by Lane Hart
"Hey, Jude," I say when I open the door.
He winces before looking up and down the hallway. "Thank goodness no one heard you," he says on an exhale. "Appropriate greetings for me are ‘Hi, Jude’ or ‘What do you want, Asshole’ but never ‘Hey, Jude.'"
"Why?" I ask. "The Beatles?"
"Yeah. You have no idea how many goddamn times I've heard that shit."
"Got it. So, what's up, Jude?" I ask him with a smile.
"Much better. And I've got your shit," he says, holding out my flip flops and towel.
"Thanks," I say, taking them while struggling to keep my towel secured around my nakedness.
"Nice outfit but they may not let you in to eat wearing just that," he says.
"To eat?" I ask.
"Yeah, we're gonna grab dinner at Hard Rock before the fights. You're still going, right?"
I glance next door to his brother's room, certain he'll be there. I need to suck it up and pretend like nothing happened so that we can try and get things back to normal.
"What happened with him?" Jude asks, instantly killing that hope.
"Doesn't matter."
"How's your back?"
"It's okay, not hurting nearly as much."
"Well, hurry up and get dressed. We've got a seven o'clock reservation, and I'm starving."
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your panties on." I smile.
"Speaking of panties," he says, tilting his head to the side and checking out the bottom of my towel. "I'd take a guess and say you're not wearing any, are you?" he asks with a wide grin. Of course, Jax's door opens at that moment, probably because he'd been eavesdropping through the thin walls.
"Ugh," I groan before shutting my door on them both.
"What'd you do to her?" I hear Jude ask his brother.
"Nothing. Mind your own goddamn business," is Jax's harsh reply.
I quickly blow dry my still damp hair before pulling it up into a high ponytail. I decide to slip on a short, casual navy blue sleeveless dress with a brown leather belt and matching wedges. After I brush my teeth, put on a little mascara, eyeshadow, and lipstick I'm ready to go. I grab my purse and open my room door to find all three Malones standing around waiting patiently for me.
Where the heck is their mother? Even though I've been tempted, I'm scared to ask in case something horrible happened to her, like she passed away. I don't want to be the one dredging up a tragic history. Martin Malone is a pretty upbeat guy, although there does seem to be a sadness about him, noticeable by his frown lines.
Tonight their dad is dressed like Jude in a plain green tee and khaki shorts. And even though Jax is outfitted just as casually, he somehow wears his relaxed fit jeans and snug navy blue shirt like they're worth a million bucks. How cute, the two of us match all the way down to our toes. He's even got on a brown leather belt low on his hips and dark brown Sketchers on his feet. When I finally work my way up to his face, of course, he's smirking down at me with his cell phone in his hand.
"Oh look how sweet, the Bobbsey Twins coordinated," Jude says before he and his dad start laughing at us.
"I can go change," I say, turning back to my room, but Jude grabs my arm and tugs me along toward the elevator.
"You're not changing. I'm starving," he says while we wait for the elevator.
When it finally comes we all file on. For whatever reason, I can sense that Jax is the big warm body standing behind me in the corner. When I feel a breeze like my skirt is being lifted, I certainly hope it's him and not his dad. Jude's completely innocent since he's standing next to me.
"Why are you sneaking a peek under my skirt?" I snap, pressing my skirt down as I spin around to face him.
"Oh please." Jax huffs and buries his hands in his front pockets to appear innocent. "I was looking at your stings."
"You could've just asked."
While I'm fussing at Jax, a group of people crowds into the confined space with us. I'm nudged forward so that I'm now chest to chest with Jax. I expect him to smirk or make a comment about me trying to touch him, but he doesn't. Instead, he presses his back against the wall and lifts his face to the ceiling, sucking in deep, open-mouth breaths.
Of course! The man's claustrophobic. All the other times we've been on the elevator together it was just us or one or two people, never crowded like tonight. It probably doesn't help that it's hot as Hades with an exorbitant amount of strong perfumes, colognes and hairspray clogging up the air. We only have a few more floors to go, but it seems like it's taking forever, stopping on each and every one.
"My older brother, you met him yesterday, Logan? He's terrified of cats," I tell Jax softly to distract him. "Even kittens."
He looks down at me with a tightly clenched jaw and a raised eyebrow, silently asking me to keep going.
"When I was ten or eleven I found these three really cute little black and white kittens out near the dumpster behind our church. They couldn't have been more than a few weeks old, so tiny and meowing like crazy with no mama cat around. Of course I wanted to keep them but noooo. I remember when I picked one up and ran over to show my parents Logan screamed like a little girl in front of everyone. The whole congregation was still standing around the parking lot gossiping after the service, so they heard him screeching before he ran back inside. He was sixteen or seventeen at the time."
The last sentence makes the corner of Jax's lips raise, coming close to an actual grin.
"So you didn't get to keep any of them?" he asks, as the elevator jerks like we're moving again.
I shake my head. "Nope. Logan waited at the church while we took them to a vet's house. Afterward, I remember telling my parents I wanted to be a vet and rescue animals when I grow up so I could actually keep all the kittens and puppies. They told me I was too smart and pretty for such a disgusting job, and that my choices in life were marrying a wealthy man or going to law school."
"So you didn't want to go to law school?" he asks with a scrunched forehead.
"No, but I was still single when I finished my undergrad degree in just three years."
"What'd you major in?" Jax asks as I hear everyone filing out of the elevator on the first floor.
"Biology" I laugh. No one ever asks me that, it's just a given that I was probably Pre-Law with some major like Political Science. "Even though I had a 4.0 GPA, with that major I probably just barely squeaked through admissions at Georgetown because I was a legacy."
"Why didn't you just go to veterinary school?" he asks. We both inhale deep cleansing breaths when we make it into the open floor of the high-ceilinged lobby, escaping the cluster of people.
"Because my parents wouldn't pay for it and I didn't have any money," I say with a shrug when we catch up to his dad and Jude.
"I'd pay your tuition," he says.
Wait, what does he mean by that?
"Pay what tuition?" Jude asks when we approach.
"For veterinary school."
"Huh?" Jude asks, echoing my thoughts again. I look back over my shoulder at Jax in confusion.
"You know I have more money than sense," Jax says.
His dad mutters a "Got that right."
At the same time, Jax asks, "What does it cost, a few hundred thousand?"
"Don't be silly, Jax. I'm not going back to school, and even if I were, I definitely wouldn't go back on your dime for a few hundred thousand."
He clearly must be joking because otherwise...it's too preposterous to wrap my head around.
"Now that we've cleared that up, can we please go eat?" Jude whines.
"Lead the way," I say with a sweep of my hand since no one's moving and things are uncomfortable after Jax's extremely unexpected but generous offer.
"Thank fuck," Jude says as he takes off ahead of us, continuing to grumble about delays. "Everyone's taking their sweet ass time."
"Scared of spiders," Jax says to me, nodding toward his sibling's back. He says the last word louder than the rest.
"Ah! What the fuck?" Jude screams after
he does a little hop that brings his knees up to his chest. "Where's a spider? Is it a big one?"
"You stepped on it. I'm pretty sure it's dead," Jax teases Jude, which causes him to have a full body shiver.
"So what are you afraid of?" Jax asks me while we walk toward the Hard Rock Cafe.
"Failure," I admit, since he'd been honest with me. “And snakes."
"Huh, really?" Jax asks, scratching the side of his head like I've noticed he does whenever he's thinking. Bending down next to my ear, he whispers so only I can hear him, "I don't remember seeing you flinch earlier today. You wrangled that python in my pants like a pro."
An embarrassed laugh escapes me at the same time cold chills race down both arms from feeling his warm breath against my ear.
"Guess yours is the exception," I respond, unable to help my smile.
...
Dinner is uneventful and mostly quiet as the men shovel food in their mouths the entire time. I'm talking appetizers, salads, entrees, and my favorite, dessert. After Jax, Mr. Money Bags insisted on paying the check we went over to get our seats at the Xanadu Theater.
I end up sitting between Jax and Jude, with their dad on the other side of Jude, in the front freaking row! We can almost reach out and touch the huge metal octagon.
"How'd you guys manage to get such great seats on short notice?" I ask. "And how much do I owe you for my ticket?"
"Nothing, they were free," Jude says.
"Free? You mean you got four front row tickets for free?"
"Yeah, princess, you didn't know? You're with MMA royalty," Jax chuckles.
"Ha! That's hilarious." I can't help my giggle. I may be a little looser than normal after the two girly drinks I had at dinner.
"Seriously, Jax was named the first ever IFC King of the Cage. He has more wins, more knockouts, and fewer losses than any other fighter in the entire worldwide league," Jude brags proudly on his older brother. "Actually, he has no losses."
Wow, that's...impressive.
"They probably stripped that shit from me, too, because of that fucking slut. I'm gonna have to fight to earn my championship title back," Jax tells us.
"That's BS," I reply. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"
"The IFC cares more about the sponsors’ opinions than the truth since they don't want to lose a penny."
The lights dim and loud music comes pouring over the speakers, Ludacris's "Move Bitch." The crowd starts clapping and cheering so I do the same, even though I don't see anyone or anything happening.
"What's going on?" I ask the guys.
"The first fighter just came out and is getting cleared by the ref to enter the cage," Jude explains, nodding to a curtained area. "This song is what he picked for his intro, you know, to get hyped up."
"Oh," I say, then after thinking it over, ask, "What songs do you guys use?"
"Sick Puppies' ‘You’re Going Down’ is Jax's, and mine's Macklemore's ‘Can't Hold Us.'"
"Nice," I tell Jude. Familiar with both songs, I can see how they fit each man's personality.
Finally, I spot the mostly naked little guy when he climbs up the steps and steps into the cage. Tight, black spandex shorts, small red gloves, and a red mouthpiece is all he's wearing. A rock song comes on and then the second fighter goes through the same procedure.
Once both are in the cage, the ref goes inside and locks the door. While the two men bounce in place on their feet, the announcer tells us their names, weight, and records. These are flyweight fighters, weighing in at a whopping one hundred and twenty-five pounds. I actually weigh more than these scrawny guys.
Even though they're small, they come out brutally swinging. By the second round, I'm pretty sure blood's sprayed us from the geyser pouring out one of the dude's nose. I cover my eyes until the crowd roars because someone is deemed the winner.
"What happened?" I ask.
"There are three ways to win; by knockout, by submission, or by decision," Jude explains. "If both fighters last all three rounds or five rounds in a title fight, then the judges decide who wins by a point system. If all three judges agree, it's called a unanimous decision. If it's two against one judge, it's a split decision. If they all score it even with no clear winner, it's a draw."
"Okay. So that guy won by a submission?"
"Yep," Jude responds. "A knockout is when the other guy is unable to continue fighting or is no longer defending himself, sometimes because they're actually unconscious. A technical knockout is when the ref or a doctor says a fighter is too injured to go on. A submission is when a fighter taps out in defeat."
"Wow, this is scary. I can't imagine seeing one of you up there getting hit over and over again."
"I don't get hit," Jax says.
"Never?" I face him and ask skeptically.
"Never."
"That explains how you still have such a pretty face," I tease him with a smile.
"Pretty?" Jax scoffs.
"What about you, Jude? Your face is still pretty too. Don't you ever get hit?" I ask.
"Hell yes." He laughs, rubbing his jaw likes he's having phantom pain from a past fight. "Jax is what we call a striker or a heavy hitter, meaning he wins by knocking guys out with his fists. I just try and dodge my opponents’ punches and kicks until I can take them down since I'm better on the ground. You know, with wrestling and submissions."
"Jude is a helluva lot better than me at the ground game when he doesn't get knocked out beforehand or submit," Jax responds.
"Nothing's worth breaking an arm or leg," Jude replies. "And I've never been knocked out, asshole. Well, except by you, but that doesn't count since those weren't officially sanctioned fights."
I'm caught off guard when a cameraman suddenly appears right in front of our faces. I hear the announcer say Jax and Jude's names which are immediately followed by deafening applause and cheers. Nice to know the fans are still behind Jax while his case is pending.
The two take the attention in stride, Jax with a lazy, carefree nod of his head, and Jude with a fist pump and smile.
The rest of the night is a blur of punches, kicks, and bloody, sweaty guys before Jax walks me back up to my room. I think watching two men beat the crap out of each other will take some time to get used to, but it had been fun to see the fights with the guys. I don't want to say goodnight, but I worry about what I'll do if I don't turn in now.
"You sure you don't want to come play poker with us?" Jax asks, leaning a muscular shoulder against the wall beside my door.
I shake my head while pulling my key from my purse and sliding it in the slot. "Thanks, but I better head to bed."
"Okay, suit yourself." He shrugs. His dark eyes lower to my lips, making me think he's considering kissing me. Of course, he just pushes off the wall and starts for the elevators with a quick over the shoulder, "See you in the morning."
Oh, and I can't help but notice that the man's firm backside is like none other.
"Goodnight," I call back. "And, Jax?"
"Yeah?" he asks, turning around to walk backward with his hands in his pockets.
"Thanks for everything...you know earlier today?"
"Everything?" he asks with a cocky grin. Of course, I know right away that he's referring to what happened in the doctor's office.
"That, and your, um, offer," I say, my cheeks burning from the embarrassment of actually talking about it. "That's probably the second nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
"Oh yeah? What's the first?" he asks, coming to a stop in the hallway.
"Well, this one time a guy answered my phone and set my hateful father and jerk fiancé straight with just a few stern words. I think they may have actually pissed themselves, which is pretty freaking hilarious."
"Sounds like they were assholes who deserved that shit," he says with a widening smile.
"They did. But now I'm all confused. A man I just met shouldn't treat me better than the two men who are supposed to love me unconditionally."
&nbs
p; "Being more decent than those two isn't a hard thing to accomplish, even for a jackass like me."
"Guess not," I agree sadly.
…
Jax
Heading back downstairs in a thankfully empty elevator, I'm still thinking about Page. The damn woman is making me go soft. I never expected her to say she didn't actually want to go to law school. What kind of parent doesn't let their kid choose their own career?
Hearing that makes me thankful that our dad's always been so supportive. Most parents would hate having not one but two sons that fight for a living. Not him. Dad's always encouraged us to do what makes us happy, even more so after he became a single parent.
While Jude and I are trying to relax and gamble a little in the casino, women keep approaching us, practically shoving their tits in our faces or rubbing their asses on us. I've never understood until now how Jude resisted the constant temptation. After meeting Page and getting charged with rape, I see the sluts for what they are; faceless, brainless bodies to fuck for a few minutes, only to be forgotten seconds afterward. What a waste.
Page is classy and beautiful, so damn smart, unintentionally funny and an OCD perfectionist. And kissing her in that damn doctor's office? I don't think I've come that fast since I was a horny teenager. I swore to myself that shit wouldn't happen again. So now I'll only have the memories of the sexy sounds Page made, and how good it had felt having her hands on me to haunt me like nightmares. She's got me wishing for things I can never fucking have. It's like being trapped in hell while staring into heaven. It's so fucking close but always just out of reach.
God, I want more of her. Since when did I become a rule follower anyway? Probably since I met someone worth keeping them for.
...
The next day we all hang out around the pool since none of us want a repeat of yesterday's angry attack of sea life. The salt water would probably burn Page's stings like a motherfucker, too. She stays unusually quiet, not just with me but with Jude and my dad as well. I think they notice her withdrawal since no one seems very talkative. After the last few days, she's sort of become a part of our family, and it's been nice actually having a woman's presence mingling with the three of us for the first time in seventeen long years.
