by D. M. Davis
“Coach says they’re coming back with a new kid who’s got a thing for our girl,” Patrick offers up like his comment isn’t a punch to my gut.
“Whose girl?” I growl, burning them all with my fiery gaze.
“You sure she’s still yours?” Walker dares, obviously not caring if I knock his teeth out.
“I’m sure.” No, she hasn’t returned a single one of my calls. But Cap assures me she’s fine, and this new kid and her are only friends. He taunted me with it at first, but decided for my training’s sake it was best to level with me. My Angel put him firmly in the friend zone where all these dumb motherfuckers belong.
I pass off the cue to Jonah and tap my glass to Jake, the bartender, letting him know I need a refill. As I wait at the bar, glancing over my shoulder at the game, a familiar form shimmies up to my side. Blonde Tits.
“Long time no see, Gabriel.” She looks around like she’s looking for something, or someone. “Where’s your girl?”
“Home.” I don’t even give her the pleasure of my attention. My stone-cold stare is straight ahead.
“Really.” She walks her fingers up my bicep. “I coulda sworn I heard Walker say she’s out of town. Something about checking out new meat.”
I nod my thanks to Jake with a generous tip when he fills my glass three-fingers full.
“You know, it’s awful understanding of you—" Blonde Tits continues talking like I give a fuck what she thinks.
I check my phone and lay it on the bar as I take a drink and check out the status of our pool game.
“—I mean, who knows what goes on out there on the road. For all you know, she’s in a meat sandwich with these new guys as we speak.”
“What the fuck did you say?” I pin her with daggers for eyes.
She pushes into my side, her hand moving up my chest. “I could keep you company while she’s gone. No one has to know.” She turns an imaginary key like she’s locking her lips. I wish she had a real key.
Stepping out of her grasp, I grab my drink. “Not interested.” I can’t believe I took this chick home a few months ago thinking she could knock Frankie from my thoughts.
What the fuck was I thinking?
Cap, Rowdy, and I wrapped up our last day of our scouting trip. We’ve picked up two more fighters with the potential for a few others who felt they needed more time to think about it. What’s there to think about? Nobody takes better care of their fighters than Cap. But they don’t know that. Word of mouth is good, but fighters also don’t like to give up a good thing. If new blood is coming in, the older guys feel like maybe that means they’re out, so established fighters are more tight-lipped to be sure their good thing remains their good thing.
The ones who fit end up finding us one way or another. It’s a karma kind of thing. You get what you give, and Cap gives good karma.
I may have celebrated a little too much at dinner. The guys egged me on. I rarely drink. They don’t know that, and I didn’t want to seem like a goody two shoes. It’s hard enough living in the testosterone-laden world of MMA. I don’t need to remind them I’m a woman by not drinking… But also, I wanted to cut loose for a change. At least a little.
So, yeah, I’m a little drunk. My room is too quiet and way too empty. And I’m homesick. Which can’t be true because I don’t even have a home. I’m officially homeless. All my worldly belongings are stuffed in trash bags, sitting in my office at Black Ops.
How did my life come to this? My professional life is on track, but somewhere along the way my personal life jumped the rails. It’s not even a runaway train. My life is a derailed train car, missing wheels, listing to one side, spray-painted with graffiti, the door broken off its hinges, scraping the ground. Yep, I’m a broken down railway car.
I flop back on my bed, my phone tight in my hand, resting on my chest. I want to hear his voice. I’ve deleted every voicemail he left. I didn’t listen to a single one. Now I wish I had. I’d at least know what he’s thinking. He hasn’t called me today. I’m not even worth him chasing me for three days. He gave up after two. Hell, he didn’t even fight for me when I was in the same house. I packed and left his home without a peep from him.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
Sitting up, I click on his name before I can chicken out. It’s late. He should be home. He’s a stickler when he’s in training.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click. Voicemail.
I hang up, tossing my phone on the bed.
Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Maybe he’s already asleep.
He’ll see I called in the morning.
Maybe he’ll call back.
Or maybe he won’t.
Shit.
I pace my room. I shouldn’t have called.
I should have left a voicemail.
And say what?
I miss you?
Hey, I’m homeless. How are you?
Are you still an asshole? No?
Do you think you could love me?
Fuck. I’m pathetic.
I jump when my phone chimes with a text.
Slowly, I reach for it. The text notification appears, but not the actual message. I click the notification and my phone unlocks with face recognition. I’m surprised it recognized me, because at the moment, I feel nothing like myself. It’s not smart enough to know I’m completely devastated on the inside.
One word appears on the screen.
Gabriel: Busy
WTF? Three dots bounce on the screen. I wait, trying not to read too much into his busy response. He’s typing something else, so that has to be good. Right?
The dots disappear a millisecond before a picture pings on the screen.
It takes me a second to register what I’m seeing. It’s a woman with blonde hair. Her face is distorted, and she’s— “Oh my God!” I scream and drop the phone.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
I look at the screen, my phone lying face-up on the floor.
He did.
“Asshole!”
I pick up the phone, turn off the screen, and set it on the nightstand instead of hurling it across the room.
On the edge of the bed, I scrunch up my eyes, trying to unsee some blonde woman giving Gabriel a blow job.
A. Blow. Job.
I’m a fucking idiot.
I wasn’t there. He found someone else’s holes to fill. Of course he did. Why would I expect less? Austin had no trouble cheating on me. Apparently, neither goes Gabriel. Though in all fairness, I did move out and not return his phone calls.
But he didn’t have to send me a fucking picture!
“I’m not going back to Sunnyville.” I grab my duffle bag. I can’t see him right now. I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to see him again without seeing that woman’s face. But I know I can’t take a chance of seeing him or her tomorrow.
I don’t even bother folding. I toss everything in the bag: clothes, toiletries, shoes, iPad, laptop, cables. I’m packed in two minutes flat. It’s a record. Yay, me.
I throw my purse in the bag, zip it up, and sling it over my shoulder. One last glance around the room confirms I’ve got my train wreck of a life packed.
I pull out my phone and call him. I want to hear what a douche he is from his lying, cheating lips.
“Hello?” a saccharine sweet voice answers.
I check the screen to be sure I called him. I did. “Who is this?”
“Amber. Who’s this?”
“Frankie.” I bite my lip, trying to keep calm and steel my emotions from ripping her a new asshole.
“Oh, Frankie. We were just talking about you.”
“We?”
“Well, Gabriel, of course. You did call his phone, didn’t you? Who else would I be referring to?”
God knows. I hoped I’d called someone else, even though the screen confirms I didn’t.
“Can I speak to him?” Do I still want to?
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry, but he stepped into the shower. In f
act—” Rustling noises have me pulling the phone back until she speaks again. “He’s expecting me to join him.”
Of course he is. Gabriel loves shower sex.
“I’ll tell him you called.”
“You do that.” I hang up, stick my phone in my pocket, and walk out of my room.
There are no tears as I make my way to my next stop. I’m too angry to cry.
It only takes one knock and a few seconds before a smiling Rowdy greets me. His eyes fall to my bag before his smile falters.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m heading to Vegas. Wanna come?” I probably should go alone, but I don’t want to be alone. Plus, Austin is there, and, well, it would be nice to have someone big and strong by my side to be sure he doesn’t try something again. Though, I’m pretty sure he’s moved on. But yeah… Rowdy… Vegas… Me. It’s the closest to a game plan I have for such short notice of my life continuing to spiral out of control as it circles the drain.
He studies my face, looks me up and down. Then smiles. “Sounds like fun.”
I sigh in relief at his willingness to jump onboard my sinking ship without even asking any questions or wondering if I even have any life preservers. I don’t. Obviously.
Ushering me inside, he takes my bag. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be packed.”
I sit in the desk chair and watch as he does nearly the same thing I did. Throwing everything he has in his suitcase. Though, he does have a little more than me. He was planning on moving to Sunnyville from here. He packed up his car a few days ago and has been following Cap and me as we make our rounds. He was planning on driving with us back home tomorrow, along with the other guys.
He stops packing and focuses on me. “What about Cap? Won’t he be mad I’m not going with him in the morning?”
“I’ll handle it.”
As if my word is gold, he smiles, nods, and finishes collecting his things.
On the way out, we stop by Cap’s. Once I’m standing in front of his door, I call him instead of knocking.
“Frankie? Everything okay?” He doesn’t sound like he was asleep.
“No. Can you open your door?”
“What?” The turn of the deadbolt clicks, and a startled Cap blinks at me. “What’s going on, Frankie?” He scowls at Rowdy over my shoulder.
I disconnect the call with him and pull up the lovely picture Gabriel sent me. “I’m not going home.”
“Why? Where you going?” He looks at Rowdy again. “Why’s he packed?”
“I’m going to Vegas. Rowdy is coming with me.” I hold up my phone so he can see it. “Gabriel texted me this. I can’t go back there. Not yet, anyway.”
Cap grabs my phone; his fingers whiten from the force of his grip. “Motherfucker.”
“Yep.”
Cap sighs and pulls me into a hug. “He’s an idiot.” I nod my agreement, not trusting my voice. “You take care of her, you hear me?” he says over my head.
“Yes, sir. I plan to,” Rowdy answers from behind.
“Good.” Cap pats my back. “Do what you need to do. But don’t let Gabriel keep you away from your family. You hear me?”
“Hear you,” is all I can manage.
“I’ll send him back to Vegas. He’ll go. He won’t have a choice if he wants to keep his fight,” Cap insists. He kisses my head and pulls back, holding my hand. “You deserved better than those idiots have given you.”
Maybe, but maybe not.
People treat you the way you let them.
It’s time I stop letting people treat me like shit.
Like I don’t matter.
Like I’m nothing.
I arrive at Black Ops earlier than normal. Cap got back late last night according to Jonah, but I haven’t heard from Frankie. She’s not answering her phone. I’m worried. I don’t know where she is. Where she’s staying.
I need to be sure she’s safe.
I need to get her home.
I need to show her what I have to offer is enough. I can make her happy. I’m sure of it. I just need to convince her.
Making it as far as the training room, I stop when a red-faced Cap heads my way. Except he’s not stopping. He’s out for blood. Mine, apparently. “Whoa—”
Smack!
He tags me right on the chin. I step back, shaking my head as dots dance in my vision. “Fuck, Cap. What was that for?” I get my bearings.
Jonah is in front of Cap, holding him back. Walker is running in from the locker room after Jonah called for reinforcements.
“You son of a bitch!” Cap ducks and throws an unsuspecting Jonah over his hip.
Stunned by an impressive move from the old man, I put my hands up. “Cap, what the fuc—”
Smack! His fist connects with my right eye.
“Fuck!”
“Cap, come on.” Both Jonah and Walker drag Cap backwards. “Calm down. Tell us what’s going on.”
He points an angry finger in my direction. “I told you if you hurt my girl, I’d end you.”
True. He did. But I promised him I only had good intentions. “It was a misunderstanding. I need to see her, make her understand—”
“A misunderstanding?” The old man pushes both Jonah and Walker off like they’re nothing.
Jesus Christ, he’s pissed. I hold up my hands. “I’m not fighting you, old man. But lay another hand on me, and I will knock you the fuck out.”
He closes in, nose to nose. His angry breath washes over me like fiery steam from a dragon’s exhale. “Tell me, Gabriel. What was the misunderstanding? You letting Amber suck your cock? Or you sending Frankie a picture of Amber sucking your cock?”
“The fuck?” Jonah’s good nature goes out the window. I have about two seconds before he’s on me too.
Walker doesn’t look too far behind.
“Stop!” I urge the three of them but address Cap. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never sent Frankie any such picture.” I run my fingers through my hair, ignoring my pulse pounding in my face where Cap’s blows landed.
They’re still looking like they want to murder me, so I continue, “Clarification. There is no picture of Amber sucking my cock.” I look between the three of them. “Who the fuck is Amber?”
Jonah smiles like I’m an idiot.
Walker crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s the ring-chaser who hit on you last night.”
“Tits?”
“Tits? That’s what you call her?” Jonah is shocked, like it’s not the first thing he noticed about her.
“Sometimes Blonde Tits, but yeah, that’s what I call her.” I turn to Cap. “Whatever the fuck her name is. She may have sucked my cock in the past. Before. Frankie. But there is no picture of her doing it. And even if there was, I sure as shit didn’t send it to Frankie. So, explain. In detail. Now.”
Cap sinks down to the nearest bench. “I don’t know any more details. Frankie showed up at my door the night before last, upset. Said she wasn’t coming home. She couldn’t. Then held up a picture of Amber sucking your dick. Said you texted it to her.”
This is a shit show. I can’t imagine how fucked up my Angel is over this. I’d murder someone if she sent me a similar type picture. “You saw my face?”
He scowls. “No.”
“Then how the fuck do you know it was my dick?” Damn, he hit me twice and didn’t even see my face in the picture.
“Well, hell.” Cap scrubs his face. “I took her word for it.” He points at me. “It came from you.”
Jonah clears his throat, garnering our attention. “Didn’t you lose your phone two nights ago?”
“Yeah.”
Walker chuckles. “One guess who has it.”
“Fuck me. Tits stole it from Davenport’s.” Has to be her. It’s the last place I remember seeing it.
“You’re telling me you didn’t send Frankie a blow job pic?” Cap asks.
“Yeah, Cap. That’s what I’m saying. Not only didn’t I send it, I didn’t even have my
phone at the time. And Tits…err Amber hasn’t been anywhere near my cock in months. Not since the night Austin went crazy on Frankie.” I cringe at the thought, remembering Austin calling me, spurring on my fantasies of Frankie being mine. And then Grant’s call about my Angel being in the hospital. “And for the record, I’d never cheat on Frankie. Never.”
“Christ, I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Cap offers.
I shrug. “It’s done.” I look around as if my girl is hiding out. “Where is she? I need to talk to her.”
“She’s not here.”
“Where the fuck is she?”
“She’s in Las Vegas.”
I pop up. “You let her go to Vegas alone?” I pace to the wall and back. “Upset and alone.” I point to his sternum. “Austin is there. If he harms one hair on her head, I will end you, old man. Hear that!”
I make it as far as the door before Cap and the guys catch up with me. “She’s not alone.”
Turning, I wait for Cap to continue.
“Rowdy is with her.”
“The kid?”
“He’s the same age as Frankie. He’s big. He’ll keep her safe.”
“While trying to get in her pants?” I scoff. “I doubt he’s got any blood flow to his brain, his dick is so hard for her.”
“It’s not like that. They’re friends,” he tries to reassure me.
“She said they’re friends. Did he say it too?”
He pales.
“I didn’t think so.” I flip them off as I head out the door.
Guess I’m heading to sin city.
“What are we doing, Frankie?” Rowdy shields his eyes from the sun as his head rolls toward me from his adjacent lounger. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying the sun and the view.” His gaze follows a scantily clad chick as she saunters past us in a swimsuit that could only be described as dental floss with triangular scraps covering her nipples and coochie. “I’m trying to figure out where your head is. What’s your plan?”
I close my eyes and tip my chin toward the sun. “My plan is to eat, drink, relax, and forget about Gabriel.” I haven’t thought much past that.
Turns out Darkboy is rich. He comes from Texas Oil and has money up the wazoo. That’s how I’ve found myself staying at this swanky place and currently soaking up the sun at the pool outside our private cabana. Yeah, I knew Rowdy was a keeper—and I don’t mean for his money. He’s kind and generous, yes, but he’s also thoughtful and deep in a way I can relate to. He’s quickly becoming my new bestie.