And today, it looked like Mrs. Cassidy was going to be present for all of them.
Brandon’s flirty friend rolled up with Lex and Harley in tow, and she was looking fantastic. A total transformation from her normal, dowdy, ‘mom’ self.
Bright eyes. Mascara. Her tight clothes emphasized a womanly, curvy figure that Brandon immediately compared to Mia’s lean, narrow little torso.
“Wow, Mrs. Cassidy,” he smiled, as she led her two kids into the reception area. “You look great.”
And the way her cheeks turned red when he said it made him feel better than he had all day.
Lex and Harley joined the other kids in their two classes, practicing forms and breaking boards like little ninjas. Then, as it turned dark outside, the other parents started to leave and the students for that evening’s cardio kickboxing class started arriving.
Ava hung around.
“Clark’s coming to collect the kids,” she explained. Then she checked the time on her phone. “He’s late, of course.”
And he was. In fact, Brandon eventually had to leave Ava sitting in the reception area with her two kids and begin the class, because Clark hadn’t turned up on time.
Ava sat there, in her makeup and form-fitting clothes, peering at Brandon and his students through the doorway as they busied themselves punching, and kicking, and working up a sweat.
Brandon tried to focus on teaching the class – and he liked to think he did a pretty good job. But even as he lined up the sweaty moms and red-faced students, he kept throwing a look over their shoulders to see what was going on with Ava, as she sat there watching him – her kids running around impatiently.
About twenty minutes into the class, headlights reared through the glass windows and Clark came swaggering in through the doorway. Brandon was too distracted with teaching his class to hear what they were yelling at each other, but Ava was very clearly making her displeasure known.
A few moments later, Clark angrily stomped out with his kids in tow, and Ava finally joined the class.
“Nice of you to join us,” Brandon called out to her playfully, as the scowling housewife found herself an empty space at the back of the room. “You look like you have some frustration to work out.”
And then he pulled out the punching bag, and let her loose on it.
Chapter Twenty One
Brandon
The last of the cardio kickboxing moms filtered out of the karate center. Soon, the darkened parking lot was lit up by headlights, as they wheeled their mini vans and SUVs out onto the highway.
Only Ava hung back.
Brandon didn’t mind. He was shuffling paperwork at the reception desk, and trying to figure out what to do about his situation. Vinnie was due back the following morning – expecting an answer regarding the MMA fight.
At this stage, Brandon was desperate. Looking at Ava, who was hanging back somewhat nervously, he had the sudden inspiration to ask what her opinion was.
After all, she was the only other person who knew about the karate center’s financial difficulties – and they’d gotten along pretty well the other night. At least, they had before Mia had come in and disturbed them both.
But even as he was considering asking her about it, the pretty housewife beat him to it.
Sighing, the sweaty mom leaned against the reception desk, and looked back and forth to make sure the place was truly deserted. Then, as Brandon reached for his cup of hour-old black coffee, Ava spoke up, bluntly.
“So, how long have you been fucking Mia?”
Coffee spurted across the reception desk.
Wiping his nose and mouth, Brandon stared incredulously at the little housewife, as she looked up at him innocently.
“W-what?”
“Oh, come on,” Mia shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious. I’ve been watching since she came in the other night, and you two are hardly discreet about it.”
Brandon blinked, absolutely flabbergasted.
For a moment or two, he was speechless. Then, finally, he looked into Ava’s bright, brown eyes and realized that lying about it would be useless.
“Are you always so blunt?” Brandon asked.
Ava flopped down into one of the chairs behind the reception desk and said: “Clark tells me I have no filter.”
She elaborated, “Like, normal people have this filter in their brain which stops them saying shocking or disturbing stuff.” The pretty housewife shrugged. “At this point, if it’s not shocking or disturbing, it’s probably not worth talking about.”
Brandon looked down at Ava in shock.
“So,” she continued, her lips curling. “How long?”
Every instinct in him warned Brandon to shut up – but a more powerful need burned inside him. He’d never really spoken to anybody about this before – after all, if Mike ever found out, who knew what trouble would come of it.
But now, especially with the way Mia had been acting recently, the whole thing was burning him up inside. He needed to talk about it – and Ava was already standing there, listening.
“Just over a year,” he told her.
Ava pursed her lips thoughtfully.
Prompted by her silence, Brandon kept talking.
“It happened kind of like this,” he admitted. “She stayed late… We got chatting. She was complaining about her husband, and about feeling taking for granted.” He shrugged. “She looked so beautiful… So vulnerable. I leaned over and kissed her.”
“Like you tried to kiss me the other night?”
Brandon flinched. He’d taken a thousand punches in his career as an MMA fighter, but what Ava had just said bruised more than any of them.
“That night,” she continued, digging the knife in a little deeper. “You told me ‘you don’t do stuff like that.’ Hitting on the moms who go here.” Her eyes flashed. “Well, you could have fooled me.”
“I-I’m really sorry about that,” Brandon couldn’t look her in the eye any more. He turned and tried to wipe the spurted-up coffee off the books and folders on the reception desk. “It was late… I was feeling very…” He gulped. “Emotional.”
Ava snorted.
She reached over, and laid a soft hand on his bare forearm.
“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “Look, I was flattered.” The curvy mom scoffed, “It was nice to think somebody found me attractive, for once.”
Brandon turned and looked at her.
“Well, you are attractive,” he replied. Stepping back, pulling his arm away from her hand, he explained, “I’ve always thought you were attractive.”
Ava’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t let up.
“Seriously, though. When I figured what was up between you and Mia.” She shook her head. “That’s kind of cold, dude.”
Brandon cleared his throat, and walked past Ava towards the office. He couldn’t sum up the courage to look at her right then.
“So is it just Mia?” Ava called after him. “Or are you banging any of the other moms, too?” She snorted mockingly. “You know, Susanne’s not a bad looking woman. I’m sure she’d be up for it.”
Brandon paused in the doorway, and wheeled around.
“It’s just Mia, okay?” He snapped.
Ava’s smiled, nodding derisively.
“I mean it,” Brandon promised. “And… Well, as for you…” His cheeks burned a little pink. “That was because it was you.”
Ava crossed her arms.
“I-I mean it,” Brandon repeated. “I just looked at you, and…” He practically squirmed. “Well, it felt right.”
Ava narrowed her eyes. She didn’t look convinced.
“Did you just hang back to give me a hard time?” Brandon asked. “Because as much as I appreciate the effort, I don’t need that right now. I’ve got enough to worry about already.”
Ava’s crossed arms loosened a little.
“Partly,” she admitted. “But also, I don’t want to go home. Not yet.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Clark was late
picking the kids up. He’s so selfish sometimes.” Her nostrils flared. “I don’t even want to look at him right now.”
Brandon shrugged.
“Well, I was going to scrub the mats. You’re welcome to stick around if you want. I promise I won’t try to kiss you again.”
Ava pouted in mock disappointment.
For the first time that day, Brandon laughed.
“The mats can wait,” Ava told him. “How about I take you out for a drink, instead?”
Chapter Twenty Two
Brandon
Charlie’s was an old-fashioned steakhouse on the way to Ava’s house, and there she and Brandon sat at the bar and ordered whiskeys.
“I really can’t afford this,” Brandon said, as two fingers of Laphroig were passed to him. “You’ve seen the books.”
“I’m buying,” Ava replied, sniffing her whiskey suspiciously. “Are you sure this is the stuff you like?”
Brandon gulped down a mouthful of the peaty single malt. It warmed his throat deliciously.
“It certainly is.”
As he sat there, his stomach rumbled. Ava turned to the bartender and demanded: “Can we see a menu?”
“Mrs. Cassidy,” Brandon held up his hand. “You don’t need to buy me dinner. I’m not an orphan.”
“I’m not buying you dinner,” Ava replied coolly, as the surveyed the menu. “I’m paying with it, in exchange for your company.” She pointed a finger at the steaks section. “How does the 24oz sirloin sound to you?”
Brandon’s stomach rumbled again.
“We’ll have two of those,” Ava ordered. “With mashed potatoes and the works.” And when the bartender took their order, she also ordered two large Sam Adams for the both of them.
Brandon shrugged. This, he didn’t mind.
Once their food was ordered, Ava turned to the handsome karate instructor and asked: “So, how are things with the karate center? You seemed down tonight. Because of the money thing?”
Brandon drained his whiskey.
“You saw the books. Unless I can come up with some new money by the end of next month, the school’s finished – and so am I.” He stared gloomily into the bottom of his glass, and sighed: “And you know the worst thing?”
“No.”
Brandon looked up, and then deep into Ava’s eyes.
“I had a plan,” he told her. He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I have this theory that things in the universe all fall into place, and for a moment I thought this was it.”
“What was the plan?”
“Back in college, I used to fight. MMA matches.”
“I’ve seen the trophies in your office.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Brandon nodded. The bartender passed them their beers, and he gulped down a mouthful gratefully, before continuing: “My old buddy Vinnie called me up. He can get me a fight if I’m interested. A paying one.”
“Paying? How much are they talking?”
“Five grand, just for showing up,” Brandon explained. “Plus another ten if I win – not that I’d be likely to.”
“Fifteen grand?” Ava’s eyes were growing wide.
“Exactly!” Brandon leaned forward. “Even if I only got the five, that would be enough to keep the karate center open. Even if it was only for another couple of months.”
Ava gulped down a mouthful of beer, and then asked the question Brandon didn’t want to hear:
“That’s awesome? So why aren’t you doing it?”
He looked at her blankly.
The truth be told? He’d expected Ava to react the same way Mia had – to freak out at the thought of him in the MMA octagon. But, instead, Ava was looking at him like she was still waiting for the punchline.
“Seriously,” she repeated. “Why aren’t you going to do it?”
And it felt weird, for Brandon to utter the words that came next. Like, they were just as ridiculous as they sounded in his head.
“Because Mia doesn’t want me to.”
Ava blinked.
“What?”
“Mia freaked the fuck out when I told her,” he explained. “She said I had no business getting into the octagon, doing what I do.”
“You’re a fucking martial arts instructor,” Ava cried. “That is, like, literally your business.”
“I know,” Brandon held up his hands. “That’s why I tried to tell her. And it would save my business.”
Ava cocked her head on one side. “So…?”
“So, what?”
“So… Are you gonna do it?”
“I already told you – Mia said no.”
Ava snorted derisively.
“She’s not your mom,” she hissed. Then added, “And I should hope not, with what you’ve been doing to her.”
Brandon’s cheeks burned red.
“Seriously, though,” Ava continued. “So what if she says no? It’s your business. It’s your decision.”
That was exactly what Brandon didn’t want to hear - because a voice inside his head had been telling him the same thing all along.
The steaks arrived, which blissfully diverted them from having to continue talking about that topic. Brandon reached for the A1 and Ava unwrapped her cutlery and for a few minutes, the two of them sat and ate in companionable silence.
The steak was think and juicy. The mashed potatoes were soft and fluffy. For a minute, if Brandon stopped thinking about everything going on beyond the license plate-adorned walls of that steakhouse bar, everything was perfect.
But, like all perfect moments, it had to end.
“Seriously,” Ava repeated, swallowing a mouthful of steak. “If it’s going to save your business, you have to do this.”
“But what about Mia?”
“What about Mia?” Ava growled. “You’re fucking her, that’s all. What gives her the right to make decisions like that?”
“Because I love her,” Brandon snapped back. “I care about her. If this means that much to her, I need to respect that.”
“No,” Ava snapped, angrily pointing at Brandon with her steak knife. “If she loved you, and if she cared about you, she’d respect that this is what you have to do.”
Brandon saw Ava’s eyes flashed. He gulped dryly.
“I mean it, B,” Ava pointedly used the sake nickname for him that Mia used. “If she says no to this, then fuck her.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Ava
It was cool and dark as Ava and Brandon stumbled out of Charlie’s steakhouse.
They were both fine to drive, but the alcohol had loosened them up sufficiently to talk more bluntly than they would have done otherwise, and Brandon wasn’t sure he liked it.
“If you love somebody,” Ava said, wrapping her arm around Brandon’s elbow as they walked towards the parking lot, “you support them.” She looked up at Brandon, who towered over her. “You know what Clark was doing when I first met him?”
“I don’t even know what he does now,” Brandon admitted.
Ava ignored him.
“When I first met Clark, he was working in a bank,” she told him. “He was miserable. He used to dread getting up in the morning, and by the time he dragged himself home at night, he was already depressed about how he’d have to get up and do the same shit twelve hours later.”
Brandon listened silently.
“So one day, I asked Clark what he wanted to do – and he told me: He loved comics. He’d loved comics ever since he was a little kid.” Ava hiccuped. “Fuck, his dad even named him ‘Clark’ after Clark Kent.”
“I had always wondered about that.”
They were standing at their cars now, but Ava didn’t let go of Brandon’s arm. Instead, she just looked up and kept talking.
“So I asked Clark, What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? He told me he wanted to sell comic books. He used to do it as a hobby, on eBay – but he told me that if all his dreams came true, he’d be doing that full time instead of the bullshit at the bank.”
“So I told him to go for it,” Ava continued. “I told him to quit his job, and do the comic thing full time. And I damn near killed him because of it.” She smiled nostalgically. “I swear, we ate fucking Ramen noodles for six months until he got his stupid comics business off the ground… But you know what?”
Brandon shook his head.
“Clark made good on it,” Ava told him. “After a few months, he started finding some really rare comics and making good money on them. And then he started a website selling comic book shit – action figures, t-shirts. Next thing you know, he was being invited to comic conventions as a guest blogger. Within a year, he was making as much as he ever did at the bank.”
Then Ava turned and patted the hood of her late-model Buick Enclave.
“And this year? He bought me this with the money he made on a mint copy of Amazing Fantasies #15.”
When Brandon stared at her blankly, Ava explained, “It was the first comic with Spiderman in it.”
Ava looked up at Brandon’s brown eyes. They were narrowed and thoughtful. He was silent, as if cogs were turning inside his head.
“Brandon, if somebody loves you, they let you follow your dreams. Shit, they make you follow your dreams.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand.
“If Mia says ‘no’ to this, you have to start asking yourself why.”
Brandon didn’t know what to say. He just stared down at Ava, and she looked back up at him expectantly.
Eventually, when his silence dragged on uncomfortably, Ava asked, “Are you okay?” She bit her lip. “Did I go too far?”
Brandon snorted, and shook his head.
“No,” he admitted. “I think you went just far enough.”
He stared down at her, and she stared back. And they kept staring, long after it was appropriate to turn away.
And Brandon took it as a sign.
Reaching down, he grabbed Ava’s slender shoulders, and pulled her in for a kiss.
And, this time, she didn’t pull away.
Bruiser: A Lonely Housewife Embarks on a Passionate Affair with an Alpha Male MMA Fighter Page 5
