Axel: A Bad Boy Romance

by Day, Laura

  “Hi, Mamma!” Cate said as Marie stepped out of the bathroom. She was wrapped in a fluffy pink robe and her wet hair was wrapped up in a towel. Cate was sitting cross-legged on the bed eating a cereal bar and watching Sesame Street on TV.

  “Hi, baby,” Marie said, walking over and kissing Cate on the head. She had been so good through all of this. The little five-year-old had just left everything she knew behind and she was handling it so well. Cate hadn’t asked about her dad and Marie wasn’t sure how she was going to answer that question when Cate finally wondered why Austin had not come up with them.

  She called about twenty minutes after Austin had left. They told her the position was still available. She sent over her résumé and without waiting for an answer she packed herself and her daughter in her car and took off. They called the next day and offered her the job. She wasn't sure what she would have done if they had said no.

  Dressed in her nicest clothes, a black pencil skirt with a pristine white top, Marie curled her hair into large loose curls that fell elegantly onto her shoulders. She put on a simple bit of makeup and then took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her had tan skin, brown eyes, and long, sleek, dark hair. Marie smiled at herself in the mirror. This was it, the chance to start a whole new life free from Austin.

  “How do I look?” she asked Cate doing a quick twirl in front of her.

  “Beautiful, Mamma!” Cate squealed clapping her hands.

  “Time to get packed, little lady,” Marie said as she began to hustle around the room and pack up their sparse belongings. They had spent the last six nights in a series of cheap motels across the country all paid for in cash. Marie was tired of the scratchy towels and dirty bathrooms and strange noises at all hours. She didn’t just want a place to crash; she wanted a home where she and Cate could really settle down. She was hoping the Harksburg Home could be that place, a place to hide and recover and figure out what her life would be like now.

  Chapter Three

  “Put a shirt on! You know how I hate those tattoos! Your body is God’s temple and I think the good Lord knows how he wants it to look. How are you going to feel when you’re at the gates of heaven and you’ve covered the body he gave you in tattoos?”

  Axel grumbled under his breath as he pulled a black t-shirt over his head and pulled it down. “Happy?” Axel asked as he sat down at the table across from his aging mother. “I mean, I did get into heaven after all, which I was not expecting.”

  “You watch your mouth. That’s God we’re talking about,” his mother said as she set a plate down in front of him. Scrambled eggs, hash, bacon, beans, and coffee, it was an old-fashioned Irish breakfast. The smell of the freshly cooked food wafted up into his nose making his mouth water. The delicious food his mother prepared for him almost made the lectures worth it. She sat down across the table from him with just a cup of coffee in front of her.

  “Thanks for breakfast, Ma,” Axel said. “It’s delicious.”

  “My sweet boy,” she said. “You always did have a good appetite, even as a baby. I never had any problem getting you to finish your meals.” Mrs. Connelly had been beautiful back in her day. Her age had taken some of it, but she was still poised and strong. Her lined and wrinkled face still held a smile easily and she kept her hair set and permed with weekly appointments with the hairdresser. She kept her house clean and open, refusing to let an “old lady” smell fester. “What do you think?” she asked holding up a satin boxer’s robe. It was red on the outside with blue lining on the inside. She was stitching his name in gold thread on the back in large elegant cursive letters. So far she had his first name and first three letters of their last done already.

  “It’s beautiful. The letters are big enough, the lines straight and even; it’s a masterpiece,” Axel said. He could see his mom preen a little. She took a lot of pride in her craft. Axel could have sent away to have the lettering done – it would have been completed faster – but his mother liked doing it, and he liked wearing it. She had lettered all of his MMA gear personally and he considered all of those pieces good luck.

  “It’ll cover up those horrible tattoos,” she said shaking her head at him.

  “They’re art, Mom,” Axel argued. “The one on my left bicep is your maiden name!” he shouted as he pointed to the four-leaf clover with his mother’s name tattooed in dark calligraphy along the stem. He had full tattoo sleeves on both arms that went all the way down to his hands and up his neck. His chest and torso were covered, as well. He couldn’t get enough of them. He liked to get a tattoo to commemorate every win. Major matches won, dozens of Irish knots, the crest of his mother’s family, names of the people he had loved, all total he had spent over two hundred hours in the chair to get all of his tattoos done. His body was a temple, all right, but it was a temple to Axel, a monument to his skill and power in the ring.

  “I never asked you to do that,” she said shaking her head.

  “I know,” Axel answered.

  “You know, if you had a girlfriend she could do this for you. Wouldn’t that be nice? A sweetheart to sew your robes for you?”

  “Mom, women don’t really do that kind of thing anymore,” he said as he took a big bite of bacon and eggs and washed it down with some coffee.

  “They just don’t know how. I could teach them. It’s not too hard,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “Will you look at the second drawer over there? It’s been sticking.”

  His breakfast finished, Axel stood up and put his plate in the sink and then leaned over the drawer. He tugged on it and felt the wheel catch. He quickly pulled the drawer out and grabbed a screwdriver. Reaching into the cabinetry, he loosened the wheel inside until it fell into his hand. It was coated in about seventy year’s worth of dust and grit. He washed it and replaced it, opening and closing the drawer a few times to make sure it was fixed.

  The house was ancient. He had offered her another one, a nice condo in town with a pool and a full maid service. He promised he could help her pay for it, but Mrs. Connolly refused. She wasn’t that type of woman. She had worked her whole life and raised Axel herself. She didn’t belong in some fancy condo with a bunch of rich folk. So, instead, Axel spent his weekends at his childhood home fixing drawers and shutters that had been installed a lifetime ago.

  It would have been easier if he had fond memories from his childhood. But Axel wasn’t so lucky. The only time he could remember having money as a child was when his father had been alive. But Mr. Connelly had been a real son of bitch. The only good memories that existed were the rare days when he and his mother managed to get away from his father and have fun on their own. But those days were few and far between.

  The old man had died of a heart attack when Axel was ten. He passed out right on the kitchen floor. He left them less than nothing. He left them debt. Both Axel and his mother had gone to work, she as a cleaning lady for some of the richer folks in town and Axel wherever he could. There was never enough of anything. All the money went to bills. Renting a movie was a treat. They knew all the ways there was to stretch a dollar. They had let the house go during that time. Maintenance and repairs had been ignored or just patched up, as they couldn’t afford to do much else.

  But now Axel was doing well and he was determined to make sure his mom had it just as good as he did. She deserved it. Over the last few years he had fixed up the house, repaired the roof and the cracked cement patio, ripped up the old carpet and put in new hardwood flooring. He put in central air and heating and had the whole place repainted. It was practically a brand new house. That was what he told himself anyway. This was a new house with none of the bad memories of the old.

  Now his mother was starting with the grandmother talk. He was only twenty-seven and already he was getting the Irish guilt. But Axel had no interest in having a kid or a steady girlfriend. He liked getting to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He never had to ask permission or check in. If he wanted to stay out late,
he did. If he wanted to go home with the first hot girl he saw, he did that, too. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would get hung up on one woman when there were so many out there.

  “Is it gonna be ready in two months?” Axel asked referring to his robe.

  “Is that when the big fight is?” his mother asked warily.

  “It’s the Northeast Supreme Belt. It’s a very big fight. It’s the big fight, Mom. If I win it I am guaranteed my sponsors for another year, plus five hundred thousand dollars in prize money. I need my new lucky robe if I’m going to win.”

  His mother shook her head and reached for the robe. “I wish you would choose a different career,” she said. “I worry too much about you to enjoy any of this,” she said gesturing to the house. “What if something happens to you? What will I do then?”

  “Nothing is going to happen and I’m not having this conversation with you again. MMA fighting is my career. I’m not going to do anything else. You don’t have to worry. I’m good at it. Nothing is going to happen.” He knew she wasn’t listening. He had given a different version of this speech dozens of times for the last ten years. If it hadn’t stuck yet, it probably never would.

  He walked towards his childhood bedroom. The dark hallway was covered in wood paneling and there were no windows and only one light bulb in the far corner by the door to the attic. Underneath that bulb was a picture of his late father. His face was grey and jowly and he looked stern under an ancient brown fedora.

  “Bastard,” Axel said to the framed picture. His mother refused to take it down, but one of these days Axel himself was going to rip it from the wall. He was glad the old man had died early. Even though he and his mom didn’t have a lot it was still much better with Mr. Connelly gone. Once it was just the two of them, they were allowed to watch whatever they wanted on TV and they could laugh as loud as they wanted without having to worry about waking anyone up. Given the choice, Axel would have chosen to starve rather than have his father back.

  Chapter Four

  Cate was buckled into her car seat in the back. She was humming something to herself as Marie followed the directions towards the Harksburg Historical Home. She made a turn on Main Street of Harskburg and she smiled at the view. Harksburg was the quintessential small town. Locally owned stores lined Main Street, there was a dance studio, a small grocer, a coffee shop, a handful of little restaurants, and a brick building that held a modern looking gym.

  This was exactly what she wanted: a small town where she could escape. No one knew her here. She had no history. She wasn’t Austin’s girlfriend anymore; she could be anyone and she could do anything – all of the things she had never been allowed to do before. She could plant a garden, take a dance class, take up painting – her options were endless. She could see her entire world like a flower in front of her. It had always been a little bud, but now her life was blossoming.

  The Harksburg Home was situated right next to the large and imposing municipal building. She stared in awe at the house as it came into view. It was a real mansion. It was the kind of place a movie star would live in, not some single mom on the run. It stood three stories tall with elegant marble columns lining the front of the house. The building was made bright red brick and it stood out in the early morning light. The clean windows were lined with impeccable white shutters. The lawn was green with an imposing row of hedges between the mansion and the street. It was stately and imposing; important people had stayed here and Marie felt small and little as she pulled her car into the parking lot.

  Taking Cate by the hand, she walked up to the back door. She knocked once and the unlocked door pushed easily open. Peering inside Marie saw a scattered looking office that led to a small gift shop she could see through another door.

  “Hello?” Marie called out as the door creaked open. No one answered. She took a step inside; behind her Cate clung to her leg as they looked around the new room.

  The floors were a shiny wooden surface and they creaked with every step. The small cluttered office was lined with windows. There were piles of paper everywhere and a variety of plants on the many windowsills.

  “Stay here,” Marie said, walking over to the doorway and poking her head out into the museum’s small gift shop. There were books lining the wall, a series of Christmas ornaments on a rotating display case, and another wall covered in pictures and postcards for the local town. An older woman was standing in one corner talking to a visitor; she saw Marie and gave her a wave and a smile and signaled she would be done in one minute.

  Cate was standing by the window gazing at two birds that were sitting in a tree outside. Marie walked over to her and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, leaning over and kissing her on the top of her head.

  “I’m so sorry about that!” the older woman said as she came bustling into the room. She looked like she was in her sixties, but she didn’t appear to be taking old age lying down. She had short, grey hair and was wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. She had boundless energy and she walked right to Marie and pulled her into a strong bear hug. “I did not mean to leave you waiting! I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. We are so glad you and your beautiful daughter have come to stay with us.” She broke the hug and looked down at Cate who had grown suddenly shy and was hiding behind Marie’s knees.

  “Cate can be a little shy sometimes,” Marie offered.

  “Oh, I understand it. My oldest still hides anytime she has to meet someone new. I’m Ingrid Michele; you can call me Ingrid. I’m the head of the Harksburg Historical Council. I was a lawyer my whole life, but history was always my passion. Now that I’m retired I can devote all of my time to it. Are you ready for a tour of the house?”

  “Yes,” Marie answered trying to process all of that information at once. She took Cate by the hand and followed Ingrid through the gift shop and into the mansion proper. The place felt big and old as she walked through it. All the rooms were massive in size with high ceilings and giant windows. It was nothing like the modern houses in Arizona she was used to. This house was an old lady; it had character and history in it. She hugged the walls as she walked as if the house itself was watching her.

  “So, the gift shop and office space used to be a servants’ entrance and a space for the servants to work. Here we have the grand entrance,” she said as they walked towards the front of the building. The walls were covered in a deep and rich wood paneling; the floors were made of a similar wood with sumptuous carpets interspaced throughout. Everything was impeccably clean and shining. “This is the main doorway; visitors to the museum will use this entrance.” The door was almost twice as tall as Marie and heavy; they opened it and she could see the wrought iron detailing on the front while ivy, vines, and flowers made from metal climbed up the door.

  Everything in the house was detailed and intricate. There were faces carved into the bannisters and crown molding in every room. The claw foot furniture was luxurious with opulent fabric covered in brightly colored birds and green foliage. There were huge fireplaces in every room with gorgeous fire screens in front of them.

  “Down here we have the sitting room, the ballroom, and the main dining room. In the basement we have the working kitchen and the servants’ quarters. But we can go over them later. Let’s go upstairs so you can see the apartment and get settled.” Marie’s heels clicked loudly as they hiked up the large wooden staircase in the middle of the house. “Here we have the bedrooms and the children’s rooms,” she said as they stopped on the second floor landing. Ingrid walked to another door and produced a key that led to the third floor. She unlocked the door and together the three of them walked up the flight of stairs, “and up here is your apartment,” Ingrid said as she opened another door.

  Marie was nervous as she walked up the dark and tight staircase that led to her and Cate’s new home. She thought of the house she left behind – the very modern condo Austin had purchased. It had been too big for them and everything in it had been new. It had been a “smart h
ouse” with cameras in every room and motion-activated lights. There were TVs and built-in speakers in every corner and Marie hated it. It had been modern and tasteless and impersonal. An interior decorator had purchased all of the art that hung on the walls, and she had no attachment to any of it. But even though she hated it, she couldn’t deny their old place had been very nice, far nicer than anything she could ever afford on her own.

  Her biggest fear about leaving Austin would be where she would live. Both of Marie’s parents died when she was a child. An aunt, who had passed only a few months after Cate was born, raised her. There was no one else. She had no family she could lean on or turn to. When she imagined leaving Austin, the thought of living in some flophouse in a dangerous neighborhood always halted her progress.

  As they came to their third floor apartment, Marie held her breath as the door opened. But she needn’t have worried. The room was bright and airy with large windows open to the breeze. The walls were painted a soft green with white trim. There was a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. It was fully, if sparsely, furnished and perfect.

  A smile spread across her face as she ran her hands over the soft couch in the living room. “It’s perfect,” she whispered as she held back tears. This might actually work. She could live here in this apartment with her daughter and no one else. She was going to be free. No more getting screaming at, no more lying about the bruises on her arms and stomach, there would just be peace and happiness here.