by S Kline
“Could you at least pretend I matter? Even a little bit, please.” The words leave her lips in a quiet whimper.
I sigh heavily, rolling my head along my shoulders to relieve the tension there. “I told you that very first time, remember? When you were begging to have my cock pounding inside your sweet little pussy? What did I tell you Ads?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer; my anger is too far out of my control. “I told you I don’t do relationships, I don’t do forever’s. I told you it will never be more than two people getting each other off. You said you understood that.” I answer for her.
Her hand falls back to her lap and she presses her lips together tightly. “It’s really better that way anyway. I don’t want to be with someone I can’t trust to keep his dick in his pants when he’s away.” Her words are clipped as if forced though her own anger my harsh words caused.
I lean back and let my gaze wander over the pictures of old farms hanging on the clapboard walls, feigning indifference even though my pulse is still pounding in my head, and my shoulders are tense.
“Exactly.” I glance back at her and decide I might as well voice the thought circulating in my head despite the agitation that’s already twisting her delicate features. “Have you thought about getting an abortion? I don’t want a baby Ads. What kind of father would I be?”
She stands so quickly I think she might stumble over the ledge of the booth. Instinctively I reach out a hand to catch her, but she straightens, and shoots daggers at my outstretched hand. With her lips pursed in contempt, she slings her brown bag over one shoulder.
“That will never happen! You hear me! I won’t kill our baby!” She pulls in a deep breath and closes her eyes as if pained by the mere thought of it. “I’ll be in touch. Try not to let one of your bimbos answer the phone when I call.” Then she saunters out as if she hasn’t just blown my whole world apart in one conversation.
I rest my head on my folded arms, again, and blow out a long, tired breath. What in the hell am I going to do? I don’t want a baby. I never have. I know firsthand what it’s like growing up in this organization, and I would never bring a child into this life.
A self-depreciating laugh leaves my lips, and I can feel the stares of other patrons on me. They all just watched my very public mental meltdown, but I can’t even bring myself to care. It looks like I’m not going to have much of a choice. Ads is having my baby whether I want her to, or not.
I sit up and slip my cell phone from my back pocket. Dialing in Dylan’s number I stand up from the booth, throw some money on the table, and walk out the door. The glass door swings shut behind me, the salty breeze doing nothing to eradicate my growing anxiety.
I have no secrets from Dylan. Every tragic thing that’s happened to me Dylan either was there for, or was affected by. All of my life it’s been me and Dylan. We went from building forts in the back yard to throwing some of the most epic parties in the city. Our brotherly bond only grew stronger after Mom died.
Dylan answers with a bemused chuckle, his easygoing attitude apparent even in the early morning hours. “What’s up man?”
I suck in a deep breath to gather my nerves before I continue. “Addie just told me she’s pregnant, D, and she doesn’t want to get an abortion.” I say by way of greeting.
“You gotta be shittin’ me!” His voice elevates in incredulity. “I didn’t realize you two were still hooking up.”
“We aren’t, well we were, but I haven’t touched her in weeks.” I sigh down the line, ignoring the people walking around me as the morning rush hits the diner. “I really need something to take this edge off. You got a dime for me, bro?”
“You’re going to be a dad.” Dylan’s voice is unyielding, leaving me to feel the terror of the situation as it fully sinks in.
I’m going to be a twenty-two year old father! I’m bringing a child into this life. Fuck.
“Yeah, D, I am.” A rush of breath, I hadn’t known I was holding, slowly leaves me as silence falls over the line.
How the hell did this happen?
“Meet me at the usual place in ten.” He says, finally breaking through the strained silence.
I click off without responding, hop back into my car, and head toward the pier. The sun is fully up, shimmering off the ocean waves. I slip on my Ray-Ban’s to block out the harsh light. The boardwalk is overflowing with pedestrians now; the quiet morning giving way to the bustle of day-to-day life. There are a variety of people lining up along the railing, walking in and out of the tiny shops, and sipping coffee.
I need to get my head off all of this bullshit and onto something else. So I switch gears and opt to think about the fight I have to manage tonight.
We all have our little roles in the organization. I manage the fights. I call in the fighters, I handle the bets, and I collect payments--by any means necessary. What a great father I will be hauling a kid around to all of that shit.
I send out a text to tonight’s fighters to remind them of the place and time before throwing my phone down into the passenger’s seat. I pull into a spot and shove the gears into park. Dylan is already leaning against the side of the worn down hardware store when I pull up. Since he lives in the rickety apartment above the shop and doesn’t have a car, this is where we usually meet.
The air is whipping through his light hair, which is already spiked up around his head, and his blood shot green eyes are squinting in my direction. The wrinkled mess of his jeans and t-shirt rival the condition of my own, though I have the excuse of my life-changing announcement this morning. Dylan’s only excuse is that he has to do his own laundry, and that means it ends up shoved together in a basket for weeks. His eyes are twinkling with amusement, a wide grin on his face as he pushes off the wall and starts toward me.
I hop out and slip a hundred dollar bill out of my pocket. It is ten times what Dylan would ask for, or what the pot is actually worth, but money has never really been an issue for me. Dad has always made sure that I have more than I could ever dream of spending in this lifetime. Even if he didn’t, I do enough work for the organization to make a salary equivalent to a CEO.
I hold it up, and Dylan’s green eyes widen the bemused smile still on his lips. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans as he continues toward me.
“You’re over-paying asshole.” He says, but of course he removes one hand and takes the paper from between my fingers. He hastily shoves it into his pocket which makes me grin.
Dylan hands me a tiny baggie filled with sweet green, and just looking at it has an almost relaxing effect to my psyche. I can’t imagine not getting high as often as possible and that’s just another notch in the things about me that will make me the worst father ever.
I nod my head toward my car in a gesture for him to follow me, which he does, gladly. Getting high together is something we’d been doing since we were fourteen. It is an escape we need; our way of dealing with the shitty hand we’ve been dealt in life. This life may seem glitzy and glamorous to those looking in, but the thing about windows is you can only see so much through them. Everyone sees the money, the respect, and the women. They don’t realize that everything comes at a price-- usually that price is your soul.
We are silent on the drive back to my house, and I am thankful to have the time to myself to think. I need to be mentally ready for the fight in twelve hours. I can’t be distracted from my responsibilities. Ardon and Ronan, the heads of our organization, won’t tolerate any slacking on my part. As next in line to lead behind my father I am given more responsibility than the other guys. When I fuck up? Well, I don’t fuck up anymore.
Naturally the huge after party is high on my plans for the night. I couldn’t fucking wait for that portion of tonight’s festivities. If I am going to get lost in the sensations of booze, drugs, and sex that is where it will happen, and I need that.
As I park the car in the driveway I am thankful Bethany’s cherry-red convertible is no longer here. We head into the house, and I
toe off my sneakers as soon as the door closes behind me. The sun streams brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows and gives a great view of the sparkling ocean beyond them.
Dad bought the house when I was seven, right after mom died. It is way more space than the two of us have ever needed, but my dad likes flashy things. He has money, and he wants everyone to know it. The prison orange uniform must drive him damn near crazy.
From what I remember of her, my mom would have hated this place. I remember her in ankle length sun dresses, or jeans. She had brown hair that ran straight down the length of her slender back. I can’t remember her ever wearing jewelry aside from the single solitaire wedding ring on her left hand. In actuality, I can’t remember much about her. Everything I do remember is superficial.
I flop down on the giant wrap-around leather couch in the open living area and slip some rolling papers out from the drawer of the marble-topped coffee table in front of me. The great thing about knowing someone as long as I have known Dylan is that you don’t feel the need to fill the silence. You encompass it. It’s comfortable.
Dylan sits down next to me and props his feet up on the table. We set about rolling up two perfect joints, one for now and one for later. We’ve done this so many times we have our own little system now. It works for us, even if it’s somewhat unconventional.
“Daddy Troy,” Dylan mumbles, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded us and making my anxiety return full force.
He takes a deep puff, lighting the end of one joint; the room immediately fills with the sickly sweet scent of pot. “Never thought I’d see the day.” His voice is slightly broken as he exhales around the smoke.
A bitter laugh leaves my lips. “Me neither, pass that.” Dylan hands the joint to me, and I pull in a deep breath, feeling the familiar burn in my lungs.
“How did this happen? You weren’t fucking her bare were you?”
“Fuck no! I do have a few brain cells left, D.”
Dylan shakes his head at me as I pass the joint back to him. I can already feel the relaxing buzz settle through my bones, and I lean further back against the cushions, sinking into them.
“At least it’s Addie. I wouldn’t mind having a baby with that hot piece of ass, Troy.”
I just nod and take another hit off the joint as he hands it back to me. Addie is hot, that’s why I fucked her in the first place. No one has hair as blonde and soft as Addie. No other girl has her model worthy body and dark chocolate eyes. No other girl tries so hard to win my attention.
Addie has a way of boosting my ego ten-fold, as if it weren’t big enough already. But Addie is not the girl I dream about. She isn’t the girl who draws my attention every time she walks into the room. Unfortunately, that spot is reserved for her cousin, Kaci.
When I was twelve I swore I would marry Kaci one day. I mentally shake my head at the thought. Kaci is the only girl who wouldn’t give me the time of day. If my ass was on fire and she had a cup of water she’d probably drink it, slowly.
“I still can’t believe she even let you into those uptight panties man.” Dylan’s voice draws my attention back to the present.
“I’m just really fucking charming.” I am kidding when I say it, but hell, it is true.
Dylan laughs and I grin mischievously at him, feeling a little lighter now.
“Charming, yeah man you’re real charming. In fact that’s your new nickname.”
I lift a brow, a grin still firmly planted on my face. “What is? Charming?”
“You’re the pussy charmer.”
I double over in laughter but jump back before I fall off the couch. Dylan has fucking jokes. After I manage to pull some air into my lungs and gain some semblance of control, I toss one of the couches frilly yellow pillows at his head, which he bats away easily.
“There’s a fight tonight, you in?” I hold my hand to my side in an attempt to lessen the pain in my ribs that my laughter caused.
He thinks about it, eyeing me intently. Dylan takes another drag off the joint before answering. “You know I am. Who’s fighting?”
“The main event comes down to Ricardo and Jameson.” The excitement is obvious in my tone.
This is one of those fights that will bring in a huge crowd. Ricardo may be undefeated in the ranks right now, but Jameson is known for his first round knock outs. I’m going to make a shit ton of money on the bets alone tonight.
“Shit man, hell yeah. That is gonna be one hell of a fight.” Dylan’s words mirror my thoughts.
“Yeah, I got a lot of high bidders on this one. The after party will be intense.” I smile around the thin cylinder of the joint as I puff in another deep breath.
“Is Kaci going to be there?” Dylan tilts his head to the side and a slow smile builds on his lips.
Dylan’s the only person who knows how truly infatuated I am with Kaci. The other guys know I’m into her, but they have no clue how completely obsessed I really am. Not that it makes a difference now. With Addie pregnant I have about as good a chance of being with Kaci as a porn star has at becoming a virgin again.
“I think that’s a moot point now.” I shake my head and look away from him, letting my gaze settle on the view of the ocean waves rolling into shore outside the window.
“How so?” Dylan asks as he takes the joint from my fingers, and finishes it off in one last big puff.
“She’ll hate me, D. I mean, she barely lets me near her now. That’s only going to get worse when she finds out I’m having a baby with Addie. It’s her fucking cousin!” I run my hands roughly through my dark hair as I look back toward Dylan.
“She far from hates you. How many times do I have to tell you-“
I interrupt him, speaking the rest of what I know he’ll say in a mocking tone. “She is always trying to get your attention. You’re just too stupid to notice.”
I smooth my features and sigh at his wide grin and wiggling eyebrows. I didn’t feel very amused. “It’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve tried to talk to her, and every time she blows me off, and not in the way I dream she would.”
Dylan clutches his stomach, falling back into the cushions with his laughter. “Maybe it’s because-”
I interrupt him again. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to talk about Kaci anymore. Let’s just get this fight over with so I can make myself feel better for a few hours.”
Dylan gives me a knowing look that says this conversation is far from over, but he nods and stands. “Let’s go get everything set up then.”
I follow him out to my car trying to clear my head of everything except the upcoming fight. I need to be on my A-game tonight. If anyone tries to skip out without paying their bid I will be responsible for hunting them down before I can enjoy tonight’s after party events. That can’t happen tonight. I need to get lost to the sensations and just enjoy the night after Addie’s foreboding announcement.
Chapter Two
Troy
The concrete blocks that make up the underground garage at Clovers are packed wall-to-wall with people. The smell of sweat mixes with the stench of all these bodies clashing together. The noise level is deafening, and I am amped just walking in. The adrenalin vibrating the air only adds to the feeling of euphoria caused by my earlier high.
Tons of hot girls are flitting around in tiny shorts and bikini tops, wearing make-up to accentuate their best features. I walk up the steps to the top of the makeshift stage that’s been set up against the far wall. From up here I can see the circular hole in the crowd that makes up the ring the guys will fight in. I can feel the last of my lingering anxiety leave me. I’m in my element.
Dylan climbs the steps and stands next to me by the microphone, a goofy grin on his face. He pulls a worn-out baseball cap from where it usually hangs, partly out of his back pocket, and places it on his head. His hands reach up to adjust the bill so that it just barely shields his eyes from the bright florescent lights.
“You see these girls? Damn, Troy they are f
ucking hot tonight.” He holds his arms stretched out in indication of the crowd of barely clothed women below us.
I nod in agreement as my gaze lands on a couple of blondes standing off to the side of the stage looking up at us. I tilt my head so Dylan looks over at them too. An appreciative groan leaves him as he takes in their generous breast size, and pouty lips. They look like a pair of playboy bunnies that have escaped Hugh Heffner’s mansion.
“Get them up here.” The girls here are used to us pulling them up on stage. Hell, I think that’s half the reason they dress like this.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Dylan jogs over and whispers down at them, his ever present playful grin on his face.
They giggle and nod enthusiastically before taking Dylan’s hand and letting him pull them up on the stage. Their tits jiggle in their tiny tops as they step up onto the platform.
The taller of the two walks right up to me, no preamble; she just stakes her momentary claim on me. My eyes are transfixed on her glossed lips. They are tempting me to do really dirty things to her mouth, but I know that as soon as Kaci steps out into the circle this girl won’t be what causes my hard on. It doesn’t matter how tempting her mouth is.
I look back toward the crowd; the first fight is starting soon. I need to focus my attention on that. So I decide I’ll hang on to this girl until the fights over, take what she’s offering, and then walk away. She throws her arms around my neck and presses her tits against my chest. I rest a hand against her bare lower back, caressing gently and enjoying the shiver that works through her. This will be a fun distraction.
“You look like you’re up for some trouble.” I whisper the words against her ear, and she pulls her head back to look up at me.
Her green eyes seem to darken as she chews on her plump lower lip. Everything about this girl looks paid for, but the doctor did a damn fine job. She’s hot as hell. She nods and runs a hand over my chest, down my abdomen, and clasps the top of my jeans where they hang around my hips. I smile down at her, liking her confidence.