by Vi Keeland
“With who?”
“I don’t think that’s really any of your business.”
“Cancel your plans.”
I look into his eyes, hoping to find some indication that he’s joking. But he’s not. He’s dead serious. “Fine.”
“I’ll pick you up at your office.”
“I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
Vinny closes his eyes and bows his head slightly, shaking it back and forth before taking a deep breath. He takes two steps forward so that we’re standing toe to toe. Close enough to feel the heat resonate from his body, but not quite touching. “Tomorrow. Twelve. Lombardi’s.”
I nod, unable to form a cohesive sentence with him so close. Finally, after a long minute, I force my brain to resume control from my traitorous body and I smile hesitantly and head to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait, Liv.”
***
Relieved to be home after what seemed like the longest day of my life, I head straight for the fridge and pull out a corked bottle of wine.
“You haven’t even put your purse down. Bad day at the office, Honey?” Ally, my roommate, calls out teasingly from the living room.
“You want one?” I yell back.
“Of course, it would be rude to let you drink alone.” I can’t see Ally from where I’m standing but I can hear the smile in her voice.
I pour two full glasses of wine into sparkly crystal glasses, emptying the bottle, and head into the living room. Plopping myself onto the couch, I kick off my heels, exhale a deep breath, and slump into the cushy seat before downing a big gulp from my glass.
“Spill it. You look frazzled.” Folding her legs Indian style onto the couch, Ally turns to face me, clicking off the television with the remote.
“I saw Vinny again today.”
“Get. Out. I thought you had his story reassigned.”
“I thought so too.”
“What happened?”
“Vinny happened, that’s what.” I take another gulp of my wine. “He refused to do the interview with Summer, said he would only give me his story.”
I look up at my best friend and she’s smiling at me excitedly.
“What the heck are you smiling at?”
“I think it’s kinda hot that he demanded you.” Ally laughs. “Always was fearless. Is he still gorgeous?”
Grudgingly, my mind wanders to Vinny Stonetti. Vince Stone. The years have only made him sexier. While he was always gorgeous on the outside, something about his confidence and strength made him even more so. A force of nature, something I’m not quite sure I’m ready to reckon with. “Yes, he’s still gorgeous. But that’s not the point. He screwed me once, I’m not going to let him do it again.”
“He can screw me instead.” Ally wiggles her eyebrows. We’ve been best friends since grade school. Although we seem to have the same taste in men in looks, I keep away from the bad boys. Ally, on the other hand, keeps away from the good boys.
“So how did the interview go?”
“I didn’t interview him yet. I’m meeting him tomorrow for lunch.”
“A date. Nice.” Ally smiles and sips her wine.
“It’s not a date.”
“Are you meeting him at a restaurant and eating together?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s a business meal.”
“Couldn’t you have interviewed him when you saw him today?”
“I tried, he said no. Wanted me to interview him over dinner.”
“So you negotiated dinner down to a lunch date?”
“Yes. Wait, no. It’s not a date.”
“Whatever. As long as I get all the details afterwards, you can call it a communication session with ingestion for all I care.”
Chapter 10
Vince
“Who was the girl here earlier?” Nico’s damn nosey. The fucker thinks training me means he gets to control every inch of my life. Been this way since I was thirteen.
“An old friend.” I hit the bag with a roundhouse kick and one of Nico’s feet drops back to keep his position. I’ve been trying for more than ten years to take him down. Figured after he retired he’d lose a little strength, slow down on his workouts. But no, a year after he retired and the fucker is still in pristine shape. Once. I was able to take him to the ground once in ten years. And I paid dearly for it. Came in to train high and Nico called me on it. We got into it and half the place had to pull us apart. Got me thrown out of the gym and lost my trainer for six months until I could prove my sobriety with random piss tests.
“Elle went on about her for two hours last night. Says she’s great. Nice girl, would be good for you. She rambled on something about needing coffee and then got pissed off at me because I could drink coffee. Even though I don’t drink the crap. Pregnancy has made her crazy.”
Nice girl. Yep, that’s what Liv is. A nice girl. One I’d like to bend over and fuck. Hard. Damn it, I should know better. Me and nice girls don’t go together. I tried that route once. Even managed to have a somewhat normal relationship, went at it missionary style for almost a full month. But it’s not who I am. Eventually I gave her a taste of the real me and she went running scared. Wasn’t even the hard core stuff. Just a little spanking and hair pulling and I’d freaked her out. Probably went and found someone named Biffy to marry. Biffy, who would give it to her missionary style and keep his deviance for the whore he keeps on the side. “Yeah, she’s a nice girl. But it’s business. She’s writing a story on my next fight.”
“Elle was business when I met her.”
I was twelve or thirteen when Elle and Nico met. At first I thought it was a strange coupling. Elle, an attorney, always dressed in her girly business suits, helped Nico get out of a contract. She was just so different from the semi clothed women that I normally saw prance through the gym once. Twice if they were lucky. But all that shit stopped the day he laid eyes on Elle…and went after her with his usual relentless pursuit of getting what he wants. I may not have understood the pairing at first, but it didn’t take long to figure out there was no one else for Nico Hunter.
“Whatever, I’m not you.”
***
It’s late when I finish up at the gym and all I want to do is head home and crash. But my pain in the ass mother looked bad yesterday, so I stop in and check on her. I can’t stand the sight of the woman, yet I feel compelled to take care of her. She’s been a drug addict as long as I can remember. Hasn’t held a steady job in all her life. When she was younger, she danced at night. Left me alone from the time I was five to work nights at some seedy place for a guy she wanted me to call Uncle Wally. Uncle Wally my ass. All his girls were high, he kept them that way. Made them more dependent on him.
She sobered up once. Even left Wally’s Den. I was about seven. Lasted almost three months. I remember the months clearly. The house was clean and we had food regularly. And no losers sleeping all over the house. Even took me to the zoo once.
It didn’t last long. Uncle Wally got her to come back. Two weeks back working at the Den, the house was a mess and the losers returned. Been that way ever since. Some days are better than others. Yesterday was a bad one. She looked like shit. Split lip and a lot of shakes. Swore she fell and split her own lip, but I don’t trust Jason, the new loser she’s hanging out with.
I knock once, but there’s no answer. So I use my key. The TV is blaring so loud, I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t called the cops. I find my mother sitting on the couch. She’s crying. She tries to hide it when she catches sight of me, but it’s too late, I’ve seen it. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Nothing, Baby. Everything is fine. You can go home. I told you, you don’t have to check on me every day.” Her eyes dart to the bathroom and back to me. She has one hand on her cheek. I’d thought she was wiping her tears when I walked in, but she’s hiding something from me. I walk to her and take the hand from her face. There’s a hand mark and it’s bright red. Fresh, like it’s
just been made, and the color hasn’t had a chance to change from stinging red to welted pink yet.
I look at the closed bathroom door and back to my mother. “Is he in there?”
“Don’t, Vinny. Jason’s a good man. Helps me out financially too.”
Yeah, helps her out by paying for her drugs. Then raises his hand to her. What a great fucking man he is. No fucking way. I can’t help it. I see red when his dirty, skinny face walks through the door.
He’s so fucking high, he can’t even protect himself when I beat him to within an inch of his life. What’s fair is fair. Mom was the same way when he raised his hand to her. Fucking useless piece of shit.
Mom didn’t even argue after the first punch. She knows how I get. There’s no stopping me once I get going. Especially when it comes to protecting my mother. I can’t keep her from pumping that shit into her own veins, but I can damn well keep her from being smacked around. It’s not the first time I’ve taken care of a loser who thought raising his hand to my mother would make him feel like more of a man. Started when I was fifteen. Lost count of the assholes over the years.
Leaving the piece of shit on the floor, I carry my mom to her bedroom and tuck her in. She couldn’t walk if she tried. Too high and frail. Needs to eat more. I kiss her goodbye on the forehead and walk back to pick up the loser and toss him outside to the curb. I can’t stand my mother, yet I can’t let her be.
Chapter 11
Liv
I get to the restaurant and find Vinny at the bar. Ignoring all her other customers, the bartender stands and talks to him, leaning suggestively over the bar so he has a clear view of her ridiculously large, obviously fake breasts. Her stance clearly intentional. Unexpectedly, I feel a pang of jealousy, but I push it down and force myself to ignore my innate reaction.
“Hey.” I walk over to the bar and greet Vinny. He stands and kisses me on the cheek, one hand on my hip, quickly forgetting the conversation he was in the midst of. His strong grip on me sends goosebumps racing and a tingle washes over my skin. I almost jump back at the power with which it hits me. Damn, I need to keep some physical distance from this man. I smile politely at the waiting bartender, but she shoots me a nasty look when Vinny leads us away without so much as a glance back at her.
We’re seated in a booth off to the back of the restaurant. It’s quiet, perfect for an interview. Although not an easy task, I force my thoughts back to business. But instead of sitting on the other side of the booth, Vinny settles in beside me, his arm casually draped around the back of the wide seat.
I’ve sometimes seen couples sitting beside each other in a booth and thought it looked odd. It just seems more natural to have a conversation sitting across from someone. Only now do I see what the appeal is. It’s intimate, allowing low spoken conversations and innocent brushes from the close proximity. But sitting this close to Vinny makes me flustered. I’m also seated on the inside, against the wall. It makes me feel cornered somehow, and it pisses me off that my body seems to like it, regardless of what my brain is telling me.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable over there?” I point to the other side of the table.
“No. I like it here. Does it bother you?” he says, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Not at all, it’s fine,” I lie.
Vinny twists at the waist and pulls one knee up on the seat so he’s facing me. He’s dressed in low hanging jeans and a black V-neck sweater, making him look casual and understated. With the way the clothes hang on his body, he looks more like a model than a fighter. A model who doesn’t really care about his appearance, yet he looks perfect without effort.
I take a deep breath and try to delve into my work. “So tell me, are you nervous about the upcoming fight?”
“No.”
“Your opponent has slung some mud at you, claiming you’re a drug addict. Do you want to respond to his accusations?”
“No.”
“Are all of your answers going to be this short? Because it’s going to be difficult to make an article out of the word no.”
“Ask better questions then.”
Offended, I take a defensive attitude. “There’s nothing wrong with my questions.”
“How about we take turns. I’ll give you longer answers, but we go question for question.” He scooches an inch closer to me.
“I’m not the one being interviewed.”
“Apparently, then neither am I.” Leisurely grabbing a breadstick from the table, Vinny casually bites off a piece. A twinkle in his eye tells me he’s quite enjoying himself.
“You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he says.
I get the urge to smack the smug smile off his face. He knows I need this interview and he’s arrogant enough to hold it over me to have his fun.
“Fine. But I go first.”
“Always.” The flirtatious smile is back.
“Do you have a drug problem?”
Vinny shoots me a hard glance. “No. But I did. I started doing some stupid stuff after I broke my arm last year and couldn’t fight. In the beginning, I told myself it was to stop the pain. But it got out of control. Quickly. I’ve been clean for six months. Nico, my trainer, wouldn’t train me unless I was. He does random testing to make sure I stay on track.”
His honesty makes me feel less guarded. Studying his face while he speaks, I can’t help but take in every masculine feature. The way his mouth moves, the five o’clock shadow that brushes onto his chin and frames the squareness of his jaw. I find it difficult to stop staring.
Vinny’s gaze slides over mine and a wry half grin graces his sinfully beautiful face as he speaks. “My turn.”
I smile hesitantly. The playfulness in his voice, coupled with the dimples peeking out of his smile, makes me think he is enjoying himself, even though he just revealed something difficult.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
A pretty waitress comes to take our order and Vinny orders for both of us without asking. Lasagna. For lunch. It’s not something I would ever order at this time of the day, but I find it sweet he remembers what I’d always ordered for dinner when we studied late back in high school.
Returning his attention to me, he turns back and makes an expectant face. “So, what is it, yes or no?”
“No.”
“Now you’re giving me a one word answer. I thought we agreed those aren’t gonna cut it. Unless you want to start over with my answers all being no…”
“Fine.” I try my best to act annoyed. Rolling my eyes, I continue with my response. “I don’t have a boyfriend, currently. Two long-term relationships while I was away at college, the last one ended when school did. A date every once in awhile, but I’m pretty busy with my work most of the time.”
Vinny nods, pleased with my answer. My turn. “You turned down a fight with Ravek last year, saying you weren’t ready for a title fight. What makes you think you’re ready now?”
His eyebrows arch in surprise at my question. “You’ve done your homework.” I smile at the compliment and await his response. “I was considering joining the military last year. I may have been ready physically, but my head wasn’t in the game for that level of a fight.”
I remember back to when we were in high school. He’d always worn dog tags around his neck that belonged to his father. “Your dad was in the military, right?”
He reaches in under his sweater and pulls out the same tags I remember dangling so many years ago. “Haven’t taken them off except to fight since I was a kid. He died in the line of duty when I was a baby.” His face looks sad at the memory, but he quickly recovers. “That’s two you owe me now.”
“Did you go to the prom with Evan Marco?” Vinny asks.
The name brings back sad memories. “No.”
“Why not?”
“He was too injured to go. Wonder how that happened?” I respond with sarcasm. I’m actually surprised that he would ev
en bring up Evan, no less push me to talk about what happened back then. I was only in tenth grade, so I was shocked when Evan had asked me to the prom. He was two years older and captain of the football team. Every girl wanted him to ask her. Yet he asked me. I hadn’t even realized he knew my name. I was just a wallflower, one of the smart girls who took advanced classes. But he did, and I was excited to go…even though deep down I secretly would’ve rather gone with Vinny. Then Evan got into a fight with Vinny a few weeks before prom and Evan canceled on me. I’d bought my dress and everything. I was devastated, but Vinny got it worse. He was already on probation for fighting and Evan’s father was on the school board. No one was surprised when Vinny was expelled.
My turn. “Why did you beat up Evan?”
Vinny’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “Olivia Michaels, are you asking me a personal question, not for your article?”
I blush, hating myself for asking. But I’d always wondered. Vinny got into fights often in high school, but it wasn’t usually with the jocks. He’d even been friendly with Evan before that. “I guess I am.”
He smiles halfheartedly, tension creeping back into his face. “He said something I didn’t like.”
“He said something you didn’t like?” I mock his answer in disbelief that he’d gotten himself expelled over something so trivial.
“That’s gonna count as another question if I have to repeat myself.” Vinny warns with a grin.
Almost two more hours go by and Vinny’s answered every question I’ve thrown at him. And I can tell he’s done so truthfully. In between our question and answer sessions, we reminisce about the time we spent together in high school. I’m surprised how much he remembers about me. My favorite foods, the music I listened to, how I rewrote my own endings to the classics, my dream of becoming a writer. It’s sweet and unexpected.
Vinny pays the check even though I tell him the paper would pay the bill. “Can I get one more question, Liv?”
I roll my eyes playfully, but somewhere along the line in the last few hours I let my guard down…he knows I’m kidding. “Go ahead.”
