Sugar Rush

by Sawyer Bennett

  "That makes it a popular sport to bet on," Beck surmises.

  "Exactly," Dennis says with a nod. "But here's why this is an opportunity for you. Most UFC fighters don't make a lot of money. The median pay for a fighter hovers around the twenty-thousand-dollar mark with some bonuses thrown on top for a win."

  "Not a lot of money to get your ass kicked," I mutter.

  "It's not," Dennis agrees. "Sure, some of the top-billed fighters can earn hundreds of thousands for a match, but those are probably only the top one percent."

  "Where does VanZant fall?" Beck asks.

  Dennis smiles, because Beck has caught on. "He's undefeated, so he commands a bit more, but he's only getting a hundred thousand for the fight, with a fifty-thousand bonus for the win."

  "So he can be bought?" I ask with skepticism.

  "Maybe," Dennis says as he pins me with a direct stare. "He'd have to weigh the risk. He could lose to Mariota, who is also undefeated and the reigning champion of his weight class. That would probably cause his earning potential to be crippled. The other risk is of serious injury. Fighters don't last long in this sport, as the risk of debilitating injury is high."

  "What are the pros?"

  "If he wins, he's looking at potential lucrative endorsements. A higher salary for his next fights, probably with a cut of pay-per-view earnings. A win against Mariota could potentially send him up the ladder with the big boys who can earn half a million to a million on a fight."

  "So we have to make an offer to him that can't be refused," Beck says thoughtfully.

  "Five hundred thousand," Dennis says matter-of-factly. "Maybe less, but if you want a done deal and you want him to fall believably, I think that's the amount that would do the trick."

  "And what?" I say, still unsure about how Dennis could even accomplish something like this. "You're just going to approach him with an offer?"

  "Not me," Dennis says vaguely. "But I have a contact who will for a small middleman fee."

  "And just how much then would you be filling in that blank check Beck gave you?" I ask.

  "For my investigation into JT and his accomplices, the middleman fee to float the offer to VanZant, and VanZant's bribe...with Beck's permission I'll fill it in for $675,000. I dispense all the money so the only paper trail is of you paying an investigative service. We can say it's a multiyear retainer for me to contract privately for The Sugar Bowl to vet the Sugar Daddies and Babies."

  "No," I say, turning to face Beck on the couch. His head swivels to look at me with raised eyebrows. "It's just too much money. Too much risk."

  "Sela," Beck says soothingly as he turns all the way to me and puts one hand on my knee. "Unlike JT, I have not squandered my money and I have plenty of it. That's nothing in the grand scheme of things."

  "It's too risky," I maintain, suddenly not feeling good about this. "I mean, even if VanZant loses, you're still banking on JT coming to you for the money. And if you're lucky enough to have him do that, I'm not about to have you hand over four million to satisfy his debt. I can't stomach the thought of you giving JT that type of money."

  "It's the only way to get him out of The Sugar Bowl," Beck says softly. "It would be a nominal amount to get sole ownership of The Sugar Bowl, which will earn millions and millions over my lifetime. It's nothing more than a buyout, which is what I'd have to do if he willingly sold to me, and if he willingly sold to me, he'd demand much more than four million dollars. Trust me on that."

  I open my mouth to argue, but Dennis cuts me off. "You could come out cheaper."

  Both our heads turn his way.

  "How's that?" Beck asks.

  "Buy his current debt from the bookie," Dennis says simply.

  "That wouldn't work," Beck says adamantly. "I'd have no leverage to make him pay. I'm assuming, at the least, his bookie has an enforcer that would impress upon JT the importance of satisfying the debt."

  "I'm not finished," Dennis says with a calculated smirk. "Normally you'd buy the debt at a reduced price, which is attractive to the lender because it's guaranteed. But instead, offer to buy it at full price and have the bookie still run a sham double-or-nothing bet. VanZant takes the fall, and the bookie is owed a sham four million. You wouldn't have to pay a damn penny more to him on JT's behalf when he comes asking for the money, but JT doesn't need to know that. You'd essentially be buying the enforcement."

  "That's too complicated," I say, nibbling on a fingernail in worry. Everything we're talking about is illegal as hell, and I have to wonder why I'm suddenly growing a conscience when murder had been my primary agenda in the not-so-distant past.

  "Or," Dennis says with an evil glint in his eye. "Let JT make the bet, let him lose, and you promise to pay the bookie. Get it in writing he transfers Sugar Bowl ownership to you, then fuck him over and don't pay a damn dime. Let him take the beating he deserves, then go to the police."

  "Fuck JT over?" Beck asks in amazement, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that this appeals greatly to Beck's sense of justice.

  "It's still too risky," I say, again trying to be the voice of reason between these two men who are now scenting blood in the water. "We don't even know VanZant will take the fall. Or that JT will come to you for the money. It's a whole bunch of luck you're relying on."

  Beck turns my way once again and smirks. "Seems to me I remember a woman who was banking on a whole lot of luck that first night when you planned to confront JT at that mixer."

  "Well, I hadn't thought things through--"

  "Sela," Beck cuts me off. "These are all good options, and yes...luck will be involved. What's the worst that will happen? I won't get JT out of the business cleanly, but we'll still have the option of going to the police."

  I stare at Beck, searching deeply into his eyes, hoping to find some measure of comfort over what we're attempting to do. I'm terrified Beck will get so caught up in this he'll fail to look out for his own safety and well-being, but he looks back at me with confidence and surety.

  He's asking me to trust him on this and let him help me.

  While so much of this still feels wrong, it's the way Beck is looking at me right now that causes me to nod my head in acquiescence.

  Beck turns to Dennis. "Make the offer to VanZant. If he bites, we roll forward as planned. Operation Fuck Over JT is now in progress."

  "Do you want me to float an offer to buy the debt from his bookie?" Dennis asks.

  Beck immediately shakes his head. "No. Like Sela said, that's just too complicated, so let's keep this very simple. Make the offer to VanZant to take the fall. If he does, JT loses the bet and the bookie comes to collect. I'm prepared to pay four million to JT to get him out of The Sugar Bowl. It's a cheap price for the buyout of a business that will generate more than a hundred times that amount over my life."

  He then turns his gaze to me and gives me a reassuring smile. I try to levy one back at him, but it's a pale attempt.

  Reaching his hand out, he places his palm to my cheek. "Trust me...this will work."

  "I trust you," I tell him, my smile getting a bit stronger.

  Because I do.

  Trust this man.

  More than anyone else in my life, and I have to believe that we'll both come out of this on top and I'll be vindicated.

  Sela was a nervous wreck this morning as she kissed me before I left to come into work today. After Dennis left us Friday afternoon, we had a low-key weekend, preferring to hang at the condo and decorate for Christmas. We were both somehow able to put all the craziness of our plot against JT aside, and instead concentrate on invoking some holiday spirit.

  This will be my first Christmas with a girlfriend.

  It's Sela's first with a boyfriend.

  Two souls who have preferred to be alone for holidays past, now bonded through circumstance, passion, and a focused need for revenge. I'm not sure if that's the stuff that love is built upon, but I know that watching Sela set out her mom's nutcrackers with a fond smile on her face, or helping her
cut out sugar cookies that we later burned and still ate anyway, filled me with a satisfaction and warm happiness I've never felt before.

  For the entire weekend we transformed the condo into a Christmas wonderland, ate takeout and burned cookies, and fucked--or maybe we made love, I'm not sure--like two people starving for a connection.

  We didn't discuss JT or our plan to bring him down once.

  Until this Monday morning after I showered and dressed, drank my cup of coffee, and Sela walked with me to the condo door to kiss me goodbye.

  "Why the worried look?" I asked her after our lips parted.

  "You're going to be seeing JT for the first time since you found out what happened to me," she said with a furrowed brow. "I'm nervous."

  "Don't worry," I told her with a confident smile. "I can keep it together."

  She knew what I meant by that. Our best chances of getting JT out of The Sugar Bowl all hinged on him coming to me for bailout money. For him to do that, he has to have trust in me. For him to have trust in me, I cannot appear to be anything to him other than a devoted friend and concerned business partner.

  In other words, I'm going to have to not only act as if I don't hate the son of a bitch, I'm going to have to pour on a little extra charm to keep him tied to me emotionally over the next two weeks until the fight.

  It will require a great deal of acting and a hell of a lot of luck so I don't lose my temper around him. But I'm not worried the way Sela was this morning. I have a driving motivation to make sure this all works. I can see the finish line and Sela is waiting there for me, and nothing is going to stand in my way to get there. If that means I have to sleep with the enemy so to speak for a few weeks, it's a sacrifice I'll gladly make to get what we deserve, and give JT what he most assuredly deserves.

  As I pull open the glass front door to the Townsend-North lobby, I take stock of the fact my heartbeat is steady and my palms are cool and dry. Not an ounce of nervousness or worry on my part, and that's because my motivation and need to make this work outweighs any need to let my temper get out of control around JT.

  In fact, I'm almost looking forward to seeing the fuckwad. I'll be setting out the bait that will help compel him to come to me when he gets in trouble, and that thought makes me giddy with excitement. Hell...I can practically taste the justice on my tongue as I smile at the receptionist when I walk by.

  Linda welcomes me back with a wide grin as I approach her desk. "I trust Vienna was to your liking?"

  "It was fabulous," I tell her as she hands me a stack of message slips. "You totally are getting a bonus for scoring those tickets to the Vienna State Opera."

  "I bet the performance was marvelous," she says wistfully, but I just smile silently on the inside because I was actually thinking about the amazing sex I had with Sela in the private box.

  "Is JT in yet?" I ask as I flip through the messages.

  "He is," she says as I look back to her. "And he asked that you go see him as soon as you got in. I think you made him anxious with your spontaneous trip away with your girlfriend."

  Laughing as I turn toward JT's office, I tell her, "I'll smooth out his ruffled feathers, no worries."

  Smooth them out, ease his worries, invite him further into my web.

  "Good morning, Mr. North," Karla says in a flat voice as she sees me approaching. His secretary doesn't like me very much, and I'm guessing it's because Linda gets more perks than she does. I reward those who do great work, and sometimes it causes some animosity toward me and my own. Why she just doesn't hate JT because of her poor work environment is beyond me, but apparently it's all my fault he's a douche.

  "Good morning, Karla," I say jovially, leveling her my most charming grin. It bounces right off her face set in stone and falls flat between us. "Is JT with anyone?"

  "No, sir, but he does have a meeting in fifteen minutes."

  "I won't keep him long," I say as I turn toward JT's closed office door. I give two sharp raps with my knuckles and then turn the knob before he even can respond.

  JT sits behind his desk, leaning back casually in his office chair. He has one leg propped over the other and is perusing a document in his hand. His face lifts slightly to look at me and then drops back down to the papers in his hand.

  "Glad you could come in to work," he says dryly, with an unmistakable hint of censure.

  I flop down in the seat opposite him and kick my feet up onto his desk. "Well, hello, JT. It's nice to see you too."

  He snorts but keeps reading his document. I take the moment to study him carefully and unobtrusively. JT had been my long-standing friend, and even though I often wanted to throttle him, deep down I always loved him. But now he's an evil monster in my eyes. I find it utterly fascinating that I'm sitting here looking at him with detachment, apparently fully capable of keeping my rage toward him compartmentalized. I think that I have such a sense of moral high ground cushioning me right now, sprinkled with a bit of vigilante justice, that I'm able to view him as a mouse in my game.

  I'm the cat, by the way.

  "Come on, man," I say with amused affection that tastes slightly bitter on my tongue. "You're not mad I took a week off from work with a gorgeous woman, are you?"

  JT doesn't look up at me, but I see the corner of his mouth tip up. "No," he drawls. "I'm mad you wouldn't answer any of my fucking calls or emails."

  "Seriously dude...have you seen Sela?" I ask with a laugh that I'm pleased sounds genuine. "I was a little preoccupied."

  He doesn't respond or look up at me, and I find the sullen silence to suit the egotistical child-man I know him to be.

  "JT," I say softly, and because he can hear the seriousness in my voice, he raises his gaze to mine. "I think I love her, man."

  With raised eyebrows and mouth slightly agape, he repeats, "You love her?"

  Yes, JT. I think I've fallen in love with the woman you raped ten years ago. What I really want to do is kill you. Choke you with my bare hands while you plead with your eyes for me to stop. I want to watch you take your last breath, and then I want to go tell Sela that she's been avenged.

  But I can't say that, so I simply say, "I think I do. I mean...I can't seem to get enough of her. I've asked her to move in permanently with me, and I think she's the one. You know how you just kind of know?"

  JT shakes his head and I'm not surprised when he says, "No. I don't know. Never felt that before for a woman."

  Because you're incapable of love you selfish, narcissistic, sociopathic prick.

  "I wish you could feel it, buddy," I tell him with a wistful smile. "It's amazing. Finding someone you want to devote your life to."

  JT just blinks at me, clearly perplexed. He can't comprehend that level of care.

  "Finding a woman who completes you," I continue as I pin him with a fervent look. "A woman that you would do anything for. Defend to the end. Be her knight in shining armor. Make all her worries and hurts go away, no matter the cost."

  I'm going to make you pay for what you did to her, you fucking bastard.

  "Yeah," I say with a smile leveled at my half brother. "I think I love her."

  Tilting his head to the side, he gives me a pointed look. "You've only known her a few weeks."

  "Almost a month and a half."

  "Still not very long to fall in love," he says skeptically. "Especially for a confirmed bachelor."

  Now, let me throw a little more bait out there for you. Make you think you're my guy. Buds to the end. "You think I'm rushing it?"

  JT chomps down hard on the bait and sits up straighter in his chair as he tosses down the document. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, and clasps his hands, leveling a serious look at me. "Listen...I don't know Sela very well, but dude...she's a Sugar Baby. Sugar Babies are all about the money. Now, I'm not saying that's what she's doing, but just remember what her initial agenda was when you first met her."

  I have to practically bite down on the inside of my cheek not to laugh out loud, because it
's fucking funny that JT would even try to hazard a guess as to what Sela's original agenda was when I first met her. He'd be shocked as shit to know it wasn't to get my money but to murder him in cold blood.

  Still, this opportunity is too good to pass up, so I play along with JT's overly concerned, best-friend act. "You think she could be after me for my money?"

  JT shrugs, acting nonchalant, but he can't hide the barest hint of malice in his eyes. It sparkles at me, and in this moment, I know for a fact that JT doesn't like Sela. I think about what she told me--about the way he treated her on the way to dinner that night--and it hits me with absolute certainty that JT might even be slightly jealous of her. That she has my attention, and it's becoming more important than my friend and business partner.

  "I don't know, buddy," he says somberly. "I just want you to be careful and remember the reason she's a Sugar Baby. It's always about money with them."

  Not with Sela, I want to automatically say, because that's the truth. While I know she was grateful for the payment of her student debt, she absolutely shuns my money in all other respects. But JT doesn't need to know how much I've come to respect her. I need him to see us as buddies, cohorts...partners to the end.

  Until I end him, that is.

  I nod along, trying to look grateful for his sage advice. "It makes sense," I say, scratching at my chin. "I mean...she doesn't seem to care about my money, but still...you're right. I haven't known her that long, and while I'm not ready to give her up fully, maybe I need to put the brakes on...slow things down a little."

  There's a tint of satisfaction in his eyes, then he gives me a full, dazzling smile. "I've got your back, man. Always."

  "Just as I have yours," I tell him with as much fake gratitude and emotion as I can muster.

  He holds my gaze, beaming warmth and camaraderie. It makes me slightly nauseated, but I beam my own smile back at him.

  "Big plans for Christmas?" JT asks as I stand up from my chair, indicating that our bro chat is over. He stands as well. "I assume you'll make your required appearance at your parents' party this Thursday."

  I grimace, and there's no hiding that emotion, but it's okay, because JT knows how I feel about my parents. He knows I generally shun their zest for fame and fortune, which includes the annual Christmas Eve party where they can show off their perfect house and perfect family--minus Caroline and Ally, of course.