Hush

by Xavier Neal

  “A bowtie?” Dean asks smiling. “Like the kind geeks with suspenders wear?”

  “Thank you!” Logan shouts pointing to his minion. “Exactly! The Kid gets it.”

  “The Kid is also 15 and thinks that Nicki Minaj Anaconda song is the original version!”

  “Wait. It’s not?”

  Shutting my eyes, I shake my head as Erin snips, “Exactly.”

  “No tie!”

  “You’re wearing the tie.”

  “I’m not wearing shit!”

  “Mouth!” I yell with mine full.

  Logan stops for a second and leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest. Erin, who is just as seething as him, if not more so, has three shopping bags dangling from her hands. I know in one of those bags something is for me.

  This event crept up faster than I thought it would. And while Tony and I finished all the preparations for it, I let the one little detail of actually having to attend somehow slip out of my mind. I remember Erin mentioning shopping two weeks ago at the last Fight Night, but I guess I never got around to remembering to schedule time to do it with her. So my punishment is in one of those bags.

  Her punishments, if you’ll recall, usually have me looking like I’m about to be bought and paid for.

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t really about the tie?” I cautiously inquire.

  Erin glares at Logan. “It is.”

  “Is this about Uncle C.J.?” Dean pipes in.

  “Don’t call him that!” Erin shrieks tossing the bags on the floor. “And wear the damn tie or don’t wear it. I don’t fucking care anymore. I just…I have to go.”

  “What about my hair and makeup?” My words slow her stride.

  “I’ll be back in time. I just need some air,” she says, her back still to us as she yanks her purse off the counter and storms out.

  “What happened?” I ask softly.

  Logan just shakes his head in response.

  After a moment, he points to the now empty bowl. “Why are you eating his project?”

  “Smelled really good.” My defense is followed by me picking through the kernels for the small pieces.

  “I’m gonna have to pop another bag.” Dean shakes his head at Logan. “She wouldn’t stop.”

  “I was hungry.”

  “You okay?” Logan questions again. “You’ve been eating kinda strangely lately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You hate kettle corn popcorn.”

  See.

  “I don’t know. It just sounded good. No big deal.”

  “Tell that to my chemistry project,” Dean mutters playfully turning a couple pages in his textbook.

  When Logan joins him in laughter I say, “You’re wearing the tie.”

  “I’m not wearing that tie.”

  I stand up and stroll over to him, his eyes drinking in my legs in my yoga shorts and my nipples that are now hardening from his stare in one of his t-shirts. I run one hand up his chest and feel his whole body strain.

  “You’re wearing the tie…” I seductively whisper before rising up on my tip toes to whisper in his ear, “And if you wear it all night long, I’ll let you tie me up with it after.” My tongue softly grazes his ear lobe.

  His hands go to my hips and dig in yanking me closer. “I’ll wear the tie.” Dean makes a cracking the whip sound under his breath and I immediately giggle. “You think that’s funny?”

  “I do.”

  Leaning down his hot breath fills my ear. “Let’s see how funny you think it is when you’re tied up and bent over my lap.”

  A little whimper escapes me and Logan smiles brightly.

  Fine. That round of seduction goes to him.

  After hours of intense hair pulling, eyebrow shaping, and body altering rituals conducted by my personal stylist aka my best friend, I’m pulling into the valet parking for the event in Tony’s car.

  Before you ask, the answer is yes. Not only did Logan throw a temper tantrum like some second grader who just lost his spot at the dodge ball game, he threatened not to show up at all if I walked through the doors with Tony. Can we say jackass? It’s not my fault! Look, Frank wanted us to come together like we are members of a team. He also wanted Logan to appear single and unattached so that Jake wouldn’t have second thoughts. Needless to say, the second part of the reasoning sent him into overdrive and he left more pissed off than he had been when the argument was at its pinnacle.

  Tony tips the valet guy and extends his arm for me to loop mine through. Once it’s there he straightens his black tie and asks, “Is Kellar gonna rip off my arm and beat me over the head with it before he whisks you off to his cave to bone you on the cheetah print rug?”

  Hiding my laugh behind my hand that’s holding my clutch, I ask, “Really? Were you watching the Flintstones last night?”

  “Maybe.”

  I smirk and elbow him in the side as we walk into the event that we’ve both worked so damn hard on. The two of us stroll straight up to Frank who looks a little less sleazy than normal.

  Which is rather impressive because I was convinced he only had one look. Cheap.

  He’s mingling with a couple of PR people who, after spending three minutes near them, are so boring that Tony makes an excuse for us to quickly walk away. We continue around the room meeting a few people who are impressed with Tony’s technical skills and a couple people who are looking for stylists for client’s upcoming events. I slip them Erin’s card before I’m whisked away towards a group of guys who remind me of Logan.

  Who I have yet to see. Have you seen him?

  “Names Wes, but they call me The Storm.” The buzz haired fighter extends his hand for me to take, the blonde on his arm looking very unimpressed by my attire.

  “Paul, The Wall.” the man beside him with a very thick beard says, I shake his hand next.

  “Rob, The Ultimate,” the last man, who looks rather thin and fragile, says.

  “Why do all your names have The in them?” Tony’s chumminess is not met with approval.

  “You a fighter, pretty boy?” Wes sucks his teeth.

  “Thank God no.” Tony’s quick denial makes me smile. “I do tech work.”

  “Computer crap?” Rob sneers taking a swig of his beer.

  “Computer crap,” Tony repeats shooting me an uncomfortable look.

  “Like your dress,” the blonde girl says with a bit of bitchiness in her tone.

  Something tells me she’s not being sincere.

  “Thanks…”

  “Which knock off store did you get it from?”

  And there is it.

  “Excuse me?” I do my best to remain professional.

  “It’s a good one.” She tries to make up for it. “But it is clearly not the real thing. I mean how could you ever afford it?”

  “Oh no.” Tony tugs at my arm. “Come on, Maxx. We should—”

  “What does that mean?” I gasp.

  “You’re nothing but a Ring Side Girl. They don’t make that much money.” Without waiting for my response, she adds, “Unless you’re getting paid for some labor under the table.”

  Oh no this bitch didn’t.

  My mouth flies open, and Tony twists me around on my heels leading me in a new direction. Perplexed, I point backwards. “Did she just—”

  “She did.”

  “Do I look like—”

  “Well in that dress…”

  “Tony!” I yank my arm away from him.

  The little shit chuckles but then holds up a hand in surrender. “I was kidding, Maxx.”

  “Why does my girl look pissed?” Logan’s voice comes from over my shoulder. Glancing up, I swallow the view of him in a suit, the first and probably the only time he will wear one. He even has on the bowtie.

  He really looks like Bruce Wayne.

  “Because Paris Hilton over there basically asked Maxx if she was—”

  “A hooker!” I shriek louder than expected.

  Loga
n starts laughing with Tony.

  I take that back. He looks like Bruce Wayne’s dickhead cousin.

  When their chuckles finally calm down, Logan says, “Mind giving me a minute alone with my girlfriend?”

  “Have her.” Tony yields. “There’s a glass of red with my name on it at the bar.”

  Once Tony’s a distance away, Logan looks back down at me, the upset look still painted on my face. “Maximus…” Immediately my body relaxes as I let out an exasperated sigh.

  I hate how he can call me that and I turn to putty.

  “You don’t look like a hooker.” His hands land on my hips while he admires me in my dress. “You look beautiful.” I glance back in the direction of the blonde bitch before Logan says, “And she was just jealous.”

  I’ve got on a knee length black cocktail dress with thick straps and sweetheart neckline. Hair pinned up much too high if you ask me, with enough hair spray to put the 80s to shame, and a simple diamond choker that Erin insisted I borrow. Is it the necklace?

  Turning back to face him, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Well, you seem to be in a slightly better mood.”

  “I may have set the record straight about a few things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That means no one tells me where I can and can’t fucking be seen with my own girlfriend.” His face leans down towards mine. “And no one tells me how the fuck to run my personal life but me.”

  When I start to reply, another voice chimes in, “Excuse me. Are you Unbreakable?”

  Pulling back away, but keeping one hand around my waist, he answers, “I am.”

  “I’m Jake.” He extends his hand. My eyes wander over the thin framed man with bright blond hair who looks more like he belongs in a turtle neck ad than here managing fighters. He’s wearing a suit, like all the others, and has a glass of champagne in his hand.

  Clearly he likes expensive things.

  “Kellar.” Logan shakes. “And this is my girlfriend, Maxx.”

  “Pleasure.” He offers me his hand to shake as well. Once I have he says, “Are you the same Maxx that helped coordinate this event on such short notice?”

  “I am.”

  “Hm.” he hums out. “Wasn’t aware that Frank let his fighters date his employees.”

  “No one dictates who I’m allowed to sleep with. Let’s get that straight right now.” The irritation is back in Logan’s voice.

  Don’t you think he should probably tone that shit down? Unless he’s actively trying to not get himself signed.

  “Ha.” Jake chortles and lifts his glass. “I respect that.” Taken aback, confusion flashes on both of our faces. He continues, “I respect a man who knows where his boundaries are. In this business it’s easy to get fooled. The better your foundation, the longer you just might last.” With a nod he states, “I look forward to seeing you in the ring tomorrow, Kellar. Try not to drink too much tonight.”

  “I don’t drink.” Logan says flatly.

  “Even better…” Are the last words he says before slithering away as easily as he arrived.

  “No wonder he and Frank are friends…” I shake my head and turn my attention back to Logan who is fidgeting with his tie. “Stop that.”

  “I think it’s on too tight.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I look like my pants should be up to my chin with this thing.”

  “Quit being such a baby, and ask me to dance.”

  Halting his movements, he allows his mood to shift. “Dance with me?”

  “Yes.”

  And just like that I am whisked away to the dance floor, both of Logan’s arms wrapped tightly around me, cradling me closer to him, trapping me in a blissful moment of ultimate security. The two of us continue swaying back and forth, my head nestled on his chest.

  You know when I was in high school this was all I ever wanted? Just one dance with him at Homecoming or Prom. Just one moment to feel like Cinderella. To have him forget that any other girl in the world existed for the length of one pop song. Preferably NSYNC if I could’ve chosen back then. Oh. Hold all boy band comments until the end, please.

  “Maxx.” His voice fills my ears as I let my eyelids close.

  “Hm?”

  “I love you.” The words are followed by his arms flexing around me tighter.

  Fuck feeling like Cinderella. Cinderella should wanna feel like me.

  Chapter 8

  Logan

  Bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet I shake my body loose while moving my head from side to side. The blankness that takes over my mind when I step foot into the ring has already begun, which is good.

  “You look like a poodle who needs to pee,” Luke informs me, his back leaned against the wall across the way.

  I continue my warm up. “Your level of snarky Princess Powder Puff has shot up tremendously over the last couple of weeks. Just like your sister’s. Are you each having one long ass PMS session or do you have real problems?”

  “What the fuck do you know about real problems, Kellar?” His sneer catches me a bit off guard and slows down the flexing of my fingers. “Up until a few weeks ago, the biggest problem you had was whether or not you wanted to call a girl and get some ass.”

  “You’re right.” My movements cease all together, letting a familiar madness begin to brew a little too soon. “I don’t know dick about having real problems. I didn’t grow up in a house where my old man used me for target practice with his fist. I didn’t spend my childhood hiding while listening to my mother being beaten in the next room. I never stole bread from your house, or fruit snacks, or chips, so that I had something to eat when my mother was too bruised to cook. Thank God I’ve never had any real fucking problems in my life and that those memories, and the fear of turning into that son of a bitch, are just figments of my goddamn imagination.” My confession has shortened my breathing.

  Don’t I deserve to be a little pissed off?

  “Sorry.” Luke immediately apologizes, standing up straight. “That was…I shouldn’t have…Kellar—”

  “Forget about it.” My body turns to press against the wall.

  I can’t fuck this up tonight. I have too much riding on it. This is it. That one fight that could cross me from average to unstoppable. Shouldn’t I feel more excited about it?

  Clearing his throat, he changes the subject. “You nervous?”

  “About?”

  “Jake being here.”

  “Nope. Just another fight.”

  My answer receives a nod as there’s a knock at the door.

  Tony’s face appears around the corner. He tilts his head and asks, “How painful was that tatt, man? I’ve wondered.”

  I shrug. “Not as bad as some other things.” He nods in understanding. “Besides, when you have a sexy girl with a fucking stellar rack to distract you, you barely feel a thing.”

  He slightly chuckles with me, and I hear Luke scoff in disapproval. Tony questions, “Tatt girl was that hot?”

  Luke chimes in, “He was talking about Maxx…”

  With a huge smile I nod and Tony shakes his head, I’m sure wishing he hadn’t asked.

  Don’t get me wrong. I owe him one for what he did for us. Hell, he’s even been coming around and I don’t wanna bash his brains in as much as I used to, but I can’t help it. I have to rub Maxx in his face at times. He occasionally needs a gentle reminder, from something other than my fists, that she’s my girl. That they’ll only be friends. What? Of course I’m not worried that she’ll turn to him if she gets too lonely while I’m on the road. Why would you say something like that? Huh. You didn’t did you?

  “Did you need something?” I begin bouncing on my feet again, returning to the warm up of my muscles.

  “Just a quick shot with my phone.”

  “Where’s Stuart?” Luke pipes in.

  “He grabbed my photo earlier.” My answer causes his lips to form a hard line.

  “Of course he did.”


  Are you sensing a little animosity there too? Hey! I can use words like that.

  Without allowing either of us to say anything else, Luke heads out of the room mumbling, “I’m headed to the fight.”

  “Is he okay?” Tony’s genuine concern adds to the reasons why he gets a pass in my book.

  When he’s not trying to bone my girl or piss me off, he’s an okay guy. Yeah. Yeah. I know you know. But stop rooting for him already. Maxx is mine. I’m sure he’ll find his.

  “I don’t even fucking know anymore.”

  After my answer, Tony snaps a couple shots of me doing wall presses with my head hung and few of me stretching my arms. Once he’s done and starts loading the shots he begins to back out of the room, but manages to say, “Good luck, Kellar. Not that you need it.”

  I don’t. But for some reason I appreciate the sentiment anyway.

  Chapter 9

  Maxx

  “Erin, my tits are so bouncy right now, I feel like the NBA would wanna use ‘em for warm up.” I point to them while she brushes her hair out in the employee locker room. She smiles, and I give my reflection another look.

  Bright red halter top dress, with no bra.

  Normally I am super against it, but there wasn’t any way that more than just my girls were fitting in this monstrosity. And you guessed it. My underwear isn’t on either. No wonder that girl thought I was a hooker yesterday. I fucking look like one. Well. High class escort.

  “You do not.” Erin chimes in. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Creepy.

  “You don’t look like you’re for sale. You look like a sexy Fire Station manager.”

  “That’s not what they’re called.”

  “Well, whatever.”

  “You should know that.” I shove my hand on my hip as she adjusts her own boobs in her black and yellow leather bodysuit. She has completed her outfit with knee high red boots and fishnets.

  The red, fingerless elbow high gloves and her hair that is styled under a little fireman’s hat aren’t helping to tone down her look. She looks hot enough to set off the sprinkler systems. Not to mention the simple fact that if you have any kind of fetish for role playing, she looks like your Christmas wish come true.