by Nikki Wild
“I’ll consider it.”
I got to my truck and ducked in out of the cold. I had the day off, and I already knew where I was going next.
“As for your pay,” he continued. “I think you’ll be satisfied.”
“We’ll see. How about you be a little more specific,” I said.
“Numbers… you want the numbers.”
Yes, the numbers, Dumbass.
“Hey, I gotta know how much I’m gonna be paying some blood-sucking agent, right?”
“Of course,” he laughed again. It didn’t seem genuine. “Well…” there was a long pause. “What would you say to four thousand to show up, and another four thousand if you win?”
That sounded fucking incredible, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. “Hmm,” I said with a little bit of disappointment in my voice.
“Well, Troy, that’s the going rate for our new talent.”
“Four grand for each sounds okay,” I said. “But eight and eight sounds better. Remember, Mr. Gold, I’m not a going rate fighter.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. During my stint in the county jail, I ran into car salesman who was doing time for fraud. He talked non-stop, but one of the only things I remembered him telling me was that during a negotiation, the first person to break a silence always lost. I wondered if Mr. Gold knew that rule, too.
“Eight and eight is going to be tough to do,” he said, finally.
“Then I’m going to have a tough time signing that fight agreement.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on now. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” There was another long pause. “Eight and eight, you say?”
“If you can get me that, I’ll sign today.”
“Ah, what the hell? You have yourself a deal. Congratulations Troy, you’re now officially a professional.”
“You won’t regret it Mr. Gold. I’ll put on a show for the fans.”
I ended the call and fired up my truck. Sixteen thousand dollars was gonna buy me a much nicer ride. Doing the quick math in my head, I figured that if I fought every couple of months, I’d be in a position to quit my job around March. That way, I could train full time—maybe I could even pick up a few sponsors. Plus, I could demand more money after I got a few wins under my belt.
I’d been toying around with idea of giving Ortiz a “no” on his proposal and this sealed it for me. At first, I was just going to do it for him. I needed to get him off my back, and the money wouldn’t hurt either. But that night Riley stopped by…
I’d just come out of the shower and she was curled up in the corner of my bed like a scared kitten. I asked what was wrong, but at first, she didn’t answer. Her gaze was going past me toward the wall.
“What is that doing here?” she’d asked, carefully.
I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to put away the gun. I was always so damn exhausted that it never crossed my mind. Not to mention, I didn’t expect her to just pop in like that.
After some back and forth, she calmed down. I made up a quick story about how it was for protection because of the neighborhood I lived in. That seemed to make sense to her. I promised I’d get rid of it at the first chance I had and she let her guard back down.
We spent a lot of time talking after that. She wasn’t quite the sheltered rich kid I’d believed, but we were definitely different. She was all torn up about messing things up with her job. I promised her that we’d keep a low profile if she wanted to get together again. I don’t think that did anything to ease her worries.
The only thing I knew was that I had to make sure there was another time. And another one after that. Her body was a story of its own. Once I’d gotten a taste, I knew I couldn’t let her get away. Just thinking about how good she was made me start to sweat. I had to focus.
Eddie Salazar probably still lived east of the park. It wasn’t for certain, but guys like him rarely moved. I didn’t want to bother with Ortiz, so I thought I would send the message through him since he got me into this whole thing.
Turning down Bauer Street, I saw Eddie’s Buick parked in front of a fire hydrant. It was a rusted-out piece of shit that he’d tried to dress up with tinted windows and flashy rims. It stuck out like a sore thumb.
I parked behind it and hopped out. It was just my luck that he was coming down the stairs from his building when I walked up.
“Yo, is that Troy Eason?”
“Yeah, it’s me you little worm. And I’m looking for you.”
“Worm? C’mon, brother. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you told Damon Ortiz I would steal a car for him. What the hell is wrong with you? You know I’m not looking for that life anymore.”
His heavy winter coat billowed around him like a protective bubble. He wore his knit cap pulled down so low that it was hard to see his eyes. “Naw, I never told Damon you’d steal that car. I just mentioned you workin’ in a shop before. It was his idea.”
“Here’s a tip: don’t go around mentioning stuff that has nothing to do with you,” I barked.
“You’re pissed over that? Just tell him ‘no’.” He was drumming his hands on his legs. I wanted to snap his fingers off.
“He wasn’t in the mood to hear ‘no’,” I said. “That’s why you’re gonna tell him for me.”
“I’m not-”
“Yes you are, Eddie,” I said, grabbing him by the sleeve. “You’re gonna tell him, and you’re gonna do it today. I don’t want to hear anything else about it.”
“Alright man, fuck,” he whined, ripping free of my grip. “You got anger issues Troy.”
“No, I just don’t have any patience for little jerk offs who can’t keep their mouth shut.”
“Cool, whatever, I’ll tell him,” he said. “But I can’t promise you anything.” He walked around to the front of his car and climbed in. The exhaust pipe belched black smoke when he started it. “If he wants to pursue it any further, then that’s between the two of you.”
I leaned against the grill of my truck as Eddie putted off down the street. He through a peace sign out the window and sneered.
Something told me it wasn’t going to be the last I heard about this.
Riley
I showed up at his gym as soon as he called me. I felt a little bit special, if not honored, that I was the person he wanted to talk to when he found out he was getting a fight.
Work had been going smoother than expected. After talking to Troy the other night, I felt a lot better about the situation. He understood my concerns and was onboard with trying to keep things quiet. We didn’t know where it was going, but we both agreed that we owed it to each other to find out.
Even though this was more of a personal get together, I brought along his file so we could record it as our last meeting. After this, all we had to do was get Hemlock to stamp her approval on it and send it to the judge. I was almost as eager as he was.
Running up to the front, I noticed all the lights were off besides the one at the entrance. I checked the time: almost eleven-thirty. It was later than I thought. I supposed everyone else had gone home.
“Hey!”
I almost jumped out of my shoes. Troy was right behind me. “Ahh! You scared me! What are you doing?”
“My fault,” he chuckled. “I just went for a little run. I thought I’d make it back before you got here.”
His breath came out in steamy bursts. “You didn’t,” I scolded. “And you scared the life out of me.”
“Alright, alright. I said I was sorry.”
He slid a key into the lock and opened the gym. “Look at you,” I teased. “I wouldn’t trust you with a key to my place.”
“They know I’m gonna own it someday, anyway.”
His confidence walked a tightrope bordering on arrogance. “Well, I wanted to congratulate you on the big news. That’s such an awesome-"
“Forget about that,” he said.
Troy rushed me through the doors so fast that my feet barely scr
aped the ground. It was like I was floating across the room. He had me in his sights the same way an expert hunter holds a trophy buck in the scope of his rifle. I wasn’t getting out of this—even if I wanted to.
“Hurry,” he barked. Troy’s heavy hands on my hips felt so sure of themselves. They traveled up my sides and back down over the bump of my ass in a firm way that made it feel like he was polishing me.
“Where?” I asked.
The gym was so dark that I couldn’t see much more than a few feet in front of me. “Where’s the light switch?”
Troy grumbled something under his breath and gave my backside a light shove. As quickly as his overwhelming presence had made itself known behind me, it disappeared.
I was left there, alone in the dark, while he searched the wall for the switch. In that moment, the gravity of the situation settled into my chest. Troy was still a client, no matter how much I flirted and played hard to get. That first time had been nothing more than the heat of the moment—but this was planned. Now, there was no denying what I was doing was risky. I couldn’t even sell myself on the lie, let alone anyone else.
“Got it.”
The sound of a switch flipping was closely followed by the most blinding sodium lights I’d ever had the displeasure of standing under. They were like mini suns, all beating down on me in unison. The way they lit me up in the center of the gym made me think of a scene from an old detective movie; specifically, the one where they’d turn a bright light on a suspect in the interrogation room to try to get him to talk. Maybe Troy was going to try to make me talk.
“Wow, that’s bright,” I said, stepping out from beneath their flood. He’d only turned on the one in the middle so there was still a bit of shadow to escape to nearer the wall.
“Mmm hmm,” he said, zeroing in on my figure with his fiery eyes.
I spun on my heel to take in the full view of the gym. I’d wanted to come down here before to see what he did with his time, but I never managed to find the excuse.
To my left was a row of heavy punching bags hanging from the ceiling. It struck me that they looked like wind chimes for giants.
“Are those… what you work out with?”
It sounded stupid to me as soon as it left my mouth. I’d just asked the most absurd question and it was going to give him a chance to pounce. Whether or not I could admit it, he still made me nervous.
“Wow. Really?” Troy’s cockiness bubbled at the surface each time he thought you were veering toward meaningless small talk.
“Yeah, it’s just-”
“I know that silver spoon is jammed pretty firmly in your mouth, but you had to have seen a punching bag before… right?”
“Of course, I have. I was just making conversation. You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
“Those are called heavy bags.” He walked the four easy steps to meet me in the middle of the room. Each inch closer that he moved made the temperature in the room seem to rise a few degrees.
“One hundred pounds each. About your size, in fact.”
I didn’t waste any time telling him I hadn’t weighed anywhere in the neighborhood of a hundred pounds since high school.
“Oh yeah? I heard those are pretty good at helping you get your anger out?”
He shook his head. The way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled made it hard to tell if he was laughing at me or laughing with me. “Forget about the stupid bags,” he smirked. “If you need to punch something to relieve your anger, you should probably find yourself a good therapist.”
It was an absurd statement for someone who was aiming to make a living out of beating other men senseless.
Troy’s shoulders bulged like lava rising from the earth. His fitted t-shirt stretched and molded to show off his hard-earned body. He was just one of those guys who lucked out with the right genes when it came to the trap muscles. They stood out, defined and statuesque.
“It’s my job,” I said. “I’m supposed to learn more about what you’re doing with your time. That’s how the foundation reconciles the help they’re giving the… uh… clients.”
“Is that what I am?” His teeth gleamed white as his lips revealed more. “A client? Are you sure you don’t want to say what you’re really thinking?”
His eyes were pure torture. They invaded my soul. “What are you talking about?”
“You can say it. I won’t be offended.”
“Troy, I don’t judge.”
“A convict,” he blurted. “That’s what I am, right? It’s not like it’s any secret. That’s why you’re here, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to sugarcoat it.”
“Whatever. It’s just a professional courtesy. If you want me to call you a felon, I’ll do that. It’s your life.”
“Good,” he said. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush.”
He leaned closed and pushed two fingers between the waistband of my skirt and the thin fabric of my blouse.
Clearly, he didn’t have time to beat around the bush.
“And this is how you like to solve everything, isn’t it?” I said, grabbing him around the wrist with both hands, but not making a move to withdraw his fingers.
“It’s always worked for me.”
“Hmm, maybe that’s why you end up in the situations that you do. A little too impulsive sometimes, maybe?”
The muscle in his jaw worked as he mulled my words. I knew there was part of him that still regarded me as the stuck up rich girl from the “good side” of the town. The struggle was evident in his eyes while he tried to determine whether he should let me talk to him that way.
“What about you?” he sneered. His eyebrows shot up with the question. The way they arched, perfectly framed his dark eyes. It put butterflies in my stomach.
“What about me?” The words squeaked out at somewhere just above a whisper.
“You walk around all the time with that look of indignation on your face. It’s like you think you’re better than everyone, or something. But that doesn’t stop you from being… what did you say? Impulsive?”
I shuffled impatiently, because I knew where he was going with this. When I tried to step back, he didn’t let me.
“At least, that’s what happened the other night when we fucked, right? Because that had to be a mistake. Someone like you wouldn’t ever let herself get mixed up with someone like me. You were just there to what… fix me? And then things got a little too impulsive.
My blood ran hot. I could tell he was trying to get on my nerves, but it still worked. “That’s right,” I snapped. “Just another rich girl who thinks she can save the world.”
Troy’s nose crinkled at my sarcasm and the fingers tucked inside the hem of my skirt probed deeper.
“Yeah,” I continued, my voice still on the razor’s edge, “I wouldn’t know a thing about hard work or earning my keep, would I? Because in your world, Troy, the only way a person like me could ever want to do something good—something hard—is for the social benefit. Isn’t that right?”
I was melting into a pool of rage. The offhanded way he dismissed the effort I put into my job fired me up at my core. Troy Eason was a prick, but I wasn’t going to allow him to get away with thinking all the work I’d done was to pump up my own status.
“Jesus,” he whispered, the confidence still painted on his face, “you’re kind of intense…”
“Call it whatever you want. I know what I’m worth, and just because you haven’t seen enough of the world to keep yourself from putting people in a box… don’t make it my problem.”
Troy’s chest swelled as he sucked in a breath of air. He was chiseled out of rock and the way his lungs inflated made it appear as if it was a serious undertaking to move the thick mass.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “That’s what has pissed me off my whole life. And now, here I am, doing it to you.”
He took a shuffling step forward and planted the sole of his size twelve shoe firmly between my two dancing
feet.
“What do you mean?”
“For as long as I can remember, people have looked at me with judgment in their eyes. Some of it for what I’ve done to survive, and some just because of where I came from. I always hated that feeling, but I never considered it could work both ways.”
“So, you get me?” The sound of my own wavering voice made me flinch. I didn’t like that he had the ability to swing my emotions so easily.
Those eyes smoldered like doused coals, and even when he admitted that he was wrong, there was no hint of backing down in him. “I get you,” he said. “But you still haven’t proven anything. All you get from me is an open mind, not the benefit of the doubt.”
Troy covered my hands with his free one. There was an almost imperceptible, yet predetermined, game of tug-of-war going on over which direction his fingers were headed. “Now, this is your chance to show me what you’re really all about.”
I tilted my chin up just in time to catch a hot kiss on my wetted lips. He was firm with me, the way a man rarely is when he isn’t used to a woman yet. I savored his taste and the teasing hint of his cologne.
“You kiss like you want me to do more,” he said.
I didn’t know what I was doing, to be honest. When his demanding lips met mine, it was like my body sort of went on autopilot. It badly wanted him to give the next cue.
“You-”
But before I could get a second word out, his face lowered firmly against mine again and he sunk a kiss into me that was as urgent as it was meaningful. Troy’s tongue darted between my lips and pressed strongly against mine. We pushed each other around between our two eager mouths while his hand moved lower.
I didn’t even have time to turn my hips before he shot his entire hand into my panties. It went in smoothly, and without any hesitance. His rough palm pushed down over my cleanly shaved mound like it had been there a thousand times before, and would be, a thousand times more.
