by Baylin Crow
“Good. We done here?” The chair slid back as I stood.
He swiveled his head to the side as he stared through his tenth floor office’s glass wall to the neighboring buildings and towers bathed in the morning sun. “Yeah, I don’t see this going anywhere.”
“Not in that direction anyway,” I agreed, Jerry’s irritated tone not swaying me in the least. My phone buzzed in the pocket of my jeans, and I pulled it out. Pete, my trainer. I checked the time and groaned. I was running late for my morning session. Shit.
“I’ll text you the details for the date with Blaire. I’ll make sure she knows it’ll just be the one night.” He snatched the magazine from the desk and tossed it in the trash.
My shoulders tensed, and I gritted my teeth. “Can’t wait.”
For a second, I thought I saw an ounce of sympathy in his gaze, but then he adjusted his tie and it vanished. I slipped my phone back in my pocket and pulled my keys from the other as I hurried from his office.
The hallway was deserted as I made my way to the elevators. I pressed the button and waited. When the doors slid open, a leggy brunette stood inside dressed in a tight shirt and a skirt that hugged her curves. Her brown eyes rounded and she gave me a shy smile.
“Good morning,” she mumbled and then peeked from beneath her lashes as I joined her.
I had to slide a hand in front of her to press the button for the lobby. She could have moved. She didn’t. “Good morning.” I forced a smile.
“You’re Asher Ramsey, right?” The soft voice was a mixture of sweet and seductive.
I shot her a winning smile and leaned against the wall. “Last time I checked.”
“I thought you looked familiar.” She scooted a fraction closer. Her attention was flattering and irritating all at once. Had I not seen her slip the top button of her shirt free, I could almost assume the interaction was only friendly. It almost never was though. Even though I was used to this reaction, it was the worst part of Jerry’s plan.
Every grin she slipped my way, I was forced to return in an almost flirty way. It was my role after all—the womanizing ladies’ man. Not the real me, because the real me wished she was a good-looking guy who was up for a good time later tonight. I could use the distraction after that meeting. Right after Mr. Right Now signed a NDA. The thought resurrected a swirl of bitterness, but Jerry was convinced someone had tipped off the paps that I’d be at that particular club, and he refused to take chances on it happening in the future, so no more clubs and a non-disclosure agreement for anyone I became involved with.
The woman moved into my personal space and I frantically catalogued all my dwindling options. When the elevator slowed to a stop at the second floor right as she opened her mouth to speak, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Have a good day,” I said with a lift of my hand. She gave me one last glance before stepping out, her expression disappointed, a slight frown marring her features. And then the doors slid shut.
Seconds later, I was in the lobby and heading through the oversized glass front doors of the building and into the parking lot. I wasted no time climbing in to my truck, starting it up and gunning it. The farther from this place the better.
Every meeting with Jerry drained me, and every time I left, I felt like I was leaving a piece of my real self behind. This charade of a life was stealing the genuine parts, shoving them in a box under lock and key—it was suffocating.
Enough pity party. I shrugged off the annoyance and shook out my hands to release the tension coursing through me. I’d worked too hard to lose it now, even if that meant I was a slave to my manager’s—hell, the world’s—demands. I had to be who they wanted me to. No matter how much I hated it. Because there was nothing and no one who was going to get in my way of winning. I wouldn’t allow it. For now, I’d play this stupid game.
The most important thing in my life was training for and winning the scheduled title fight, and that meant putting Jerry’s scheming behind me and focusing on the training ahead.
CHAPTER THREE
DREW
I’d been at Claire’s small studio apartment, sleeping on the couch, for three days now. That was also three days of nonstop searching for a job.
Using her older model laptop, I’d gone over every help wanted ad I’d been able to find, along with searching through each morning’s paper. I’d also gone to at least fifteen different places to fill out applications. The one job that’d seemed promising, bailed as soon as they’d called my former employer. What was I going to say? My manager was a giant douche? Didn’t seem like a good idea.
My record, on the other hand… I could see how a drug arrest would make them wary. They didn’t want me to sit down and explain the situation, and even if I did, they weren’t likely to believe me or care. Deferred, convicted—it all seemed to be the same in their eyes. Drugs are bad, kids.
It also hurt that I didn’t have any skills to speak of. The only thing I was any good at was art. Drawing, specifically. With a sketch pad and pencils, I could capture moments, create moments that were never there, alter truths, or draw from a memory.
Unlike Claire, I hadn’t finished school. I’d had to drop out to make money. I’d had dreams of art school, but I’d never told that to a single soul. It’d been a pipe dream anyway.
While scanning the morning paper and circling jobs I wanted to apply for, I tried to tell myself something would work out. People got fired all the time and landed back on their feet. My eyes were tired from reading one listing after another, and I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling the stress that had been weighing me down all day. The couch dipped as Claire plopped down beside me.
“Any luck?” she asked, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, the scent of her strawberry shampoo smacking me in the face.
“Not yet, but I’ve got a few more places I want to try tomorrow.” I set down the highlighter on the coffee table and leaned back into the bright blue cushions and closed my eyes.
“You’ll find something. Sometimes it just takes a while. I’ve never known you to not figure things out.” She sounded a hell of a lot surer than I felt.
“I just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
She ran her pink nails through my hair the way I liked. I moaned because it was heaven.
“I don’t mind you being here. You’d do the same for me.” Sitting up suddenly, she yanked on my hair until I shot her a glare, reminding me she was no angel. “Hey! What about your uncle?”
I glanced at her, raising a brow. “What about him?”
“Doesn’t he own some gym or something? Maybe he could give you some work.” Her honey-colored eyes opened wide, imploring me to agree. The thought had actually crossed my mind, but it was definitely a last-case scenario. If he’d even be willing to help.
When I was ten, my dad had died. My mother’s older brother had been around a lot then to check up on us and help my mom out. Then my mom had started dating some crackhead dealer and gotten hooked on drugs. My life had done a complete one-eighty and our relationship had deteriorated into nothing but me being a source of government money to support her habit and an able body for under the table jobs to keep us from being evicted every month. After that experience, I’d never touch drugs. My uncle had tried to reason with her and offered to let me live with him. He hadn’t been welcome at our apartment after that. I’d still found ways to keep in touch with him behind her back.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said carefully. “We haven’t talked much in the last two years, and I’m not sure what I could do there anyway.” Besides, I’d have to be honest with him about why I’d lost my job, and it would just reinforce the fact he thought I was a screw-up. Yeah, calling him would be a last option.
“Well, I think you should try anyway. You won’t know unless you call him.” She folded her arms and locked eyes with me. I blinked first.
“I already owe him for bailing me out,” I sighed. “I really don’t want to add to that. Let m
e call these places tomorrow once they open. If I still haven’t found anything, I’ll call him, okay?”
She gave me a look that warned I didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. “Drew, I’m sorry. I still feel like everything is my fault. If I hadn’t dated that asshole…” She held up her hand when I started to protest. “I know it’s not really, but I can’t help but feel that way sometimes. If your uncle can help you out, I say do it. You know he cares about you.”
“He also thinks I have a drug problem.” I scowled.
“You are a great guy. You know I love you to pieces, but you’re wrong about shutting him out. Show him he’s wrong. And you should tell him the truth about what happened,” she pleaded.
“No,” I said immediately. I couldn’t handle him calling me a liar. Besides, I’d taken the plea deal, which included an admission of guilt. I was guilty. Period. “I’ll figure something else out. Don’t worry.”
I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her, placing a kiss on her head. She sighed as she sank into the hug, and I rubbed her back to soothe her.
“Okay, stubborn ass. At least think about it. You can’t mooch off me forever,” she teased, voice slightly strained.
Releasing her, I leaned back and shot her a mock glare. She glared right back before a smile slowly danced across her face.
“Whatever. I have to get up early to get stuff done. Goodnight, Mom.” I smirked because she hated when I called her that.
“Ugh!” She swatted the back of my head. “You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. You’re lucky I love you.”
I was lucky. Claire was my rock and I, hers. I’d definitely gotten the better deal.
She stood, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, and then climbed in her bed only a few feet away, leaving me to consider what she’d said. I sure as hell hoped I wasn’t hopeless.
---
“I’m sorry but we require a minimum of a high school diploma or equivalent.”
I’d received the same response too many times over the last few days. That or “We’re not hiring at the moment” as they read over my application.
“Yeah, okay. Well, thanks anyway.” I tried to shrug it off as no big deal, but I was beginning to panic. That was my last stop of the day, and I’d promised Claire, if nothing panned out, I’d call my uncle. I could think of at least a million other things I’d rather do than beg Pete for help.
On the way back to her apartment, I rehearsed what I’d say when I finally called him, but everything I could think of came across as “Yes, Uncle Pete, I managed to screw up again.” I hated that I’d disappoint him, but I was out of options and now had to bite the bullet.
When I got to Claire’s, she wasn’t home from work yet. I bought a little more time by making a turkey sandwich and taking a shower. I peeled off the new outfit I’d bought with my last check, in hopes of appearing more hirable, and stepped under the hot spray. I gave myself ten minutes before I made myself get out and just do it already.
When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I picked up the phone and stepped outside to Claire’s third floor balcony. Settling onto the blond wood chair, I pulled up his contact and hit call before I could change my mind.
He answered after the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Uncle Pete.” I coughed to cover my unease.
A beat of silence passed. “Drew?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I hated that, after two years, I was calling to ask him for help again. If I were him, I might just hang up.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, instantly on alert.
“I got myself in a small predicament.” I went straight for the truth. “I lost my job, Pete. I can’t find anything else, and I just got my last check.”
“Do you need me to send you some money or something? Because honestly, Drew, I’m not entirely comfortable doing that.”
I had many faults but taking what I hadn’t earned wasn’t one of them, so I declined.
“Actually”—I hesitated—“I was wondering, hoping actually, you might have some work around the training center for me.” I rushed on. “I’m not sure what I could do there, and I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate. Which I am.” I sighed. “Do you have anything?”
Hell, was the gym even still open? I couldn’t imagine him closing it. Even though I’d never actually been there, I knew it was his baby.
He was silent for a solid minute. Just as I was thinking we’d been disconnected, he finally spoke. “Can you come by here tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes, absolutely,” I said, knowing one way or another I’d find a way there if he’d take a chance on me.
“I’m not saying it’s a definite. We need to talk first, but I may be able to offer you something.”
That was the most promising thing I’d heard in days. I let out a relieved breath. “I’ll take anything you’ve got.”
“Like I said, we’ll talk first. Do you have the address?” Something clanged through the phone, and Pete cursed.
That didn’t sound good. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, just a new kid trying to show off.” He huffed. “Just another day on the job. Address?”
“No. Just a sec. I need to grab a pen and paper.” While Pete berated someone about the safety issues of using too much weight when lifting, I hurried inside and rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen. Pushing aside random receipts and bills, I settled on a crinkled takeout menu and snatched a pen with a chewed cap. Gross, Claire. I grimaced as I uncapped it and set the menu on the countertop. “Okay, I’m ready.”
He rattled off the address. “Be here at one.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I threw the pen back in the drawer and folded the menu and stuck it in my pocket.
“I’m glad you called.” His tone was different now, sounding more like the uncle I remembered as a kid. “Don’t be late, Drew.”
“I won’t,” I promised. I mentally made a note to set my alarm an hour early so I wouldn’t be late, which would apparently be a deal breaker.
Ending the call, I headed back out to patio and reclaimed my seat. The humidity was high, so when I leaned my elbows on my knees and hung my head, I could see the ends of my hair had curled. Running my hands through the strands, I went over what I wanted to say to Pete when I showed up. How I could convince him to give me a job.
Minutes later, I jumped when a soft touch landed on my shoulder. I hadn’t heard her get home, but Claire stood next to me, still wearing her waitress uniform, obvious worry coloring her expression.
“My uncle wants to see me tomorrow. He said he might have some work for me, but he wants to talk first.”
She nodded and dug her fingers into the knotted muscle under her hand, kneading until it began to relax. “Do you need a ride?”
I could’ve seriously kissed her if I thought of her in that way in the slightest. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?” I gave her my most charming smile.
She released my shoulder and grabbed my cheeks, playfully squishing them together until I was positive it wasn’t cute anymore. “That doesn’t work on me, Drew Everly, and you know it. But no, you don’t tell me nearly enough,” she quipped.
I stood and lifted her in a big bear hug. Carrying her back into the apartment, I deposited her on the couch.
“So what’s for dinner?” I pushed everything else aside for the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
DREW
From the outside, the gym didn’t look like much. At least not what I expected. The building sat alone with no neighboring businesses. The large concrete structure was actually pretty bland, with the exception of tinted windows that ran the full length of the front side, surrounding the glass door. Above the entrance hung a barely noticeable red and black sign, the only indicator of what was inside—Pete’s Mixed Martial Arts. Always straight to the point, my uncle.
My uncle owned an MMA training facility and was also a striking coach. He’d been doing this since I was
a kid, but I hadn’t understood what the sport was until I was older. I remember being impressed by some of the big-name fighters he worked with once I became more aware of it. That was why I was a little thrown by the way things appeared when Claire pulled to a stop in a space near the door.
“Not what I was expecting,” she said, echoing my thoughts.
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but he’s never been a flashy guy.” I shrugged. My palms were growing damp as I glanced at the clock, needing to get out of the car and not wanting to. If Pete decided not to give me a job after our talk, it would be worse than any rejection I’d ever been through.
“Hey,” she said, ruffling my hair. “You got this, and stop with the fidgeting. It’s not like you don’t know the owner.”
She was giggling softly, but I was too in my own head to tell her how not funny she was. My lack of comeback must’ve told her something because she reached out and squeezed my hand.
“Look at me,” she demanded, not releasing me until I gave her my full attention. “You are amazing and capable of doing so many things. There’s no reason you can’t do whatever job he offers you, so relax. He’s your uncle. He’s not going to leave you hanging, right?”
“You think I’m amazing?” I asked, wiggling a brow and attempting to lighten the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach.
“You know I do and stop that,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of my face. “It’s okay to be nervous.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, before thumping my ear. “Now, suck it up, Everly, and get the hell out of my car.”
Finally, I cracked a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh!” She grabbed my arm, stopping me. “I have to head in to work, and I won’t be off until ten tonight. If he doesn’t keep you here until then, can you grab a cab back home?”
She tried to hand me enough cash to cover the trip, but I opened the door and was out before she could give it to me. I still had enough left from my check after adding minutes to my phone to handle that at least.
