Undefeated - A New Adult Romance Novel

by Hildreth, Scott

  Ever.

  If I am attempting it, and I do not succeed, you can believe that I gave it my best effort, regardless of the outcome.

  I choose to do very little, and be exceptional at what it is I decide to do. I would much rather be perceived as being great at a few things than be a failure at many. I have always been honest with myself and conscious of who I am, but that doesn’t always help me understand why I am the way I am.

  On the outside, I am always kind, polite, and considerate of others. On the inside, demons reside. I don’t know why or what fuels the demons inside of me, but I am very aware of their existence. My consciousness of their need, necessity, and deep desire to be fed is what has caused me to choose boxing as my main outlet.

  I keep the demons fed, and they allow me to live an otherwise peaceful life. Fulfilling their hunger allows my desire to live a tranquil life to be met. As long as I continue to fight, they’re fed. When they are fed, I am allowed.

  Allowed to live.

  I have been training in one way, shape, or form since I was eleven. From what my trainers have always told me, I have tremendous stamina. I can train, fight, or work out for hours on end without becoming exhausted. For this I am grateful.

  I have never been in a fight that I didn’t feel was necessary. In the ring, people agree to fight me, knowing of my ability and my undefeated record. Boxing is a sport, and nothing more than a contest between two men – a contest of strength, stamina, willingness, and raw talent.

  I have been in more street fights than I can count. Each time, I gave my opponent the ability to walk away. If they chose not to, I did what I had to do. In the ring or out, I have always stood the victor. The majority of my street fights were a result of me attempting to stand up for what I believed to be morally right.

  I have never been afraid to stand up for someone that can’t stand up on their own, and there’s not a shortage of people that act in a manner contrary to what I believe to be moral. Line every one of them up – every one of them that abuses a woman, child, or the elderly, and I’ll beat them senseless one person at a time.

  “So, what did you decide? Did you buy them?” Mike asked.

  “No. I’m going to wait until the price goes down to something more affordable,” I answered as I set my sandwich back onto the plate.

  I wiped the mayonnaise from my mouth with my napkin and looked down at my boots.

  “Dude, those fuckers are raggedy. Shit, I can see your socks through the bottom of the sole,” he laughed.

  “Yeah, but a hundred thirty bucks is a hundred thirty bucks,” I shrugged my shoulders as I picked the sandwich up.

  “You’re one weird motherfucker, Dekkar. One weird motherfucker,” he shook his head and laughed.

  Mike was my first fight when I arrived in Austin two years ago. Even though I knocked him out for the first time in his career, we had become the best of friends, and never discussed that particular fight with others. I had no desire to be disrespectful to him or to his talent as a boxer.

  Any man, on any given day, can be beaten by any other man. When the time comes, I will be beaten. Until then, I will remain grateful for my successes.

  “Why you go and say that, Ripp?” I mumbled, my mouth half full of sandwich.

  “Well there are maybe a handful of people here that know you, because you’re a fucking hermit. But I do, remember? Your father, no disrespect, died in Afghanistan. Your grandfather died two years ago – right before you came here. You inherited everything from both of them. I don’t have any idea how much it was, but your father was a year from retirement. Your grandfather was retired. I’m just going to guess you have a hundred and thirty bucks for a new pair of boots,” he said over the top of his beer bottle as he drank what was left in the bottom.

  “Well, but I hate to pay a hundred thirty if they’re gonna go on sale for a hundred - or maybe ninety. Shit, that’d buy me a lot of turkey sandwiches,” I responded, smiling.

  “I’ll have one more Ultra,” Mike said to the waitress as he held his index finger in the air.

  “You need anything, Dekkar?” he asked, tilting his head back slightly.

  “Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” I responded.

  From the perspective of an outsider, Mike looked rather intimidating. He was a little taller than six feet, and weighed two hundred ten pounds. His head was shaved and he had tattoos on his upper arms, back and chest. His body was constructed entirely of muscle. Maintaining a perfect body and having an actual life outside of training is almost impossible. Some fighters have flab or fat on certain places. Mike wasn’t one of those fighters. He trained and he trained hard. It was one reason we had become such close friends. He had my level of desire to maintain a healthy body and mind.

  “Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” Mike joked as the waitress walked away.

  “You’re so fucking proper and polite to women - and men - as long as they’re old men. But you clench your jaw and look like a mean prick to everyone else. You crack me up, dude,” he shook his head.

  “Well, you look like a mean prick all the time,” I smiled as I picked up the pickle from my plate.

  Mike smiled an exaggerated smile, exposing his single gold tooth.

  “That tooth is ridiculous. I’ll never understand that,” I said as I slid my plate to the side of the table.

  “I told you already,” he responded, still smiling.

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s horrid. Who wants to draw attention to the fact that they lost a tooth?” I pulled my hood over my head.

  “Well, I have a gold tooth, and you wear a fucking black hoodie everywhere you go. And in Austin, Texas of all places. So, tell me more about this girl,” he said as he picked at his teeth with a toothpick.

  “There’s nothing more to tell. I think she was a receptionist. I saw her sitting at a desk when I went to pay my insurance on the bike. It was the second time. I know I saw her two years ago at a drug store. This time, she didn’t see me - I just noticed her as I walked past. I just got a bad feeling that day in the parking lot of the drug store. I remember that,” I pulled my hood tight around my head and peered through the hole.

  “You know you do that, right?” he said, pointing at my head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You hide in your hood. When there’s something you don’t like talking about or doing,” he answered.

  I pulled the hood off of my head and ran my fingers through my hair as he started to speak again.

  “Well, you quit talking when the waitress brought our food. What didn’t you like? No, remind me what bothered you about the first time you met her? You started talkin’ and stopped, sorry,” he said as he leaned onto the table.

  Short of my grandfather, Mike was the best friend that I have ever had. He truly cared about me as a person, and wasn’t afraid to admit it. Since my first week here we had become extremely close and almost inseparable.

  “She was sitting at a desk. Up the hallway at the building my insurance company is in. It might have been a law office, hell I don’t know,” I responded as I pulled my hood onto my head again.

  “Okay. And the first time?” he asked, leaning onto his forearms.

  “Here you go. Will there be anything else?” the waitress asked as she set the glass of water and the bottle of beer onto the table.

  Mike looked up and shook his head, “Thanks.”

  He turned back toward me and waited.

  “It was right when I got to town. And, well, the guy she was with - I’m guessing her boyfriend, he was a douchebag. More like a dirt bag,” I paused as I grabbed the glass of water and looked up at the cables that suspended the lights from the ceiling.

  “I was on the bike,” I chuckled and shook my head as I remembered the evening.

  “I was sitting on the bike looking at the soles of my boots. I heard him scream the word slut. I looked up and he tossed something on the ground. It was an iPad. He screamed at her a few more times as I was walking over
to his truck. Then he stomped the iPad and held it in his hand as he talked to her.”

  “Surprised you didn’t whip his ass,” Mike said as he leaned back into his chair.

  “Well, you know I struggle with that. If he had been violent toward her or threatening her with harm I would have. They were just arguing. But when they left, she looked at me through the window. And her lips moved,” I looked back up at the ceiling structure.

  “Her lips moved?” he turned his palms up and looked at me surprised.

  “Well, she either said help me or hurt me or something. I couldn’t tell,” I shook my head as I pressed my hood tight to my head with the palms of my hands.

  “I kind of forgot about it until I went into the insurance company. Now I can’t stop thinking of her. You believe there’s a plan for all of us? You know, everything happens for a reason?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I do. Kinda weird about that, but yeah,” he said as he nodded his head slowly.

  “I think things happen for a reason. I really do,” I said as I recalled seeing her sitting at the desk.

  “What’s she look like?” he asked.

  I thought of the day at the drug store parking lot. She looked beautiful, but she was scared. I didn’t like thinking about that. I recalled the image of her talking on the phone as she sat at the desk, her blonde hair curly and clean. She looked magnificent.

  “Perfect,” I responded, still looking up at the lights.

  “Oh, I see. Perfect. If she robs a bank, we could give that description to the cops, Dekkar. Did you see who robbed the bank? Yes, officer, I got a good look at her. Great. Can you describe her to the sketch artist? Yes, I sure can. She looked perfect, officer,” he laughed as he tipped his beer bottle to his lips.

  “Ripp, you’re a prick. She’s probably five foot something. She was in the truck, but looked short. Maybe a hundred pounds. Thin, but looks athletic. She’s blonde, and gorgeous,” I looked back down and focused on Mike’s face as I finished speaking.

  “What about him?”

  “He was maybe six foot or so. Two twenty. Out of shape, but a big fucker,” I rubbed my hood with my hands.

  “Shitty brown hair, curly,” I paused and thought for a second, “Shitty beard. Shitty attitude.”

  “Well, next time you go pay your insurance, if she’s in there, talk to her. Ask her about the day at the drug store. Give her a chance to say if she’s even still with that guy,” he responded as he raised his beer and tipped the mouth of the bottle my direction.

  “You about ready to get out of here?” he asked as he set the empty bottle down on the table.

  I shrugged my shoulders and pushed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

  “To where?” I asked.

  “To the mall, Dekkar. I’m gonna help buy my buddy some boots,” he said as he stood up and looked at the bill.

  I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached for my wallet.

  “I got this,” he said as he waved his hands over the receipt the waitress had placed on the table.

  “Times are tough and you need to save up for some boots,” he laughed as he set the empty beer bottle down on the money and the receipt.

  “Well, at least I don’t ride in those,” I said as I pointed to his shorts and Chuck’s.

  “Hell Shane, ask the waitress. Shit, ask anyone at the mall or on the way. Ask somebody at a fucking stoplight. Which one of us looks out of place? The one in the shorts and Chuck’s or the guy wearing a fucking black hoodie when it’s ninety degrees outside?” he laughed as he stuck his signature toothpick in his mouth.

  I shook my head and walked toward the door.

  “I know, they’re your security blankets. Your hoodie and those damned dog tags. Hell, Dekk. If it works, it works,” he said as he slapped my shoulder.

  I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached under my hoodie toward my chest.

  Still there.

  We walked out the door and directly to the bike parking, which was right beside the front door.

  As I got on my bike, I began to think.

  “Dude, you fall asleep?” Mike yelled over the sound of the exhaust.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You’re in a fog, Dekk. You alright?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “I was thinking,” I responded as I grabbed the handlebars.

  “About?” he asked.

  “Upgrading the insurance on this bike,” I responded.

  KACE. I sat at my desk, waiting for my ten o’clock break. I loved taking my breaks because I could always read without feeling guilty. I had purchased a new Kindle, and had it shipped to my work office so Josh would not know I had it. Trying to keep things from him made me feel like I was cheating, but he forced me to do most of the things I chose to do.

  He monitored all of my spending that was on the debit or credit cards, leaving me no real option to use those cards for anything but gas. I told him I ate out for lunch, and he provided me money for that. Most days I would bring something light from home to eat. If I brought too much food, he’d notice and complain, so I brought very little when I did.

  I could then place my lunch money in my desk and save it for things I wanted or needed. Once I saved for a new pair of shoes. Recently, I bought the Kindle. I always went to the store and bought a prepaid debit card and used the card for the purchases. That way he never knew what I purchased and there was no record of it. For now I was leaving the Kindle in my desk so he couldn’t take it and smash it.

  I preferred romance and erotica. After I finished a really dark erotica, I would always follow it up with a nice romance novel. I read some pretty dark erotica, and I actually like them. I suspect I like them because when I read about all of the crazy twisted dark stuff in those books, it makes my life seem almost normal.

  I wish one of my book boyfriends would come and save me from this shit life I live. Sometimes I think I actually fall in love with the characters in the books, and hate for the book, series, or story to end. I find myself reading slower as I get toward the end because I don’t want the book to end. Often I daydream about the characters in the book, and what life would be like to have them instead of Josh.

  I remember the day when Josh stomped my Kindle at the Red Box. The man in the hoodie with the strange blue eyes – I think about him being a book boyfriend. I wish he would have saved me. I liked the way he walked. Austin is a huge city and I know I will never see him again, but I wish I could. I regret not saying something to him when he asked. He almost begged me to say something. And he called Josh an asshole twice. I liked that. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him thank you.

  I looked at my watch and realized it was 10:15 already. I spent most of my break daydreaming about the guy in the hoodie and not reading. Either way, it’s a means for me to escape. Josh tells me no other man would ever want me and I am sure that he is right. I put my Kindle back into my purse and walked to my desk.

  “Kace, did the Valentine Group call or send you an email?” Mr. Martin asked as I sat down at my desk.

  “Yes, they emailed and called both. I put together a spreadsheet, based on last year’s totals, and incorporated the anticipated increases for this year’s production costs, and made columns of each. Projected profits are on the far right. I emailed it to you,” I smiled.

  “Kace, you amaze me. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he slapped the desk and turned toward his office.

  I liked it when Mr. Martin told me nice things, and he never hesitated to do so. He made me feel like I was not such a worthless person. He promoted me every few years, and gave me a big raise and a new title, but my work was always the same. My new title was Executive Secretary. I was the only secretary, but I liked the title.

  Mr. Martin was in his early sixties and married. His wife came in from time to time, and she was beautiful. I would like to look like her when I am sixty. I always tell myself that she looks so good because she is confident. Her hair, clothes, and nails are
always perfect.

  I know I am not supposed to be envious of anyone, but I envy her.

  She has a nice husband, nice kids, a nice car, and a nice home. Her life couldn’t get any better. I would settle to live in a shack with someone as long as they treated me nice. I always thought Josh and I would get married and have children, but it never happened. Most of the time I was glad we never had kids.

  I turned the music up on my computer. As Jaymay’s Grey or Blue played, I slumped into my seat. I closed my eyes and relaxed to the music as it played. Getting lost in music is like getting lost in a book. I listened to the music, glad that the Valentine Group had already called.

  “Grey or Blue, great song,” a voice said from in front of my desk.

  I opened my eyes.

  Holyfuckingshit.

  I peed a little bit and jumped forward so quickly I knocked over my bottle of water.

  It was him.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, were you asleep?” he asked softly.

  “No. No. Sleeping not. Sleeping. Music. Listening. I was listening to music,” I stammered.

  Are you fucking kidding? I really don’t want to stutter right now.

  When I got excitedly nervous sometimes the words will come out of my mouth and they are not necessarily always in order. I think my mind works at some weird pace, and often it gets things jumbled up. I try to think before I speak, but the words just fall out sometimes. And they always fall out in whatever order they want to.

  It never happened when I was scared, just when I was really nervous and excited at the same time. It used to happen when I was a little girl on Christmas morning. Sometimes it would happen on my birthday when I was young. When I first met Josh it would happen, because I used to be really excited to see him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  As he spoke, he pulled his hood over his head. He was wearing the same black hoodie he had on at the Red Box when I saw him three or four months ago. It seemed odd he was wearing a hoodie now, because it was over a hundred degrees outside.

  “Nervous,” I said.

  Thank God. Only one fell out.