by Lane Hart
"Are you crying? What's going on, Claire? You're starting to worry me."
"Sorry. Just...bad day."
He sighs heavily into the phone. "I’m on my way."
"No! Mason, I'm fine now. I promise."
"You sure? You don't fucking sound fine."
"Yes. I’m sure."
He stays quiet for a few seconds. "Does this have anything to do with Linc Abrams?"
"No," I say quickly.
"Liar," he calls me out. "Did something happen last night with him at Vito's?"
"Nope." What's another lie on the ever growing pile?
"Good," he says, which shocks the hell out of me. I figured my brother would be Team Linc all the way since he looks up to him and his successful MMA career. "Because you know I went over to Havoc today to get registered? Well, instead of coming out with me and his boys, he left the gym with some girl tonight." I choke on a sharp intake of breath hearing that Linc was with someone else. The night after he paid to fuck me on camera he's going on a freaking date?
Mason sighs again, this time heavier. "Ah shit. Am I gonna have to kick his ass? Cause I will for you, sis, even if it means giving up Havoc."
"No!" I exclaim. "Please swear to me you won't mention anything about me to him. It's complicated, okay, and doesn't matter. Promise me, Mason. This is a great opportunity for you so don't mess it up!" I'm not about to admit to my brother that I did a porno with the man.
"I know you're hiding shit from me, but I can't make you spit it out. Just, let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay," I agree. "Thanks, Mason. I got a pretty good deal the day they were handing out baby brothers."
"Yeah, you did," he easily agrees. "Too bad they dropped Mandy on her head before they gave her to you."
"Mason!" I chastise him.
"Seriously, what are we gonna do about her? We can't keep this shit up, and neither can she." I understand exactly what he's referring to; the two of us constantly bailing Mandy out of her self-created problems. It never ends with her.
"I know," I agree. "Let's work on trying to get her to go into another inpatient rehab program.” Two years ago she got accepted into a drug treatment facility for ninety days. It was enough time for her to detox, and she actually stayed clean for several months after she got out. “It’ll probably go in one ear and out the other like usual, but if we both stay on her, maybe she'll cave just to get us off her ass."
"Deal," he says.
"Now go have fun and I’ll talk to you later."
"Love you, sis," he says before hanging up, making me smile.
Chapter Ten
Linc
It has to be close to midnight, but I'm not ready to head home yet. After the homecoming game that Abby convinced me to come to, all of us from the Cary High class of '08 decided to stick around and hang out on the bleachers, knockin’ out a cooler of beer while we rehash an infinite number of stories from the glory days. Talkin’ and laughin’ with Ryan and Jason for the first time in years has helped take my mind off the thoughts of a gold-diggin’ porn star which fill my every wakin’ minute. God, I still feel like such a fuckin’ fool for bein’ so damn cocky and stupid to think Eve actually wanted me.
"Oh shit," Ryan mutters with a grin. "You remember how trashed Jason got the night we graduated? We couldn't find him because he had gone next door and jumped in his neighbor’s pool fully clothed." He has to pause in the story until he stops shakin’ with laughter. "Then when the cops showed up and pulled him out, they asked him what he thought he was doing. He reached down and said 'Freeing Willy' with his cock in his hand."
Everyone laughs, including myself, even though I missed seein’ the events firsthand. As soon as we graduated, Abby and I left for Myrtle Beach, in a hurry to get a jump on the senior ritual, and ready to jump in bed without parents, friends, school, trainin’ or anything else gettin’ in our way for a few days. It was during that week that I first asked her to marry me. Yeah, I knew we were young, but that didn't matter to me, not when I loved her and wanted to be with her forever. What we had was the real deal. Not only was she my best friend those three years we were together, but regardless of the fact that we were each other's first, we burned up the sheets learnin’ every position in the Kama Sutra and inventin’ a few of our own. The sex was always scorchin’ hot. We collided like we'd die if our bodies weren't joined within seconds of bein’ left alone together. And now here she is in my life again, sick, possibly terminally, movin’ back to town with her parents because she's gettin’ ready to have her first chemotherapy treatment in just a few days.
Sittin’ sideways two bleachers down, Abby's eyes catch mine on her. Tonight she's bundled up in layers, a sweater, hoodie, and overcoat even though it's not that cool out in the September night. The rest of us have on thin jackets or just long sleeve shirts. Her long braid hangs over her shoulder, restin’ on her full chest, tauntin’ me. The tease is multiplied when one of her eyebrows inches up and she flashes me a smile that asks, You're thinking about fucking me, aren’t you pervert? I return her smile and shrug in the What can I say? I have an elephant trunk for a cock and he never forgets response.
She shivers either out of arousal or because of the temperature. I still can't believe she has cancer since she looks so healthy. But right now, at this moment, I can see the fragility in her that's more prominent than ever before. And the worst part that squeezes my heart, the fear of an unknown future in her sad eyes that never disappears even when she smiles.
The five or six beers that I've had are meltin’ my icy block of coldness toward her. Each droplet that lands in the surroundin’ puddle seems to take some of the anger and hurt along with it. Of course I haven't completely forgiven her, but I'm workin’ on it. Maybe I never will, but I can stop bein’ a dick long enough to show her that I'm tryin’ to let the past go. Abby already has so much on her that it would be petty of me to make her feel even worse.
Givin’ in to the urge to prove that I'm...tryin’, and hell, maybe even soothe my recently bruised ego, I scoot down the bleachers until I'm next to her. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, pullin’ her to my chest to warm her up. She fits against me the same way she always did. "You okay? Need to go?" I ask.
"No," she says, lookin’ up at me with those brown eyes that I once would do anything for. "Are you okay? You've been chewing a hole in your bottom lip all night."
I scrub my free hand down my face, noticin’ the scruff that I didn't shave off today. Distracted is not even close to describin’ the zombie like state I've been in since leavin’ Mandy last night. Instead of shruggin’ it off, I decide to tell Abby the truth. "Last night I made a fuckin’ fool of myself, so now I'm tryin’ to figure out how to pick my stupid self up off the canvas with what dignity I have left."
"You mean, like with a woman?" she asks, way too perceptively.
"Uh-huh." I don't bother denyin’ it.
She laughs. "You, the recently named Sexiest MMA Fighter in the World struck out? I find that very hard to believe." When she throws out the ridiculous magazine title, the corners of my lips inevitability lift just a tad. I've had fun rubbin’ that shit in Jude's face since he came in third behind his brother, Jax.
"I didn't exactly strike out," I reply. Bein’ with Mandy, despite the circumstances, was more like a fuckin’ grand-slam, home run. "She just doesn't have any plans to see me again or give me a real chance."
"Well, she's an idiot," Abby says, and then softer, "And I would know."
Followin’ the silence that surrounds us after that statement, I figure we should call it a night. Anything to avoid divin’ into those shark infested waters.
"You ready to go?" I ask. Abby nods, so we say goodbye to our old friends and walk back to my truck. Her car is still sittin’ at Havoc since she stopped by and asked me to go with her to the game. I caved, needin’ the distraction from replayin’ the night before.
We climb in the cab, and the doors barely close before she unfortunately sta
rts in now that she has me in a contained space. "Can we please talk?" she asks. "Will you give me just five minutes to explain what happened that night? That's all I've ever wanted, Linc but you've never given me that. Please."
Starin’ out the side window, I keep my eyes on the empty parkin’ lot, instead of her face that is guaranteed to soften me. "Don't think that's a good idea, Abby."
My whole body tenses up when her soft fingertips unexpectedly make contact with the side of my turned face, caressin’ my scruffy jawline. Her gentle touch is way too...intimate than I'm prepared for or comfortable with, when she says again, "Please."
I shake my head and grab her hand to peel it away from my face, tellin’ her the honest to God truth. "I could go the rest of my life and never talk about that-" I pause mid-sentence when the stadium lights hit a tattoo on the inside of Abby's wrist. I pull it closer to see if it's what I think it is. A small, simple black outline forms a pair of angel wings, connected in the middle by three cursive letters, "TLA." The ink is lightly faded, provin’ that she's definitely had it for a while.
"There's no expiration date on my mourning, either," she says softly. "I was hurting just as much as you, but I couldn't take another second of the guilt...seeing the pain on your face and everyone else's...You blamed me. I know you did. I thought it was my fault, too."
My chest tightens and throat burns seein’ the reminder she permanently inked into her skin. The drastic contrast between the proof in front of me and the belief I've always had that she was so happy and relieved throws me completely off balance. I might be sittin’ down, but I still feel the foundation of the past start to shift underneath me. All because of a tattoo.
The asshole in me says it could be nothin’ more than a way for her to try and get attention or sympathy, but that's not somethin’ the Abby I used to know would ever do. If that's all it was then she would've shoved it in my face the other day when she saw my necklace. I assumed she never looked back, but I was wrong.
Still holdin’ her hand in both of mine, I brush my lips over the memorial and finally give her the small concession that I couldn't honestly give her the week everything went to hell. "It wasn't your fault. Chromosome abnormality. That's what the medical records said caused it."
My parents and I had ordered all the hospital records, because they drew blood from me and Abby to use for genetic testing to see what exactly had gone wrong to cause a miscarriage in the second trimester of the pregnancy. At the time, a part of me even wondered if he was really mine or some other guy's baby after the night in Greenville. The results left no doubt about the paternity, and made it clear that there was nothin’ anyone, even the doctors, could have done to prevent the miscarriage.
"We didn't know that at the time. Not until weeks later...when the tests came back," she says through sniffles. "No, I wasn't ready to be a mother...not when I first found out I was pregnant. But I still loved him and wanted him."
Those are the words I would've given anything to hear before she ran, but she didn't say them, not even once.
"That's what I wanted to believe. It's why...that's why I followed you to Greenville, because I was worried about you blamin’ yourself. Then when I found you fuckin’ cheatin’ on me-"
"I swear, Linc, I wasn't cheating on you-"
"Bullshit!" I yell so loudly it echoes around the interior of the truck. I finally let her hand go at that bald-faced lie. "You were in bed with him!"
"Charlie-" she starts, and just hearin’ his name makes me groan. "He was just a random guy who lived on my floor. He heard me crying when he was leaving the shower and came in to check on me. Everyone had gone home for break and he was the only other person on the entire hall that night. There was nothing else going on!"
I shake my head and bark out a laugh in complete disbelief that she thinks I would ever buy that shit. Checking on her required gettin’ in bed with her? Yeah, right. "That's a nice story that you've had five years to make up," I tell her.
"It's the truth. The only truth. I had all of my clothes on, and he was in a towel from his shower. You didn't give us a chance to explain before you…attacked him. I was terrified. You wouldn't hurt me...so you took out all of your anger at me losing the baby on him."
The cab of the truck suddenly starts shrinkin’, the sides closin’ in on me, and I'm certain the temperature must’ve shot up at least fifty degrees. I get out to find more air for my lungs, slamming the door shut behind me.
The rational, clearheaded part of me says she's lyin’, but honestly I don't even remember much of what happened that night. I'd gone into a fuckin’ rage as soon as I walked into the room and saw she wasn't alone. So I can't try and figure out if there's any truth to what she now wants me to believe, even if I wanted to.
Bracin’ my back against the side of the truck, I rub the throbbin’ veins in my temple that make me absolutely certain that my head is about to explode. It's too much to take in, too emotional to deal with. I'm thankful that Abby doesn't get out and keep talkin’ because I need a few minutes alone to think and to get my escalatin’ blood pressure under control.
A knife piercin’ my gut keeps askin’ me, "What if she's tellin’ the truth? What if I lost her because of a stupid misunderstanding?" I nearly killed that boy after I got my hands on him. At the time, there was no doubt in my mind that she was with him, but now...it never actually made sense to me why she would even try to have sex with someone when she hadn't recovered from the birth. Yeah, the baby was only a few ounces, but it didn't seem much different from a full-term healthy delivery.
Out of nowhere a memory of me and Sadie the night before my and Jude’s fight hits me. We were in my bed at the hotel together. I slept on my back in a t-shirt and shorts that night with my arm around Sadie. She took her dress off and slept in one of my oversized shirts, usin’ my chest as a pillow. It was completely innocent to us. Sadie’s a beautiful girl, but I wasn’t attracted to her, and even if I had been, she was devastated by her dad and Jude lyin’ to her. I had only held her while she cried because she felt like there wasn’t anyone else to hold her. It was no different than if she had been my sister Hailey. On the flip side of that, what if Jude had walked in on us? Would he have seen the two of us in the same non-sexual way? Not fuckin’ likely because of his blindin’ jealousy. Maybe the same thing happened to me.
I can't begin to sort through everything right now, and I know Abby has to be gettin’ cold sittin’ inside the truck. I need to take her back to her car and go home to drink myself into oblivion, hopefully until I forget the roller coaster ride from hell that I've been on for the last two days.
...
The next Wednesday my hinged brace officially came off and I was cleared for trainin’. Finally. Mace showed up just like I told him to last Friday, so now he's a registered Havoc fighter. I've tried to leave his trainin’ to the coachin’ staff because just seein’ him reminds me of his sister, who I'm workin’ really hard to try and forget. More than once I've considered askin’ him for her number. It would be so easy to get it from him so that I could see her again. I want to kick my own ass for even considerin’ it since I’m nothin’ but a big dollar sign to her, so instead I kick the long bag in front of me. While I may be crazy about her, she could care less about me, other than my money.
And Abby...my thoughts are still all over the place. She started chemotherapy this week, and while she didn't ask me to go with her, I think she wanted me to offer. I just...couldn't. I knew her mom or sister would go with her, so she wasn't alone. I've talked to her on the phone a few times since the game Friday, checkin’ on her, but that's all I can offer for now. Probably makes me an even bigger dick. She can't expect to spring shit on me after all these years and it roll right off of me. I'm still processin’ this new information, but it's gonna take time to come around to seein’ things from a different perspective than the one I've held onto for so long.
I throw a few left-handed jabs at the bag for the first time in months, testin’ m
y arm and picturin’ my own head as the target in front of me. The damn thing needs some sense knocked into it. Workin’ out my anger again feels awesome. Too much of it bottled up and I go nuts. I'm reminded of the reason I've stayed away from real women for so long. The last two I've talked to besides Sadie and look what happens; one fucks me like it's just another dick and another day at the office, and the other mindfucks me by tryin’ to rewrite history. I have to say that my porn addiction was a much more pleasant way to go. Only now I'll have to throw out all the old and restock my DVD collection with actresses who I haven't had the pleasure of fuckin’ in real life.
I'm so focused on beatin’ the shit out of my imaginary self that I don't even notice Senn, Josh, and Nate's approach. From the corner of my eye I just suddenly see all three of them standin’ there like a sweaty, stinky fighter wall, shoulder to shoulder next to me.
"What?" I ask, pullin’ the earbuds that are spoutin’ out angry music so I can find out what the hell they want. I'm sure they've come to me for my excellent advice on wooin’ the opposite sex, seein’ as how I'm so awesome at it lately. Sexiest MMA Fighter in the World my ass. Jax and Jude should definitely demand a recount.
"Yo man, you're trendin’ on Twitter," Josh says.
"What the fuck are you talkin’ about?" I ask, catchin’ my breath with my hands on my hips. Of course I know what trendin’ means, but the hashtag with my name only trends before and after I have a fight. "Because my brace is off?" I ask, wonderin’ how everyone around the world would know that shit, or care. It takes thousands of fuckin’ tweets to start trendin’.
"Um, no, it's mostly about you gettin’ off," he replies tryin’ not to grin and failin'. I look at Nate and Senn on either side of him to see if they know what the hell he's talkin’ about.
"The hashtag is something like, 'Linc and Eve porno,'" Nate says with a wince.
"Me and Eve in a porno?" I ask in confusion. “Because of those photos from the strip club?” I've seen a few of the pics of me flattenin’ her against the wall in the club floatin’ around social media, but nothin’ any more provocative. Thankfully not a single one caught a glimpse of my fingers strokin’ her pussy through that skimpy, white thong. Now there's a visual I really don't need to be havin’ right at the moment.