The Last Call: MMA Bad Boy Fighter Romance (MMA Bad Boy Sports Romance )

by Nicole Bella

  ‘Who?’ Vanessa asked her agent when he dropped the name excitedly into the conversation.

  ‘Jackson McCall. The current middleweight, MMA World Champion. Possibly the greatest MMA fighter there has ever been.’ The agent confirmed, disbelief ringing out with every word he spoke.

  ‘Oh.’ Vanessa managed, not wanting to look ignorant. ‘That, Jackson McCall.’

  In truth she had no idea who the hell Jackson McCall was. In fact, after the call was over she had to rush to her laptop to look up what MMA actually was; such was her level of ignorance. Vanessa had zero interest in fighting. Less than that. If there was a spectrum that showed a person’s interest in the sport, Vanessa would be as far from the positive end as one could be. She thought that fighting was stupid, pointless and reserved for men with small egos and even smaller sexual extremities. But a job was a job and Vanessa wasn’t going to turn it down.

  The phone call had actually come just in time as far as Vanessa was concerned. She had been seeing Adrian for a little over two weeks now and the night of the phone call also happened to be the first night that the two had slept together. Five dates, a lot of love and affection from Adrian and Vanessa had finally given in. At the time it was really a no-brainer. She had met Adrian at a rally to help feed the homeless. He was kind, compassionate and totally into the cause. In fact for the next two weeks that was all he spoke about; that or some other form of helping the underprivileged. Was this the perfect man? Vanessa had to ask herself time and time again. Was this too good to be true?

  Well it turns out that it just might have been. The moment that their lovemaking was done, like a moth emerging from its cocoon, Adrian transformed into a completely different person. He had assured her beforehand that he loved to cuddle after sex; but was only too quick to push her off him when they had finished. And he had all but guaranteed that he was going to spend the night; only to remember a sudden meeting he had the next morning. In fact, Vanessa could feel the beginnings of a ‘we need to talk’ conversation boiling to the surface moments before her phone rang.

  When she hung up the phone and told him of her job interview and who it was with, well you’d never seen a person do a one-eighty as fast as Adrian did. Off were his pants and shirt as he leaped into bed and gone was his cold persona as he even offered to give her a lift the next morning. Too excited about the prospect of work to question this sudden reversal, Vanessa wholeheartedly agreed. Maybe it was just a crisis of character she assured herself as she snuggled up to Adrian. Yes, she was sure that that was it.

  The undamaged, under-driven Audi R8 pulled up to Jackson’s house twenty minutes later than the scheduled time to start. Really the word ‘house’ was an understatement of epic proportions. As angry as she was at her tardiness, Vanessa couldn’t help but gape at the size of the mansion that Jackson lived in. A fortress segregated by huge, gold-painted steel gates, and a white-brick driveway that snaked towards a Spanish-style three-story palace; Vanessa had no idea that fighting paid for such a lucrative lifestyle.

  Adrian was also clearly impressed, letting off a long whistle of approval as he pulled up to the gate. ‘Ah yes, Vanessa Evans here to see Jackson ‘The Last Call’ McCall,’ Adrian spoke into the gates speaker; emphasizing the nickname with obvious reverence.

  A second later and the gate clicked open, allowing the car onto the property.

  ‘Can you please hurry it up just a little?’ Vanessa urged as the car slowly snaked toward the front door. ‘I’m already late.’

  ‘Cool it babe. We’re here now. There’s no rush.’ Adrian dismissed, gaping at the size of the property.

  Vanessa leaped from the car as it crept toward the stairs that led to a huge set of doors at the front of the mansion. Running up them, taking them two at a time, she was about to knock on the doors only for them to suddenly swing open; as if by magic.

  The man that greeted her wasn’t anything like she expected. She had been picturing in her head a large brawny individual; more muscle than anything else, maybe with a few tattoos’ to boot. But the apparent owner of the house was the complete opposite of this. He was small, no taller than 5 foot four, with a wiry frame, big hair and even big glasses -- Charles the manager. Of course Vanessa had no way of knowing this.

  ‘Mr McCall,’ Vanessa began, holding her hand out to greet him. ‘I’m so sorry I’m late. We had some car trouble.’ She said, nodding back toward the car which had only just come to a full halt.

  The man in the doorway looked down at Vanessa’s outstretched hand with apparent amusement, making no effort to take it in his. ‘I assume you don’t watch too much MMA, Ms Evans?’ He asked.

  ‘Oh I watch a bit.’ Vanessa lied, not wanting to look stupid. ‘Not as much as I used to though.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ He smirked, still not taking her hand. ‘Caught up in life’s intricacies?’

  ‘Something like that…’

  ‘Well where is he?!’ Adrian called out as he mounted the stairs towards them. ‘I thought that Jackson would be doing the interview?’

  Vanessa’s face flushed at what Adrian said as the situation suddenly registered. This wasn’t Jackson McCall at all.

  ‘Charles Younger.’ Charles said as he took Vanessa’s still outstretched hand in his. ‘I’m Mr McCall’s manager.’

  Vanessa was saved from her embarrassment by Adrian of all people who was now by her side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a fake show of masculinity. ‘So is Jackson coming or…’ He asked, looking around the property as if hoping to spot Jackson lurking behind a bush.

  ‘Mr McCall doesn’t always have time to interview for these roles. That pleasure it retained for me.’ Charles said, eyeing Adrian up with clear disdain.

  There were two signs straight away that this interview, and indeed this job, wasn’t going to be kosher. The first was the way that Charles said the word ‘pleasure.’ The double-meaning of the word couldn’t have been more obvious as it dripped from his tongue like honey. The second was the manner in which he looked Vanessa up and down as he spoke; his spectacles sitting on the edge of his nose as if it increased his sight.

  We’ll get this out of the way right now. Vanessa was attractive; in fact she was more than that. She was what most men would describe as ‘all legs,’ a feature emphasized even more-so by the tight blouse and pencil skirt she was currently wearing. But on top of this she also sported a flat stomach, hips that would make most women jealous, and a bust that made all men jealous that she wasn’t theirs. This wasn’t to mention the long blonde hair that fell thickly down her back and framed a face that was quite possibly designed to stop traffic. Yes, Vanessa was gorgeous. It was a constant point of annoyance in fact as she was more often than not judged on her appearance rather than her ability; something that was obviously happening right now as Charles positively ate her up with his stare.

  ‘So Vanessa, when can you start?’ Charles asked pointedly, as if they had been interviewing for hours.

  ‘Oh,’ Vanessa said, slightly taken aback. ‘Well the agency said that this was an ASAP position, so I guess straight away.’

  ‘Perfect.’ Charles beamed, flashing a set of white teeth. ‘I’m sure you’ll more than meet the requirements of --,’

  Charles was interrupted by the sound of an engine rumbling down the driveway. Turning around to see what the cause of the interruption was, Vanessa was quick to spot the large black hummer, driving at a pace equivalent to what Adrian was, when he was on the highway.

  The hummer came to a very sudden halt behind Adrian’s Audi and a second later, Jackson McCall stepped out. This was more like it, Vanessa thought to herself. The complete opposite to Charles, this hulking figure walked up the steps with confidence that spoke volumes about his personality. Vanessa got the sense that brick walls moved out of the way for this guy.

  He barely glanced at Vanessa as he saddled up to his much smaller manager. ‘This her?’

  ‘Yes. I was just finishing up --,’

  ‘
What did I tell you?’

  ‘Ahhhh…’

  Jackson shook his head, turning his attention for the first time on Vanessa. ‘Your qualifications? What are they?’

  ‘Oh. I’m a trained nurse with over four years of nannying experience. My last job was two years for a twelve-year-old boy until --,’

  ‘And you are aware of the hours?’ He cut her off, obviously not interested in her experience; or at least that’s how Vanessa interpreted the rudeness.

  ‘We didn’t get to that.’ Charles said.

  ‘I’m sure they’re fine --,’

  ‘It’s a full-time role. Every morning before school and every evening after until Anthony is asleep. All weekend, that means Saturday and Sunday and during school holidays. When he’s at school, that time is yours to do as you please.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ Vanessa assured, trying not to get worked up at how rude Jackson was being.

  ‘Good. You start tomorrow. Charles, fill her in on the details.’ And for Jackson, that was that. Without another word, or any indication that he cared a fig for Vanessa, he turned and headed inside the house; not even bothering to spare her a secondary glance.

  ‘Ah Mr The Last Call…’ Adrian suddenly cut in, not able to resist a chance to speak to the great MMA fighter. ‘I want to say that that fight last night. My god! I lost a lot of money on that one. A lot…serves me right for betting against you though doesn’t it? Oh, Adrian Callister.’ He held his hand out, smug smile peeling across his lips as he waited for Jackson to shake it.

  Jackson looked down at Adrian’s outstretched hand like one would look an insect that they’d just stepped on. No, worse than that. An insect that had the discourtesy of ruining the boots they had gotten in the way of; it wasn’t a very nice look at all. Leaving the hand unshaken, he sauntered into his house, closing the huge doors behind him.

  The meeting with her new employer had left a sour taste in Vanessa’s mouth, that couldn’t be denied. But still, she couldn’t help but savor the one bit of sweetness that was the look on Adrian’s face at the clear snub from Jackson ‘The Last Call’ McCall. In the weeks to come, when times were at their hardest, that look would keep her warm at night. And although she without a doubt did not like her new boss, she couldn’t help but appreciate him for that.

  CHAPTER THREE

  She’s Just Like Every Other Girl

  ‘Come on, come on! Move! Move your feet! My grandmother is eighty-three years old and needs an oxygen tank to breathe and even she could outdance you!’

  Jackson danced back and forth in the training ring, dripping in hard earned sweat. With his hands held up in front of his face in an act of self-defence and his feet gliding back and forth with perfect grace, he took in his trainer’s, Pete, insults like a car taking fuel.

  ‘Do you want me to go get her?!’ Pete screamed as Jackson worked through the steps with the precision of someone who had danced them a million times, which in all likelihood he had. ‘Cause I can. I can go down to the nursing home, drag her from her bed and get her to show you how it’s done! Is that what you want?!’

  Unable to control himself anymore, Jackson burst out laughing, tripping up on his feet and falling face first to the ground. ‘What the hell Pete?’ he managed between fits of laughter. ‘I’m trying to train here.’

  Unconcerned by his client’s sudden fall, Pete crossed his arms as he looked down at Jackson with disdain. ‘So you beat Quinton Monroe? Big whoop. A well-aimed ejaculate could knock that piece of pelican poo down. Your next fight won’t be so easy.’

  It had been a week since the big fight and true to form Jackson had gotten back into training the very next day. He would have that very night if his body had allowed it. That was the way that Jackson was, that was the way he had to be. As demonstrated by his fall just now, Jackson wasn’t the best. Even he could admit that. He wasn’t the fastest either, or the biggest hitter. What he was was the toughest. Just like his father had taught him, the grind was what separated the winners from the losers and Jackson knew how to grind. That was how he won…why he always won, no matter what.

  ‘Come on get up. What do they call you ‘The Last Call,’ for if you can’t even make it through training without folding like a deck of cards?’ Pete taunted as he watched Jackson slowly get to his feet, refusing to offer him any help.

  The nickname ‘The Last Call,’ was actually coined by Jackson’s ex-wife. When he was first starting out as a fighter, the bar scene was where the majority of bouts took place. Jackson, the grinder that he was, was notorious for getting into as many matches a night as he could physically take; often remaining in the ring until the last call for drinks was announced. And as such the nickname was born. Now it was usually associated with his ability to go for more rounds than any other fighter; but regardless of its real meaning it did manage to symbolize just how hard Jackson was to beat.

  ‘Seriously Pete, have you heard of the term sadism? I think you should look into it? You just might fit the bill.’ Jackson joked, on his feet now.

  ‘Believe me, I don’t get no pleasure in watching you humiliate --,’

  ‘Uptown girls! We’ve been living in an uptown world!’ The Billy Joel hit cut Pete off, erupting through the training ring like a tempest.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Pete swung his head around as if searching for the source of the sudden interruption.

  ‘Although I never had a backstreet guy!’ The tune continued, echoing across the room from the adjacent door, which currently sat open.

  ‘I don’t know but…one sec…’ Jackson said as he climbed from the ring, hustling from the room to the source of the noise.

  He knew where it was coming from. The training ring was set up in a makeshift gym that attached itself to the back of Jackson’s mansion. The adjoining room to the gym was a spare kitchen; one that was almost never used. He was pretty sure that this was no longer the case.

  And sure enough, as Jackson burst into the kitchen he was forced to pull up at the unexpected sight that greeted him. The kitchen itself was an absolute mess. The walls, doors and roof had been completely covered in a dark brown baking mixture; and if it weren’t for the fact that they were currently indoors Jackson would have sworn black and blue that a hurricane had swept through the tiny kitchen. But it wasn’t the mess that made him come to a stop. It was the cause of the mess. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in the same slop that caked the walls, was Vanessa; all singing and all dancing.

  When he had hired her he had been trying to make a point in front of Charles; that was that he was more interested in her resume than her looks. He really did have Anthony’s best interests at heart. As it was, he barely even glanced at her during their ‘interview.’ Now was the first time that he was truly seeing her and it was that sight, not the mess of the kitchen, which had forced him to pull up.

  Vanessa was, for all intents and purposes, breathtaking. Even with her hair pulled back into a make-shift bun, and a dirty apron wrapped around her waist, it was clear that she was a step above most. Jackson was pretty well trained at spotting a beauty, in any circumstance, and this was no different.

  Luckily, Vanessa was so wrapped up in the process of singing and cooking that she hadn’t noticed Jackson balking when he saw her. Instead a smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes and belted out the next verse to the song ‘I’m gonna try for an uptown guuuuurrrlll!’ She crooned, oblivious to how loud she was being.

  ‘What the hell is going on!?’ Jackson shouted over the music, managing to re-compose himself before Vanessa saw. It didn’t take long either. It’s not like he hadn’t seen a beautiful woman before.

  ‘Whaaa?!’ She yelled back, only now just noticing him.

  ‘Do you mind?!’ He shouted, indicating the speaker system that hung from the walls.

  ‘Oh!’ Vanessa reached for the control by the oven, pausing the song. ‘Was it too loud?’ She asked, cheeky smile still on her face.

  ‘What the hell d
o you think you’re doing?’ He asked, trying to indicate the hodgepodge that was both the mess and the racket at once.

  ‘Ah baking...Or at least trying to. We forgot to hold the bowl when we used the mixer and…well…’ she trailed off, indicating the mess she had made.

  ‘And the song? What the hell are you doing playing that?! You know I’m training right next door don’t you?’

  ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ She said, not seeming sorry at all. ‘I’ve always found the music makes cooking more fun. I thought it might have the same effect on your training?’

  Was she being particularly dense on purpose? Apparently not, Jackson thought to himself as he looked his new nanny up and down. Still smiling, still humming that annoying track as she scooped the baking mixture into a tray. He was pretty sure that she didn’t play the song as a means to help with his training. In fact he was almost certain that it was the exact opposite.