Fighting for Forever

by J. B. Salsbury

  The cab of the truck swirls with the scent of fresh rain and honey, and I let the aroma soothe me.

  We fall into a comfortable conversation about our day, mine being filled with sleep, some light cleaning, and then getting ready. His with training.

  The summer heat is high, and we’re still a couple hours away from sunset. Funny how different the city looks in the day compared to night. The dual-personality feel of Las Vegas is what draws people in with dreams of normal days and erotic nights. My stomach jumps as I consider normal, like now, being picked up for a date by a handsome gentleman. Basic and yet more exciting than stepping out on stage mostly naked.

  We pull in to the parking lot of a restaurant that has a pig on the sign, and he opens the door for me to escort me inside.

  “This was your big detour? A sports bar?” I lift one eyebrow at him, teasing, but also concerned that I’m overdressed.

  “Don’t worry. One drink and we’re gone, cool?” He pulls my hand into the crook of his arm and leads me to the door. “I promised a few friends we’d stop by. They just got back from their honeymoon and wanted to catch up.”

  Sounds easy enough. A drink, some small talk, I can do that.

  We push into the dark restaurant, and it takes a few seconds for my vision to adjust. The aroma of cooking meat, specifically pork, wafts toward me, and despite my best efforts to avoid it, my stomach growls and my mouth waters. What is it about bacon?

  Mason leads me to a group of people that take up two large tables at the bar. I catch a flash of red hair, and my grip on his hand tightens. “Is that . . .?”

  “It is. Rex and Gia are here.” He pulls me close to throw an arm over my shoulder just as we approach the table.

  Gia’s eyes widen upon seeing us, and she rushes over. “I knew it!” Her gaze bounces between Mason and me just as Rex comes up behind her and wraps his big, colorful arms around her waist.

  “Baywatch, you fuckin’ punk.” He leans forward and nips at Gia’s ear. “Did you know about this?”

  “No, I mean, I figured after . . .” She shakes her head then blinks as if she’s snapped herself from her thoughts. “Well, come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  She grabs my hand and I look up at Mason. He nods for me to go, but before releasing me drops a long soft closed-mouthed kiss against my lips. My insides tumble at his open show of affection, his public declaration of our being together.

  Gia heads to the far end of the table where two women are sitting. The blonde is absently rocking an infant carrier, while the brunette stands, swaying slowly with a baby strapped to her chest.

  “Layla and Raven, I want you to meet my friend.” Gia pulls me up between the two. “This is Trix, my old roommate.”

  The blonde, who I assume is Layla, peers up at me with kind dark eyes and a welcoming smile. “Trix, nice to meet you. Here”—she motions to a chair next to her—“have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” I sit and try to adjust my dress. These girls are wearing more casual attire, cute worn jeans and biker boots or sandals, and suddenly, I feel self-conscious.

  I turn my head to the dark-haired girl, and although she’s not purposefully looking unfriendly, her contemplative expression makes me uneasy.

  She steps close, her hands braced on her baby, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen her before. “Who are you here with?”

  My eyes move through the crowd of men at the tables, all of them facing the television screens that are plastered on every wall surrounding the bar. I search out Mason, who, like the rest of them, has his back toward me, the man he’s talking to nearly twice Mason’s size with dark hair and full-sleeved tattoos. My heart flutters with an anxiety I can’t shake, but I push it back and smile.

  “She came with Mason.” The high pitch of excitement in Gia’s voice catches my attention.

  “We’re going out on a date tonight.” I almost slap my forehead at how stupid I must sound, but I can’t shake the unwelcome feeling that prickles beneath my skin.

  Gia props a hip on the table, her big smile framed with all that orange hair. “How in the hell did you and Mase hook up? Did you meet him at the club?”

  Embarrassment twists in my gut, and I do everything I can to keep a confident posture. “No, um . . . he had some friends in town, and Angel and I were hired to dance for them.” I look between Raven and Layla, feeling more out of place than I’ve felt in a long time. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

  The bar erupts in a mix of boos and groans, whatever happening on the television screen being some kind of disappointment.

  “Oh my gosh . . . I know you.” Raven’s blue-green eyes flash with recognition. “You work at Zeus’s.”

  “Trix, this is Raven, Rex’s half-sister I told you about.” Gia turns toward the guys. “The big guy over there? That’s her husband, Jonah Slade.”

  Oh shit.

  “. . . baby Sadie.” Gia finishes, but I’m crippled with panic as the pieces slide into place.

  UFL guys. Rex, Jonah, and—

  “Trix, I want you to meet the boys.” Mason appears across the table, a big grin on his face. “This is . . .”

  Blake “The Snake” Daniels. I remember.

  Play it casual, Trix. Remember he’s a total stranger to you.

  Blake’s eyes are narrowed for a few seconds, moving between Layla and me, before they widen and he swallows hard. “Trix.” He nods.

  “Blake.” I nod back, but, as much as I wish I could cover up all the fear gurgling inside me, it’s too late.

  Tension settles in the air, and by the look on Layla’s face, it didn’t take her long to figure it out.

  “Zeus’s . . . do you and Blake know each other?” Her voice is barely a whisper, but the jagged edge of hurt is apparent.

  “Mouse—”

  “Shit.” Jonah moves toward Raven, as if he’s planning to hold her back once she figures it out.

  Mason’s smile fades. “What’s going on?” He flicks his hand between Blake and me. “You two know each other?”

  “Blake?” Layla stands and locks her hands around her stomach. “Do you know Trix? Personally?”

  Everyone’s eyes dart between Blake and me, and I feel Gia push in close, a silent but obvious show of support.

  “Fuckin’ A, Baywatch.” Blake glares at Mason, who’s staring intently at me.

  “Blake? Tell me.” Layla’s a lot stronger than I am. Whereas she’s inches from an angry tirade, I’m bordering on tears.

  “Mouse, let’s go talk out—”

  “No, here.”

  “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his cropped hair. “Valentine’s Day, when I left, I went to Zeus’s.”

  “I know that, Blake.” She throws an arm out and points at me. “Tell me why you’re looking at Trix like she’s about to ruin your life.”

  “Nothing happened, baby. She danced for me. I had a private dance, but nothing happened.”

  “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Blake Daniels. What did you do?”

  He scrubs his face. “I thought you were leaving me for that asshole! You kicked me out!”

  “So . . . did you guys . . . ?”

  “No, Mouse. I love you.” He moves closer to her, but doesn’t touch her. “I love you.”

  “Would you just tell me what the hell—”

  “I kissed him.”

  All eyes in the room swing to me, wide with shock.

  “It’s true. He hired me, and once we were in a private room, I kissed him.”

  Layla drops her chin to her chest and breathes deep. Blake moves in, pulling her to his chest and kissing the top of her head.

  My gaze swings to Raven, who gives me a half smile, almost as if to say she’s grateful I told the truth but even the kindness in her eyes isn’t enough to erase the awkward tension in the air.

  Gia and Rex are at my back, and although they’re supporting me enough, they’re arms are wrapped around each other. I suddenly feel like the odd man out, searching for an anchor
, something to remind me that I’m not as horrible as I feel.

  On instinct, my gaze swings to Mason. He’s glaring at Blake, and I recoil at the disgust I see reflected in his eyes. I drop my gaze and slide away from the table. There should be something to say, some parting words that will give them some peace, but I can’t think of what that would be.

  The fact is I don’t belong here.

  This world of dating and romance and happily ever after isn’t mine to have.

  I’m a stripper. I’m the woman from a married man’s past—the other woman, the temptation—and I’m staring boldly at my reality. Just my presence alone has managed to break up this entire event.

  Yeah, this was a mistake. One I need to remind myself to never let happen again.

  Mason

  I’m staring at Trix as if the power of my will alone could keep her here. I saw the second it happened, when the spark in her eye turned to fear and the urge to run. She forced her chin up, despite the awkward moment that would make a lesser woman hide behind her hair.

  “Um . . . I should go.” She scoots between chairs, extracting herself from the cluster of people and bar tables.

  “Trix!” She doesn’t turn around, but her shoulders hitch up at my call. “Wait up.”

  I move around to catch her before she gets too far, pulling her into my arms and holding her there. “Please, don’t go.”

  “Mason, how can you say that? You know as well as I do I don’t belong here.”

  “You belong with me, and if you don’t belong here”—I survey my friends, all of them clutching their women, their expressions either that of pity or disappointment—“I don’t belong here either.”

  Fuckin’ hell! First Lane, now kissing Blake. This information should make me angry. Hell, at the very least, I should be jealous, but since I’ve gotten to know Trix, I see this shit doesn’t mean anything to her. She said it herself that her body is nothing more than skin, bones, and nerves. She feels no attachment to the men she’s hooked up with in the past, but it’s me whose arms she’s curled in now. Her tiny fingers are gripping my shirt for dear life, and fuck if it doesn’t make me want to sweep her away and protect her from ever feeling the embarrassment she’s suffering now.

  After all, it’s me who has the honor of taking her out on a date. She didn’t throw on that sexy-as-sin dress, those mile-high shoes, and leave her hair and makeup simple the way she knows I like it, for them. She did it for me.

  So fuck them. They reject her because Blake is a stupid piece of shit for walking out on his girl over a fucking year ago. That’s on them. Trix doesn’t deserve their judgment, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and subject her to it.

  “I’m getting Trix out of here.” I glare at my team and shake my head, hoping they see the disappointment.

  “Mason, you should stay,” Trix whispers.

  “No, don’t go.” Layla pushes back from Blake, a friendly smile on her face. “Could you give us a minute?”

  I squeeze Trix to me. “No fuckin’ way.”

  “It’s okay, Mason.” Trix peeks up at me with violet eyes. “I deserve it.”

  “The fuck you do.” I turn my anger to Blake. “You treat her like she’s the one who broke a damn vow, man. You walked out on your woman and showed up at a strip club.”

  Blake cringes. “You’re right. It’s not Trix’s fault.”

  Jonah steps forward. “Told you this shit would come back and haunt you, Blake.”

  “We tried to tell him.” Raven shrugs.

  “Alright, I get it, assholes. Shit.” Blake sets his eyes on Trix. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

  She looks up at me, shock registering on her gorgeous face. “Is he serious?”

  I run a hand through her thick silky hair. “He fuckin’ better be.”

  Layla approaches cautiously. “Hey, I’m sorry. I could’ve handled that better. If you had any idea how many times I’ve had to come face-to-face with someone my husband has seen naked . . .” She shakes her head, laughing, then sets apologetic eyes on Trix. “I blame the breastfeeding hormones.”

  The tension in the room dissipates and a couple of people even chuckle.

  Raven steps up to us, grinning. “I saw you dance that night, when Jonah and I came to find Blake. You’re really good.”

  Trix shrugs and I feel her skin heat against my arm. “Thanks.”

  “Can I just ask you one thing?” Raven says.

  “Of course.”

  “Did you know a girl named Candy who used to work at Zeus’s?”

  Trix nods. “Yeah, I did. She was a real bitch. We used to put Tabasco sauce in her pasties.”

  Everyone bursts into laughter, and Raven pulls Trix in for a side hug. “Yeah, I knew I liked you.”

  Layla joins in, and Gia follows until Trix is tangled in the arms of three women.

  “What the hell did we miss?” Cameron’s voice commands our attention.

  “Just me getting my ass chewed. Nothing new.” Blake throws back a healthy gulp from his beer.

  Eve’s at Cam’s side, her brows pinched in confusion as she takes in my woman, who has just won over Raven and Layla.

  My woman.

  Sixteen

  Mason

  “How is it?” I fork a piece of steak into my mouth and chew through my smile.

  From the second we entered Patrico’s, I’ve been captivated by her. At first, I could tell she was nervous, and when she whispered that she’d never been to a restaurant as nice as this one, I felt equal parts pride and anger. How a woman as beautiful and sweet as she is hasn’t been wined and dined to the point of boredom is beyond me.

  She closes her eyes as she chews, and my gaze fixes on her long slender throat when she swallows. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  I take a pull off my beer that’s in some fancy-ass frosty glass. “I can’t believe you’ve never had lobster before. Figured a San Jose girl would’ve at least given it a try.”

  Her cheeks pink and she ducks her chin. “We were more of a bologna and mayo family.”

  Dammit. I shove another bite of steak into my mouth to keep from reinserting my foot. Of course, she wouldn’t have had lobster.

  She takes a long sip of her white wine and sets her eyes on me. “What about you? I bet you were raised on expensive dinners.”

  I set down my fork and lean back in my chair, a little embarrassed that I’m that easy to read. “My dad’s a plastic surgeon, and after the divorce, my mom moved us to Santa Cruz. We lived more of a modest life there, but he was always good about making sure I didn’t want for much.”

  “How old were you when your parents got divorced?”

  “Four. Drake was barely walking.” I shift in my chair, suddenly feeling suffocated by the conversation. “See . . . Drake and I don’t have the same dad, but my own father didn’t know that until well after D was born.”

  “Yikes, that must’ve been hard on your dad.”

  “I’m sure it was, but he made her suffer for it. Always took good care of me financially, while my mom and Drake were scraping by. Kind of a dick move if you ask me.”

  “Drake’s dad didn’t help out?”

  “His dad is the reason my brother can’t keep himself out of trouble, and no, he never sent money for Drake. I funneled my allowance to them when my dad gave me one, but between that and my mom’s random part-time jobs, they struggled.”

  “Gosh, that’s so sad.” She pushes around some food on her plate. “So, Drake’s dad and your mom didn’t end up together. I wonder why she did it in the first place.”

  I grind my molars together. “Women can’t resist the bad boy.”

  She nods and tilts her head, studying me. “Ya know, I’ve been around my share of bad boys, and they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.” A shy smile curves her lips. “I prefer the sweet ones who might knock you on your butt in dark hallways, but know how to apologize.”

  My lips twitch with a goofy grin. “Y
eah?”

  “Yep.” She stabs another meaty piece with her fork. “Okay, so you may’ve had lobster in the past.” Her elbow propped on the table, she offers the bite to me. “But you’ve never had lobster fed to you by an exotic dancer, have you?”

  I lean in, wanting so badly to knock the tiny table that stands between us away. “No, I never have.”

  Her pink tongue darts out to moisten her upper lip, and she pushes the juicy piece toward my lips.

  I take it from her fork and groan as the rich buttery flavor bursts against my tongue. “Mmm.” Delicious.

  “Good, right?”

  “Phenomenal, although it’s not nearly as tasty as you.”

  Her lips part, and her chest rises and falls a little quicker.

  “That spot.” I tilt my head and nod in the direction of her throat. “Right there just below your earlobe. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

  “Mason . . .”

  “I’m hoping, for dessert, you’ll let me—” We’re interrupted by a man who strolls up to our table. He doesn’t speak, but stares at Trix until she drops her gaze to her lap and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  The guy is dressed in a suit, flashy watch, and if I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his late forties. “Excuse me.” His gaze finally swings to me. “I hate to interrupt.”

  Maybe he’s a UFL fan? Someone in the business who recognizes me from my last fight?

  I choose to ignore his greeting, because frankly, I don’t excuse his interruption.

  “I was having dinner across the restaurant with a colleague of mine and thought I recognized . . .”

  Yep, UFL fan.

  His head swivels to Trix. “. . . your date.”

  Trix’s eyes are like saucers as she stares up at him.

  “You’re a dancer at Zeus’s, right?”

  She flicks a peek at me, and whatever she sees in my expression has her curling in on herself. “Yes, I am.”

  My muscles tense, pulse throbbing in my neck. I push out of my seat, snagging the guy’s attention. “You mind stepping outside with me for a second, partner.”

  He looks confused for a second then holds up his hands in surrender. “No, I don’t want any trouble. I just wanted to come by and introduce myself.” He shoves his hand in my direction, almost every one of his meaty fingers ringed with gold. “Mitch Deeds. I’m the CEO of Fetish Television.”