Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel

by Hildreth, Scott

  “Noted,” the boxer said as he nodded his head once sharply.

  The boxer turned and began walking toward the locker room. His walk possessed a certain confidence – a swagger.

  “Why you suppose he walks like that?” the manager asked as he watched the boxer walk away.

  “Because he can,” the trainer responded.

  KACE. Trying to figure a way to get out of a relationship and not feel like a complete failure is difficult. Most people will never understand why I have stayed in the relationship with Josh as long as I have. As much as I hate the way that he has treated me, I cannot imagine giving up on us - giving up on our relationship.

  I don’t think I know how to be alone.

  When I think of it, my head gets all jumbled up and I get scared. Sometimes when I think of leaving him I shake. As soon as I start shaking, I change my mind. I often wish someone would decide for me.

  Each time that he has beaten me, I deserved it. I remember the time when I was eighteen, right after high school. Josh was twenty-one. He had to work overtime that day, and he came home exhausted from a long day at work. He asked me about dinner, and I back talked him. He just lost his temper. He never would have hit me if I hadn’t talked back. It was a really long day for him.

  Every time he has hit me, he later reminded me it never would have happened if I hadn’t deserved it. He always told me he wished he didn’t have to do it. He said if I would just learn my lesson and learn to respect him, he wouldn’t have to hit me. Sometimes I wish I would learn my lesson, and other times I wish I was with someone else - someone that didn’t have to hit me.

  Josh and I met when I was sixteen. I have never been with anyone else. I doubt, from what he says, that anyone else would ever want me. I have no idea what it’s like to have another man or even talk to one for that matter. Josh doesn’t let me talk to other men, and he monitors my text messages and phone calls. He doesn’t allow me to have Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, or Twitter. He takes my cell phone and goes through all of the files in it whenever he wants to, checking for pictures. He said it teaches me to be honest and loyal. I suppose he’s right, but it still bothers me.

  When I am at work, I think about what it would be like to have a man treat me like the men in the books I read. I doubt that those men really actually exist. If they do, I’d sure like to have a man like that. One that cherished me and told me I was beautiful. Maybe he would hold my hand and take me to a movie. It would be nice to feel wanted. Josh had not had sex with me for several years and I felt ugly because of it. A woman needs to feel wanted. Even if she doesn’t feel loved, she needs to feel as if someone wants or desires her.

  Because Josh didn’t make me feel wanted or desired at all, and had not for years, I often daydreamed about other men. I would never cheat on Josh, and even though he wasn’t nice to me, I wanted him to just want me. I wished that he desired something that I had to offer him. That desire, however, never comes. I don’t daydream about a book boyfriend saving me. I’m not like those girls in the books – not like that.

  I don’t need to be saved.

  I choose to be in this relationship, because I want this to work, and I do not want to give up on us. I don’t want to fail. I only want to be loved.

  I’m a strong woman, and my persistence in this relationship stands as proof of my strength.

  For the last few years I have been thinking about my book boyfriends more frequently. I often daydream about them and what it would be like to actually be with them – to have what it is that’s depicted in the books. To have the hardship, the recovery, and the relationship that I often read about. It really started when Josh held his knife to my throat and told me I was a dumb bitch. We had been arguing more than normal because he quit making love to me. The first time I asked why, he slapped me and said it was because he wasn’t attracted to me any longer. I was ugly inside and out. He didn’t slap me once when he slapped me. He slapped me until he was tired of slapping me, or until I learned my lesson.

  The second time I asked about wanting him to make love to me, he choked me and held me against the wall by my throat. I blacked out and woke up on the floor.

  The third time I asked, he held his knife to my throat and told me to never ask again. Josh has a temper, and I don’t want to learn any kind of lesson that has to do with a knife. I just want him to love me the way I love him.

  I try, and I try, and I try, but I can’t seem to ever make the right decisions with Josh. I always make bad decisions or make a mistake and make him mad. I wish just once that he would be happy with me, and maybe tell me he liked what I cooked him for dinner. I often wish he would just tell me he liked how I looked or notice when I got my hair cut or colored. The people I work with notice, but Josh never does.

  I try so hard.

  He used to tell me those things, but not anymore.

  Not since he held his knife to my throat.

  I was excited all week for tonight to get here. Josh told me if I didn’t do anything stupid all week, he would rent a movie on Friday and we would try to watch it together. I hoped that tonight would be the night that things turn around. If we could get along for just one night, I would hold on to those memories for ever.

  As I sat in the truck and read, Josh got out and walked toward the Red Box to get the movies.

  I sat quietly and read quickly as Josh looked through the selection of movies that were available to rent. Reading was my form of escaping. I could escape everything by reading. It was easy for me to dream of being the character in the books that I read. A good book could make me laugh, cry, or get so aroused that I had to touch myself. Without reading, I would go crazy - completely crazy. My Kindle had become my savior.

  “They ain’t got Black Hawk Down or Pulp Fiction,” he said over his shoulder as he stood in front of the Red Box, staring at the screen.

  We haven’t watched too many movies together over the ten years we’ve been together, but we’ve seen those two movies no less than a dozen times a piece. I like doing anything with Josh, but sometimes I wish he would think about something that would make me happy. I’d like to watch The Notebook or something like that. Maybe Safehaven.

  “Well, fuck. They ain’t got nothin’ to watch at this shit-hole. Fuckin’ pisses me off. Maybe we should just hit the liquor store and get a thirty pack and hang out at the house,” he said as he got into the truck.

  I slipped the Kindle into my purse.

  My heart sank as he started the truck.

  Josh drank a lot. When he drank, it made me shake. When he drank, he was always mean. He always said he deserved to drink; because I drove him crazy, or he had a tough day at work. I tried to hide from him when he drank, but hiding tonight would be impossible to do.

  “Why you got that shitty look on your face?” he muttered as he shoved his lip full of tobacco.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “What? You got something to say? I really ain’t in the mood for your mouth, you little bitch,” he barked as he wiped his hand on his jeans.

  I wanted to tell him to get a different movie. I felt like crying. Why couldn’t we have a night together that we didn’t fight? Why did he have to drink so much? Why did he have to chew tobacco? It made his breath stink and his teeth were brown. To have him, for one night, be kind to me – I’d let him beat me for a week.

  A week of having my face slapped and called names.

  In exchange for one night of calling me beautiful and kissing me.

  “I asked you a fucking question,” his jaw clenched as he shut off the truck.

  Oh no. Not here. Please not here. Please, Josh.

  “You see what I mean? You fuckin’ ask for it. It’s like you want it. I’ll never understand what drives you to fight with me, woman,” he said, and then opened the truck door and stepped out and into the parking lot.

  He walked around in front of the truck, up to my door, and opened it.

  “Gimme your fuckin’ purse,” he snarled as he he
ld his hand out toward me.

  “Gimme that sum bitch or I’ll slap your mouthy little ass right here in the parking lot,” he growled through his clenched teeth as he spit tobacco juice into the parking lot by his feet.

  I handed him my purse.

  He opened my purse and looked inside. He reached into it, shuffled through the contents, and pulled out my Kindle.

  “This little motherfucker has become a problem. I know you talk to people on it. I know you do. Talk to people and read that fuckin’ filth,” he tossed it onto the asphalt beside his feet.

  “Josh, no. Please,” I begged.

  “What, afraid you ain’t gonna be able to reach your fuckin’ boyfriend? You little whore,” he snapped as he raised his boot over the Kindle.

  “Josh, no. I don’t have a boyfriend. And I don’t talk to people with that. I just use it to read. It’s my only way to escape,” I sobbed.

  “Escape? What the fuck you gotta escape? See? You always dig a hole,” he held his boot over the Kindle, raised his eyebrows, and spit again.

  “It’s that mouth Kace, always getting’ you in trouble. See? Now I gotta do this, and it’s your fault, you did it, not me,” he said as he stomped the screen of the Kindle with his boot.

  As he twisted his heel into the screen he shook his head.

  “I was gonna scare ya and give it back. Hell no, you had to pop off and get lippy. Hell, I’d have liked to had a good night and a fuckin’ movie. You just don’t seem to give a fuck about my feelings, Kace,” he said as he bent down to pick up the smashed Kindle.

  I looked down into my lap and wiped the tears from my face.

  “Everything alright?” an unfamiliar voice asked from my right side.

  I wiped my face and looked up through the opened truck door.

  Ohmygod.

  And there he stood - faded jeans, black boots, dark hair, sunglasses, and a black hoodie. He had his hands in his hoodie pockets and the hood half over his head. He quickly alternated glances between Josh and I. Slowly he pulled his hand from his pocket and removed his sunglasses. As he turned my direction his steel grey eyes met mine and he paused.

  I wanted him to help me. Save me from Josh and take me away.

  But.

  I said nothing.

  His face was covered in a few days growth of beard and was absolutely gorgeous. His jaw was tight and his facial features distinct. And. Those. Eyes.

  “Ain’t nobody talkin’ to you, slick,” Josh said.

  Slowly and methodically, the stranger turned from facing me to facing Josh.

  “Well, I was addressing both of you, asshole. But I suppose now I’m speaking to her. Are you alright?” his tone changed from stern to pleasant and soft as he turned from facing Josh to face me again.

  He studied my face.

  Although his mouth didn’t form one, his eyes smiled. The temperature in the truck rose a hundred degrees. I melted into my seat.

  I felt myself getting wet.

  Take me with you, please. Save me.

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure?” he asked again, softly.

  “Kace,” Josh said flatly.

  Quickly, he turned and looked at Josh. He stared at him for a long second. Josh looked at the ground. The stranger slowly turned back toward me.

  I nodded.

  The stranger turned to Josh, who was holding the smashed Kindle in his hand.

  “Ain’t your business, slick,” Josh said to the stranger as he looked down at the ground.

  “Well, as I was getting off my bike, I heard the word whore. I looked up, and then watched you stomping on that,” the stranger said as he pointed to the Kindle.

  “And, I suppose as long as you’re done being an asshole, and she’s okay, you’re right. It’s not my business,” the stranger said as he walked around Josh slowly. His walk was unique. He had a certain swagger.

  His steel grey eyes never left Josh.

  “Well, she was bein’ disrespectful. We got in a pissin’ match. Like I said, ain’t nothin’ to do with you,” Josh said to the stranger as he slowly walked around the truck.

  As Josh opened the door to the truck, the stranger leaned onto the Red Box and focused on me. As he waited for us to back up, he put his sunglasses back on. His right hand had tattooed knuckles.

  Squeeeeee!

  Josh tossed the crushed Kindle at me as he got in the truck.

  “What the fuck you lookin’ at? And why the fuck is he starin’ at you?” Josh asked as he started the truck.

  As I admired the stranger, I was speechless. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Fuckin’ asshole. I shoulda punched his ass,” Josh snarled as he began to back the truck out of the parking spot.

  As he put the truck in gear and started pulling forward, I looked out the window at the stranger and silently mouthed the words…

  Help me.

  SHANE. Two weeks. That’s all it took. Two fucking weeks.

  Come on, shut your mouth. Don’t go there. Please, mister, don’t do it.

  I pressed the hoodie to the sides of my face.

  Just shut your mouth dude.

  “If you don’t learn how to act, I’ll teach you. You ain’t gonna like it, though,” he took another drink of his beer.

  I sliced my chicken and took another bite. Chicken and turkey seemed to keep me in good health, and I made it a point to find the best places to eat each. In the two weeks that I’d been in Austin, this restaurant had proven to have some of the best grilled chicken I had ever eaten. I had a sinking feeling, however, that I wouldn’t be allowed to return after tonight.

  “I try and act the best I can. You’re never satisfied,” she responded from the other side of the table.

  “Never satisfied? You dumb cunt. Never satisfied? I’m gonna slap some sense into you when we get home,” he said as he pushed his plate to the center of the table.

  Well, that could be a figure of speech. Not one that I like. But this isn’t my business.

  “Paul. Please. I’m sorry, don’t hit me again,” she whispered.

  Well, fuck. It just became my business.

  I stood up, popped my neck, and pulled out my wallet. I removed a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the table. It was the least I could do for the ten dollar piece of chicken. This could get ugly quick. I didn’t want to take advantage of the waitress.

  Forgive me Lord for what I am about to do.

  I walked across the floor to the table where the couple was sitting. I wiped my hands on my jeans and cracked my knuckles.

  “Paul, I really need to talk to you,” I said softly.

  “How the fuck you know my name?” he asked as he looked up from his beer.

  “You don’t remember me?” I asked.

  He squinted his eyes and shook his head, “Nope.”

  “Well, we need to talk,” I said quietly, “Let’s take a quick walk, this shouldn’t take long.”

  “Paul, what’s this about,” she asked.

  “Shut up, bitch. I have no idea who this weirdo is,” he responded as he looked across the table at her.

  I really hoped this could have gone easier. Maybe I should have left a hundred bucks. Oh well.

  I reached for his shoulder. As soon as my hand touched him, he came up with the beer bottle in his right hand. Cupped in his hand, he swung the bottle toward my face as he stood.

  I blocked his swing with my left arm, and immediately punched him lightly with a right jab twice. As he stumbled, I hit him once in the stomach with a light left hook. As he began to cough and sputter, I took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table.

  Coughing and trying to catch his breath, he placed his hands on his knees.

  “He may or may not be back in a minute,” I said as I grabbed the man by his hair.

  “Don’t ever let this man beat you again, ma’am,” I said to the woman as I began to pull him by his shirt and hair toward the door.

  I figured I had ten minutes before the cops wou
ld show up. For me to make my point should take three.

  As I drug him toward the door, he began to kick his feet and scream.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? You miserable son-of-a-bitch. Let me go,” he growled as I drug him beside the entrance.

  Quickly, I reached for his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed his driver’s license. I held it in front of his face and shoved his wallet in his shirt pocket.

  “What the…” he started to speak.

  “Shut up,” I said.

  I stuck his driver’s license in my front pocket.

  “I’m on a time crunch so I’ll make this quick. I overheard you telling your girl you were going to slap her when you got home. You’re not going to slap her again, ever. I have your driver’s license, so I know who you are, and where you live. I’m going to come check on her, and if I find out you’ve touched her, I’m going to beat you worse than the beating you get tonight,” I explained as I unzipped my hoodie.

  As I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders, he took a swing.

  As I leaned back, his punch went by my face. I dropped my hoodie to the side and grabbed his hair on each side of his head. Immediately and with tremendous force, I thrust the top of my head into his nose. I felt his nose crush under the force.

  As I released his hair from my grasp, I swung a fairly strong uppercut toward his chin. The punch impacted his jaw, knocked his teeth together, and lifted him from his feet. Immediately, he fell into a pile on the sidewalk, unconscious.

  You should hold your jaw tighter than that. Boxing 101.

  I looked down at his lifeless body and shook my head. I reached down and got my hoodie from the sidewalk, and zipped it up. I stood over him as people watched and waited for him to become conscious.

  As soon as he began to moan, I walked to my bike and fired it up.

  Well, Paul, see you in a few weeks.

  SHANE. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing right. Be the best you can be at whatever it is you choose to do. Sweeping the floor or washing the car. Nothing should ever be done half assed. I strive to be the best at anything I ever decide to conquer.