My Undead Heart

by Kacey Shea

  “Why are you trying to murder your phone, Kitten?”

  Jared’s voice scares the crap out of me and I almost drop my cell when I swing my chair around to meet his stare over the low wall of our shared office. His lips pull into a wicked smile as he waits for my reply.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I flip my phone over, screen down, and cross my arms over my chest.

  Jared only laughs. “Oh, Kitten, what did you do now?”

  “Nothing. Why do I have to do something? Why can’t it be him?”

  “Hey, I’m on your team. Of course it can be him, but I need deets. Let’s coffee?”

  “Now you’re talking. Yes!” I grab my wallet and jacket because as much as Jared drives me crazy with his shoddy advice, I need to unload on him. He’s my longest standing friend and he understands my crazy. He also understands why I am the way I am. I consider leaving my cell at my desk but grab it at the last minute.

  “The Bean or Xpresso’s?” he asks. They’re our two go-to spots.

  “Xpresso’s. I could use the walk.” I press the down button when we reach the elevator bank and tap my heel against the floor. Does this thing always take so long?

  “I’m sorry, where is my Mia and what did you do with her?” Jared’s wide eyes are framed by his raised brows.

  “What?” I demand, totally annoyed that he can tell there’s something wrong without asking.

  “Opting for additional exercise to get to coffee? Matt’s influence, I assume.”

  “You know what they say about people who assume,” I snap before the elevator opens and we step inside the car. It’s mostly empty. With my coat draped over one arm, I tuck my wallet under the other and hold my cell with a free hand. I glance at the screen. That damn text message still waits for my reply. Taunts my indecision.

  The elevator pauses to pick up a few more passengers and my gaze lifts from my phone to find none other than Matt Haywood’s damn gorgeous smile. Fuck me. Worried for a second that I muttered that aloud, I realize it must have been Jared’s voice giving voice to my inappropriate thoughts. My body zings with the X-rated memories of last night’s training session. It takes every bit of self-control to not react when Matt shuffles closer inside.

  “Hey, Mia, fancy meeting you here,” he says with that adorable lift of his lips.

  “Hey, yeah.” Those are the words that leave my mouth, making me sound every bit the fool I feel.

  He reaches forward just enough to brush his fingers along my hip and it’s all I can do to act unaffected when really I have a sudden need to ditch my coffee date for a quickie with my trainer. Matt’s eyes bounce between myself and Jared a few times and when I don’t say anything he reaches his hand out. “I’m Matt. We haven’t been formally introduced.”

  “Oh, I know who you are.” Jared meets Matt’s handshake, his smile growing wide until he glances at me. “I’m Jared, Mia’s best friend.”

  “For now,” I grumble.

  “Nice to meet you. Digging the new color, by the way,” Matt says in reference to Jared’s change of hair. What was once electric blue is now flamingo pink.

  “Oh yeah, Mia and I both like to change it up with the weather, but I’m awfully fond of her current red. What do you think, Matt?”

  “What does he think?” I say more to Jared than Matt. I can’t believe the nerve. He knows better than to meddle when it comes to my relationships, and yet here he is asking Matt’s opinion on my hair color.

  “Yeah, should she change it or keep it another round?” Jared’s being ridiculous, and even though I’m pissed, I am a little curious as to how Matt will answer. The elevator comes to a stop and we all take a step to shuffle out. I think maybe Matt won’t answer but he stops walking and moves to the side before we’re all out of the building.

  “Oh, I’m sure I’d love whatever Mia decides,” he says with a polite smile.

  I slip on my coat, surprisingly satisfied with Matt’s answer.

  “Safe.” Jared hides his response in a cough.

  “Pardon?” Matt cocks his head.

  “Nothing. Hey, Mia, I’ll meet you outside. I just remembered I need to return Logan’s call. Give me a few minutes? Nice seeing you again, Matt.” He’s already halfway across the foyer and doesn’t even wait for my agreement.

  “So, I’m guessing you got my texts?” Matt shoves his hands into his back pockets, calling out the elephant in the room. I have to admire that about him, but then that only irritates me further. Why is this man so perfect?

  “Oh, yeah. I was going to answer but then Jared asked me to break for coffee.”

  “Cool.” He nods.

  “Yeah.”

  His laughter comes easy. “So, are you free Saturday?”

  “Um, yeah, I think so.” I bite the corner of my lip and glance outside the big glass walls to make sure Jared’s still out there. Traitor. Leaving me to fend for myself when I’m obviously out of my element.

  Matt’s laughter dies and his gaze is sincere as he reaches out to place his fingertips at my hips. “Mia, if you don’t want to hang out, just say the word.” There’s hurt in his tone and I hate that I’ve put that there.

  “No! It’s not that. My cousin wasn’t sure if she was gonna come up for the weekend,” I lie. My closest cousin is married with three children and still lives in Clear Lake. She hasn’t come for a visit since I graduated Loyola and that was over a decade ago. I don’t know why I made up a bogus excuse, but it only makes me feel worse.

  “Oh.” His face floods with a relaxed smile. “Sure, just let me know. I’m game for whatever. But we’re still on for training tonight?”

  “Yep. I’ll be there.”

  “Well, I better . . .” He points over his shoulder at the exit.

  “Yeah, me, too.” I nod and we both make our way outside, parting as he heads down one side of the street and I turn toward Jared.

  “Bye, Matt.” I wave.

  “Later, Mia.” His lips tug with more than just a smile. They tug at my heart, and for the second time today I panic that I’m in over my head with this man. Feelings weren’t part of the deal.

  “Oh, my God. What was all that about?” Jared pockets his phone and wraps his arm around my waist.

  “What?” I am not entirely ready to divulge my worries to the steady stream of business professionals walking alongside us down Michigan Avenue.

  “The I’d-like-to-fuck-you in the elevator but I’m-not-sure-if-you’ll-bite-my-head-off and not in a good way vibe?”

  “You got all of that from a trip down ten floors?”

  “What are you doing with that boy? He’s obviously into you for more than your good looks.” Jared holds open the door to our favorite coffee joint and we crowd into the long line. It’ll move fast though, and we’ll be back on our way to the office, delicious coffee in hand, before Stanton even notices we took a break.

  “Shit, you got that too? We’ve been having fun. Lots of fun.”

  “Fun equals sex, right? I’d be certain with anyone else, but this is you we’re talking about.”

  “Thanks.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, so I need to know what to do about it. Help me, Jared.”

  “I don’t know, Kitten. What do you want?”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know. We both know a relationship between me and Matt would never last.”

  “How exactly do we know this?”

  “Come on, really?”

  “You haven’t tried to make it work. Not since college and you-know-who.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m not cut out for anything more than fun.”

  “If you say so, sure. There’s nothing wrong with that. Why can’t you keep things casual? If the sex is good, I don’t know why you wouldn’t. I mean, I don’t personally understand why he’s attracted to your pussy or your stunning personality, but it was bound to happen sometime.”

  “What can I get you today?” The barista smiles as though Jared didn’t just reference his distaste for my pussy. It�
��s enough to pull a smile from my lips. We place our orders and wait off to the side while they whip up their magic. I try to take it all in: Jared’s advice—if you can even call it that, and my growing affection for Matt.

  I’m still unsure of my next move but I am having fun with Matt, both in and out of the bedroom. Maybe I should finish the bet and see where it leads. I’ll probably be as tired of him as he is of me by then and we can both part ways. I should finish his website soon, though. Because this thing between us has an expiration date and I will fulfill my end of the deal before it does.

  “Can I just say one more thing?” Jared asks right before our names are called. We gather our drinks and start our trek back to the office.

  “Sure. What other parting advice do you have for me, sensei?”

  “I’d like to point out that I was right.” He winks, his smug smile growing wide. “I predicted less than three weeks ’til you rode the Matt-a-nator, and damn, girl, have you ever!”

  “You’re the worst best friend ever,” I mutter, which only makes him laugh.

  “Don’t be salty, Mia. I’d buy more than the day pass to that ride, too.”

  I shake my head and swallow another gulp of coffee. “Oh, God!”

  “Tell me, does he offer a frequent visitor incentive program? Extra perks and bonuses?”

  “If he did, I’d have already filled my punch card.” I roll my eyes and Jared nudges my arm.

  “Atta girl. Enjoy this, Mia. You deserve to be happy.”

  Does Matt make me happy?

  That’s the question I try not ponder for the rest of my workday.

  The rest of this week flies by. I don’t run into Mia at her office again, but I look for her each time I enter or exit the building. She shows for her session on Thursday, but from the minute she steps inside my gym she’s all business. I don’t recommend another kissing game even though I’m positive we’d both enjoy it. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression—that I’m only in this for sex. As amazing as that is, when it comes to Mia I find myself quickly wanting more.

  She texts me on Friday morning that she’s free this weekend if I still want to get together. Her cousin’s visit gets nixed, so we make plans to meet for lunch on Saturday after I’m done at South Side. I don’t ask if she’s including it as one of our “dates,” because frankly, I’m hoping she’ll lose count. Ridiculous, I know. In the meantime, I’m out to prove we’re good together. Oh, and keep my gym open and running.

  Saturday brings two kickboxing classes, and after that, training for a solid three hours with my advanced fighters. Xavier is once again absent without notice and that automatically pisses me off. I sincerely hope everything is okay with his mom. He’s already missed two practices this week, but at least with those he called. He’s been picking up extra shifts at work to help cover those his mom’s been too sick for. Really, I have no room to complain, but while I sympathize, it doesn’t bode well for his upcoming match. He can’t keep missing training and expect a win. I know he has immediate needs, but he also must shine in front of the UFC sponsors. For the first time since I signed on to this event, I’m doubtful he can deliver.

  I wave a good-bye as the last of my guys leave the gym. The few who had the slowest sprints get stuck wiping down the mats post practice. There are only a few minutes before I need to leave to meet Mia for lunch before my shift at Zig’s. This time she picked the restaurant along with a promise to school me on comic trivia afterward at her favorite store. I’ll get my ass handed to me there, and I’m more excited for that than I should be.

  I don’t know what exactly it is about her, other than she’s unlike every other woman I’ve ever met and I find her extremely sexy. She’s too good for me in so many ways—intelligence, job security, hell, even looks, but it doesn’t keep me from holding out hope. Maybe she doesn’t want to label what we’re doing together, and that’s cool. For now.

  Our arrangement has an expiration date, but I already know I want more. More time. More laughs. More conversation. Yes, more sex, too. Doesn’t matter what I want though, if she doesn’t return the feeling, and I know better than to push. Being a fighter, I’m trained to be patient. One strike too soon and your opponent learns all your moves, sees you coming. You have to do the dance, take a few hits. And once you’ve worn them down . . . Strike.

  Leaving the door to my office open, I step inside and take a seat at the desk. There’s a stack of mail I’ve been avoiding, mostly marked with a familiar late notice stamp. I’ve been in total denial, but it’s time to face the damage and make a new game plan. The cash from the painting job is almost gone, and even though I haven’t had to lay off any staff, another month like this and I will. Damn it!

  There are only two weeks until the big fight night, and I need that payout to come through—along with a contract or two for my guys. I want everyone who walks in that venue wearing a South Side gym shirt to be regarded with a higher level of respect, but that’s only gonna happen if we’re prepared. I’m still pissed as hell that Xavier didn’t show today. I’m going to have to call Kyle soon. It’s not fair to him or his fans to bring someone unprepared to a match-up. Disappointing. Xavier would have won, too; caught the eye of the right people. But that’s my streak of luck as of late. One step behind. Every damn time.

  Settling back into the office chair, I pick up the stack of letters and sift through them. Electric, city, gas. I already know what they contain, and next month they’ll be shut off. I’ve got to make some more cash. My check from Zig’s comes this week, thank God. Or maybe Uncle Jimmy has another painting gig I can get in on. But the thought of keeping up this pace another month has my gut sinking with dread. Will I ever pull ahead or am I just another rat in this wheel of continuous catch up?

  The envelope from the management company of my apartment complex catches my attention and I pull it from the stack. Marked important, I have to wonder what else the universe wants to test me with. As I unfold the paper I steel myself for the worst.

  Dear Mr. Haywood,

  We are excited to announce the Offering Plan for the conversion of South Gentry Apartments to condominium ownership has been approved for filing. With this change from R&R Investments management, we are able to present you with the opportunity to purchase your property at an exclusive discount available only to current tenants.

  My building’s going condo. “Fuck!” I shout even though no one hears. Skimming the rest of the letter, two things are clear. There’s no way I can afford to buy the tinder box I’ve been renting for the last year, and even though I’ll officially be homeless, I’ve just been given an out on my lease. I can vacate at any time and request a refund of my deposit. I’m two grand richer this month.

  Now, if that’s not a glass half full, I don’t know what is.

  “Coach.” The voice at the doorway lifts my gaze from the letter.

  “Xavier. Nice of you to show up today, but you’re a few hours late. Practice was at nine.”

  “Yeah, about that. I’m sorry.” His jaw locks and he studies the concrete floor.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I snap because I’m just not in the mood. His stiff shoulders and non-existent eye contact only grind on my already shattered nerves.

  “Can I talk to you?” he mumbles to the ground.

  “Sure, but make it quick because I have someplace to be at one. I hope you have good news for me.” That catches his attention and for the first time since he arrived his gaze lifts to meet mine.

  His frown is full of worry, and I’m already disappointed before the next words leave his mouth. “I’m sorry, Coach.”

  I shake my head, not in the mood for excuses. “Don’t be sorry. Show up.”

  “I won’t be. Not anymore. You’ve done so much for me and I don’t take a single thing for granted, it’s just that I can’t do this anymore. I came to say good-bye.”

  It takes me a moment to process his words. “You’re serious?”

  Xavier’s gaze drops again and so doe
s my heart, along with all my hopes for this gym—for showing everyone I’m not the fuckup they once thought. For this kid and the opportunities a career in the UFC would afford him.

  “What the hell are you thinking?” My anger flares along with the disappointment. What a fucking waste. A waste of talent. A waste of time. A waste of hope. I stand and walk around my desk so we’re face to face and he can’t hide behind some lame excuse.

  He lifts his head and shakes his head. “Look. I’m trying to do the right thing. I could’ve left you hanging, but I’m not a coward. I can’t fight anymore. Ain’t no one gonna lose sleep over that but me.”

  “Bullshit, Xavier. That’s fucking bullshit. You think coming here to bail in person makes you a man?” I shove my finger into his chest but that only causes his gaze to harden.

  A scoff leaves his lips and he shakes his head. “It’s not your problem.”

  Oh, but it is. Unfair as it is, my dreams of making this gym what I want it to be, what it has the potential to be, all ride on the shoulders of this kid. Of me being able to produce a fierce fighter. One who can soar to the top better than I ever could.

  “Give me a good reason. You owe me that. A fucking explanation why I wasted hundreds of hours training some nobody from the ghetto. Huh?” I’m poking because he’s void of his usual fire and drive. I want to know what has this fighter acting like the quitter I know he’s not.

  “Sorry, Coach.” He shakes his head as if that’s enough. He won’t even meet my eyes.

  “That’s really all you’re gonna give me, huh? God damn it!” I resist the urge to take a fist to the wall behind him and smash the framed photo that only further mocks my failures. It’s one that captures the weigh-ins for my very first UFC fight. Xavier won’t meet my gaze, even as I get in his face. This isn’t the same hungry kid who walked into my gym not even a year ago. The one willing to do whatever it took, whatever I said, because that’s how bad he wanted to train. That kid wouldn’t have quit. Nothing could keep him from his dreams. “What changed, Xavier? This have something to do with your mom?”