Dirty Trick

by Mickey Miller

  “This is Crystal Lawson,” Connor added, motioning toward me.

  I smiled and introduced myself.

  We sat down, and Connor carried himself in a way that surprised me. All the Zoreto committee sipped their margaritas, Connor opted for water as he explained his plan.

  “Sixty Days of fighting--the first fight is tonight--on Easter Island. There will be at least two fights every night, with a five-fight series on Friday and Saturday.”

  “But why so spur of the moment?” The woman at the end asked. “What’s the reach? What’s the rating outlook? We still haven’t gotten any of that information.”

  “Sorry about that. My agent, Jeff, would normally have that over to you, but his wife just gave birth so he’s been playing father.”

  “I will type up a report and send the data over to you,” I chimed in, noting on my tablet.

  The woman nodded and took another sip of her drink. The server came by and we all ordered. Something seemed off with Connor. He was acting shockingly...normal. Having gotten used to his cocky, assholish nature, it made me a little uncomfortable to see him apologizing and nice.

  “We’ve come up with a mockup for your shoe.” One of the men passed Connor a paper drawing. It was white, orange, and green, the colors of the Irish flag.

  Connor raked a hand through his short hair and said in a deadly serious tone. “Well, now I’m not selling a St. Patrick’s Day shoe. What the fuck is that bullshit?”

  And we were back to the Connor I was used to. An awkward silence hung in the air as Connor held the mockup out.

  “Well, uh, we have a few more here,” he said, frantically running through his manila folder full of drawings.

  I shot Connor a serious look.

  “Ah, I’m just fucking with you guys!” he said with a laugh, and slapped the nearest guy so hard on the back, he nearly spit his drink.

  Damn Irish dry sense of humor.

  The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, although we did get to fill our bellies with some much needed, tasty seafood. I ordered a glass of wine, but Connor still stuck to water.

  As the meeting was ending, one of the reps who’d been quiet, cleared his throat. The table grew quiet, and both Connor and I waited for what he had to say.

  He leaned forward, planting his elbows around his cocktail. “How sure are you of winning this thing, Connor?”

  The unspoken question which had hung in the air over the whole meeting became reality. I swallowed a quickly pull of water.

  Connor shrugged. “I can almost guarantee it.”

  The rep shook his head. “The reality is, with all the hype surrounding this match, you've backed yourself into a corner. This is basically the super bowl of MMA fights. We can produce as much merchandise of yours as we want, but the reality is, if you don't win the fight, it's going to end up like the losing team's super bowl hats--in the resale shop, selling for a dollar a piece.”

  I really didn’t like the sound of that.

  Connor narrowed his eyes, and I saw a spark of that volatile Irish temper spark. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

  A voice I recognized from Connor’s conference spoke behind me. “It means that they don’t want any losers. Only winners.”

  Connor’s knuckles blanched as he gripped his water glass. I turned and found Richard Morgan smiling down at us. He had a smarmy expression on his face, part gloating, part weasel. He met my eyes for all a second, and then they traveled down, lingering on my breasts. I barely resisted crossing my arms. I was beginning to think Connor had nicknamed him well. He was a dick.

  Beside him stood Alcides Martinez, known as El Toro--the Bull--in the MMA world. He was marginally shorter than Connor, and like my Irish bruiser, he wore his nationality like a badge. Swarthy skin, dark hair clipped close to the scalp, and a face rearranged by fists and feet. He looked rough in a different way than Connor did as if he wasn’t above cheap tricks and tactics. In fact, I knew that’s how he’d won instead of Connor in their last, and only, match. A cheap trick which almost ended Connor’s career. How had Connor come back from that? It was a mystery, and if I learned anything during these sixty days, I wanted to uncover that.

  His oily black eyes passed over me, lingering on the swell of my breasts beneath my dress, and he gave me a wide grin. Oh joy, no wonder Dick and Toro had teamed up. They were both chauvinist assholes. While treating women like meat wasn’t unusual in the fighter world, all that testosterone made men think with their small heads, getting obviously checked out at a business meeting brought along the urge to introduce their balls to my size seven heels.

  “Dick, Toro,” Connor said with a genial smile. Inside he had to be raging. This was a nasty surprise for us. The Zoreto representatives were watching it play out with keen interest which made me believe they’d set this up. “So nice of you eejits to join us.”

  “Connor....excuse me what did you just call me?”

  “Eejit....oh sorry. Irish term of endearment, old friend.” He winked. “You two just bring it out in me.”

  Dick shook off the comment, though I could tell he was flustered a little. “And just who might this lovely lady be?” he asked.

  I side eyed Connor, making sure he wasn’t reaching for the silverware to fork Dick to death. None of the executives spoke a word. They all stared at the showdown in front of us, a preview of their match in sixty days.

  “She can speak for herself, you know. You just have to speak to her yourself and open that big f--”

  “Crystal Lawson, I’m here on behalf of his agent,” I interjected. I pinned on my best and most professional smile and reached my hand to Dick, trying to break the tension in the room.

  Dick’s brows rose a fraction. I already guessed he thought I was just Connor’s piece of ass. His barely-disguised surprise proved it. Just because I had blond hair and big boobs didn’t make me a bimbo.

  Dick squeezed my hand in greeting. I swallowed a wave of revulsion as his clammy flesh met mine. “Enchanted.” He leaned over me, and I almost gagged at the heavy cologne he wore. “Why don’t you ditch this loser and join the winning team?”

  El Toro snickered and said something in Spanish beneath his breath. Connor stiffened beside me, and I knew I needed to diffuse this bomb before the Zoreto representatives had an advance showing of the pending bloodshed. “What team would that be?” I let a hint of my natural Southern accent sugar my voice.

  Dick puffed up. His polo stretched over his muscular chest. I knew his type. He was a wanna-be. He wanted to be a fighter, but couldn’t cut it. Too slow. Too bulky. His muscles were all show. If he got in a ring with a man like Connor it would be all over in seconds. “Why, ours.”

  “Is that so?” I cut Toro with a glance. “All I see is a has-been and a poser. When was the last time Toro fought, anyway? When he was getting his ass beat by Connor so he drove his forearm against Connor’s windpipe and then heel kicked him in the knee? And instead of you know, being respectful, he then caught that same knee in a cinch and twisted? You mean that ‘winner’? All I see is a sore loser who couldn’t hack it in the ring so he went to cheap tricks. Just because they are still technically legal, doesn’t make it right.”

  A few of the Zoreto reps behind me barely covered their laughter with fake laughs. Connor visibly relaxed beside me. Dick’s eyes bugged out, and he had to lash a restraining arm against Toro.

  I turned my gaze to him. “Were you going to hit me? A big burly fighter coming after a girl? What, you can’t handle the truth spoken aloud?”

  Connor stood up with a clang of dishes and hauled me up. “Well now, I think it’s time for us to head out.” He nodded to the reps who were gazing after us with no small amount of shock writ on their face.

  I sailed past Dick and Toro with Connor’s palm burning against my back.

  We stopped in the lobby outside of the restaurant. Connor’s ginger brows arched towards his hairline.

  I blushed. “Oh, my God I can’t believe i did that.” Was
n’t Connor the hot head? What had possessed me to get into a pissing match with Dick and Toro? And in front of the Zoreto agents?

  Connor dropped his head back and laughed. “Damn. Hot damn. I knew you were feisty, but that shit was pure fucking gold.”

  I cringed. “I’m going to lose my job if that gets out.”

  Connor slung his burly arm around my shoulder. “No. You gave them exactly what they wanted when they set up that overlapped meeting. You gave them a show, though I think they were surprised it was you slinging words instead of me. Shit, you could give me a run for my money with that trash talking mouth of yours.”

  “It was so unprofessional of me,” I muttered. I instinctively reached for my cellphone to call a Lyft to pick us up, but then I realized my phone had exactly zero service out here.

  And there were definitely not any ridesharing programs.

  “How do you think that went, other than Dick and Toro popping up?” Connor asked me. Why was I surprised whenever he asked me a normal question?

  I paced in front of Connor, revealing the agitation which circled through me. My heels licked subtly on the tile. “It’s not a done deal by any means. It’s shitty of them to be courting Toro at the same time as meeting us. But, I understand where they are coming from. This is a business, and they want a winner as their spokesperson. They’re keeping their options open.”

  “Agreed,” he said as he ran his palms down his shirt. “I didn’t think you followed the sport that closely to know what happened between Toro and I.”

  I followed his hands down, and remembered the water I’d wanted to lick off him earlier. I shook my head. “I didn’t, well, don’t. Once Mr. Fabre hired me, I figured I needed to do my due diligence when it came to you. I looked you up, but the articles I found said that you lost the fight against Toro five years ago, then disappeared for six months. When you re-appeared, you were a new man and a totally different fighter, though no one knew where you’d been hiding. To this day, no one can pin down the roots of your fighting style. You started winning and ESPN even dubbed your return “The Reincarnation” because you won every single fight after that. You played it up and got that phoenix tattoo.”

  Connor flashed me a wide grin, one that showcased his gold tooth. Heat crackled to life inside of me. What was it about him that made me so tingly? He was not handsome, not classically. What had he looked like when he was younger, before fighting rearranged his face?

  “Very good. Looks like you’ve done your research on me.”

  I shrugged. “Apparently, I didn’t do enough.”

  “My past...doesn’t matter. I don’t think about the past. Only the present.”

  Sensing I was prodding a little too hard, I changed the subject. “I want to see the island.” I turned to him and instinctively grabbed onto his bicep. Damn, I forgot how hard he was. My hand had a mind of its own as it stroked down his arm. “Will you show me around?”

  Connor stiffened. “I don’t know. There’s not much to see, really.”

  “Liar,” I said. I accidentally got a little too close to him, and my breasts grazed his arm, and I felt him flinch. He was attracted to me, I knew that from our very first meeting. Was it just because I was female, or was there more?

  Lord, I couldn’t think about that. I didn’t need or want Connor lusting after me. I let go.

  He smirked at me. “So, is that how it’s going to be here? I’m going to be Crystal’s personal tour guide?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please. It’s the first day and I’m asking you to show me around, and you obviously know this place well. Don’t be such a drama king.”

  He tilted his head and shook it slightly. “I just don’t know if you can handle the mana of the Island.”

  “The mana. You keep saying that word and I don’t even know what it means.”

  “The mana is the magical force that allowed the native to move statues weighing fourteen tons from one side of the island to the other. It’s magical mind power.”

  I stifled a sigh. I’d thought Connor was charming for a second. Now he was being his usual assface self. “It can move fourteen ton statues with magic? Cut it out. You know that’s not true. Just show me the island.”

  “You don’t believe in the magic of the mind?”

  “No,” I replied firmly, and crossed my arms. I had a good reason for that, too. But I wasn’t about to share it with him. “And you’re starting to freak me out because I feel like you really believe there is magic on this island. And there isn’t! We live in, you know, the world of logic.”

  “Looks like I’m going to have to show you my mana. I just hope you can handle it.”

  I swallowed.

  It wasn’t Connor’s mana I was worried about handling.

  7- Connor

  I couldn’t be gallivanting around taking cabs everywhere during the sixty days I was here, so I brought Crystal to the Island’s one and only motorcycle shop. I could have just gotten a rental, but I wanted something with a little extra horsepower.

  If Crystal wanted me to show her around the island--fine. I’d give the tour of the fucking century.

  And I’d do it with the wind in our faces, with those voluptuous tits of hers pressed up against me. Fuck, the way she’d inadvertently grazed me with her breasts had caught me off guard back in front of the hotel. I had to use her “One Mississippi” trick just to keep from getting a raging hard on.

  There was also the way she’d trash talked Toro and Dick. Maybe it was my Irish nature coming out, but there was nothing I loved more than a woman talking shit. It was a damn turn on. Crystal had known me for a week, and she already knew just how to press my buttons.

  “You did your research on me before you came, clearly. Did you do any research on the island?”

  “I did a little,” she replied with her hands on her hips. “Unfortunately, I spent the last week of work trying to wrap up all my projects since I would be, you know, out fucking here for sixty days.”

  “Geez, woman. You don’t sound even a hint of bitter.”

  “Oh, don’t I? I can increase the bitch factor for you if you want.”

  Damn, I agreed to play tour guide, and instead of thanking me, she was riding my ass.

  I fucking loved it. She was so hot, I wasn’t surprised that she projected an outward bitch shield to protect herself from the guys that no doubt threw themselves at her.

  After a few minutes of browsing, I came across a motorcycle that caught my eye. “This one,” I said, pointing to it. It was a lighter weight Harley, but not one that I’d seen before, black with red trim.

  “A custom Harley Davidson made for off-roading. You’ve got a fine eye, Sir.”

  “You decided so quick,” Crystal commented. “Do you want to take it for a test ride or something?”

  I gave the attendant my black card. “Just run the whole thing on this.”

  “Are you sure? That’s over twenty thousand American--”

  I cut him off with a motion of my hand. “Just run it.” The man walked off to the register.

  Crystal stared at me, waiting for my reply. Her arms were at her sides and her head was tilted a little. Though I stared straight into her blue eyes, her swollen breasts were impossible to miss in my peripheral. I took a step into her so I was standing almost inches from her. She smelled like fresh tropical fruit and everything feminine. I revelled as I breathed her in, and put my finger on her chin, tipping her face up slightly. “Once I decide what I want, I don’t keep looking around.”

  The shop attendant popped up and handed me back my card. “Went through. You’re all good.” He had a surprised look on his face, as if he hadn’t expected my card to work. “Enjoy your honeymoon.”

  Crystal’s eyes went wide with panic. “Oh, it’s n--”

  I cleared my throat and wrapped my arm around her. “Thank you so much, lad. We’re very excited to be here. Aren’t we baby?”

  She gritted her teeth but didn’t say anything.

  I gr
inned and ushered Crystal out of the place, keys in hand while the attendant brought the motorcycle around to the front. As soon as we were outside, she separated her body from mine.

  “You really are an asshole, you know. I’m not going to be able to put up with you like this the whole time here.” She crossed her arms right underneath her tits, which I was quickly learning was a habit of hers when she got pissed. Fuck me, it was impossible not to look at those things. Plus, the way they bulged out, well, it made me want to get her riled up more often. I blinked and refocused.

  “Oh? Tell me what you mean exactly. Can’t put up with this. With me.”

  “Oh please, Connor. You’re not as dense as you look. I saw the way you worked the Zoreto reps back there. You played them like fiddles. You know what you’re doing even though you appear like a trash-talking thug.”

  The attendant brought the motorcycle around and left it in front of us. He probably thought we were having our first marital spat, and he strategically left it in front of us without saying anything. The motorcycle gleamed in the sun, and Crystal walked toward it and skidded to a stop on those stupid fucking heels of hers. “No way am I going for a ride with you on that thing. I’d rather ride a bareback horse back to our place.”

  I pushed my sunglasses on and watched her from behind the dark lenses. “You wanted to see the Island, this is the way to do it.”

  “Are you crazy? Half of the roads aren’t even paved! Do you even know how to drive that thing? And I’m wearing a dress. A really expensive dress.”

  I invaded her space, and her crisp, sultry scent teased my senses. “Come on, don’t get your feckin’ giblets in a twist.”

  Crystal shook her head. “Was that even English?”

  “You know what I’m saying.” I pivoted towards the motorcycle and swung on. I patted the seat behind me. “Hop on and I’ll show you a whole new world.”