by Lane Hart
"That sucks. Do you want me to kick his ass?" I ask.
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, but that's not the favor I was going to ask you for."
"So what do you need?"
"I need you to take Sadie to her prom," he mutters, scrubbing a meaty hand over his face.
Laughter bursts from me and doesn't let up until my tired ass almost slides out of the plastic chair. "You're fucking hilarious."
"I'm worried about her Jude, and I don't want her to miss her prom because of that asshole."
"Coach, you can't be serious. Surely there's another guy at her school she can go with," I tell him, using the back of my hands to wipe my eyes from the outburst.
"Not on this short of notice. Everyone's already paired up."
"Well, that's too bad. Maybe she can go with a group of friends."
He just stares at me with a raised eyebrow, silently waiting. Waiting for me to agree to this silliness.
"No," I say, shaking my head to emphasize my response. "No fucking way! I'm almost twenty-damn-two. I'm not going to some school kid's dance. Ask one of the other guys. One of the younger guys!"
Our MMA gym, Havoc Fight Club, has at least forty guys training in it on a daily basis. There are probably ten or more fighters that are younger than me.
"Jude, please. I can't bear to see my little girl miss her prom. I'm worried about her. She's been so depressed lately. That jerk keeps on fucking with her…” He rambles on and on. “You know I wouldn't ask unless I was desperate, and I don’t trust any of my other fighters as far as I could throw them."
Of course he'd ask me, because all fathers prefer to have virgins take out their daughters. Not that he or anyone else knew that for a fact, but it's a well-circulated rumor since I’m always here on nights and weekends.
"There's gotta be someone else, someone closer to her age that can take her," I reply.
"I'll pay you."
"I don't want your money," I scoff.
I'm not loaded, but I have a decent nest egg accumulated from fight purses. Good thing I get paid even if I lose. Plus it's easy to save money when you have no social life and no bills except for a truck and cell phone because you still live at home with your dad.
"So you'll do it for free?" he asks.
"Hell no!" I exclaim. "I'm not doing it. Period. Sorry, Coach, but there is no. Fucking. Way."
"If you'll agree do this for me I'll get you signed up for the July Fourth pay-per-view title fight."
"You're shitting me," I say, freezing in my outrage as his words sink in. "You want me to fight Linc Abrams and you think that would be you doing me a favor? He'll kill me, and you'll be charged as an accomplice."
"You can take him."
"No, I can't! He's the Jax of the welterweights. Why would his people even agree to let him fight me with my shitty ass record?" I ask skeptically.
"He'll agree. The purse will be huge, and he's cocky enough to think it'll be an easy win."
"Because it will be!" I laugh, swiping a hand over my sweaty forehead. "He's only lost once and that was a ripped off split decision years ago that should've been in his favor. He's got at least ten knockouts. I don't want to get knocked the fuck out! There are three other guys in this country alone who deserve that fight more than me."
"Screw them. You could beat them all blindfolded. This is the fight you've been needing, Jude. You win this title, and you're golden."
"Yeah, and if I lose I may never walk again."
"Don't be a pussy. With the way you've been grappling lately, you're giving Jax a run for his money, so you can take Linc. Just like Jax, Linc's a heavy hitter. If you can stay out of his reach and get him on the ground, I guarantee you'll win by submission."
My brother, Jax, has been the middleweight world champion for the last eight years. I'm about fifteen pounds leaner than him and have always fought in the welterweight class. I could easily put on the weight to bump up, but what would be the point? My brother is a legend in the league, having never lost a single professional fight. Not only does he win them, but he decimates his opponents, usually with a one punch knockout in the first thirty seconds of the first round. And I'm just his little brother who will never live up to his legacy. I've only won three of my last five fights after coming back from a dislocated shoulder. A few more losses and stick a fork in me, because my career in the cage will be done and over.
"I'd have to be crazy to agree to that fight."
"You'd be crazy not to. You know you want this, and you're a helluva lot better than your record. This one win will prove that, and seal the deal on contracts with sponsors for years! Just the promotional hype going into it will be huge."
"I don't know," I reply, still shaking my head.
"If you don't take this one, then I’m not sure how long it'll be before another worthwhile fight comes around."
"You mean, if I don't fight this one, you'll hold a grudge. Then you won't book any other fights for me until you get the fuck over it."
Coach Briggs is also my and Jax's manager/agent, and in this moment I'm regretting the fuck out of that damn decision.
"Pretty much," he agrees with a smirk. He clasps his hands together in front of him on his desk, congratulating himself on fucking me over.
"Damn you, Coach. You've got me by the balls and you know it!"
"Do this for me and Sadie. And for yourself."
I groan at the ceiling. I'm not really considering this suicide mission, am I? Yes, yes I am. I'm just insane enough to think there's a small chance I can win, finally proving I can fight worth a damn. I'll never be as good as Jax, but I also know I am better than my shitty record. I just need the chance to prove it.
A chance like this.
"I'm going to catch so much hell from the guys." I'm not sure which they'll ride my ass for more, taking on someone unbeatable or going to a fucking high school prom. That bitch Karma probably thinks she's being cute, getting back at me for screwing over a poor girl right before my own senior prom.
"Oh, and that's the other thing. You can't let anyone find out I asked you to do this, especially not Sadie."
"That you blackmailed me into doing this, you mean?"
"Same thing."
I shake my head and stand up to get the hell out of dodge before he convinces me to do something else stupid tonight.
"Go talk to Sadie. She's out front. Be sure to make it sound authentic when you ask her."
I squeeze my eyes shut when my jaw clenches so tight my teeth hurt. Now I've got to go ask a child to a freaking prom? I grip the door handle so hard it's a wonder it doesn't break. I've never even asked out a woman that I actually would want to go out with before! "You fucking owe me more than a fight for this favor. And you know I'm going to milk this shit for years," I warn him over my shoulder.
"To see my little girl happy, it'll be worth it," he says with a shit-eating grin. "I'll call Linc's team right now and hopefully have the fight contract ready for you to sign tomorrow."
Leaving his office, I may have slammed his door a little harder than necessary. I hit rewind on the last five minutes once I’m alone in the hallway. Did I seriously just agree to a death match in exchange for a date with a high schooler? What the hell was I thinking? If ever there was a deal with the devil, I'd just foolishly partaken of such temptation.
I'm about to turn around, march back in his office, and call the whole thing off when I hear her sweet, musical voice.
"Hey, Jude," Sadie says softly from behind me.
There's something...different about the sing-song way she greets me, and it has nothing to do with The Beatles' ballad. It's more like...I don't know, like I'm her favorite person in the world. Which is just nuts since I hardly ever speak a word to the girl. Yet, the heaviness of affection in those two words, and my name in particular, causes a strange tingling sensation to run through me. It's similar to when an ice cold raindrop splatters onto your bare neck and then causes goosebumps as it snakes its way underne
ath your shirt, heading right down your spine.
It's probably just the feeling of guilt.
Or dread.
Can I really be a jackass and let this girl miss her senior prom? Goddamn me for being a nice guy. Everyone knows where those fuckers always finish.
"Hey, Sadie. How's it going?" I ask, turning around to face my new obligation.
Even though I’m pretty sure she's usually hanging out around the gym every day, I don't pay much attention to her. She's no different than one of the guys. Actually she’s more like a constant stationary object, a piece of exercise equipment always in the building. So, facing her now and actually looking at her, I'd forgotten how damn young she is. With her frizzy, mousy brown curls, glasses and not much more than five feet of height, she probably isn't a hundred pounds soaking wet. Like usual, she's dressed in a black Havoc logo tee and a pair of rugged, baggy jeans. Hell, I'm pretty sure the girl has braces, or at least she did just a few weeks ago.
"Ah, been better. Just counting down the days to graduation," she says shyly, pushing her unruly hair behind one ear while talking to the worn Chuck's on her feet.
"Oh yeah? Gotta love those last few weeks. Parties and proms and shit, right?" I ask, trying to figure out a segue. I've never done this shit before. I don't have time for women, dating or any of that other crap.
"Uh-huh." I barely hear her response.
"You don't sound very excited."
"I was, but...now I'm not going," she says with a one-shoulder shrug.
"You're not going to your prom?" I ask, feigning shock. And wow, my acting skills are rusty, which reminds me of that god awful semester of drama I regret taking in high school.
"Um, no. It's just a stupid party with a bunch of judgmental bitches and manipulative assholes trying to get laid."
"Wow." I laugh at her colorful but accurate description. "It can't be that bad. And you only get one senior prom. Miss it and someday you might regret it."
"It doesn't matter, I'm not going," she says quickly, blinking those big, green, watery eyes behind her thick lenses.
Okay, so now I'm starting to feel genuinely bad for her. I'd forgotten how fragile teenage girls are, and how the smallest, seemingly insignificant things hold the capability to crush their already threadbare spirits. Something as big as prom...hell, that has the potential to devastate.
"So, why aren't you going?" I ask, even though I know the answer.
Swaying on my feet from exhaustion, I cross my arms over my chest and brace my shoulder against the wall to hold myself up.
"No date, and there's no way I’m going alone."
"What?" I try to sound surprised when I ask, "How's an adorably sweet girl like you not have a date?" That wasn't as phony a statement as the others. Underneath the grunge, I-don't-care-so-screw-the-world image, she's actually pretty cute in the young, barely legal way. Especially with her blush coloring her cheeks after my compliment.
"Ryder, the sonofabitch, dumped me for the class slut. So now I'm shit out of luck since everyone else already has dates."
I can't help but grin at the way she looks so young and innocent but curses like a sailor. A sure sign she's been hanging around this place too long. But here's my opening, so I grow a pair and get it over with. Bombs away!
"Then let me take you."
Sadie blinks her wide eyes at me at the same time her mouth falls open almost comically. "Wh-what?"
"If you want to go, then I'll be your date."
She finally recovers, closing her mouth and rolling her eyes. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Jude."
There it is again, that goddamn raindrop.
I glance up at the ceiling to make sure the roof isn't leaking. Nope, so it's probably just sweat. I'm sure that's what's dripping down my spine.
"I'm serious. I bet you already have a dress and all, right?" I ask while stretching my arm over my shoulder to scrub away the tickling sensation from underneath the back of my hoodie.
"Y-yeah."
"So when's the prom? In a few weeks?"
"Um, well, it's Saturday night."
"What time should I pick you up?" I ask.
Her face turns a deeper shade of red. "You're serious? You...you'd go with me...to my prom?"
"Sure. Come on, you know it'll be fun."
No turning back now. And that shot at a championship belt is looking better and better.
"But my dad...there's no way...I mean, he won't..." she stutters, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt.
"You don't think he'll approve?" I laugh at how wrong she is about the bastard manipulator.
"Um, no. You're too old-"
"Too old?" I exclaim. "I'm only twenty-one! So that's what, like three years older than you?"
Wow, is that all there is? Three years? Well, it'll be four next week. I swear I feel ancient compared to her. Probably since I missed out on all the usual teenage shit because I was here working my ass off.
"I know that, but my dad barely lets me go out with guys my own age."
"I bet you can convince him. Bat those big, green eyes while you beg sweetly and he's sure to cave. Why don't you talk to him and let me know?"
"Okay," she says with a quick nod, so I turn to head home before I have to crawl. "Wait," she calls out, stopping me mid-stride. "You swear you're not fucking with me? Because...well...I’d rather not go at all than have you tell everyone I’m just a pathetic pity date."
I meet her suspicious gaze, and remembering what Coach said about making it sound authentic, only feel a little guilty when I give her a partial truth. "I swear I’m not fucking with you, Sadie. I was planning to ask you out anyway, so your prom’s just perfect timing."
Chapter Two
Sadie Briggs
"Oh my God," I mutter to the empty hallway after watching Jude Malone's sexy ass walk out of the gym's front door. My knees feel weak so I hold on to the wall for a few seconds to recover. At least until my dad's office door opens.
"Oh, hey, sweetie. You okay?" he asks.
I try and balance on my own two feet without assistance, now just a little wobbly. "Yeah, fine."
"Good," he says before heading to the gym floor.
"Hey, Dad!" I call out and jog to catch up to him. "Um, you know prom is this weekend and I wasn't sure I was going to go?"
"Yeah."
"Well, um, Jude offered to take me-"
"What?" he exclaims, coming to a dead halt. "Jude? No. He's too old for you," he says before turning around and walking away.
Oh hell no.
"This might be my only opportunity to go with a date. Otherwise, I'll be sitting home alone, making myself sick on raw cookie dough while all my friends have the time of their lives."
"I'm sure you can find someone else to go with," he says, dismissing me and turning to leave again. I latch onto his arm with both of my hands to prevent his escape.
"Daddy, please! Do you really want the dress you paid four hundred dollars for to go to waste?" I ask.
"You can just take it back," he replies with a nonchalant shrug, upping my irritation.
"No, I can't! It's already been taken in and hemmed for my short ass-"
"Language," he warns.
"Please! I'll do anything."
"Anything, huh?" he asks, rubbing his chin in thought. "Even cancel your beach trip?"
I suck in a breath. He can't be serious. I know he's been upset at the idea of me going off with just my friends for a week, but that's a rite of passage after graduation! No adults allowed before we all go our separate ways to college. I've been looking forward to that prospect of freedom for so long, I don't want to give it up.
But for one night with Jude Malone? So worth it. Trying, I can't even imagine how amazing he'll look in a suit. I've seen him always dressed in sweats or shorts almost every day for the past seven years. I have my own spank bank of memories of him in nothing but those very thin, nylon shorts.
Jude could be the poster boy for Men's Health magazine. The fighter
doesn't have a single inch of fat on his six-foot tall frame. Since he's a natural middleweight who fights at welterweight to avoid having to officially fight his brother, he's lean and sleek. He works his ass off for six or more hours a day in the gym, so he keeps his jet black hair that matches his warm, dark chocolate eyes shaved close to the scalp for convenience sake since he's constantly sweating. Usually there's a day or more worth of dark stubble along his angular jaw that takes away from his natural pretty boy perfection to make him look ruggedly handsome. If there's a sexy gene the Malone brothers have it in spades.
So while I hate the idea of all his finely sculpted muscles being covered up, I bet he'll look incredible dressed up in a suit fancy enough to accentuate just how freaking gorgeous he is.
"Fine," I say sighing in resignation. "I won't go to the beach."
"Pleasure doing business with you, sweetie," my dad says with a smile and a pat on my shoulder. "You can go to the prom with Jude, but that’s it. Nothing else. He’s too old for you. Oh, and I expect you to help out here a few hours every day after school and several days a week during the summer!"
"I will! Thank you, Daddy!" After a supersonic squeal only the neighborhood dogs can hear, I pull out my phone to call my bestie.
"What did Ryder do now?" Brayden groans in greeting, already anticipating my bitching about the prick I now despise more than Miley Cyrus, which is really saying something.
"Screw Ryder. Guess who I'm going to prom with."
"You finally found a date?"
"Yep. Jude Malone asked me to go with him."
Her gasp is clear through the line. "You're kidding! Are you sure you didn't dream that shit up? Did you just wake up from a nap?"
"No, it really happened, and after some begging, my dad actually agreed."
"Wow," she says dreamily. "And you've only been crushing on him for like forever."
Yeah, crushing on a man who can walk past me three times a day and never look at me, much less speak a word to me unless I initiate a conversation, which I'm rarely able to accomplish. Just being in his general vicinity causes me to forget all words in the English language except for "um" and "ah." So, yes, one night with his undivided attention is both scary as shit and a ridiculous fantasy come true.