Blake: A Bad Boy Romance

by Day, Laura

  He took a step towards her, making them only inches apart. She could feel his cool breath on her exposed collarbone. She looked at his chest and refused to look any higher. His eyes were dangerous pools of blue and she was worried that she would fall into them and never get out.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Blake said. “Why did you want to learn how to throw a punch?”

  “Just curious,” Ivy said with a shrug of her shoulders. Her cheeks were burning, but she forced herself to glance up at him. He was far too close. She had the strongest urge to reach out and place her hand on his chest. She wanted to lean into him, to rest against him and feel his hands on her back. This was a bad idea. This was why she had packed her bag earlier. She wanted to avoid this, to avoid temptation.

  Chapter Nine

  Blake stood over Ivy and watched her blush as it spread over her chest.

  “I have to go,” she suddenly said, taking a step away from him. She picked up her duffel bag and sidestepped around her.

  “Seriously, Ivy?” Blake demanded. She stopped in her tracks and then turned around slowly to face him. “What is this? One minute you’re flirting with me and the next you’re icing me out. Are you playing a game with me or something? Because the Ivy I used to know would never pull that kind of crap.”

  “I’m not playing games with you. I’m stopping myself. Nothing can happen between us, Blake.”

  “Why? Because of prom-”

  “No!” Ivy interrupted dropping her bag. “It’s because our parents really love each other. My dad deserves to be happy and being with your mom makes him happy. They are going to get married and that will make us stepsiblings. We can’t date. What would happen if we were to break up? We’d still see each other on holidays and birthdays; it would make everything strange and awkward. And why, Blake? Nothing’s changed. You’re still the same self-centered guy you were in high school. I’m not going to wreck this for them just so you and I can have a quick fling. That’s not fair.”

  Blake shook his head, and tried to speak, but it was too late. Ivy was already at the door and saying a hurried goodbye to her father. Blake stood frozen on the carpet, unable to take a step forward. He didn’t know if he wanted to convince Ivy to stay or tell her to go to hell. The front door slammed closed and it was like a spell had been lifted; Blake could move.

  He walked out into the living room where his mother and Jonas sat, watching Law & Order on the couch. Ellen was leaning back against Jonas’ chest and his arm was wrapped around her. They laughed at something at Blake had to admit that Ivy was right; his mother did look happy.

  Blake didn’t know if he was ready to leave his bachelor life behind. He liked being on his own schedule. He did what he wanted when he wanted to. There was no need to check in with anyone to make sure the calendar was clear like so many of his buddies. If someone put together a ski trip, Blake was onboard. He had a rotation of girls who called him when they were in town. Musicians, dancers, artists, was he really ready to settle down with on girl?

  Maybe, if that girl were Ivy. But no, that was just wishful thinking. A tiger can’t change its stripes. Blake’s mother had done a lot for him. He had always been a fighter. Anytime he saw a kid get bullied, Blake would step in to stop it. It started with his friend Tommy who got his lunch money stolen and got punched in the stomach on his way to school. When eight-year-old Blake heard the story from his crying friend, he vowed to stop the bigger who had done it.

  That was the first fight he lost. The ten-year-old, Phillip Miller, who lived down the street took him out with one punch to the face. One hit and he was on his back on the pavement seeing stars. He remembered looking up at the blue sky he could see between the leaves and thinking this isn’t that bad. And it wasn’t. Getting hit hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he feared it would be. The next time he fought Phillip, Blake would win.

  Blake was who he was. He was a fighter; he lived his life fast and free. Ivy understood that, maybe better than he did. She was right. They shouldn’t be together. They were too different. With a sigh, Blake walked into the living room and sat down in one of the chairs. It would have been nice to have tried again with Ivy. Maybe he could have done some miracle and kept them together. But now he would never know.

  The next morning Blake was looking under the hood of his mother’s car. He had checked the brake pads and now he was changing the oil. It was a rare sunny day and Blake rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt and felt the warm sun on his skin.

  “Oh, Blake,” his mother said as she came out of the house and walked toward him. “You’re so sweet to do that.” She looked under the hood of the car, but Blake knew she had no idea what she was looking at.

  “It’s no problem, Ma,” Blake said.

  “I just wanted to thank you for being to nice to Jonas this weekend,” she said, giving him a quick little hug. “I can remember a time when you were a lot harder on my boyfriends.”

  “Yeah, well. You dated a lot of jerks,” Blake answered.

  “So you like Jonas?”

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Plus, he raised Ivy and she’s almost perfect, so he has good instincts.”

  “I’m glad you like him, Blake. I know this is strange, what with the past you and Ivy have.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Good, because I wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure, what?” Blake asked.

  “Since you approve of Jonas, I was hoping I could ask you to walk me down the aisle. My father died so long ago. You don’t have to...”

  “Of course I will,” Blake answered. He threw down the rag he was working with and hugged his mother. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “Oh, Blake. I am,” Ellen answered.

  He had to get out of there. There was too much love and happiness. It didn’t fit with his current mood. He went to his old familiar bar downtown. Normally he would have headed straight for the bar to try and see if anyone he knew was around. But today he didn’t feel like talking. He took a quiet booth in the back and watched the Seahawks game on the screen.

  His brain had stopped trying to find a way out of it. He needed to forget Ivy and move on. The last time he had tried, it took about three years to finally stop thinking about her every day. He wasn’t sure if he could do again. He would still have to see her and spend time with her. They would definitely see each other at the wedding, at least.

  He drank his beer quickly and switched to whiskey. He had a fight coming up and he needed to make weight. The bar was dark and quiet and it was exactly what Blake wanted. He didn’t have the energy to do anything else. He didn’t want to train or party and he wasn't ready to go back to the house and the happy couple.

  “You normally call me when you’re in town.” The voice was low and gravelly and Blake could hear the rasp from all the cigarettes. He looked up at Amy DeMayo. She was tall and thin with lanky brown hair. She was wearing a bit too much makeup, streaks of bright blue sparkling shadow over her eyes.

  Amy had been a year below Blake and Ivy in school. She always had a crush on Blake, but Ivy had been in the picture and she was the only girl Blake had eyes for. But after Blake and Ivy had broken up Amy appeared and the rest was a slightly regrettable history. Amy still lived in their hometown. She worked as a cashier at the local Stop and Shop. The last time they had been together Amy had wanted to take their relationship from friends with benefits to serious relationship and Blake turned her down. They hadn’t spoken since.

  “I thought the nature of our relationship had changed,” Blake offered, eyes still on the game.

  “Why would you think that?” Amy asked, sliding into the other side of the booth. She pulled a cigarette from her pack and lit up; this was one of the last bars in town you could still smoke in.

  Blake frowned at the smoke. He was in good shape, he took care of his body, and smoking was not a turn-on for him. “Look Amy, you’re a great girl. But nothing’s changed on my end. I don’t
want to be in a serious relationship with anyone. I don’t want to lead you on.”

  “Just because I can’t be your girlfriend doesn’t mean we can’t still still have a good time,” she said, taking a deep drag from her cigarette. He felt her foot, free of its shoe begin to slide up his leg.

  He looked over at Amy, she looked tired and her teeth and eyes were yellowing. For the first time, possibly ever, Blake realized that he was not in the mood. “I don’t think so, Amy,” Blake said jerking his leg away from her foot.

  “What?” Amy demanded staring at him over the table.

  “I said I’m not into it anymore, Amy.” He looked back up at the TV and sat back in the booth. Amy snarled at him and shook her head. He heard her call him a nasty name under her breath as she scooted out of the booth and stomped back to the bar.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hi, Dad,” Ivy said as she picked up the phone. She was back at work. Ivy had her own private office on the ground floor with a view to the park behind the building. It was modern and sleek with glass walls and a large, dark mahogany desk. She liked her office. It made her feel like a proper adult, instead of a teenager running around in a power suit.

  “Ivy, sweetheart. We missed you at breakfast,” her father shouted over the line.

  Ivy shook her head and turned down the volume. She could never understand why her normally quiet father felt the need to shout over the telephone. “Sorry, Dad. But I had to get back to work.”

  “Of course, I understand. Now I got this letter about my retirement account. Can I read it to you?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Ivy said. She listened as her father, in an even but loud voice, shouted the contents of the letter over the phone. It was standard stuff about the fed raising interest rates. Ivy had to calm about a dozen clients down about it. She waited until her father read the entire letter, all the way to the end before she spoke. If she tried to interrupt, he would just keep going until the letter was done. “It’s nothing to worry about, Dad,” Ivy said and she gave him the same lengthy explanation she had given to her other clients. Oddly enough Ivy didn’t mind this part of the job. She liked being able to calm people down and give them a sense of ease about their money. Times were tough and people were nervous. It felt good when she could easily ease their fears.

  Sometimes it wasn’t easy. Sometimes Ivy had to deliver bad news. She hated having to do that, but it was part of the job. She felt for every client who made a bad investment or trusted the wrong advice. She had yet to be the cause of anyone’s great financial loss and she was hoping to keep that streak alive as long as possible.

  “Well, as long as you don’t think I have to worry...” Jonas said, but Ivy knew he was already calmer; she could hear it in his voice.

  “You don’t have to worry.”

  “Good, although there was something else I wanted to talk with you about. I heard about the unsigned card from Ellen. You should have told me about that, Ivy,” Jonas said.

  “Dad, I didn’t want to worry you. Besides nothing else happened, so I don’t think it was from him.”

  “Who else would be sending you hand stenciled cards with nothing inside?”

  “Maybe it was sent out by mistake, and whoever wrote it forgot to sign it,” Ivy said. Her voice was growing desperate and she was aware she was grasping at straws.

  “There was no address on it. It was hand delivered. It was Darryl. We should have called the police and filed a report.”

  “A report that said what? A blank card was left at our house. Last time I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

  “But trespassing is. You have a restraining order against Darryl. He’s not allowed within fifty feet of you and he’s not allowed to contact you.”

  “We can’t prove it was Darryl,” Ivy said. She rubbed her temple with her hand. Ivy knew what her father was saying was right. She should file a report; a paper trail was the best way she could defeat Darryl. But it was so hard to go down to the police station to file these kinds of reports. The officers would look at her like she was crazy or, worse, spoiled. Her first complaint had been about a strange gift left on her doorstep it was a doll with its eyes cut out and its throat slashed. There was the other time she had filed a report for the eighteen threatening messages Darryl had left on her voicemail. That report earned her a restraining order, but it hadn’t stopped him.

  “Just because his parents have a lot of money does not mean that he is above the law,” her father yelled into the phone.

  Except it kind of does, Ivy thought. Darryl’s parents were heirs to a logging fortune and his lawyers worked out plea deals or made up defenses and Darryl got away with a slap on the wrist – if anything at all. It was frustrating for Ivy and hell for her father. He just wanted to protect her, she knew that. But sometimes his crusade on her behalf was exhausting.

  “It’s too late now, Dad. And maybe this was for the best. Nothing else happened. Just the dumb card. Maybe the best thing to do is ignore him.” Ivy knew her father didn’t want to hear that. It would sound too much like losing.

  “I don’t know what you ever saw in that rich jackass,” Jonas spit.

  “I know, Dad.” How many times had they had this conversation? Jonas had never approved of Darryl and Darryl had been outright rude to her father. Their only trip home together ended with Darryl leaving early and Ivy in tears.

  “He was spoiled and used to getting what he wanted.”

  This was true. Darryl had swept Ivy off of her feet. He bought her expensive gifts and brought her to the best restaurants. He arranged private tours on museums so they could avoid the tourists; he took her out on his sailboat. For a while Ivy thought she could look past Darryl’s shortcomings. But the visit home and showed her what a jerk he really was. She broke up with him on New Year’s day. Darryl begged Ivy to change her mind, but she refused. That was when he started stalking her.

  “I wish you would have let me tell Blake,” Jonas said. “He’s in the city with you and he can get to you faster than I can.”

  “Dad, no. I don’t need Blake to protect me. I can protect myself. Darryl is just messing with me. We shouldn’t let him get into our heads.”

  “All right, but promise me if anything like that happens again you’ll call the cops.”

  “I promise. Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, Ivy.”

  Ivy hung up the phone and tried to focus on work. But she was shaken up from her phone call. Ivy had actually forgotten about the letter. She hadn’t bothered unpacking yet and it was still zipped up in her bag.

  Her father was right; it had obviously been from Darryl. But he hadn’t done anything else. She figured he had seen her and decided to mess with her and then got bored when she didn’t respond. Although that wasn’t really like him…Darryl was like a dog with a bone. When he set his mind to harassing her, he didn’t stop for anything. So why the only one unsigned, hand-delivered letter?

  “Courier dropped this off for you,” her assistant Grace said as she walked into the room and placed a large yellow envelope on her desk.

  With a sigh Ivy reached for the envelope and with her letter cutter she ripped the paper and a few sheets of glossy photo paper fell out into her hand. She looked down in confusion. She hadn’t ordered any pictures, certainly none this size. The photos were large, eight by ten inches, and it took Ivy a moment to understand what she was looking at. Her stomach dropped and nausea bloomed in her throat as she looked at the shaking pictures.

  They were her, taken just yesterday. They were pictures of Ivy jogging to her car with Blake’s phone in her hand. She remembered this. But who had taken the picture? The image was grainy and the detail fuzzy. From the angle she could see that they must have been in her neighbor's bushes. A chill ran down her back as she thought about what this meant.

  She quickly flicked through the photos in the set. There were about ten of them, all of Ivy. Close-ups of her face and breasts. She felt cold as she looked at them. She had no idea someone ha
d been looking at her or taking her picture.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ivy worked in an old building downtown. It was a large glass building with an elegant marble staircase. This sign above the door said Adkins Financial Consulting. Blake pulled open the door and walked into the bright building.

  “Good morning. Welcome to Adkins Financial Consulting, can I help you?” a perky assistant asked Blake as he strode up to her desk. She gave him a quick once over and smiled.

  “Yeah. I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping to see Ivy McCormick. I’m an old friend of hers. My name is Blake Lambert.”

  “Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see if Ms. McCormick is available,” the receptionist said. Blake nodded and took a seat as he picked up an Entertainment Weekly. And there it was on page fifteen: the upcoming fight everyone was going to to be talking about, Lambert vs. Johnson for the lightweight division. If Blake won this fight he would be nationally ranked in the top five.