by Young, M. L.
CHASE
The Series
Volume Two
M.L. Young
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances of characters to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The author, M.L. Young, holds exclusive rights to this work.
Copyright © 2014 by M.L. Young
All rights reserved
NOTE: This is a serial, and unfolds over three volumes. This series also has alternating points of view. Each volume is 20,000 words, and each volume will be $0.99, but free to read with your Kindle Unlimited membership. Please join my mailing list (link at the end) for release dates, as well as to know when things launch as they happen. I will also update this on my Facebook, with the link below at the end of the volume.
Also by M.L. Young
The Stipulation Serials (first volume free)
Broken
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
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About the Author
Chapter One
Alexis
I had never once thought that I would meet a person who had such a hold, such a strangle, on me. I received that message, the one from him, from Chase, and I didn’t even know what to think. I had waited for him, tried to talk to him, and got nothing, not even so much as a message telling me to get lost and go find someone else to bother. I almost wished I had. It would’ve made things much easier.
“Hello, Alexis,” the words said, inked on my screen just as they were inscribed in my mind. It was so nonchalant, like a standard greeting, as if we were just two buddies who hadn’t shared a passionate, carnal night together. He wrote it like his cock hadn’t been inside me, but we both know that was a lie. A big lie.
What if this was all another game or trick to him? What if he just needed to get laid, and I was the easy target with the bull’s eye on her head? Maybe Chase couldn’t find another woman to be with tonight; maybe he had nobody to please him. I didn’t want that, though, at least not anymore. I wasn’t going to be easy for him—at least I hoped so.
The cursor on my screen blinked incessantly and I tried to think of the right words to say. Should I even say anything at all? Maybe I should give him the same boring, standard message he had sent to me. Maybe I should make him sweat it out a little bit. Fuck, who was I kidding? This man wasn’t like the others I’d been out with. Usually the woman has all of the power with the man. We can make them do whatever we want, and silence is always the best medicine to get what you want. Not with him, though, not with Chase. He didn’t mess around, and I knew that being rude or heavily guarded could mean he’d drop me like a sack of rotting potatoes and move onto someone else who would give him the attention he so desired.
“Long time no talk,” I typed.
My thumb hovered over the glowing send button, begging me to hit it. I felt a little nervous, my thumb slowly and hesitantly floating downwards, before I hit the button and the screen changed, the message displaying as sent. I sat there, praying that he wouldn’t leave me hanging again, like he had before. I wasn’t saying that things would ever happen between us, but to say that I didn’t want to at least see him once more would be a dirty fucking lie.
My phone buzzed, maybe five minutes later, my hands unable to pick up my slippery device fast enough. I flipped the phone over to see the screen and saw a notification from the app. I quickly swiped it open, the app loading so slowly it shoved a knife through my heart with anticipation. “Come on,” I said, trying to make it go faster. Finally, it opened. The message was there, waiting. I clicked on it and bit my lower lip, the words lighting up my dimly lit screen.
“Yeah, it has been. I’m sorry for not replying sooner to your last message. I was…busy, for a lack of a better term.”
Busy? We both knew that was a load of shit, and I almost wanted to tell him to give me a better excuse than that he was busy. Nobody was too busy, not even the damn President, to write a person a quick message back letting them know they have something going on. It was almost like he slapped me in the face and then made me apologize for being hit. He wanted me to feel sympathy for him, like I should know he was a busy man, but no, I wouldn’t. He might be Matthew Chase, but I’m Alexis Green, and I don’t take kindly to assholes.
“No, you weren’t busy,” I typed furiously. “You were just playing games, like you always do, at the expense of others. I don’t know if you felt bad about it, or maybe some side girl dumped you and now you’re back to me, but I see right through you.”
I hit send, a grimace on my face, and I felt my blood pressure rising, boiling inside me like an ant under a magnifying glass. Even though I was getting a little angry, I wanted to see what he had to say, and I wanted to see it now.
I waited and waited for what felt like hours before he replied, something longer and more thorough than I had expected. For a man of few words, he sure knew when to break the floodgates open and allow them all to flow out at once.
“I can assure you that isn’t the case. Have I been gone? Yes, I have, and that’s wrong. I haven’t been seeing other women, or even trying to get with any others. I never even usually message women back, but you’re different, Alexis. You’re a special girl and I wanted to know you more, even though that’s clearly not what you had in mind. I was going to ask you out, to dinner, to talk about things and maybe see if there is anything left we can salvage, since you seem so intent on hating me. I guess I was wrong, though. I suppose nothing will happen.”
I tapped my fingers on my thigh, my blood pressure beginning to lower, as I read his message three times, each time reading it more and more closely, like I was practicing my reading comprehension. How was he able to do this? To get me to calm down, to almost feel bad? I was mad at him, yes, but I didn’t hate him. I wasn’t sure I actually hated anyone, as that was a very strong word and feeling.
Reading his message over, I realized one thing. I wanted to know why he’d thought about me, especially considering I wasn’t his usual cup of tea. He didn’t even try to talk dirty or talk about hooking up with me. He didn’t say he missed my touch or the way I bent over his bed. He just wanted to meet me, on a date, to talk things out and see if we could work on them. I wanted to be angry, and hell, I guessed I still was, but now only a little, not a lot.
“Well, I’m sorry for assuming those things then. It’s just hard, you know? When you feel like you clicked with someone, had sex with them, spent the night with them, and then they vanish like an exorcised ghost. Then I try to get in contact with you and nothing, nothing at all. It can just make a person a little mad and insecure, you know? With all of that said, maybe we could do dinner, or lunch, or something, though,” I replied.
“Yeah,” he replied a few minutes later. “I understand where you’re coming from, and why you’d be upset with me. Just know that I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. Maybe some day we will look back at this and laugh, who knows. But, if you’re interested, maybe we can meet up tomorrow for lunch and just talk. Are you free?”
“Yeah, I’m free. I get out of class at eleven, and don’t have to be back until two, so I should be completely good to go. Just let me know the time and place and I’ll be there. You better be also. I’m not giving you another chance if you don’t show up,” I replied.
I set my phone down, a million thoughts running through my head, my mind buzzing like I was sitting front and center at a death metal concert. Did I just make plans with him? Not only that, but
they were for tomorrow. I had gone from being incredibly angry with him, to being simmered down by him, to agreeing to meet him, all in one fell swoop. How did he do that? How did he change my mind so damn easily? I hated that about him. It was like he was a mind reader and could shift my thoughts on the fly, making me do whatever it was he wanted me to do.
Maybe it wasn’t all bad, though. I would get to try to really find out why he disappeared, and he did seem to want to genuinely fix things with me. I must have made some kind of impact on him if he came back after all that time, saying he wanted to see me and essentially that he missed me. Men don’t do that unless they know they’ve made a mistake. He wouldn’t go through this much trouble if I were a booty call for one night. It would be easier to find a new girl than to deal with me possibly attaching myself to him like a hungry leech.
No matter what his reason, I felt as though I needed this not only for his sake, but for mine as well. He had something to say, I had plenty to say, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to not reply for a week or more. If he was right there, looking at me, sitting two feet from me, he couldn’t avoid my questions and wait until a later date when he thought things might have cooled down. He had to answer them, and I had to get my answers. When it was all said and done, I’d get closure at least, and if I was lucky, I’d get something even better than that. I think I’d still give him another chance. He just had to prove to me that he wasn’t going to blow it, stomp on it, and throw it away until he felt like he was good and ready again.
Please, don’t let this end tragically, I thought. Lord knows I needed to catch a break, just this once.
Chapter Two
Chase
What the hell had I done? I was willingly and happily going to meet a woman I had already met and been with before. This was blasphemy! Matthew Chase isn’t one for second dates or second chances. He’s the type of guy who lies through his teeth just so he can taste the sweet nectar of lust any time the craving strikes. I feared that this man was gone, stripped of all his morals, dropped naked in the forest, unable to survive on his own. Why did I let her have this effect on me? How did she have this effect on me?
As I paced around my office, firmly grasping my chin between my thumb and index finger, Brian came in, knocking on the door weakly, like the power had been sucked out of him.
“What is it?” I asked, as I continued to look down at the floor.
“Ms. Lawson is here to see you, sir. I don’t have an appointment for her. She’s just…here.”
“Send her in,” I said, waving my hand in the air.
Nigella came in within seconds, wearing a fur coat in this eighty-five degree weather, her tits most likely positively soaked in glistening sweat that she’d claim was diamond shavings or some other bullshit only she could come up with.
“Chase, we need to talk,” she said, before sitting down, setting down her unusual mammoth-sized bag on my desk.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting down.
“I want my demands, and I want them now. Urtopium Records is trying to take me away from you guys, they’re even willing to buy out my contract. They’re also offering me everything you guys do, as well as a new private jet, a custom-made tour bus, and a twenty-percent raise on royalties,” she said.
“So why are you telling me this then? Sounds like they’re offering what you want,” I said.
“Because I love it here, Chase. I love you, I love the staff, and I’ve always had good experiences here. I don’t want to leave, but as my star power rises, so should everything else. An A-plus player shouldn’t get B-plus accommodations,” she said.
“Then we’ll match what they are giving you, as long as you stay and sign another five-year contract,” I said.
“Wait…what?” she asked, with a sincerely confused expression on her face.
“You get what you want. I won’t fight you any longer,” I said.
“I accept, but why? Why all of the sudden are you giving me what I want? You’ve never given me exactly what I’ve wanted, Chase,” she said.
“I guess some things have changed, Nigella. I don’t know how or why, but they have,” I said.
“Don’t change too much, babe. You need to keep that backbone if you want to stay on top. I’ll call you soon. We’ll do dinner,” she said, standing up, blowing me a kiss, and walking out the door.
“Did…did I hear you correctly?” Brian asked, squirming into my office.
“Yes, Brian, you did,” I said, before wiping my face with my hands and sighing.
“You seem different, sir. Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” he asked.
I looked intently at my desk, my eyes glazing over, my fingers tapping incessantly on the surface.
“Just some ice water, please,” I said.
“Right away,” Brian said.
What was happening to me? Why was I…caring? Why did I give Nigella what she asked for? I’d never done that before. Before I met Alexis I wouldn’t even give Nigella a chance to demand anything. I would’ve taken her by the waist, brought her in close, and made her beg for more. Now I wasn’t sure I could even get the strength and courage to bring her close to me. I was losing it. Why, I wasn’t sure, but I knew that losing it, for Matthew Chase, wasn’t a good thing. Not at all.
•••
The day had arrived and I started to have second thoughts. Why was I doing this? I could always back out, tell her I had the flu and needed to rest. I could say I was in a car accident. Hell, I could even make it one step easier and tell her I had an emergency business meeting in New York and the trip was taking me away for a week or more. That would break everything. I knew she wouldn’t meet me if I backed away again, so the problem would be solved and I would be able to get on with my life and go back to being a bachelor with no sense of responsibility for other people’s feelings. I could just go back. It could be that easy.
I paced around my empty office, taking quick and forceful steps that were almost forceful enough to wear my footprints into the floor.. I wasn’t going crazy, far from it, but I was facing what seemed to be my hardest choice since I decided to come out here all those years ago. It was like I was back to clamoring for any sign from anyone, like some divine intervention, though I supposed I didn’t totally believe in that.
Maybe I should use this time with her, this lunch, not to make amends and fix that crumbling bridge of our “relationship,” but to fix the structure and foundation of my anxiety and feelings. Maybe I could use our date to get closure, to see her and talk to her, even if it was for the last time. I knew it would be risky, not only for myself but for her, but was it worth it? Was going to meet her, even if the meaning or motivation was fuzzy or wrong, worth it? I couldn’t tell her, of course, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her…at least so I hoped.
As our date came near, I sucked up my pride, realizing I had to go, and I wouldn’t be able to stand her up and ruin my chance of at least getting some kind of closure.
I left the office. The groups of girls, sprinkled with a couple guys, were waiting outside the parking garage, trying to call out for me to come talk to them. I didn’t look at them, my mind not in that place, my interest unable to be stolen.
My car chirped as I unlocked it, the sweet scent of the dark leather inside tickling my senses before I gripped the wrapped shifter and put my car into reverse. I drove up to the gate and the guard let me out, the pedestrians trying to shake their hands and papers to get my attention, as if they really thought that I’d roll down my window and let them put everything of theirs into my most exotic of cars. Without so much as a polite smile on my face, I looked forward, acting like none of them were there, before pulling out into the street and speeding away.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, getting closer and closer to the small restaurant where we were supposed to be meeting, the minutes on my dashboard clock ticking down, one at a time.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw flocks of young women in tat
tered shorts and sheer tops, their apple-shaped asses pushing the denim in their shorts out in an inviting way, just the way I liked. I should be able to go up to them, give them a signature Chase stare, and have them melt into a puddle, waiting for me to clean them up and put them back together. You better be worth it, Alexis, I thought. This meeting, or date, or whatever you wanted to call it, better be worth it. I needed to revert to my normal behavior before it was too late. Before all of my mojo was gone.
I got a couple looks as I got out of my car. The sight of exotic cars usually isn’t enough to make most people stop in place with awe, but instead just give a concentrated glare as you walk by. People in Los Angeles have become conditioned to seeing things they’ll never be able to afford, especially when it comes to expensive cars.
“Hello, can I help you?” a girl behind a wooden podium asked as I walked in the doors.
“I’m here to meet someone. Her name is Alexis,” I said, as I took off my sunglasses and squinted while I looked around for her.
“Oh, she’s already here. She’s on the back patio. Follow me and I’ll lead the way,” the woman said with a friendly smile.
I walked behind her, her heels clinking on the light tile floor as the few patrons inside talked amongst themselves, the high piles of food on their plates reminiscent of a restaurant in a small Midwestern town and not a health and body-conscious Los Angeles.
There she was, sipping on a glass of ice water that frosted the outside of the glass and had a vibrant yellow lemon floating inside. Her blouse was pink, flowing, her hair floating in the wind as a small breeze drifted through. She looked beautiful. She looked over, saw me, and gave a small yet powerful smile, before standing up, pushing her chair backwards as she did.
