Dirty Love (Fighting Dirty Series Book 1)

by Glenna Mayanrd

  He’s so determined to leave his mark on the MMA world. I do admire his passion, even though at times I feel its misplaced and misguided.

  As I’m walking a few blocks over to Healthy Vines, a salad and tea place my phone pings. I have a new notification on my selfie. OZ comments and his screen name has me cackling.

  Pussy Wizard: You have my vote ;)

  I think he’s flirting. I don’t know what to say back, I’m so not good at the whole flirting and dating thing. I have zero experience aside from Royce. That didn’t go so well. I’ll ask Tiff she’ll know what to do, she’s the best when it comes to sassy and cute.

  She calls me over from a table in the back when I walk in. The air conditioning smacking my face is welcoming. I can’t believe she nabbed us a table; we usually have to order to go and eat outside. I go over and greet her briefly. She already has her food so I go up to the counter to order mine. I don’t know why I come here planning to be healthy. By the time I order extra cheese and dressing on my grilled chicken salad, I might as well have not worked out at all this morning. This place has the best dang tea I’ve ever drank though. Not too sweet, but not too strong either. Perfect.

  After getting my order I trudge through the line waiting to order and make my way back to our table.

  I sip my tea and wait for Tiff to stop chewing before I ask for her opinion on OZ. I’m not exactly looking to date, but a little fun couldn’t hurt. Although I swore to myself I would never get involved with another fighter. Kinda hard not to though when I am surrounded by them daily.

  “So what do you think?” I ask sliding my phone across the table. She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and points her fork at me. “You need to wait before responding. Don’t come off so eager or desperate. I made Kline chase me. Even though I was lusting for him on the inside, I couldn’t let him see that.” She grins and green eyes grow wider. “Pussy Wizard. No just no Brandi. This dude screams Royce 2.0. You don’t need to go there.”

  “What if I want to just for fun?” I frown. “I could just post a simple heart,” I announce taking back my phone.

  Her hand slams down over my wrist. “Absolutely not. Guys don’t speak emoji. Don’t be one of those girls.” She shakes her head and her curl springs back into her eyes.

  I throw my hands up in defeat. “Okay then wise one. What do I do?”

  “Give me your phone,” she demands as I dig into my salad before it gets all soggy from the dressing I blanketed it in.

  Reluctantly I slide it over.

  She powers it off with a proud smirk. “There. Crisis averted. Out of sight out of mind. You don’t want to get involved with a guy who refers to himself as the ‘Pussy Wizard.’ Fun time or not, that’s an STD waiting to happen.”

  “You suck,” I mumble between bites.

  “I know just ask Kline.” She grins at me and it takes a lot of effort not to stab her in the hand with my fork.

  “For the sake of our friendship I am going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

  Tiff rolls her eyes and takes a drink of her tea.

  “You’re so lucky I love you,” I tell her as I toss my food in the trash and go back to the gym to finish my shift.

  Chapter 2

  “Weighing in at 220 pounds, in the red trunks, Kline ‘TNT’ Evans. And weighing in at 235 pounds, in the silver trunks, Brent ‘Killer’ Miller.” The crowd cheers and howls.

  My brother dances on the balls of his feet as his opponent circles him. Kline always says he doesn’t chase his opponent he lets them come to him. He said, “I’m not tiring myself out playing the cat.”

  Tonight that strategy doesn’t seem to be working in his favor. I can’t help but scan the large room checking for Royce. I do it at every fight. Every time I am disappointed whether I see him or not. I chug my third beer and try to shake off my thoughts of Royce without much success.

  Not seeing him makes me worry about him, his day job is just as dangerous as the fights if not more so. He works for a security firm. Seeing him with another woman on his arm hurts more. I can’t count the number of women he has been seen with in recent months. I never thought he’d be one to flaunt his flings in my face but I was wrong.

  Tiff is squeezing my hand so damn hard brings my attention back to the fight. “Kline, kick his ass! Get up!” My knees are shaking and my palms are sweating. I have never been so nervous watching my brother fight before. But tonight he is taking a beating from Brent ‘The Killer’ Miller.

  Get up Kline, I mentally scream at him hoping he can hear me mentally kicking his ass. Brent has him down on the floor in a choke hold pummeling his fists against his head. My brother never told me whether he was supposed to win or lose this fight. He says the less I know the better. Something I hear from him often. So infuriating.

  His brow and nose are bleeding. His blood splatters onto the dingy mat making my stomach churn. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him hurt, but there’s something about his opponent that scares me. He has this dead look in his eyes. A look that says he’s out for more than blood. I close my eyes unable to watch Kline suffer anymore tonight.

  The crowd around me is chanting and I can’t make out the sounds as the bell ringing pounds in my head.

  “Ladies and gentlemen winning by TKO — Brent ‘The Killer’ Miller.”

  Pushing my way through the crowd I make my way to the back door of the warehouse to wait for my brother joined by Tiffany.

  “What kind of mood is your brother in? That dude just annihilated him. You know him better than anyone, I just want to be prepared.”

  “He’s going to be in a really bad mood, I would approach him carefully if I were you.” Normally I could care less about my brother’s conquests, but Tiffany is a close friend. I’ve already warned my brother that he better treat her right. I warned Tiffany too, but she says Kline is worth the risk. I just hope he doesn’t cost me her friendship. We’ve been best friends since ninth grade when we were assigned to share a locker.

  We’ve always shared everything, I just never expected to share my brother with her too.

  When Kline loses a fight he gets in a raw mood. The smallest thing can set him off. He hates to lose, especially for Charlie's dumb ass.

  My brother and Brent reach the pair of us at the same time. Brent puts an arm around Tiff’s shoulder. “I’ve already beaten the brother’s ass. Royce fucked the sister. Whatever shall I do with you?”

  That does it; I can feel Kline’s anger— so much so that I am shaking.

  “Fuck you, Brent!” Kline pushes him, disregarding Tiffany’s close proximity in the process. She is knocked to the floor in the scuffle, but unscathed.

  Now the real fight begins.

  I knew my brother was holding back— fucking Charlie!

  I help Tiffany up from the concrete floor. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, let’s go make sure Kline doesn’t kill this jack ass.” We walk arm in arm to the parking lot to find my brother in an all-out-face-off with Brent.

  People have switched on their headlights to spotlight them, turning the parking lot into a makeshift arena.

  Tiffany drags me to the back of Kline’s truck and we stand in the bed of his Chevy to get a better view. Now we are going to see my brother really give it to Brent. I almost feel bad for the guy, that blacktop isn’t going to feel very good. Kline lands a left hook in Brent’s side and opens up the perfect opportunity to lay into him. Repeatedly Kline drills his fists into the dude’s skull.

  No one is attempting to step between them to break them apart. I’m sure it goes against both of their contracts to fight outside of the cage.

  What seems like minutes tick by but it’s only been seconds. It is ugly and primal watching the two of them tear one another down.

  Neither of them look very good. The pair of them are sporting split lips and knots are swelling on their heads. The guys continue to scuffle and dance for a few more minutes. Brent is growing winded; I can see it in his stance. The w
ay his chest is heaving is a dead giveaway that he’s running out of steam. He wraps his arms around Kline’s waist trying to catch his breath. My brother picks him up and slams him down onto the hood of what was a gorgeous yellow Corvette. It’s not so pretty now with the dented in hood.

  The alarm of the car starts sounding off, and everyone jumps in their cars scurrying away from the scene as we hear police sirens wailing in the distance.

  Suddenly I am locked in place, being held by the stare of the owner of the car — PG—Parker Garrett that sexy motherfucker has his eyes transfixed on me and I swear I can’t breathe. I am still standing in the back of my brother’s truck as the sounds of squealing tires melt into the background. It’s as if in this moment there is only Parker and me. I know what kind of man he is. Hell, he is the most eligible bachelor in Las Vegas, there was even an article about him in one of those men’s’ magazines. He is the unattainable. Catching a man like him would be like capturing a mythical creature. I wonder what he could ever want with me besides a one-night stand, if that even. The I realize he’s probably trying to get my brother’s license plate number for insurance purposes. I’m stupid to think a man such as him would be interested in a girl like me.

  Tiffany jerks my arm pulling me out of the daze I was just in. We scramble into the cab of Kline’s truck leaving Parker standing with a look of bewilderment on his handsome face.

  “That was quite a show you put on back there brother.”

  “You know how it is Bran, fucking Charlie.” He wipes at his nose as blood drops onto his chest.

  Tiff takes her shirt off and gives it to him without hesitation. Now that is love, because the girl is anal about her clothes. She shops for a living. “Why in the hell did you fake a knockout and let that fungus breath have one up on you? How much does Charlie owe this time?” She questions him.

  “Our wonderful step-monster is in with the Garretti brothers for oh about fifty G’s, “Kline drops his bomb on us.

  “What! Are you shitting me?” her mouth hangs open.

  Kline snorts and shakes his head. “I shit you not; it doesn’t stink in here does it?”

  “You know how he is Tiff,” I warn her nicely to back off. Kline can go from hero to asshole in two seconds when he’s coming down from a loss.

  I can see a tight 'O' formed on her lips and a crease of worry lining her forehead. She knows just as well as I do that this means only one of two things. One, my brother is going to be getting his ass beat to foot the bill, or two the Garretti brother’s will take it out on one of us if Charlie doesn’t pay up. If Kline doesn’t do what they want. The Garretti brothers run the Mob scene in Las Vegas—meaning they are not good company to keep, especially if you are on their bad side.

  “Don’t look at me like that, both of you. What do you want me to do? Let one of those cock suckers hurt you or mom?”

  “No Kline, I want Charlie to be a man, and take responsibility for his own shit for once in his life. What if you get hurt Kline, then what?”

  “Alright that’s enough you two; this isn’t going to get solved right now. Bran you need to go home and go to bed. You’ve been drinking way too much. You’re a lightweight. Kline, baby your face could use some ice.” Tiffany is holding her hands up trying to play peace keeper. She looks comical in her demi bra and jeans, with a serious scowl on her face.

  Against my better judgment I have them drop me off at my mom and Charlie’s place. It was either come here, or go to the apartment I share with my brother, and hear him and my best friend fuck all night. No thank you, I shudder at the thought. I would rather suck a big fat hairy toe. And trust me, I find feet to be disgusting.

  I trudge slowly through the door already regretting my decision.

  “Well look what the cat drug in. Debra, your super model has graced us with her presence.”

  I’d love nothing more than to tell that fat bastard to eat a dick, but I’m not in the mood for his shit. Kline isn’t here to keep him from striking me, and open call with Lucky 7 is approaching. I don’t think they would want me with a black eye, although it might net me some sympathy.

  "Hey baby, what brings you over here?” My mother gives me a weak smile. The years of being married to a man like Charlie have taken their toll on her. Her dark brown hair is streaked with gray and crow’s feet caress her tired eyes.

  “Can’t a girl just want to see her mom every once in a while?”

  “You look like you’ve had a good time tonight. Let me fix you a bite to eat. Yeah?”

  “I think I’m just going to crash. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  My mom gives me a peck on the cheek and a gentle squeeze. She is such a sweet woman; I don’t know what she’s ever seen in Charlie. I’ll give him one thing though, at least he is consistent. You always know what you see is exactly what you get from him.

  I fall asleep drunk on the way Parker Garrett was staring at me, well maybe not me, but it sure felt like we shared a moment back there.

  **

  When I wake up I feel disoriented vaguely trying to recall the night before. My stomach is swirling and I have cotton mouth. I roll over and put my pillow over my face in an attempt to go back to sleep. Gross! The smell of Charlie’s cheap cigarettes fills the air. I remember where I am, at mom’s place. Photos of my childhood line the wall, reminding me of how fat I used to be, and of the girl I will never be again.

  Ugh… now I have to pee and I can’t hold it. Suppose I’ll be getting up now. Glancing at the crooked clock hanging on the wall it’s nearly noon. Slow and steady I roll off the itchy couch, planting both feet firmly on the ground. Last time I got drunk, I rolled out of bed too quickly, and busted my nose on the floor. I don’t need a repeat of that.

  After washing last night’s makeup off, I join my mom and Charlie in the kitchen. The sight of him in his wife beater and boxers is disgusting. I look at him sitting there with a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. His beady eyes narrow in on me as I grab a cup of coffee. “I hear Kline got his ass beat last night.” He grunts.

  “As if you don’t know already? You didn’t ask Kline to throw the fight for you?” I throw him an accusing glare. “You make me sick Charlie. One day my brother’s not going to be around to save your ass.”

  “Yeah and one day I’m going to do something about that smart mouth of yours.” He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and resumes reading the sports section of his newspaper.

  I’d like to wad his paper up and shove it down his fat throat.

  “I don’t have to listen to this. Mom I’ll call you later this week.” I scoot my chair back and make my way to the living room to grab my purse.

  “You don’t have to go; Charlie is just a big kidder. Tell her Charlie, you’re just teasing her.” She follows me to the door, but I know when to pick my battles with Charlie, and today isn’t the day.

  I don’t wait for the door to hit my ass on the way out. She knows Charlie is a fuck-stick and he’s so not joking. For some reason she chooses to block out all of the years Charlie laid his hands on Kline and me growing up. And all of the times she lied to cover up the abuse, until my brother started training to fight. Then he was big and strong enough to take on Charlie. I walk to the end of the block missing my jeep.

  Let it be known now I hate public transit, but there was no way I was staying at my mom’s any longer than I had to. It’s times like this I wonder why I ever ride to the fights with my brother. I try really hard not to breathe during my twenty-minute ride back to normalcy. The buses here smell of a cross between body odor and vomit. Not to mention all of the strange people I encounter every time I find myself without my jeep.

  The kid in front of me keeps wiping his boogers on the top of the seat and I want to puke. I’m never having kids. Why do they have to be so dang gross?

  Finally, it’s my stop and I am running away from the bus stop, eager for a shower.

  I open the door and call out that I’m home in warning in case Tiff
is still here and they are getting freaky. I don’t need to see whatever it is they do together.

  No one answers me, and when I pass by my brother’s room his bed is unoccupied.

  Good, the apartment is empty. Kline is probably at the gym. I love having the place to myself, I’d move out, but neither of us can afford to live on our own. It sure as hell beats living with Charlie though.

  I can’t help but feel anxious about the cage girl stuff coming up in a few days, after the stare down I shared with Parker Garrett last night.

  I need to work on my routine. I don’t know why but one of the requirements is that we perform a dance number.

  I suppose they want to see how fit we are.

  There are so many stories about Parker. I guess you might say I’m not one of the girls he normally dates.

  He’s rumored to date a few of the cage girls, but he’s usually seen with B-class celebrities.

  Stepping into the shower, I imagine what it would be like to give him a private performance at my audition— his eyes would roam my curves as I dance for him. Would he want to do more than just watch me?

  Screwing around with anyone under contract with Lucky 7 would kill my chances, but Parker doesn’t strike me as a man who follows rules—but instead one who makes them just as good as he breaks them.

  Most guys are afraid to ask me out because of my brother and Royce. Sure it sucks, but that just means that they aren’t man enough for me anyways. I twist my hair in a knot on my head after toweling off. I go to my room to dress in my workout clothes and grab my gym bag. I’m on the evening shift working the desk. I hope Sug is working, she always knows what to do with my unruly waves. My hair seems to have a mind of its own—it never does what I want it to. If I want it curly it lies stick straight and if I want it straight, it curls up.

  There’s a note on my dresser from Tiff.

  Slutbag,

  I bummed a shirt. I’ll give it back next time I’m over.

  Love you mean it.

  Tiff

  I laugh, she has a real way with words. I park my jeep in the gym parking garage, and when I exit my vehicle I see Royce walking towards me. His muscles flex under his white form fitting tee. His light brown hair is spiked at the tips. Why does he have to be so sexy? Jerk.