Silver and Chrome: A Bad Boy MC Romance

by St. Clair, Aubrey

  What frustrated her the most was that if she just understood more about his past, and it was really as bad as she supposed, then it would go a long way toward excusing his current behavior. But since she was in the dark, she wasn't sure how mad she should be at him.

  Was he acting unreasonably and just being a jerk? Or was there a very good reason he was so touchy about things like money, debt and his family. She was his girlfriend, for god sakes. Wait, was she? They never really had a conversation about it. She wanted to bring it up a few times, but she was always concerned about how he would react. The truth was, she wasn't sure at all what he felt about their relationship.

  She resolved to bring it up the next time she saw him, whenever that was. He was already pissed off at her anyway, she may as well get this subject out there as well and deal with it all at once. It would help to know where she stood. After all, if he was just thinking about her as a fun little diversion, or a place to sleep where he didn't have to worry about getting robbed in the night, then it was better to end it now anyway. But she hoped she was more than that. A lot more.

  According to the clock next to her bed, Joel's training should just be starting. Neither of them had any idea how long it would go, but now it sounded like he wasn't even planning on returning when it was finished.

  Fuck him. She had to work tonight anyway. Friday night was a big tip night, and the money was always needed. Still, tips often reflected the frame of mind she was in, which meant that by the end of the night she might actually owe somebody money. Guys typically wanted their hot bartender to be perky and friendly and flirt with them. If any of them so much as made a comment about her mood tonight, though, they'd be lucky not to end up with a drink in their face.

  She needed a distraction. Someone or something to take her mind off of Joel for the night. Her mind immediately went to her gay bar-back, Simon. He was always asking her to go to an after-hours place to get shit faced once their night ended, but she was usually too tired. But she had no reason to run home tonight, or to get up early tomorrow morning. Better to sleep away a hangover than deal with obsessive thoughts about where Joel was and whether he was still mad at her.

  Amber got back into bed and pulled her sheet up to her chin, despite the heat in the apartment. If she was going to go out late tonight, she could use a nap. She was up too early this morning, giving out surprise shower blow jobs. Look how well that turned out. She closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to lull her back into unconsciousness. At least then she could stop thinking about Joel and the oversized chip on his shoulder.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Joel

  Joel showed up about 20 minutes early to Rock House, carrying his workout and sparring gear in an old knapsack slung over one shoulder. He was impressed as soon as the building was in sight.

  Rock House was a massive structure. It looked to be a converted warehouse, with the outside painted a dark and textured gray that he assumed was supposed to make it look like stone. In front of it was a huge sign on a pole at least 50 feet in the air. Rock House Training Center - Mixed Martial Arts.

  Joel pushed past the big double doors and was immediately hit by the familiar smell of sweat and heavy, wet air. He breathed it in deeply, finding it strangely comforting and hoping it would help him relax a bit and shake off the fatigue and overall grumpiness that he was still feeling after his restless night and early argument.

  Inside was just as impressive as outside. The place was huge, made up for the most part of a vast open area with simple thin mats along the floor. At the back, he could see a full size MMA style octagon cage, as well as a regular wrestling ring next to it. On the opposite end, there was work out equipment. Mostly free weights, but a few bikes for cardio as well. Draped along one of the walls was an immense American flag.

  It was also immediately clear that not everyone was told to start at nine. There were at least fifteen guys in the place. Some of them had obviously just gotten there and were standing around talking, but others were already working out. A couple were sparring on the mat, some others were using the equipment and one was pounding on one of the many heavy bags that hung along the perimeter of the big open space.

  His eyes were wide as he scanned the room, still taken aback by how immense it was. He wondered how much a place like this would cost to train at if he had to pay. Certainly more than he could ever afford. He gritted his teeth as it reminded him of how much he really owed to Amber that you couldn't really put a price on. If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be here. He was a fool for taking out his frustrations on her this morning. That was definitely no way to start repaying his debt.

  "Joel!"

  He turned to see Shawn Rock walking toward him. The big MMA former champion grasped his hand and shook it firmly in greeting. "Good to see you. How's the head?"

  Joel instinctively lifted his hand up to reach around and touch the injury which had now healed over pretty well. Shawn had sent the team doctor over to Amber's place the night after the tournament and he had confirmed it was a concussion, albeit a very minor one. He had been more concerned about the cut at the back of his head, putting in five stitches to close it up, telling him to wait ten to twelve days to fight again. Joel had pushed to start as soon as he could. Today was the earliest he was cleared. "Great," he said.

  "Cool, cool. Okay, well let's introduce you to a few people and then get you started." Shawn motioned with his head for Joel to follow and he walked over to the group of men that weren't training yet. There were four of them standing together and talking. They stopped as the two men approached. A couple of them nodded at Shawn. One of them looked at Joel as if he'd just bitten into a lemon.

  "Boys, this is Joel Slater, the guy I was telling you about that shoulda won that Golden Dragon tournament. Lucky for us he didn't and we stole him away from Tiger Strike. He has a keen eye for weaknesses in his opponents, so watch out what you show him." Shawn laughed, as did a couple of others. Sour mouth just glared at Joel.

  "Anyway, this here is Chris Leeman," Shawn patted a broad shouldered man who had short, curly blond hair that was streaked with red dye. Chris reached forward and shook Joel's hand.

  "Kingston West," Shawn said, putting his hand on the shoulder of a large black man. He was even taller than Joel by at least 2 inches, and had muscles of midnight stretching his tight white T-shirt. He smiled without showing any teeth, giving a little nod in Joel's direction.

  "Rorie McMahon." Rorie was shorter than Joel, and leaner as well. But his body was sinewy and tight, without an ounce of fat to be seen. He had short red hair and hard green eyes.

  "Hey," he said.

  "Hi."

  "And finally, Blake Edwards." Sour puss took a quick look at Shawn and then nodded at Joel, but as soon as Shawn turned away his face curled back into a sneer. Blake looked to be about Joel's height, but thicker. He was bald, with tattoos running up and down both of his arms, likely extending to the rest of his upper body as well but they were obscured by his shirt.

  "I've asked these guys to come in today to help show you the ropes around here, they're all part of my core group that I have the highest hopes for in terms of making it all the way. Don't be surprised if you see any of these guys fighting on TV pretty soon. Hell, you'll probably see all of them eventually. It's somewhere I think you can get to as well, Joel." Shawn started to walk. "Come on, let me show you the locker room."

  The two men left the group of fighters and walked to a set of doors near the back. Shawn opened one up and motioned Joel through, following after him. The locker room was fairly small, but it still held about 50 lockers. Attached was a washroom and a few shower stalls.

  "Just find a place to store your stuff and put on your gear. Head on out to the guys and they'll get you started. Like I said, I expect good things from you, Joel. Rock House is one of the hardest gyms around, but we get results. I've brought half a dozen guys up from nothing to fighting at the highest levels in the last six months alone. But you have to put in t
he time. Two or three times a week isn't going to cut it here. I expect you to be here five, maybe six times if you expect to get results."

  "No problem," Joel said. He had no intention of slacking. This was his dream, and he wasn't planning on fucking it up."

  "Cool, cool," Shawn said, turning back to the door and pulling it open. "One more thing, though. I know you got that injury fighting with an underground club. That stops immediately. You fight with Rock House, at Rock House, or where Rock House tells you to fight. Training here means not jeopardizing yourself anywhere else. We're putting time and resources into your body, and it's no longer yours to risk - not if you want to continue with us, anyway. Understood?"

  Joel nodded. "Of course."

  Shawn nodded and then left.

  That would be a problem.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Amber

  "What the hell are you doing here this early, girl?"

  "Before you start on me, I brought you a Frappuccino, so choose your words carefully."

  Simon's eyebrows melted into his hairline and a smile spread across his face as he reached to snatch the drink from Amber's hands. "I was just going to say what a pleasure it is to see you in here so long before your shift," he said slowly.

  Amber laughed. "You're a terrible liar."

  "You caught me off guard. Try giving me a morning to come up with a reason for why I'm late for work instead of admitting to just being hung over, then we'll talk. If you can still accuse me of that, I'll get to see how good a liar you are." Simon sniffed and took a sip of his drink, trying to look hurt but his eyes betrayed his cheerfulness. She didn't know if she had ever seen him in a bad mood, or even a very serious one for that matter, which was why she had come in early. Simon could always cheer her up when she was bummed about a guy. He had more experience with them than she had, after all.

  "Seriously though," he said after putting his cup down. "It's not even one o'clock. You don't start for another four hours."

  "I was tired of staring at the walls and being pissed off," she said, plopping her bag down against the bar and sliding onto a stool. It was rare she got to see the bar from this perspective.

  "Oh, oh. What did fight club do now?"

  Amber stuck her tongue out at Simon. She hated when he called Joel that. "Nothing. I don't know. We got in a fight and he stormed out, I don't even know when or if he'll be home tonight. "

  "About what?"

  "Money, I think. Honestly, I don't even know for sure. One minute I'm asking him to move in with me and the next minute he's basically accusing me of being a gold digger. I don't get him at all. He's so touchy, especially about money."

  "Probably because he never has any. Didn't you find him sleeping on a park bench or something?

  "No, stop it," she said, swatting at his arm. Simon just smiled and spun out of reach, taking another sip of his frap.

  "Listen, I'm just saying they don't get much poorer than him. Wouldn't it be nice to date someone with money for a change? Someone who can take care of you instead of needing you to mother him?"

  "I don't care about money," she said. Simon did, and he couldn't understand when other people didn't. He once told her he would never date a man who didn't own a BMW or Jaguar. She wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, it wasn't always easy to tell with him.

  "Well, you might not, but how do you know what he really wants. Maybe his whole money issue thing is some sort of over compensation defense type thing because in reality, he's after your money."

  "What money, Doctor Freud?"

  "Well, your potential money."

  "I work at a bar, I don't think there's a lot of danger of me attracting any Bernie Madoff type suitors."

  "Don't sell yourself short, girl. You're still young. This isn't your last stop."

  "Whatever. Anyway, he's not like that."

  "How do you know," Simon said, walking back over to her and leaning against the bar. "How well do you really know this guy, anyway? You've known him for what, like a week?"

  "Two. But so what? He's private, that's all."

  "People who are 'private' usually have something to hide."

  Amber sighed. "Joel's not like that." Is he? He was extremely private, and never wanted to talk about his past at all. She got the feeling she wasn't even allowed to ask about it. Could he be hiding some deep dark secret? Even if he was, she didn't think it had anything to do with money. But there were worse secrets he could be keeping.

  "Hey, you know who else was private and liked to keep to himself? Jeffrey Dahmer. That is, until he was hungry."

  "Oh my god, Simon. Would you stop?"

  "Listen, I'm just saying, there could be lots of reasons he doesn't want to talk about his past or his family. Like maybe he killed them all and is on the run, hiding out in shelters and fighting in back alleys to keep the voices from his head."

  Amber put her hands over her ears. "STOP!"

  Simon laughed and Amber reached over and grabbed the fountain gun, turning it on him and spraying him with water as he ran to the back of the bar. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Truce!"

  She put the gun back down and glared at her friend. "I came here so that you'd make me feel better, not so that you'd add to the crazy thoughts in my head."

  He walked slowly back, shaking his shirt to peel the wet fabric from his body. "Okay, fine. What do you know about him?"

  "Not very much. His name and... actually, I guess just his name."

  Simon sighed and put a damp hand on the back of Amber's shirt. "You're lucky you have me in your life, that's all I have to say."

  "Why?"

  "This is the internet age. The age of information. You think I go out with a guy even once without cyber stalking his ass? If for no other reason than to check out his net worth and whether he's got a secret wife somewhere that he's closeted from? Not that that last part is a deal breaker, by the way."

  Of course not. "So, you think you could find something out about him?"

  "Girl, if I can't I'll be a lot more disappointed in myself than you'll be. Come on, there's a computer in the back office we can use." Simon started to walk away as he kept talking, not even waiting to see if Amber was following.

  "Trust me, I haven't sucked a dick that didn't have six figures behind it since I left high school. If I can't find out something about fight club's past, then it's because he comes from Mars and doesn't have one. "

  "Gross," she said, slipping off her stool and following her friend. It can't hurt to just take a quick look. Just to make sure he isn't a lunatic.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Joel

  The training began normally when Joel returned to the main gym. He rejoined the group of fighters that Shawn had introduced him to and they all ran through some simple warm ups. From sprints and rolls, to push-ups and burpees. The actual warm up lasted for over thirty minutes and got progressively harder as time wore on. For the most part, Blake was leading the group in terms of what they did next, standing in front of them so that they could follow along with what he was doing. By the time they took a break, Joel was covered in a heavy layer of sweat. The other guys didn't seem quite as winded.

  He was taking a sip from his water bottle, letting his heart rate come down a bit, when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. It was Chris Leeman. "Feel the burn yet?" he asked with a smile. He was missing a tooth along his bottom row.

  Joel nodded. "Good work out. It always like that?"

  Chris shrugged as his hand slipped off Joel's shoulder and he grabbed his own water. "I think Blake was putting on a bit of a show for you today."

  Joel grunted. It didn't surprise him, given the way Blake had glared at him earlier. He wasn't sure what that guy's problem was, but he wasn't going to let him get under his skin. He glanced over his shoulder to see whether the other fighter was nearby, but he was only bending over at one of the benches and grabbing his own drink, facing away from the two of them. When he stood up, Joel did a double take.

 
"What the fuck is that?"

  "What?" Chris asked. He followed Joel's gaze and then laughed. "I think it's for intimidation, but whenever I see it, all I can think about is that he's thick headed, or a blockhead." Chris laughed again but then quickly added "But don't tell him I said that. I'll deny the shit out of it."

  They were looking at a tattoo stenciled onto the back of Blake's head. It was very detailed, and was made to look as if a circular bit of his skull had broken off and underneath was a red brick wall.