before I slowly turn the knob and open it just a sliver. Inside the foyer, a friendly lookin’ woman with short brown hair and a white apron heads in my direction.
“Hi there! You must be Hailey. Are you feelin’ better? Your fiancé said you were a little under the weather.”
Fiancée the fuck?
“Ah…” I don’t even know what to say to that. Fiancée? Seriously? Is he nuts? “I’m okay. Do you know where can I find Mason?”
<
br /> “Oh, sure. You probably want to lie down and rest. He took your bags upstairs to your room, first door on the right.” She nods to the staircase off to the side of the entrance and, eager to escape the weirdness, I take them to the room she directed me to. Since the door is partially open, I walk on in.
Holy honeymoon suite!
The room is…absolutely breathtakin’. A huge four-poster bed with a sheer canopy and thick ivory comforter sits in the center of the room with a million pillows and a chaise lounge restin’ along the foot of it. Over to the right is a freakin’ granite tiled whirlpool tub big enough for four people. As if that wasn’t romantic enough, actual red rose petals are strewn across the floor, tub and bed. It’s like every woman’s fairytale come true.
While I stand awestruck, Mason comes strollin’ casually out of what I assume is the bathroom. In his wife-beater and jeans, his black tats standing out in stark contrast to all the white in the elegant room, the tranquil scene goes from fairytale love story to naughty fantasy.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask him, but the words don’t come out nearly as indignant as I intended.
“Nice, right?” That wicked smile of his returns when he reaches up with both hands and grabs the canopy beam runnin’ along the length of the bed as he glances around the room. The move stretches out his tall frame, raising his wife-beater so that I see a flash of his tan, rock hard abs. The once dry panties that I had to change into at my parents’ house are now in no better shape than the first pair. I have an absolutely absurd urge to run my hands and mouth down his entire muscular body. “Since you’re sick and all, our journey has been delayed until we make damn sure you’re fully recovered. I’ve already cleared it with your family, and they agree we should stay put here tonight.”
“Huh,” I mutter. There were arguments or other questions I had, but now I can’t seem to remember them. I stand frozen, watchin’ as Mason walks past me to shut and, gulp, lock the bedroom door, before pullin’ his shirt over his head. Oh my! That whole swoonin’ thing you’ve heard about? Yeah, I totally get it when my body starts swayin’ at the incredible sight before me – broad, sculpted chest and shoulders, thick, bowling ball sized biceps, and the abs…oh the abs. He’s a walkin’ eyegasm if I’ve ever seen one.