by HJ Bellus
He leans in close and whispers in my ear. Tingles and goose bumps spread throughout my body.
“I win,” he whispers in a husky tone.
I draw another grid, getting immersed in the game and forgetting all about my first day of class. Trick doesn’t miss a beat playing along, and that’s how the rest of the class goes.
When Professor Rhoades dismisses us, Trick doesn’t push me for more. Nope, he hitches his backpack over his shoulder and strides out. I don’t miss the fact that none of the taunts come my way even though certain old classmates recognize me. They don’t dare say a word to me even when Trick isn’t around me.
I scramble to the exit, shocked by my own actions. Trick is walking out the door into the crisp air before I can catch up to him. I open my mouth to call out his name, but the word dies in my throat. My shoulders slump. I’m defeated. He’s the first person in my life that’s made me want to crawl out of my safe zone.
I lift my hand and run my finger over the long, raised, jagged scar that runs the length of my neck. As with every time I touch it, I wonder if my past wasn’t my reality if I’d be this deathly shy and riddled with anxiety.
Chapter 5
Trick
“Five minutes and we’re heading out.” Boss slams down paperwork on his desk. “Can’t be late.”
Groans echo around the gym. We are all exhausted from the grueling training session. Two days until fight night, and that always means getting in one last session that threatens to break you.
Once a month, Layla, Boss’ daughter and Cruz’s wife, selects an organization in the community to donate money and our time to. Tonight, it’s the senior citizen center. Diablo’s Throne Gym is donating a hefty check and our time to help cook and serve the dinner tonight.
“You bang your teacher yet?” Jag nudges me in the shoulder.
Cruz and Riot bark out in laughter.
“Shut up,” I grumble.
“No, seriously, you hot for any teachers and bend them over their desk?” Jag puts his fists out while dry humping the air.
“That shit doesn’t happen, dumbass.” I shove his chest.
“Fuck yeah. It does.” He runs his hands through his hair. “In high school, tapped my math teacher right on her desk. Didn’t happen one time, either.”
“You’re full of shit, Jag,” Cruz adds.
“Scout’s motherfucking honor.” He holds up his fingers in a peace sign instead of a scout sign. “Ms. Tomlinson was a wildcat and any high school boy’s wet dream. God, those were the days.”
Sunni, Jag’s wife, stands behind him as he goes into detail about tapping the teacher. Not one of us alerts him to this fact. Her hands are perched on her hips, and she finally clears her throat.
Jag whirls around. I’d give anything to see the sheer horror on his face. Bastard is pussy whipped. Still talks big and all that, but his balls are neatly tucked away in Sunni’s purse.
“Do keep telling the entire gym about you banging your teacher, honey, by all means. Don’t let me stop you.” Sunni rubs one hand over her protruding belly.
“Baby girl, I was kidding. It was a joke.” He throws his arms out to his sides.
“Sure it was.” She crooks an eyebrow and stomps away.
“Baby, please, it was a joke.” Jag turns back to us and shakes his head, giving the air a few more thrusts with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’d never do such a thing.”
“Save it, Jag.” Sunni throws her hand up over her head and keeps striding right for the door.
“Do we have to take him?” Cruz groans.
Boss laughs, walking up behind us. “Yes, he’s family.”
“The annoying ugly stepchild,” Riot mutters.
“Still family, son.” Boss pats Riot on the shoulder. “I do have Sunni on board to monitor his actions around senior citizens.”
“Let’s hope there are no damn teacher desks there,” I say.
Riot and I draw the short stick and end up in the backseat of Sunni’s brand new, decked-out crossover SUV listening to the pleas of Jag apologizing. Sunni doesn’t engage. She remains eerily silent in the front seat, peering out the window. I may be one big-ass fighter, but a pissed-off woman scares the shit out of me. Must do the same to Jag as well since the man is sweating bullets.
It’s not until we are a few blocks away that Sunni reaches over and laces her fingers in Jag’s. She turns to him with a smile on her face.
“You’d be the only one that would brag about banging your high school teacher. However, Jag, if our child ever hears that story or finds out, I will burn your dick and balls with my curling iron.”
I cringe. My thighs tighten, and it takes everything inside of me not to cup my family jewels. Riot reacts the same way. We both share a horrified expression. Jag cringes in the front but offers an apology, placing a kiss on Sunni’s forehead while stopped at a red light. Once he pulls into the parking lot, there’s a whole lot of lip-smacking.
Riot and I bolt out of the car and head toward Boss, Cruz, Layla, and the other fighters.
“You gonna pay for our counseling after the shit we just went through?” Riot hitches a thumb over his shoulder.
Boss shakes his head. “Do I even want to know?”
“No. What was said in there never needs to be repeated or thought about again.”
“Trick,” Layla warns. “You know I have an inquisitive mind. You have to tell us now.”
“No.” Cruz slaps his hand over his wife’s mouth and shakes his head.
“Get your asses in there and act halfway normal. I’m supposed to be an MMA coach to adult fighters, not a goddamn babysitter of fools.” Boss strides ahead and flings open the door.
The familiar scent of my grandma Jones’ house slaps me in the face when I walk into the bright senior citizen center. It’s so powerful it nearly knocks me on my ass. God, I loved that woman, her cooking, and her loving arms. I push it all away and follow Boss back to the kitchen.
A loud, vibrant laugh echoes off the cheerful walls. The ferocity of it makes me smile for no damn reason. It’s raw and genuine. I stand back as Boss introduces himself to the manager.
He turns to me and whispers, “I’m depending on you here, Trick. You might be the only sane one out of all my fighters.”
I smirk and give him a chin jerk. When I round the corner, I see the person with the energetic and contagious laugh. What the ever-living fuck?
Chapter 6
Mack
“What do the mafia and pussies have in common?”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment hearing the word pussy come from Betty’s mouth. I twiddle my fingers, praying to the good Lord this moment can be erased from memory or a hole would form and suck me into it. She’s not affected in the least waiting for me to answer. I don’t even attempt it. Like I’ve done a hundred other times, I shrug and glance down to my sneakers.
“One slip of the tongue and you’re in deep shit.”
Betty cackles, clutching her sides and throwing her head back. Her laughter lights up the entire place. When she faces me again, tears stream down her face. She uses the back of her hand to wipe them away. The joke wasn’t funny at all, or at least not to me. It’s her laugh that is contagious, pushing a grin onto my face.
“Here’s another one. Girl, I swear I’m going to get a laugh outta you yet. Quick, before we have to start serving.”
“Seriously, I’m good, Betty.” I wave her off.
She ignores me, stepping in closer and lowering her voice this time.
“My dick is so big, clowns climb out of it when I cum.” She fingers her perfected silver curls on the top of her head. “Give me a minute, I can’t remember the punch line.”
“No shit, Betty.” Theodore, her husband, pats her shoulder. “That was a pickup line, not a damn joke.”
He shakes his head as he walks away, waving his hand over his head. Theodore isn’t shy about his love for whiskey, his little patience for his wife, and the love he has for her.
“I was just excited it had the word dick in it,” she admits.
“Whore!” Letty whispers as she walks up to us and slaps Betty on the ass.
It all becomes way too much. These women are always insane. They’re all business and professional when it’s time. It’s the behind the scenes part that makes me certain I could never keep up with them even at my young age.
As odd as it seems, they’re my family. Every single one of them.
When the entirety of Betty’s joke comes full-circle, I can’t help but erupt in laughter. It’s not a little giggle but one that causes my belly to ache. The more I laugh, the prouder Betty appears. She dusts off her shoulders and nods her head in a job well done.
“They’re here,” Letty leans in and whispers. “Your panties are about to catch on f-i-r-e, as in a flaming hot burning inferno. The highlight of my year, girls, I tell you.”
I knew some volunteers were coming in today. It’s all the women have talked about for months now. A local group of fighters donating their time and money. That right there warms my heart right away. I love this place. It’s like my home. However, the thought of newcomers and them possibly being around my age gives me hives. I tamp it down and focus on these crazy ladies’ whispers.
“Sweet Baby Jesus, my ovaries are on fire, and I don’t have any,” Betty says after a quick glance over her shoulder. “I get the one in the front with his backward ball cap on. He’s huge and so damn sexy.”
“Ladies,” Gene interrupts their fanning session, “our help has arrived.”
Here it goes. There’s no turning back now. Before I know it, Gene is at my side with his arm wrapped around my shoulders. He’s the closest thing to a real family member I’ve ever had, even though he was my next-door neighbor while growing up. You’d never know he is eighty-five years old by the way he still gets around. Gene has always been young at heart. He’s been my saving grace for years.
He goes about making introductions between the staff and our visitors. I study the tips of my scuffed Cons. Another weird quirk about me is I don’t throw away anything until it’s completely worn out. These shoes’ days are numbered. It causes a sharp pain in my chest. It’s ridiculous. Absolutely absurd, but it’s the way I tick.
“And this here is Mack. She’s the sweetheart of the Lower Valley Senior Citizen Center. She donates all of her time and is currently enrolled in college to obtain a degree in business.” Gene squeezes my shoulders, encouraging me to glance up.
I gasp when I do. Emotion lodges in my throat as Trick’s dark gaze drills holes through me. My jaw slackens and knees weaken when I drink him in. He stands with his legs spread wide and arms crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t give off a mean vibe. It’s the smile tilting up the corners of his lips and the quick jerk of his eyebrows that offer a friendly greeting.
The sides of his head are shaved tight. His long, shaggy hair is long gone. A black ball cap sits backward on his head. I may be deathly shy and have more problems than an average girl my age, but I’m not dead. Far from it, and it seems Betty was spot on about the man in the hat.
“Mack.” Trick nods, steps up to me, and places a tender, sweet, and quick kiss on my cheek.
Betty and Letty swoon behind me. Gene’s grip on my shoulder tightens. I clear my throat and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Trick picks up on this and saves the day. I have no idea how this man can read me like an open book. Nobody else ever has been able to, or maybe it was they didn’t care enough to try. Gene pulls everything from me even after years of being best friends.
Trick steps back, tucking his hands into his pockets. His jeans dip low, exposing a sliver of toned and tanned abs. I stare far too long and am only distracted when Trick starts talking.
“Mack and I go to school together. We are in the same accounting class.”
This seems to appease Gene a bit since his grip loosens.
“We are working on a project together. Mack’s a da—” Trick stops himself. “A genius.”
I’ve noticed foul language flies from his lips naturally. At first, I didn’t like it all, but I’ve learned to love it because it’s all Trick.
“Well, nice to meet you. Mack here is like my daughter, just letting you know,” Gene warns Trick.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment. This is awkward as hell.
“Nice to meet you, Gene.” Trick sticks out his hand.
Betty saves the day, whipping us all into place. She guides each fighter into position, not missing an opportunity to run her palms over their shoulders and along their backs. She’s insane; there’s no other way to describe it.
I take up the station I’m at every single time, and that’s the runner. There are only three paid employees, and the rest are all volunteers. A few years back the city threatened to pull all funding. It’s what spurred me to obtain my college degree and pursue a career working with non-profit organizations.
I fill in wherever I can, typically running back and forth. I used to be here five nights a week until enrolling in classes and had to cut back to three days a week. Besides facing other people my age, missing this place has been the hardest part of on-campus college life compared to online courses.
I round the counter, bending over to pick up a case of canned goods. Volunteering here is as good as a full daily workout at an expensive gym. My fingers grip the edges of the box. I do my best not to grunt as I put my whole back into it.
“Hey, let me help you.” Trick appears in front of me.
“I got it,” I grit out.
His brows furrow. Trick doesn’t accept my answer and takes the box from my hand. “Jesus, this is heavy as hell.”
He glances down at me. I jerk my head to the back of the kitchen and lead the way.
“Seriously, how did you pick this up?” he asks, setting it on the counter.
I shrug and exhale sharply. “With my hands.”
“Cracking jokes now? Introverts around the world are cringing, Mack-A-Bee.” Trick pulls out a pocketknife from his pocket. His hand grazes across the top of the box. He flips the blade shut and tucks it back in his pocket.
“Mack-A-Bee?” I shake my head pretending the nickname disgusts me when it warms my insides.
“Would you prefer Big Mack, Mackster, Mac and Eggs?” He plants a hand on his hip and tilts his head.
“Mack will do.” I reach into the box, pulling out a huge can of corn, and begin to stock the shelf.
“Trick, let’s go.”
We both look over to see a man waving at him.
“Gotta run, Mack-A-Bee.” He winks.
I stare as he walks away. There’s being short, then there’s being short as hell when next to a giant like Trick. Every part of his body is muscle and perfection. I make myself focus back on the task of unloading freight.
The familiar chatter echoing around the center isn’t comforting tonight. I’m edgy as I work. It’s not anxiety attacking my core. No, it’s something I’ve never felt before. I’m not sure if I like it or not. When I catch Trick staring at me, I smile at him and find it odd how badly I want to stand next to him and serve my friends.
I’m smitten like a princess in a fairytale.
Chapter 7
Trick
This place is hopping. Everyone is so damn friendly, and even though years have been harsh on their bodies, you’d never know. I glance over my shoulder every once in a while to check out Mack. The woman has blown my mind. She’s a whole hell of lot more than I ever imagined.
Gene, who earlier seemed like he wanted to kick my ass, now chats my ear off. He’s a nice fellow, but I still can’t figure out the connection between him and Mack.
“Is our girl here tonight?” an elderly woman with stiff silver curls asks as she comes through the line.
I can’t help but notice how tan bordering on orange her skin is. It’s the furthest I’ve ever seen from a natural look.
“She is.” Gene wipes his hands on his apron. “Let me grab her.
She’ll love seeing you.”
I watch and continue to serve mashed potatoes. Betty or Letty, I’m not sure which, waltzes behind me and gives my ass a squeeze. She’s a damn wildcat and makes me laugh hard.
“Delores!” I hear Mack’s shrill cry. She dries her hands on her apron and adjusts her glasses. They’re nerd glasses to a T, but somehow Mack makes them sexy as sin.
She rushes the woman with her arms wide open. They hug for a long time. I’m seeing a whole different Mack. The glimpses of her personality are just as beautiful as she. Natural and effortless.
“When did you get home?” Mack stands back, still keeping her hands on the woman’s shoulders.
“Just now. We had to come see all of our friends.” She hugs Mack again.
“New grandbaby?” Mack asks.
Delores holds up the line while pulling out a phone from her purse. The chill vibe in this area means no one is pissed or frustrated the line has stalled. I take the opportunity to study everything I can about Mack.
I watch as her eyes light up when she sees the picture on the phone. She clutches her chest as her cheeks heat with pride.
“He’s gorgeous, Delores. Just perfect.”
“Mack, we had the best time in Hawaii visiting our grandchildren and great-grandson. How’s college going? I have to know everything about it.”
Mack leans in and whispers something in Delores’ ear. Delores’ eyes go wide as she jerks her gaze to me. Mack swats her shoulder.
“I told you not to look,” Mack hisses.
It doesn’t stop Delores from giving me an inquisitive look that turns into a death stare. Holy shit, these people love their Mack. A center full of seniors is more intimidating than any dad sitting on a porch with his shotgun.
