Love Tap

by M. N. Forgy

  “You killed it. I haven’t seen you fight like that ever. I’m not sure where you pulled that out of, but keep doing it.”

  Panting, I just listen.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  “Not now!” Thomas hollers.

  The door creaks open and a woman in a black tailored business suit steps in, two big men right behind her.

  “Camden Steel?” The lady addresses me, her tone sophisticated.

  “Yes?” I arch a brow.

  “I’m Silvia Machen, I’m with the Mad Fighting Champions.” She holds her hand out, and Thomas tenses, his face ghostly white.

  “That was some fight out there.” She looks me up and down as if she’s not complimenting my fighting skills, but rather my physique.

  “Thank you.”

  “How would you like to fight for us?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tate

  Journey is bringing Dad home today. Between her and I we put our money together so I could pick up some groceries for the house. The doctor said his cholesterol is through the roof, and is probably due to bad eating habits. I already lost one parent, I’m seeing to it that this one stays around for a bit longer. Looking through Dad’s fridge, there was nothing but soda and TV dinners. The cabinets weren’t any better, they were packed with chips and jerky. I had to throw most everything away.

  Chloe came shopping with me, wanting to catch up on things. I know she’s going to ask about Camden, that’s why I’ve been avoiding her. It’s complicated.

  “He likes sandwiches doesn’t he?” Chloe asks, holding up deli meat and lettuce.

  I shrug. “I’m not sure, he used to.”

  She gives a ‘whatever’ look and tosses them in the cart.

  “I think as long as you stay away from deep fried stuff, and things loaded in fat and sugar, you’ll be helping him,” she informs.

  “The doctor said grape juice is really good too,” I purse my lips together in thought as I survey the juices. Their colorful labels, and glistening plastic bottles making my mouth water.

  “That shit is gross, I can’t see this going over well.” She crosses her arms, looking the cocktails of fruit over.

  I sigh, knowing this is going to be a battle.

  “He doesn’t have a choice if he wants to stay out of the hospital,” I inform.

  She grabs a jug of purple grape juice and places it in the cart.

  “So, how is training going?”

  Opening my mouth my tongue slides along my bottom lip as I think about what I’m going to say.

  “It’s… it’s going.” My voice wavers, and Chloe smiles like the devil knowing I’m not telling her something.

  “How is Camden? I know you’re seeing him,” she states matter of fact.

  My face turns red, my fingers running along the hem of my shorts. “How would you know that?”

  She laughs grabbing a pack of cookies, and tossing them in.

  “I saw you sneaking into his room the other night when I got home with Ma,” Chloe laughs arrogantly.

  My face drops, and my eyes dart anywhere to avoid looking at her.

  “Yeah, I knew you’d try and hide it bitch.” She purses her lips, eyes raised not pleased.

  I raise a brow. “It’s complicated,” I try to explain but really there is no better explanation than ‘complicated’.

  I shake my head, taking the cookies she put in the grocery cart back on the shelf.

  “I get it. I can’t say I’m surprised though. You two were inseparable as kids, I knew eventually you two would stop being stubborn and succumb to each other’s advances.”

  I smirk, shifting on my feet. “If you say so.”

  ***

  Setting the table I hear Journey’s car pull in the drive.

  Wiping my hands on my yoga pants I head to the door to help them.

  “You drive like an insane person Journey, who taught you to drive?” Dad criticizes, climbing out of the car.

  Journey rolls her eyes, pulling her long brown purse over her shoulder.

  “You did,” she laughs shutting the car door.

  “Hey guys, you showed up just in time. I made dinner,” I inform from the patio steps. It only cost me one burnt thumb and me nearly cutting my index finger off, but alas, I made dinner.

  Dad grumbles, stepping past me into the house.

  “He’s on a roll,” Journey warns walking past.

  “Great,” I mumble under my breath. I thought Dad and I connected the other night, hopefully he wasn’t too high on drugs and actually meant what he said.

  Just as I head back inside the familiar sound of a car catches my attention. The purr of a rugged motor echoing through the neighborhood.

  Camden.

  I watch as he pulls into his drive and gets out.

  Crossing my arms, I step further out onto the patio to watch him. My knees go weak when I think about how he hate fucked me yesterday. It was raw, real, and felt amazing.

  He pulls two shopping bags out of the passenger side, the environmental safe kind, and just as he turns around his eyes land on me. My heart skips a beat, and I suck in a tight breath. The intensity his eyes hold when they meet mine takes the wind from my lungs every time. I’ll never get used to it.

  “Hey,” he juts his chin out in that guy way they do.

  “Hey yourself.”

  Smiling he walks toward me. He looks cute with his green shopping bags, domestic even. Stalks of celery and broccoli peeking from the top, along with a loaf of bread. I tug on a stalk of broccoli and say, “Look at you being all healthy,” I tease.

  He adjusts the strap of one of the bags, glancing off into the distance.

  “What can I say, once you start eating healthy, it becomes addicting.”

  Crossing my arms, I huff.

  “Guess I’ll find out here soon enough. Dad is ordered to start eating healthier, so I cleared out all his TV dinners and soda. Stocked it with vegetables, and fruits.”

  Camden gives a sour look. “He’s going to be pissed.”

  I laugh, kicking at the ground. He knows how stubborn and stuck in his ways my dad can be.

  “For sure.”

  “Just be stern with him. If he thinks he can push you over, he will,” Camden advises. I peer up under my lashes at him, his want to help endearing.

  A hard gust of wind blows, the rustling of leaves the only thing to be heard as silence thickens the tension between us.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I feel like shit for snapping at you. It’s just… there’s things I don’t want to talk about and that’s one of them.” His face goes hard, his tone cold. My eyes fall to his stomach where I saw the scar.

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  He tugs on the strap of his bags again, averting his eyes.

  “I just can’t.”

  Biting my cheek I nod. It hurts to think he can’t trust me. We used to tell each other everything.

  “You want to come over for dinner?” he asks. His face is scrunched in that cute way as if he’s scared to ask me over for dinner, like I might object.

  My heart melts that he wants to cook for me. It’s every girl’s dream to have a guy they like make dinner for them. Maybe I am over thinking him not telling me about the scar. Maybe it’s something stupid that happened in the ring and he’s legally not allowed to talk about it.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I already cooked dinner for everyone tonight,” I inform kindly.

  “Maybe another time?” he mutters under his breath, looking down at his feet. My heart sinks with the objection and I rethink my statement. Maybe I can eat with my family, and eat again.

  “Damnit Journey!” Dad hollers from inside. Both Camden and I look back at the house.

  “I better get going,” I whisper, still looking at the house.

  “Sounds like it,” he chuckles.

  “Where the hell are my Twinkies!” Dad barks from inside the house. The sound of a slamming cabinet, loud a
nd angry. He’s irate.

  Turning, I sprint inside the house to find my dad rifling through drawers, and Journey sitting on a counter with a frustrated look on her face.

  “They’re gone,” I inform, unwrapping the salmon I cooked. I inhale a sharp breath, waiting for this fight to escalate.

  “What do you mean they’re gone? And what is that damn smell?” His eyes cutting to the cooking pan in front of me.

  “Dinner. Go sit down, I’ll bring you some.” I lick my finger, the taste of lemon and salt teasing my taste buds.

  He huffs disgusted. “I’m not eating that shit.”

  He turns and opens the fridge. He tenses and I can watch as his face blooms two shades of red in mere seconds.

  “Tatum…where are my dinners?” his voice is eerily calm, as he gives me a terrifying sideways glance.

  “The doctor says those are bad for you, that you need to eat cleaner, and get out and exercise. So, this is us heading in the right direction,” I explain, pointing to the cooked fish.

  “That quack doesn’t know what’s good for me. This is horse shit, I have my way of doing things and that’s that!” He slams the fridge, his shoulders rising and falling with anger.

  Frustrated I stop unwrapping the fish and turn to face my dad who is throwing a damn tantrum.

  “Do you like that doctor?” I cross my arms, my brows narrowing.

  “No, I don’t like that doctor. What kind of question is that?” he smarts.

  “Then sit your ass down at the table, and eat this dinner. Otherwise, you’ll be seeing her a lot more. They’ll know you on a first name basis you’ll be in there so much.” I point to his spot at the table. “Now sit the hell down!”

  Journey’s eyes grow wide as they ping pong back and forth between Dad and me. Waiting for us to start throwing things and taking the simple argument to true Davis form.

  Dad eyes me as he steps toward the table and jerks his chair out. Plopping down in his seat, I hide my surprise with a curt nod and bring the pan of salmon out to the dining table.

  “What is this?” He pokes at his plate like a ten year old.

  “Salmon, fresh asparagus, a wheat roll, and grape juice,” I inform looking over my own plate. I have to admit, I’m proud of myself. In college, you don’t get the opportunity to cook like this. I missed being in a real kitchen, cooking real food. I did it all the time with Mom as kid.

  “Looks good, sis,” Journey praises, sitting down next to me. She’s moved back here, and is already starting to seem better mentally. I haven’t seen any guys lingering around her anyways.

  “You’re going to kill me with this healthy shit.” Dad stabs at his food, and I can’t help but smile. We’re all sitting here in the spots we used to sit at when Mom made dinner. I can’t remember the last time we all sat at the table together.

  My chest pings with a sense of sadness thinking about how long it’s been.

  Chewing my fish, my eyes glance at the empty seat at the end of the table.

  It’s different without Mom, but it feels good to be a family again.

  Even if we’re broken, we’re trying, and that has to stand for something.

  Camden

  This morning Thomas and Debs beat me to the gym and are in their office with the blinds closed. Normally I’d think they were screwing, but I hear them talking. Their tones are serious, but I can’t make out what’s being said.

  Grabbing some bungee cord, I tie it to one corner of the ring, and then secure it to the other side. Getting the ring ready to run drills with Tate.

  “You screw her yet?” Chase slaps my back, climbing into the ring.

  “Excuse me?” I stand upright, eyeing Chase with a deadly stare. I crack my knuckles, letting him know just how far I’m willing to go if he doesn’t choose his next words carefully.

  “I’m just messing with ya. You’ve just had your head up that girl’s ass here lately I can’t help but give you a hard time,” he laughs, tugging at the bungee cords.

  “Keep talking and see if you don’t get your ass kicked this morning.” I lift my chin, my face warming with anger.

  “Like to see you try,” he stretches casually, his cocky demeanor irritating. I wish coach would send his ass packing, or let me spar him.

  “I heard coach getting on you for getting too rough sparring yesterday.” Chase’s eyes smile, he’s clearly happy with himself.

  “Yeah, well maybe if he got me a fucking fight already I wouldn’t be so pent up with energy.” He raises a brow like it’s everyone else’s fault.

  “I heard you broke Pinky’s wrist, how is that?” I stop what I’m doing and grimace at him. “And don’t get me started on the shit you pulled with Tate.” I point at him. Widening my stance in a threatening manner.

  He shrugs, obviously not feeling the slightest bit of guilt for hurting Pinky. I curl my fists, as heat radiates off my body. Not only is Pinky harmless, he was my sparring buddy. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.

  What if he did that to Tate?

  The thought causes an act of rage to pulse in my neck.

  Closing my eyes, I exhale a calming breath.

  “You need to walk away,” I breathe out.

  Chase laughs maliciously. Opening my eyes I find him walking backwards with a smug look on his face.

  “I guess they learned not to get in the ring with a real fighter then, huh?” He tilts his head to the side, his tone indicating that he is a real fighter and I’m not.

  I grit my teeth, my heart pounding against my chest with the need to hurt this motherfucker.

  “I better hit the locker room and suit up.” Chase pushes off the ropes, heading out of the ring. “I got a day full of ass to kick, and a night full of pussy to chase.”

  “What’s this?” Tate asks, looking up from the floor side. I must have missed her come in, too busy with Chase.

  I pull on the bungee to test it, my fury slowly fading.

  “Today we’re working on bobbing and weaving.” Her face looks skeptical. I could say something about giving head, but I opt out. This time.

  “Isn’t that more boxing?” She places her hand on her hip overlooking my setup.

  She’s so bent on not boxing when in reality it’s her strong suit. She’s good at a lot of things in the ring, but boxing is in her blood. I wish she would accept it.

  “Eight out of ten of the fights I was in start out with boxing techniques. If you’re injured in the first round because you can’t duck a few punches, it could cost you the entire fight,” I school her. It’s the truth. I myself almost lost a fight because I needed to be lighter on my feet.

  Her eyes widen with this information. “So what will this teach me?” she points to the rope.

  “It’ll build the muscle in your calves as you hunch down, and after you’ve done it enough it’ll be second nature to you. You’ll be quick on your feet, and smooth in your technique.”

  She climbs into the ring, and steps up to the cord.

  “Go for it, let’s see what I have to work with.” She licks her bottom lip, and positions her left shoulder to the cord.

  Taking a quick breath, she ducks and pops up on the side of the cord, before ducking and popping up on the other side.

  She’s slow, and she’s not letting the rope touch her shoulder before she drops again.

  “Arms up, block yourself!” I instruct. She places her arms up, her eyes focused on the other side of the ring.

  After reaching the end, she turns smiling.

  “How’d I do?”

  “Terrible,” I deadpan, stepping to her.

  Her face falls flat, her eyes looking over the ring in thought. I’m not going to sugar coat her weakness, her opponent won’t. They’ll use it against her and that’ll be on me for not training her hard enough.

  Stepping behind her I grip her hips, and pull her into me. My dick jumps with excitement, images of having her bent over in this very spot make my balls tingle. I close my eyes, trying to exercise m
y self-discipline. Work first, fuck later.

  Skimming my lips along the shell of her ear, I get her attention. That or my boner sticking her in the ass cheek did the trick.

  “Be light as a feather, but punctual in your execution,” I whisper. Goosebumps race along her neck, and I dig my fingers tighter into her skin.

  Her sweet smell and soft skin are testing my restraint. I don’t know how much longer I can coach her when all I want to do is be naked with her.

  “Like this.” Taking her by the hips, I tug and pull on her, making her glide along the rope with ease, but with strength. Ducking with me and weaving, our bodies moving in sync just as smoothly as they did when they were flushed against each other in a naked embrace.

  “Jab every time the rope hits your shoulder.” I instruct, trying to get my head in the game. The one on my shoulders that is, the one down below has been game since Tate climbed in the damn ring. She strikes the air, her body tight, and moves clean. We reach the other side of the ring and I breathe her in one last time and pull away.

  “How was that?” she asks, her tongue licking her bottom lip hungrily.

  “Better, but your foot work is a bit sloppy,” I point out.

  “Well, it’s hard for me to concentrate when you’re poking me in the back with your hard-on the whole time.” Her eyes fall to my boner and I wink.

  “Try it by yourself this time,” I point to the rope. Her face of humor quickly falls, and she gets herself back into training.

  She’s a quick learner, and watching her love for the sport makes me fall even more for her.

  “It’s great timing too, she’s going to be ecstatic!” Debs cheers stepping out of Thomas’s office, breaking me from my thoughts.

  “What are you going on about?” I question. I turn, resting my arms on the ropes as Tate steps up beside me.

  Debs crosses her arms, and smiles arrogantly.

  “Oh nothing. I just got Tate her first fight is all,” Debs announces casually.

  “What?!” Tate’s voice echoes through the gym in excitement, and my chest seizes the fucking air from my lungs. It’s too soon.

  “It’s a pretty big one too,” Thomas adds, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. The look on his face has me uneasy.