The Miami Series

by Marie York

She was confident in the way she carried herself, and the way she spoke, but I could see insecurities lying deep inside. She was quick to judge people because she didn’t want to see beyond what she wanted them to be.

  She tossed her braid over her shoulder, and dismissed me completely. “Did you think about what we talked about last night? Or, do you not remember?”

  I remembered that much, and my answer was still the same. “It’s not going to happen. Besides, I’ve been out of the fight for too long. To go back, I’d have to start at the bottom. I’d rather people remember me as I was when I was at the top than fucking go back there.”

  I heard a little gasp to my right, and I turned, expecting the kid to be choking. “Mommy, he said a bad word again!”

  “He did, and he will clean his mouth later.” Kenzie swung a hard gaze to me and, if looks could kill, I would have been struck down right then and there. “And he’ll get every bad word out of his mouth.”

  Joy started eating the pancakes with her fingers. “Sorry, shortstack,” I said.

  She let out the cutest of giggles. “Mommy, he called me shortstack.”

  “Yes, he did. Finish your breakfast.” Her smile faded as she looked back to me. “So, why’d you quit in the first place?”

  “I still don’t get why you care.”

  “I told you.”

  “You told me that Knox ruined your life, too, but I still don’t get what that has to with me. Even if we could get him back in the ring, and I can fight him, what gain do you get?”

  “There’d be a lot of money riding on that fight. I’d take ten percent for getting your ass back in shape and ready to win.”

  I laughed at the ridiculousness behind her words. “What the f—“ Joy spun toward us and Kenzie’s eyes went from a beautiful shade of green to an evil darkness. “Fudge,” I corrected myself. “What the fudge do you know about getting me back in shape and ready to win?”

  She reached across the table, and ripped the plate away from me. “Food for one,” she said, as my fork hovered over the empty place on the table in front of me. She slid it back to me. “And, honestly, you had so much going for you, and, though I don’t know you, seeing you now is just sad. Like the high school jock that ten years later is fat, and the only thing he knows how to tackle is a meatball sub.”

  “I am not fat,” I blurted. Despite my diet of beer and liquor, I still had tons of muscle. Being jobless and homeless gave me a shit load of time, so I usually ran along the beach, and did pull ups wherever I could find a bar to hold onto.

  “I didn’t say you were. I’m just saying your place on the pathetic scale is hovering right around there.”

  “You’re a piece of work you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told,” she said, with a wink of her eye that caused my dick to throb. It had been a long time since my dick had been aware of any girl, and I almost laughed that it was this one that forced it out of hibernation.

  She was pushy, opinionated, and fucking gorgeous. It was a dangerous combination that I needed to stay away from. She already admitted that she wanted to use me for money, and I wasn’t about to bend over and let her manipulate me. I knew her type. She played games, and I was not going to be a pawn in whatever game she was currently planning.

  “Thanks for the food, but I have to go. Once I get some money, I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, crossing her arms. “Consider it a gift from a friend.”

  “I don’t have any friends, and I don’t want any,” I stated.

  “Then that makes two of us.” She scooped up my plate, and headed to the kitchen. “Have a nice day, Bronx Boston,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Come on, Joy. Let’s clean up before everyone gets here.”

  I got up from the booth, and headed to the door. “Where’s Bronx going?” I heard the kid ask.

  “He has to leave,” Kenzie responded.

  Next thing I knew, little arms wrapped around my leg. I looked down at the kid clinging to me, completely clueless as to what to do. Luckily, she released her grip and stepped back. “Bye, Bronx. I’ll see you later,” she said with an adorable sticky syrup smile that warmed my heart in the most unexpected way, making me wonder how something so small was able to break through the ice.

  Chapter 5

  Kenzie

  The sun was shining bright above, and there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. It was a gorgeous day at the beach, and it made me realize how much I loved Miami. I had always loved the heat of Vegas, but the only way to cool off was to sneak into one of the hotel pools. Here, in Miami, the beach was my pool, and I didn’t have to sneak in and out. It was here for me every day, with no gate or sign trying to keep me away.

  I thought about the time I got arrested for doing just that.

  I rubbed more sunblock on Joy’s fair skin, and was met with a loud no as she turned her head back and forth, trying to avoid me. The girl would thank me one day when she wasn’t covered in sunspots and wrinkles.

  Once she was lathered up and protected from the sun, I grabbed the shovel and pail Frieda and Lou gave her. “Want to build a sandcastle?” I asked.

  “A castle for Sally?” she asked, holding up her doll.

  “Yes, a castle for Sally.” She took the shovel out of my hand, and pushed it into the sand, pulling it up and flinging sand everywhere. My sunglasses were the only thing keeping me from being pelted in the eye. Most moms would yell at their kids and lecture them on sand etiquette, but there were enough things in the world you could yell at your kids about, and sand play, for me, wasn’t one of them. She was laughing and having a good time, and that meant more to me than anything else.

  “Momma, where’s Bronx?” she asked as she flung more sand at me. She met the guy once, but she had become obsessed with him, asking me at least twice a day where he was and when she was going to see him again.

  “I would think he’s at his own home.”

  “Is he going to come over again?” she questioned, and I settled in for the next twenty that were sure to follow.

  “I don’t know, baby. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “But, why?” she asked, and it made me laugh because that wasn’t a question I could actually answer.

  “Because that’s why,” I said, and it seemed to appease her for the time being.

  She wasn’t the only one thinking about Bronx. Ever since he stumbled through the diner doors, I couldn’t get him off my mind. And it was more than just the fact that I could make money off of him and his rise back to fame; it was the way his crooked smile made my heart skip a beat. The way his milk chocolate eyes were dulled by hardships that I felt like I could relate to. I saw myself in his eyes, the defeated look that only comes with heartache and pain. But Joy, Frieda and Lou helped me overcome it, and I felt that I could help bring the shine back in Bronx’s eyes.

  The sun began to shift in the sky, and the wind started to kick up. I glanced at the time. “Come on, baby, time to pack up.”

  “I don’t want to go!” Joy stomped her foot into the ground with complete defiance.

  “Sorry, baby, but Momma’s got to work. Come on, Gamma and Pappy are waiting for us.”

  “Fine,” she sighed, and grabbed Sally and her blanket.

  I packed up the rest of our belongings, and took her hand in mine. We walked back to the diner, and, when we were halfway there, Joy decided she didn’t want to walk anymore. I didn’t bring her stroller because it was a bitch to carry onto the beach. But, as I carried her the rest of the way, I really regretted that decision.

  Once I saw the shinning lights of Lou’s, I put her down, and let her run inside. She ran right into Frieda’s arms, and I slumped against the wall, catching my breath and letting my arms get feeling back in them.

  “Long walk?” Frieda asked with a laugh.

  “The longest,” I replied. “Let me just bring this all upstairs, and I’ll be back down to start my shift.”

  “Not tonight,” Fri
eda declared.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “You have been working way too much. Lou and I are watching the little princess tonight, and you are going out.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous is that you’re nineteen years old and spend more time coloring than you do partying.”

  “I have a two year old. The party ship set sail a long time ago.”

  “You have a two year old, but you’re not dead. Go out, and have a good time. Just take the night to let lose a little.”

  “I don’t even have friends to go out with.”

  “Then go make some,” Frieda said matter-of-factly.

  “There is a band playing down the road that I’ve been wanting to see.”

  “Perfect. You’re going. Little Miss Joy here is going to help me fill saltshakers. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Frieda asked.

  “No,” Joy replied.

  Frieda let out her boisterous laugh, and squeezed Joy’s cheeks. “No, it doesn’t. That’s why, afterwards, we’re going to make ice cream sundaes!

  “Ice cream!” Joy screamed. “Ice cream, Ice cream, Ice cream.”

  “We’re taking her for the night, so don’t hurry home,” Frieda said, before shoving me toward the stairs and telling me to make myself pretty.

  I went upstairs, rummaging through my closet for something to wear that wasn’t stained or ripped. Finally, I came across a dress that managed the journey from Vegas to here. I took it out, and held it up to my chest. It was a tiny black number that I wasn’t even sure I could fit into anymore. The last time I wore it, Joy wasn’t even a possibility.

  “What the hell,” I said to myself, and decided to squeeze my ass into it. By some miracle, it still fit. “I guess I’m going out tonight.”

  A few hours later, and after a relaxing bath, I slipped back into the dress, did my hair and makeup like I used to before Joy, and headed out.

  The streets were filled with people hopping from bar to bar, tourists and locals coming together as one. I kept to myself as I made my way to La Tambien, a salsa club a few blocks away.

  Luckily, I still had Mila’s ID, and could get in anywhere. It amazed me that people never cared that my hair wasn’t dark brown like hers. Though I always told people my dirty blonde wasn’t natural, it worked every time.

  La Tambien came into view, and I was about to pull out my ID when my eyes glanced to a black car to my right. It was a couple years older, but still really nice. The backseat was filled with a ton of shit, and my eyes squinted when I saw a figure lying down across the front seat. It took all of two seconds for it to register.

  Bronx was homeless.

  Music poured out of La Tambien, and the lively sound of the salsa music was inviting, but I couldn’t follow it. Instead, I walked toward the car and knocked on the window.

  Chapter 6

  Bronx

  There was a hard knock at my window, and I cursed on the inside. Fucking cops were always giving me such a hard time for trying to sleep in my car. Didn’t they realize it was the only place I had? I sat up, happy I was only partially drunk and not completely shitfaced.

  Green eyes lined in makeup, making the color even brighter than I remembered, stared in at me. Her dirty blonde hair was down in waves and, my God, if it wasn’t like waking up to an angel. She motioned for me to roll down my window, and I did as she requested. She didn’t talk, though. She reached her hand in, unlocked the door, and let herself in.

  “Geez, it smells like a strip club in here!” she exclaimed waving her hand at her nose.

  “And, what would you know about that?”

  The effortless smile that was always on her face fell, and she blinked away from me. She messed with her hair for a few seconds then turned back to me. “Do you ever get sick of drinking?”

  “Do you ever get sick of being nosy?”

  “I asked you first.”

  I propped myself up in the seat and shrugged. “What else is there to do?”

  “You could go to the gym and train,” she suggested, and I rolled my eyes at her persistence.

  “Being drunk just sounds better.”

  “It doesn’t look better. I mean.” She blushed but quickly continued on what she was saying as to not draw attention to the crimson filling her cheeks. “Being sober looks good on you. That morning, when you woke up at the diner, you looked a little hung over, but better. Your eyes were there in the moment, not glossed over and lost in some faraway place. Your smile was easier and natural. Besides, you’re a fighter.”

  “I was. Not anymore.”

  “Once a fighter, always a fighter. It runs in your blood, but right now the only thing you have running through you is whiskey.”

  “Tequila,” I corrected her.

  “Either way, it smells like shit and is slowly killing you.”

  “I don’t really give a shit,” I said, still not understanding why the fuck she was so concerned about my life. I might have smelled like shit, but she smelled so damn good it was making my mouth water. I bet she tasted as good as she smelled.

  “You sound like a quitter to me,” she pushed.

  “Maybe I am. So what? I’m a fucking loser,” I snapped. “I had everything and I lost it all in the matter of a single fight. Every. Little. Thing. Including my dignity. And I’m getting sick and tired of having a girl, who has no idea what it’s like to lose anything, sit here and fucking tell me what I should be doing with my life.”

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” she said, climbing out of the car.

  I jumped across the console into the passenger seat, and stuck my head out the window. “I’m a fucking asshole? Why? Because I don’t want to listen to you? I don’t want to hear you talk about something you have no idea about.”

  “No, you’re a fucking asshole because you think you have me all figured out. Think you know me, but you don’t know me,” she snarled and people on the sidewalk started to stare.

  “How do you like it, then? Not so fun when the tables are turned on you now is it?” I demanded.

  Her green eyes caught mine, staring daggers at me. I refused to be the first to look away. I didn’t care how drunk I was, or how looking into her eyes made me want to get out of this car and sober up so I could hold her in my arms. She had that weird effect on me, making me want to scream at her and pull her close at the same time.

  She licked her lips and stepped away, breaking our stare. “You disappoint me, Bronx. But it’s okay because I’m used to being disappointed. I’m a nineteen year old girl who was knocked up two years ago by some sleazebag at a strip club that I used to work at.” She patted her chest and looked up, tears building in her eyes but she forced them back. “My parents and brother died in a car accident when I was eight years old, leaving me in the care of my eighteen year old sister. I ran away from home when I was seventeen, and lived on the streets for a few months, while I was pregnant.” She stepped toward the car, holding her finger up at me with defiance and purpose. “So, don’t you ever tell me that I don’t know what it’s like to lose anything because I fucking lost it all and I’m still here. The only difference between you and me is that I’m not going to let my losses define who I am. So, goodbye, Bronx. Good luck with your pathetic existence.”

  She stormed off, and right into La Tambien, leaving me staring at her with confusion and awe.

  Chapter 7

  Kenzie

  I get one night to go out and be a nineteen-year-old girl, and that fucking prick ruined it. Completely fucking stomped all over it. He was such a smug bastard, too. Nothing made me happier than seeing that smugness wash away, as I proved to him that he wasn’t the only one who hit some shitty times.

  I was just as fucked up as him, if not worse, and for him to think I wasn’t pissed me off something fierce. How dare he judge me? Until he walked a day in my shoes, he had no fucking right to even think a single negative thought about me.

  The music billowed out from the doors, a
nd, before it was a welcoming invitation, but now it was just an escape. I didn’t care about the band, the music or the dancing. All I cared about was disappearing. I showed the guy at the door my fake ID, and made my way inside to a far corner. I just wanted to get lost in a crowd. Disappear for the rest of the night and pretend to be someone else.

  I loved my daughter, but sometimes I couldn’t help and think about all that I was missing out on. I always told Frieda the reason I didn’t want to go out was because I didn’t have friends, or I’d rather just stay in. The truth was, going out was the most depressing thing I could think to do.

  It reminded me of my life in Vegas, and how I didn’t have any responsibilities. How when my sister went to work at night, I would sneak out, and go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted. I didn’t worry about the consequences because I didn’t have to. Now, if I got arrested for breaking into a hotel pool, what would happen to Joy? Where would she be while I was waiting to be bailed out? And who would bail me out? Frieda and Lou would, I knew that for a fact, but I would feel like such a disgrace that I would just want to stay in that cell. But, back in Vegas, I was just pissed it took my sister so long to get me. I didn’t have a care in the world, and now I felt like I had the entire world resting on my shoulders.

  I found a seat at a high table, and slid into it. My eyes slipped close, and I let the music wash over me. Stripping wasn’t exactly a highlight of my life, but I sure as hell loved to dance. The closest thing I had to dancing now was when Joy and I danced around the apartment listening to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse soundtrack. My life went from rated R to G and, though I didn’t miss the rated R, sometimes I found myself wishing for a little more PG-13.

  The music called to me, and I let my hips begin to sway, as my head soon followed suit. I began to relax as I found myself getting lost in the music. I was startled when a hand gripped my arm, quickly followed by the touch of lips against my ear. “Dance with me,” Bronx said hot against my ear, causing me to shudder, as a fire ignited deep within.