Bad Boy's Treat: The Possessed MC

by Amy Love

I look back at the torn up envelope I let fall to the floor. In all my excitement of getting my first writing paycheck, I completely forgot that I probably should be keeping a good record of all this stuff. After all, writing about bad boys has become a pretty profitable business. “Uh… it’s from Leather and Lace -- that sex shop I totally didn’t want to advertise for until you convinced me. I guess I should thank you for that.”

  “Thank me? You don’t have to do that. What you do have to do is take that to the bank and then give me my share of the earners. We’ve got a contract, remember?” She laughs to herself as she spins to her desk, grabs the calculator out of the organizer, and punches in a few numbers. Jana isn’t kidding -- the amount owed to her is thanks enough for all the work she has been doing.

  And really, she deserves more than that. I’m going to have to figure out an amount to give her as a bonus or overtime. While I’ve been off with Liam and studying for midterms, she’s been standing guard of our little site like a knight in shining Internet armor. Even last night, she had headed off to meet with a professor who had more knowledge on this sort of thing than she did so that she could continue to fend off Amy’s attacks on the site.

  Jana spins around the room, check still in hand, and throws open her tiny closet doors. Her wardrobe practically falls out on top of her as she says dramatically, “My clothes do need an update… or maybe a new pair of heels… but a girl can never have too many purses…”

  I sit back on my bed and watch her with a half smile on her face as she rattles off a wish list of items she’s been waiting to buy. No doubt this is just the first check to come in from our blogging profits. The last we checked, the site was getting an insane amount of clicks and enough comments that we stopped responding to each one. It seems like, to me, that deep down, every girl wants to net and string in a bad boy.

  Even Amy’s controlling, rambling comments about taking Liam back from me just intensified the readers. I guess I should also send her a cut of the action for that. Her name was getting legendary among my fans. My most devoted ones had even the nerve to start trolling her with ridiculous comments about her being a stalker and a jealous bitch. Though I should have, I didn’t dare delete those. I want Amy to know that what she was attempting to do was completely out of line.

  “Oh, Alana! Just think about this --” Jana jumps up next to me and exclaims, “You’re not even going to need Liam’s money to pay for your dad’s care. The next few checks from the website are going to handle all of that. Can you believe it? You’ll have all that cash to pay off your tuition… or whatever responsible and boring adult money thing you think you need to do!” She pulls me in tight for a bear hug, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

  “I know. I’m going to need all the money I can get, though. He’s going to need extensive physical and occupational therapy. It could be months before he re-learns to walk and dress himself.” I sigh sadly to myself as I take the check from Jana’s hands and place it over on the nightstand. “It’s going to all go to getting him the help he needs… even Liam’s money.”

  “Come on now, Alana! Stop being such a downer.” I shoot Jana a knowing look. This is not the territory she wants to tread over. She smartly backtracks, “Sorry… I mean that you have been working night and day and even put your life at risk to help your dad out. Isn’t there just one thing you could get with this money that isn’t a necessity? Splurge a little! Treat yourself! One day of fun isn’t going to hurt you!”

  Jana’s right, in her own way. Even now, I can feel the tension in my shoulders and the way I am grinding my teeth back and forth. The last few months have been a complete and utter disaster. Maybe I should just let myself splurge a little? What could be the harm in that?

  I reach back over and grab the check, placing it in my back pocket. Jana grabs my arm, practically reading my mind as she asks, “So… where are we going?”

  “How about to get our hair done? I haven’t done that in a long time, and it wouldn’t be too much of a big deal if I skip my class this afternoon.” Well, it may be a big deal to my professor, but this was the one day I could make it happen. Plus, all of my last haircuts were done by Jana experimenting with a pair of craft scissors and a how-to video. Thank goodness my hair is thick enough to hide all those blotches.

  “Oh! Thank God!” Jana cries out as she runs over to her shoe pile and slips on a pair of flats. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but those split ends are looking super rough, girl.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up and out of the room. I just have enough time to pick up my phone and my purse before she shuts the door behind us and leads out to the parking lot where my dad’s truck is waiting.

  At the bank, the teller eyes us suspiciously as I explain how I want the money to be split between accounts. I’m sure he can see the zeros in my history prior to these past few weeks, and I can only imagine why he thinks a sex shop has written us the check of a lifetime, but I couldn’t care. I can’t seem to wipe the smile off of my face as Jana and I bounce out of there arm in arm with loaded wallets and an appointment to Tre Chic, the hottest boutique in Vegas.

  It was a miracle they could get us in. Jana promised them some money if they could bounce a client or two, but I didn’t ask questions. She knew that if I were in on that, I would back out so quickly that she wouldn’t be able to see me in the dust trail I left behind. Instead, she handed the cashier a thick envelope as the woman led me away to the sink station for a quick soap and wash.

  Jana takes a seat next to me while the woman lathers my hair. She pulls out a Celebs Daily magazine and thumbs through the pages, commenting on outfits and hairstyles. “Oh wow. Alana! Your guy made the magazine!...” She pauses before standing up and shouting, “AND SO DID YOU! OMG!”

  Jana and the hairdresser, Elaine, stare at the magazine, nodding their heads before holding it up to my face. I push it away from my nose as I scan the page for a glimpse of me. And they’re right. Just in the corner of the image, wearing those oversized aviator sunglasses and that ridiculous sweatpants get-up, I am walking arm and arm with Liam. Underneath the image is the headline: Hot Mr. Murphy and His Hospital Date.

  “Liam is getting big, Alana. I mean, I know nothing about boxing, but the new guy I’m seeing, Devon, knows all about him. He thinks he could be heavyweight king, or whatever it is they call that title. Could you imagine dating a celebrity? Jesus, you’re so lucky.”

  Elaine goes back to washing my hair out, clearly paying attention, as I respond, “So lucky? You know it’s not that simple with him Jana. Things between us are… complicated.” It’s the only word I can come up with to describe me saying that I loved him and him saying nothing back -- even four days later.

  “You know he cares about you. He told you so. And he pulled that stunt with the hospital. He obviously has feelings for you or he wouldn’t be acting this way. Just go with it. You’re Mr. Murphy’s girl now.” I can hear Jana turn the page and sit back in the leather seat.

  “Wait!” The hairdresser suddenly stops rinsing and places down the hose with a click. “You’re not… Graduate-Level Ice Cream, are you?”

  I sit straight up, not believing my ears. I’ve been anon since I started this blog. Not even my closest friends have guessed I was the one writing all those viral articles. Was it that obvious that I was writing about this new celebrity?

  “It is you!” She jumps, placing a hand to her mouth. “I’m such a huge fan of your blog and that Bad Boy series you’re doing.”

  “Wait… but… how?” Jana jumps in, grabbing my shoulders. My wet hair dangles and drips over the plastic robe.

  “The post today… the information on the club and everything? I mean, to be honest, I really didn’t understand it, but when I heard you say that guy’s name, I put two and two together…”

  I turn back to Jana, my mouth dropping. “Amy” is the only word I could get out. Jana pulls out her phone from her purse and begins to type.

  “Yeah! Amy!” Elaine shouts. “She’s the o
ne who posted it. I thought that was all fake.” She takes a look at us as her voice lowers and her head drops in a panic. “Didn’t you write that yourself?”

  Jana lets out a small scream of frustration and pushes the phone into my hands. I don’t even want to look at the damage, but there it is in the red all-caps writing. It exposes everything and anything about Liam’s club and their business. I slump back down to the chair as Jana shouts at poor, flabbergasted Elaine, “Do you have a laptop or a computer… something I can use?”

  I don’t know what to do. I potentially ruined Liam’s life. Hell, he could be arrested right now or banned from boxing. He could be on the run or…

  I stare up at the television at a breaking news report flashing in red and blue. The announcer goes live to a building on the outskirts of downtown -- a gym. The windows have been smashed out, and black and gray ash and smoke marks color the ground. The camera pans inside to the wall of cardio machines practically melted to their metal and a boxing ring tattered and blown apart.

  My feet seem to recognize the insignia of the gym before my brain can catch up. I’m practically out the door as I shout to Jana, “It’s Liam! It’s his gym!”

  “Go! Find him! See if he’s okay! I’ll take care of the website.” She sits back down at the desk with Elaine as I rip off the robe around my neck and toss it to the ground. I reach the truck in seconds flat as I dial Liam’s number over and over again. There’s no answer, but I know where he would be if he were safe -- the club’s headquarters.

  I manage to make it there by memory. Even in the day, it doesn’t manage to look less like a horror factory for drunks and scoundrels. Still, I run past them as I scream out, “Where’s Liam? Show me where Liam is!” I’m only a foot into the door when I see him in his tattered shirt and shorts. He walks to me as I run, eventually grabbing him around his shoulders and neck. “Liam! I saw… I saw on the news… I thought you were… I knew you wouldn’t but I thou--”

  He looks up at the men gathered around to watch. From the office he came out of, a few men look over at me with disgusted looks. Something wasn’t right. I could tell by the way Liam held me at a distance that I wasn’t walking into a great reuniting.

  “Alana... “ he says quietly as he spins me around towards the door. “Can we talk?”

  The next few minutes fly by, as the world seems to stand still between us. I try to focus in on Liam’s words, “It’s the website… Amy won’t stop… I want to be with you, but… The guys need me…” But I can’t seem to get a handle on them. Just hours ago, it felt like my life had finally fallen into the right pace and place. Now I was struggling just to understand why the man I actually had fallen in love with, despite everything we have been through, could just walk away like this. So calm, so cool. He can’t even look at me.

  I fall back into the passenger seat of the ice cream truck as Liam continues to rest his arm on one of the stacks of supplies I had unloaded earlier yesterday. In my mind, I watch as he unpacks the boxes for me, smiling and singing to himself. He looked so right in my life. But I should have known better then. No man like Liam could ever be apart of something like me. I was too pure, too good. And while I used to think of that as a good thing, it feels more like a drawback. I would never be the type of woman Amy is, and that was clearly what Liam wanted.

  When he’s finished explaining the why’s of why we can’t be together, all I can say to him is a simple, “I’m sorry.” I repeat it over and over in my head as the silence grows. I have no idea what I am sorry for. Liam has made me rich, in love, and more confident than ever. He has helped me get out a side of me that most likely will fade away as I go back to normal Alana life. Maybe I was sorry for the way that I will miss him. Maybe I am sorry he obviously won’t feel the same way.

  Liam sighs heavily as he walks towards the front of the truck and then sits across from me in the driver’s seat. For a second, he looks out at the parking lot. His men go about their business like nothing has happened. And in a way, nothing has. They will most likely never know about this love story or that Liam is there, breaking a girl’s heart all because her silly little website got hacked. I almost feel sorry for them, but my heart is too torn up to feel anything but numbness, even when Liam reaches down to touch my bare knee and then to pull a strand of my still soaking wet hair behind my ear.

  “I want you to know…” He tries to get out, but I can hear that facade cracking. There was feeling in him. I guess that’s a relief to know. The iron man with the muscles can be broken. “I want you to know that I will take care of you. Even though you won’t see it, I’ll make sure you have protection and that you will get the fair share of the money I owe you. I don’t break my promises, Alana, especially not to you.”

  I shoot back, “I don’t need your money, Liam. I don’t need anything. The blog is taking off, and I just cashed a huge check. It’ll cover my dad’s expenses and more. I wouldn’t want anything from you after all this anyways.” I hate to admit how pissed I am about his ‘promises.’ Sure, I cared about not being hunted down by the guy he robbed, but the money was never that big for me, especially when feelings were in the mix. I couldn’t care if I was in debt to the hospital for the rest of my life if it meant trading these moments for my old Liam again.

  “I’m glad for you,” he says slowly, the wrinkle over his eyebrow growing dark, “But you will get your money. The boys just got their share of the diamonds tonight. I’ll have someone get you your cut in the next few days. And the fights, well, I just have one more to go.”

  “You’re not going to fight, are you? You can’t think that putting yourself in the ring is going--” I stop myself. It’s not my place anymore. He had made his mind up that he would go it alone. My concerns and worries weren’t important anymore.

  “I’ll be alright, Alana. I can handle it. Trust me.”

  I nod to myself, jutting my chin out the way I did when I was a child mourning for my mother. It was the only way I could stop the tears from falling. I stand, taking out the keys from my pocket, and he follows, switching places with me. He looks back into the truck, eyeing for a long moment the place where I keep my money. I ask passively, “Did you need something back there, or am I free to go?”

  He shakes his head firmly and steps down from the passenger side. Over the sound of the truck starting, I think I hear him say something, but his back is turned to me. At this point, what is there to say? What could possibly make this pain go away? His figure fades into the back of my rearview mirror, unmoving and still watching as I turn the corner and head back into the city, towards the only place where I know I’ll find some peace tonight.

  CHAPTER 22

  The next morning hits me like a runaway freight train. I walk out of bed slowly, tearing the black drapes away. Sunlight beams through the spotty, dusty glass, and I tear myself away quickly. I’m surprised it isn’t raining. The storm inside swarms around me desperately to escape, to paint the rest of the world as black and hopeless.

  I don’t know why I even bother to look at my phone. I guess I sort of half expect to see a text from Alana telling me when she’ll pick me up, or a missed phone call with an apology for that post she didn’t see Amy put up. But instead, there’s nothing -- just a missed call from my grandmother and another from a restricted number. Even telemarketers have the guts to go after me today. It almost feels criminal.

  There’s more news on the television about the firebombing of the gym. Of course, my name is splashed across the screen. It’s just another tragedy for the ill-fated boxing bad boy, Mr. Murphy. The newscaster wonders out loud if this might have possibly been somehow related to the fight I got my head injury in. I admit I was on that same page too. Now that I knew Amy was going to stop at nothing to get me back -- or to get back at me, whichever came first -- I’m beginning to wonder if the whole quarters in the boxing gloves scheme was her idea as well. It would have made sense with the security change ups. And with her.

  That fucking bitch -- I hate t
o use that word to call any woman that (my grandma taught me so much better and would slap me silly for even thinking it), but if there was ever any girl out there who had earned the bitch medal, it was Amy. She had managed to cause so much physical and emotional damage in just a handful of days that it actually causes me to stop and think through where I’m going next and what I’m planning to do all day. What could I possibly do today that she could have an effect on? If I went out riding, would she find some goons to come scout me and bring me back to her? If I went shopping for new workout trunks, would she pay the cashier to rob me blind? There didn’t seem to be a limit to her madness. That fucking bitch.

  At least Alana was free now. Before I went home last night, I had a few guys set up to find and follow her. They were meant to get back the rubies I had left in her truck’s safe and tail her so that I knew Amy wasn’t going to pull some revenge stunt on her. Still, I wonder if I should be doing more. Maybe I should broadcast it to Amy that the two of us are done just so she knows to stay back. But knowing Amy, she’s got her eyes and ears out for any bit of information on me, including if I followed through on cutting Alana out.

  So, Alana was on her own now. There was literally nothing else I could do to protect her but make sure she had some backup and do whatever Amy wanted me to do. And I’d have to live with that sinking feeling in my gut that made my feet feel like loose stones on the pavement, always waiting to get dropped.