“I don’t think he was kidding about what he said, though.”
Bax shook his head. “Nah, he wasn’t. He doesn’t pull punches, and he doesn’t sugarcoat shit. Plus, he kind of does have reason to be a little salty toward you.” He eyed me warily as we turned a corner. “Considering how you guys showed up and all.”
“What? Our little plan to horn in on the action you boys have going on up here?”
Bax laughed. “Yeah, that. Plus the way you tried to poach Kitty out from underneath us at our own bar. Ballsy move, dude.”
I shrugged, swaying a little and bouncing off a wall. “Hey, I make no apologies, man. It’s a free market economy.”
“But we’re your cousins, Roman. We’re family—and none of us even knew we had family till you guys showed up. I can understand opening a bar because you see opportunity, but opening a bar in direct competition to your own family, with the stated intent of stealing our business? That’s kind of shitty.”
“Family, sure. But we’re strangers. We don’t know shit about each other.” I followed Bax around another corner, and then waited while he dug keys out of a pocket and unlocked a door; we entered into an office space, and through an open door I could see the darkened silhouettes of exercise equipment and a boxing ring.
“So, shitty, sure,” I said. “But not that shitty. It’s just business.”
“Yeah, we may be strangers, but you guys show up here, rock our world and flip our understanding of our own family on its head, and then don’t make any effort to get to know us.” He flipped on a light, sank into a well-used leather desk chair at a battered desk, pulled open a drawer and withdrew a bottle of Blanton’s, as well as two rocks glasses that clearly came from his family bar. “And…when you do finally show up again, you’re drunk and spoiling for a fight. That’s just shitty behavior all around no matter which way you slice it, my friend.”
The office was small and smelled of sweaty equipment. It was lit by flickering fluorescent tubes hanging from the ceiling, and had posters on the wall outlining powerlifting guidelines and standards, as well as more than a few Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition centerfolds, heavy metal concert posters, and lots of framed photos of famous boxers and MMA fighters. The centerpiece was a black-and-white photo of Bax himself, covered in sweat, one eye swollen and bleeding, lips cut to shreds, cheek gashed, fists wrapped in reddened tape that had once been white; he was standing over a fallen opponent, arms outspread, victorious, having just taken the winning shot. I eyed Bax with renewed respect, seeing that photo. There was a couch directly under that photo; an ancient, deep leather sofa, and I sank into it with a sigh, accepting the full glass of whiskey he handed me.
“Shitty is shitty, man, and family is family, even if we don’t know each other all that well—yet.” He poured a generous glass for himself, and lifted his in a toast. “Keyword being yet.”
I toasted, drank, and eyed him. “Why are you being nice?” I drank again.
He kicked his feet up on the desk. “I’m being nice because I’m a decent guy. And because I think you are too…or you could be. You just don’t know how to be a good dude. You’ve never tried, and no one’s ever tried to make you. Besides, I feel like you and I are… I don’t know…kindred spirits or some shit.”
I laughed. “Now there’s something no one’s ever accused me of before.”
“I mean, anyone who can take down a fifth of Maker’s and keep going is all right in my book.”
I toasted him again. “Here’s to fifths of whiskey and a hell of a headache in the morning.”
We chatted about drinking escapades for a while, downing finger after finger of Blanton’s until I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get up from this couch. Eventually, Bax took his feet off the desk and leaned toward me.
“Gotta level with you, man—my brother was right about Kitty.” He held up a hand to forestall my outburst. “Not about you—that’s just his way of expressing himself. He’ll come around, as long as you put some effort into being cool. But Kitty? Man, she’s one of a kind. Don’t fuck with her. And I mean that in the sense of don’t mess with her head. She’s a sweet girl, and one of the truly good people I’ve ever met that I’m not related to by blood or the bond of significant other-hood that is essentially akin to marriage. And she sure as hell deserves someone that’s not…shitty to everyone around him.”
I drained my glass of whiskey and set it aside—the room was swimming. “She’s got me fucked up, man.” I eyed him—or where I thought he was, at least, since there were three of him. “It started out like Bast was saying—something quick to kill the night with. But she’s different, and I knew that right off the bat—but that was part of the fun, you know? A challenge. And also just…different. She’s a different kind of beautiful. She’s sweet, but she’s got attitude, man. Serious spunk and personality in that fine little package.”
Bax nodded. “She’s got layers. When Bast first hired her, I thought she was honestly…a little plain, and kind of boring. Too nice, too sweet, not enough fire. And my brothers and I? I gotta be honest, when push comes to shove, we’re more like you and your brothers than we are different, so a nice, sweet, innocent girl like Kitty? I didn’t figure she’d last a week, you know?” He laughed. “She’s got fire, all right. And the more time I spent working around her, the more I realized she’s not plain, not by a long shot. She’s seriously beautiful, in a bone-deep sort of way. She doesn’t need to accent it or play it up, and she doesn’t try—especially not at work. She does that on purpose, I think, so customers just see as her as part of the scenery at the bar. She doesn’t want to call attention to herself.”
I eyed him with amusement. “Pretty detailed observations for a guy shacked up with another woman.”
He laughed. “This is all stuff I’ve talked to Eva about, dude. She’s not jealous. Eva knows I’m gone for her, and that I’d sooner cut off my own balls than ever betray her, or what we have together.” He said this casually, without drama, and it kind of stunned me.
“Really? Your girl is that amazing?”
Bax laughed all the harder. “Bro, you have no fucking clue. You’ll understand when you meet her.”
I nodded. “I saw her when we all first met, although I can’t say we really met. She’s fine as fuck, man.” I wiped my face with my hand. “But then, all of you bastards have managed to score the finest women I’ve ever seen. It’s ridiculous.”
Bax cackled. “We really did.”
“I mean, your youngest brother, what’s his name—Xander?”
“Xavier,” Bax corrected.
“Right, Xavier. Dude, the kid landed one of the hottest women on the planet!”
“Right? Shocked us all to hell. Like, oh by the way, I’m dating Harlow Grace. No big deal.” He laughed so hard I thought he’d have a coronary. “Kicker of it is, when he first started hanging out with her, he had no idea who she was. He didn’t find out until things were already hot and heavy between them.”
I stared at him from the couch. “How did he not know? She’s literally famous in, like, the ass-end of nowhere.”
Bax just waved a hand. “Eh, that’s Xavier. You met him, you mocked him—he’s different. Smartest human being I’ve ever known and ever will know, but socially…not the most adept. He doesn’t need to be, though. That’s not his thing. He’s on his way to being the next…shit, I don’t know—Einstein? Musk? I don’t know.”
“I didn’t know that about him when I first met him,” I protested.
“True, but even not knowing what makes him different doesn’t mean it’s okay to mock him. Doesn’t excuse it.”
I sighed. “Fine, whatever. I’m sorry.”
Bax quirked an eyebrow. “See? An hour with me and you’re already improving.”
“Whatever, dickbag.”
He just laughed, but quickly became serious. “What’s your deal with Kitty?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. I can’t stop thinking about her.” I hesitated, wondering how mu
ch to say to a relative stranger, even if the stranger was a relative. “I…I went over to her place. We spent some time together. An impromptu date, you could say. And…things happened. Didn’t bang, but she…well, it’s obvious she feels something for me on some level, but it’s also clear she just…she doesn’t like me.”
“And that chaps your ass, does it?”
“I’ve never given a shit about whether anyone likes me. As long as I’ve got Rem and Ram, and I can hook up with honeys whenever I want, I’m good. But Kitty made it painfully clear I’m not cutting it…I don’t know.” I groaned, laying my head against the back of the couch. “She let me touch her—let things go pretty damn far pretty damn fast, and then she freaks out and tells me I’m a conceited pig.”
“Ouch.”
“Right? I mean, normally name calling just rolls off my back, but for some reason, I can’t let go of that one.” I sighed. “But then, I did name our bar after her.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what?”
I peered at him through one cracked open eyelid. “Yep. Badd Kitty. Got the neon sign up already. Rem and Ram are gonna give me hell for it since I didn’t tell them I was doing it, but shit, it’s good name, right? Buuuuut, Kitty didn’t appreciate the gesture, you might say.”
“I wouldn’t guess so,” Bax said, laughing in disbelief. “That’s ballsy as fuck, man.”
“She was pissed.” I laughed, chuckling and groaning at the same time. “And dude, she is soooo hot when she’s mad.”
“Wow. Okay. So, that was kind of dumb, if you were trying to get her to like you.”
“I wasn’t, though!” I protested. “I just wanted to bang her! I don’t even know when that changed, either.” I laughed at myself. “Shit. I’m just now realizing that things did change the second I laid eyes on her. And let me tell you, that’s never happened to me before.”
Bax snorted, swiveling his desk chair around, opening a mini fridge and withdrawing a bottle of water, which he tossed to me. I caught it—with my forehead, and fell over laughing.
“Dude, you’re so wasted,” Bax said, cackling.
“No kidding. I’m trashed, man.” I cracked the bottle open and drained half of it. “Seriously, when did I stop just wanting to just bang her?”
“What is it you want now?”
I groaned, taking another long drink of ice-cold water, which was exactly what I needed right then. “I don’t even know, to be honest.”
“Bullshit.” Bax tossed me another bottle of water. “Drink up, bro.”
“Thanks. What are you calling bullshit on?”
“You, pretending you don’t know what you want with Kitty.”
“I don’t know.” I eyed him as I slugged back more water. “And aren’t you, like, supposed to be telling me to stay away from her and shit?”
“I’m not her brother, and really, I’m not even her boss. We’re friends and coworkers. I mean, the eight of us co-own the bar together, but technically, Bast is the general manager and the big boss. He’s been running that place since he was a teenager. He makes it look easy.”
I laughed. “Dude, it’s so not easy. I thought it’d be easy, and I’m finding out how naive I was to think that.”
Bax cackled so hard he almost fell backward out of his chair. “You three knuckleheads really thought you could just waltz up here and open a bar? Do you even have any experience?”
“No, we don’t have any experience. Not beyond drinking in bars, at least. And yeah, we did kind of think it wouldn’t be that hard.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
“Well, we have the place fixed up, but it turns out that was the easy part. Actually turning it into an operating bar is…proving a little trickier than expected.”
“I really, really wish I was in a position to say I told you so, but I’m not, so instead I’ll just say it serves you right.”
I finished the second bottle of water and stretched out on the couch. “What did you mean about calling bullshit on me regarding what I want from Kitty?”
Bax bobbled his head side to side. “Well, just that guys like us, we always know what we want. Sometimes, though, we get pretty good at pretending we don’t, because we don’t always like what the thing we actually want says about us.”
I raised my head off the couch and peered at him. “Huh? The fuck’s that mean?”
“Eva and me—the whole thing just started out as…a really intense attraction. She was this new type of chick I knew nothing about, you know? Like, super classy—East Coast old money kind of classy, as in her family is basically the American version of aristocracy. Smart. Talented. Essentially good.” He gestured at the photograph of himself hanging above me. “That? That’s me. I mean, obviously it’s me, but that photo represents who I was—who I thought I was and all I thought I could be. And Eva—she…she was this pure, shining angel, you know? Like, how the fuck could I deserve her? I couldn’t. I didn’t. So I tried to convince myself that I didn’t want her, not in the way I knew deep down that I really did want her.”
I slow clapped. “Cool story, bro.”
“Don’t be a dick,” Bax snapped. “You’re only acting that way because my story resonates with you, and if you’re as much like me as I think you are, nothing pisses you off faster than realizing you have to open your eyes to your own essential faults, admit your own deep down desires and needs, and understand that you may just have to work at improving as a human in order to get anywhere past where you are.”
“All right, Confucius. Whatever you say.” I threw my arm over my head.
Damn the man—he was speaking my language, and speaking truths I didn’t want to hear. It was hard enough to process when I was as wasted as I was, but it was worse knowing that I’d remember every word of this in the morning.
I was silent for a while as I tried to come up with a wittier, more burning comeback to Bax, something to shut him down. Instead, all that percolated in my whiskey-soaked brain were questions.
“Is it worth it?” I asked.
“Is what worth what?”
“The pain in the ass I’m assuming it is to become a better human, or whatever pussy-ass phrasing was you used. Is it worth it? Because that seems like a lot of work just for a chick.”
He sighed. “Yeah, it is. But it’s not just for the chick, Roman. It’s not even really about the woman.” He paused. “Okay, well, that’s not exactly the truth. Yes, it is about her, and yes, the right girl is worth it. But it’s more about that it’s her. She’s not just some chick, but she’s the chick. But if you want the real nitty-gritty Confucius truth, it’s that I needed to know I really deserved Eva. I needed to know I was worth it.
“Evolving as a person is hard. It means facing some shit that may not be pretty, but when you can look back after a few years and go, dude, look at all the bullshit I’ve overcome to get to where I am.” He gestured with two long, burly arms at the office and the gym beyond it. “I own this. Flat out, free and clear, no debts—I own this place. Everything that comes in is pure profit, money in the bank. I have the love of an amazing woman, a huge family that has my back, a business that I love, which makes coming in to work every day not work, but something I enjoy and look forward to. It’s meaningful. I get to hang out with my brothers and my sisters-in-law at a cool-ass bar, slinging drinks and watching people have fun. Just a few short years ago, all I had was a football career that would have seen me wealthy but lonely, an empty apartment in Calgary, a line of women who didn’t give a shit about me beyond the size of my cock and the numbers in my bank account, and brothers I hadn’t seen in months.
“It took work and facing some shitty truths to get to where I am, but it’s absolutely been fucking worth it. And, I gotta say, Eva was a big part of me getting to this point.”
I stared at him. “Must be nice.”
He nodded unapologetically. “It sure is.”
“Is this the part where you sell me a self-help course?”
He snorted.
“No. This is the part where I tell you to pass the fuck out. I’ll lock the door on my way out. There’s water in the fridge behind my desk, a bathroom just outside to the left, and a trashcan under my desk if you need to hurl.”
“Takes more than this to make me hurl.”
“Just saying.”
I eyed him as he stood up. “You’re all right, Bax.”
He grinned at me, a lopsided smirk. “Don’t get mushy on me now, Roman.”
“Shut the fuck up and leave me alone, you big ugly piece of shit.”
He flipped off the lights. “That’s more like it.” He paused halfway outside. “Feel free to hit the weights when you get up.”
“Thanks.”
He was still hesitating. “If I give you one more piece of unsolicited advice, will you remember it in the morning?”
I laughed. “I don’t black out. I once drank two full fifths of Jack by myself and remembered every last god awful, embarrassing detail of the night.”
“Impressive.” He fiddled with the doorknob. “Try being honest with yourself, Roman. If you’re honest with yourself about what you really want out of life, and with Kitty, you’ll find it easier to be honest with her. And a woman like Kitty—I promise you there’s very little she values more than honesty.”
I groaned a laugh. “Duly noted. Now, if you don’t mind, you’ve thrown way too much heavy shit on me for one night.”
“Better than getting your ass kicked by your cousins in a bar fight, though, right?”
I raspberried him. “I’ll still kick your ass, pussy boy.”
“Okay, dude, whatever you say,” he scoffed. “I’m an undefeated bare-knuckle boxing champion, my friend. So if you ever want to strap on some pads and go a few rounds, let me know.”
“Undefeated?”
“Believe it, son.”
I shot him the finger. “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
He slapped the doorframe with a big paw, closed the door, locked it from the outside with his key, and ambled away, whistling. He seemed every bit as sober as when we’d first arrived, but I know we’d drunk at least a quarter of that bottle. He should be feeling something. The bastard could drink, I’ll give him that.
Badd Kitty Page 11
