Micah’s back was turned, facing the wall of the long, tiled shower. He had not even heard the main door open, nor did he catch the sounds of Alice slipping in behind him. All he felt was her hands upon his naked, soaking body. She circled him with her arms, kissing his shoulders as she pressed her own nude torso into his. Taking a breath, he allowed her to run her hands up and down his chest and torso from behind him. She slipped the soap out of his hands and applied it to his skin, tracing over his scars and the ridges of his tight abs.
She inched her soap filled hands down lower and lower. Micah steadied himself against the shower’s walls by holding his free hand out in front of him against the cold tiles. She moved slowly, missing no spot, finally reaching his already-hard cock. With her warm, small hand, she encircled it, allowing it to grow and pulsate under her efforts.
His head dipped backwards into her shoulder. His lips found hers, as the water pounded down on both their bodies. His hand made a fist against the wall as the ache built up. She quickened her pace, and he arched his back in anticipation. He grimaced in pleasure as she continued, his toes curling, and he let out a delirious groan as he came.
When he’d finished completely, he turned completely around to face her. His hands grabbed her face, kissing her passionately. The breath that passed into Alice’s mouth was still elevated, as he attempted to slow his heart rate down.
He turned the water off and led her out of the shower, as he picked her clothing up off the ground. She turned around just in time to catch the remains of a pool of blood being pushed into the drain—the remains of his victory.
As Micah dressed, he tossed Alice his towel and jokingly said, “Well, Ms. Vines, I do like what your media group has to offer a fighter like me. If you can offer more like that, I may have to sign on the dotted line.” Alice giggled, as she slipped back into her dress.
“You deserved it after a fight like that. The girls outside are practically ready to kill a security guard to get in to see the champion of the night.”
“They’ll have to wait.” He winked at her teasingly. The groupies had become a sore spot between the two as of late. “Tonight, I have all the groupies I can handle.” He suddenly stood and approached her. He grabbed her hand and led her out the back door and into the waiting car—far from the pool of press and journalists. The car brought them back to Micah’s condo where the two continued to celebrate his win well into the night.
***
“Alice? Alice?” Micah’s voice was somewhere off in the distance. “Alice, your alarm is going off. You have to get up.”
Her eyes flew open as she scooted herself to the top of Micah’s large, silk covered bed. An alarm buzzed to her side, as she moved her hands around in the darkened room to find its source. Once silenced, she lay back down, turning to face Micah wrapped deep in the sheets and covers.
“Do I have to go?” She put on a fake pout.
“No. Not at all. You could stay here, and I could provide for you. Or you could go to work and be all independent working girl.” His eyes were still shut, as he murmured into the bed’s soft spots. Alice reached down to kiss him on the forehead and then slipped back out of the bed. She walked to his dresser where she had started to occupy his top drawer. She slipped on a new pair of panties and some pajamas.
She whispered goodbye to him and promised to call later, as she closed his bedroom door and headed out of the apartment. Micah’s new driver was already there, waiting for her in the garage as he did most mornings. He stood by a polished black car and nodded his head when he spotted her coming.
Alice almost felt sorry for the guy having to be in on their secret routine. At four o’clock in the morning, almost every morning, he would be there waiting for her in the garage of Micah’s apartment. He would then drive her back to her apartment just in time to get dressed and ready for her morning shift of work. It gave her padding in case Caroline awoke and discovered her roommate was out.
This morning, the tiny, two-bedroom apartment was relatively quiet. She could hear Jace, Caroline’s somewhat-boyfriend snoring away while Caroline’s music continued to play in the background. From the look of her purse and the green dress laying on the floor of the living room, she most likely did not get a great sleep last night either. But that was typical of Caroline. It certainly wasn’t of Alice.
After making a quick breakfast and cup of coffee to-go, Alice grabbed her work uniform and headed out the door once more. Her walk was chilly and damp, as she mourned the passing of the summer months. Soon, she’d buy that car she desperately needed—at least she hoped she’d get it before the winter took over and she was stuck trudging through the snow and ice.
The Tick Tock Diner was empty. Again. A few of the morning regulars were there—a city bus driver, a nurse getting off her graveyard shift, and a few truckers pulled over for a quick stop. They all greeted Alice warmly as she took over for Maria. Their company was the only things keeping her on her feet as she fought through the six-hour shift.
As the day grew brighter and customers began to pour in for brunch and lunch, Alice’s spirit picked up. She was always more efficient when under pressure. A little lunch rush wasn’t much, but it at least challenged her to be perky and on the ball.
Pete, her manager and the owner’s son, noticed it. Well, he noticed a lot about her from the way she bent over from the waist to pick up a dropped napkin, to how she showed her bright white teeth when she smiled at a customer. Today, she looked as juicy as ever, but he knew better—even considering what he wanted to do to her put him back in his place.
As her shift finished, he came in with her paycheck and piece of paper. “Here,” he said, thrusting the paper into her hand. She opened it tentatively; it showed her schedule for the rest of the week. “I put you back on afternoons,” he explained with a nearly imperceptible smile. “I’m also reinstating vacation time, so just let me know when you want to take it. Two weeks though—no more.”
He ran his hair through his messy red hair nervously. As he moved past her towards the kitchen, Alice spotted a large bruise on the side of his face. “Pete!” she called after him. As he turned, she had a quick flashback of him grabbing her arm forcefully in the living room of her apartment. Her own arm just getting over the bruise itself. Instead of showing care, she tucked it away. “Thanks for the schedule change,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “I appreciate it.” She tossed her apron to the next waitress coming in, as she grabbed her sweater from the back room.
As she said her goodbyes to her customers, a wind blew through the diner. A long, high pitched laugh followed by a rough man’s voice filled the diner. “Alice!” Caroline batted her long spider lashes at her as she sat down at the end booth. “I’m glad I caught you! Have lunch with Jace and me. Please?”
Alice looked at the clock. It was just about time for her to go to Micah’s practice. But she knew it would be too suspicious to leave her friend, given that they had barely seen each other since Caroline was her personal gatekeeper, holding off Micah during their separation.
Alice sat down across the booth, as she plastered a smile on her face. Both Caroline and Jace were too focused on one another to really pay much attention to her. Both of their arms were draped around the other, as she spoon fed him his soup like a small child and then licked the broth that ran down his stubbly cheek. It was all Alice could do to stop herself from visibly cringing at the display.
“You’re never around anymore. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying out all night. Who you screwing?” Caroline’s piercing dark eyes stared down Alice as she said this, almost as if she knew the answer: “Hopefully not that prick of a fighter.”
Jace laughed obnoxiously. “Micah, that MMA fighter? HA! No way she’s nailing him. The guy is blowing up. You know he is up to his eyes in models in Jacuzzis. He’s not going to be doing anything with her.” He pointed at Alice accusingly, as Caroline joined in the mocking laughter.
Alice took a deep breath and pushed t
he strawberry-blonde hair out of her eyes. “No. I’m not seeing him anymore. We broke up, remember?”
Denial was part of the agreement that she and Micah had made when they restarted their relationship. After Dean, Micah’s coach, had attempted to manipulate Alice out of his life, both knew that secrecy was the only way to protect what they had or wanted to have. This included keeping everything from her roommate and friend at all costs.
Caroline quit laughing and put on a serious façade. “I’m just glad he’s gone. He was no good for you. You need someone a bit gentler.”
Alice couldn’t help but bite. “Yeah? Who’d you have in mind?”
“Well, you’re not gonna like this…” Caroline whispered. “Pete. He really likes you. He wants to be with you. I mean, didn’t he change your schedule this morning and give you vacation time? He’s a good guy.”
Alice rolled her eyes and shook her head hard. “I’m going to pass,” she said flatly. “He’s not my type.” She had failed to tell Caroline about Pete’s unwanted and uncalled for aggressive advances the one night she almost gave him a chance. While she had enjoyed Micah when he was forceful and a bit demanding, the way Pete had approached her put knots in her stomach just thinking about it. Her body hurt even considering it.
“Really?” Jace snorted, still laughing. “So what is your type? From the looks of it, no one is living up to Alice’s type.”
Alice shot him a look. Jace was already pretty high on her shit list, but now, he was crossing a line. She longed to shout back at him about how her type certainly wasn’t the trash Caroline associated with, but she kept her anger in. It wasn’t worth the fight, nor the risk of upsetting Caroline over it.
Alice glanced at her phone and pushed her nearly full plate to the side. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got that painting class. I’m going to go out tonight with some of the other people enrolled in my group. I may be out late. Don’t worry about me.” The painting class was an inspired lie. It at least explained why she was, all of a sudden, back to the easel and paint brushes after abandoning them for so long. Plus, it gave her a great excuse to be out of the house in the afternoon and evenings.
“Okay, sugar,” Caroline said sincerely. “Be safe, okay? I worry about you.” She could clearly tell something had happened outside of the temporary breakup. She just couldn’t put her finger on what made Alice so different today than one month ago.
Alice knew though. It was Micah. While their relationship wasn’t official, just being with him had made her stronger and more confident. She knew she would never be as bold as Caroline or as assertive as Jace, but she was transformed.
And to her, that was worth the secrecy, the lies, and the deception. To give her and Micah a fighting chance of making it another round, she was willing to sacrifice it all. She only hoped Micah was on the same page.
Chapter 3: Deals in the Backroom
Micah’s hand was throbbing almost rhythmically. He rubbed the knuckles up against his leg, pushing down at the joints for some relief. Getting in the practice ring and sparring was not going to work for him today. But despite his pain and trepidation, he knew that he could not just back out of a practice. Instead of mentally protesting further, he got in his car and drove mindlessly back to All In Gym for another grueling day at the treadmill, mat, and ring.
The scheduled two-a-day workouts, six days a week, were getting to him. They were wearing him down physically and emotionally. But as Dean often reminded him, this is what it took to make it to the next level. And now that he was fighting with the big dogs and making a name for himself on a national level, there was no opportunity to turn back. This was his job. This was his life. Everything else just had to fit in around it for the time being.
The parking lot for the gym was once again overcrowded with rented cars and vans. A small group of journalists and photographers planted themselves by the glass doors. Just like his workouts, even this had become a new norm. Ever since his big win roughly a month ago, not a day went by when there wasn’t some kind of paparazzi following his move, especially in regards to his workouts.
Micah took a deep breath, reached across the leather seat for his gym bag, and headed out his car door and into the lion’s den. With his hood pulled over his eyes, he kept his mouth shut and his head focused. He was in no mood to talk today, nor put on the dog and pony show he often had to give.
Instead, he just wanted to get today over with. As he walked, he checked the time on his phone. It was just about eleven o’clock and Alice, he remembered, would be finishing her shift at the diner soon. A little pain of remorse came over him, as he texted her a command to stay put at her apartment. He would have a car pick her up. There were too many reporters, too many distractions.
Just like the parking lot, the gym was packed to the brim with unfamiliar faces. Ever since Micah became a poster child for the All In Gym, fellow fighters had been jockeying for a chance to fight and train there. They took over his machines, his ring, and his equipment stands.
But worse than the new wannabe fighters were the men in business suits. They silently circled around the training rings, taking pictures with their phones and typing away at their laptops. Occasionally, they would take notice of Micah actually practicing, but it would last only seconds until they were back on their cell phones, making calls to their partners at corporate.
Micah’s coach, Dean, dealt with the majority of these men. Very rarely did the sponsors or business partners approach him directly. It was a bit of a relief not have to focus on the business side of the profession. After all, he was never great with marketing himself. He just came to win, to fight, to draw blood. The money and lifestyle was just a bonus.
Micah tossed his bag in Dean’s empty office. He spotted the coach’s office chair, the same one he sat in when Micah sucker punched him when he learned Dean had manipulated Alice into letting Micah go. The memory was still fresh and raw, but the ties between the fighter and the coach went too far to cause further damage. Instead, Micah knew he had to let it go and move on for the sake of his career. Dean, Micah hoped, had learned his lesson and would leave Micah’s personal life out of his ring.
Micah re-entered the gym only to walk straight into a large, black TV camera. The camera operator slammed into his chest and neck, bruising an old wound. “What the shit, man?” he shouted out of frustration.
Dean, dressed in a polo shirt and slacks, ran towards him, holding out his hands to relax the man. “Micah! Man of the hour! Before you get on the treadmill, these fine people from Kinetics Energy Drinks needs you to say a few lines on camera.”
Micah looked at his coach curiously. No one had told him he had to make a commercial. This was not part of his deal. Wearing a sponsor’s logo was fine, but he was not one for talking, let alone reading lines off of a page for the sake of a fake endorsement.
Dean spotted his reluctance. He took the man’s shoulders, at least a half foot taller than his own, and spun him around to face the wall. “This is part of the game, Micah. You read the cards, you take a drink, and you walk away with a quarter million. Just like that.”
“How ‘bout actually practicing?” Micah demanded.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ll get to that—we will. Just do this first, and then I’ll call the trainers in.” Before Micah could protest, Dean turned him back around and showed him to a waiting makeup artist who powered his face and then spritzed his torso with a small water bottle.
“It’s fake sweat,” the makeup artist explained. “Girls love to see a sweaty guy. Guys will love it, too.”
“Or, y’know, I could just get on a treadmill and run for a bit.” Micah understood the façade but was not about to give in.
“You could, but that would probably ruin the fun for me.” The older woman winked at him and continued to spritz away at his shoulders and arms. When she finished, she introduced him to the commercial’s producer who explained what he needed to do. It all sounded so simple. He just had to read three lines off a cue card
and then take a drink.
His first take was too passive. His second was too excited. His third just wasn’t “right.” To make matters worse, the drink was sticky sweet. It stuck to the roof of his mouth, giving him a weird berry-flavored aftertaste that was almost acidic. By the fifth take, Micah’s frustration was palpable. It wasn’t until take nine that the producer seemed satisfied with his few words and drinking abilities. As soon as the producer shouted, “That’s it! We got it!” Micah grabbed a towel, washed the gunk off of his face, and grabbed the only open treadmill. Tossing his headphones on, he ran. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Dean shook the producer’s hands and accepted a small white check, placing it in his own shirt pocket.
Micah cranked up the speed on his treadmill further and the volume on his headset higher. He reminded himself that he just had to get through today. However, the sight of seeing Dean transform from helpful coach to seedy manager weighed heavily on his mind, eating away at his thoughts.
He stopped the treadmill suddenly and hopped off. He watched as Dean finished off a conversation with another man in a suit and then headed back to his office. Micah followed behind, sticking out his hand between himself and the door to keep Dean from unknowingly locking him out of his office.
Sucker Punch (The Submission Fighter Book 2) Page 2
