Dirty Love (Fighting Dirty Series Book 1)

by Glenna Mayanrd

  “Can we talk?”

  “Why?” I cross my arms. He didn’t want to talk when he stomped on my heart.

  He tries to take my hand and I pull away. His touch jolts my heart. It’s been months upon months, and his touch still feels like home. Kline warned me not to get involved but I didn’t listen. I couldn’t stay away.

  Royce was my first love.

  He was attracted to me for me, he didn’t make an issue of my weight. He never said a word about my needing to shed some pounds.

  When we first got together some of the gym bunnies would make snide comments about how my face was pretty for a big girl. Bitches. They don’t say shit about me now. Other than Sasha, a real clinger. She hooked her claws into my brother before he got with Tiff. After fucking with my brother the skanky bitch had the nerve to come onto me. That’s just gross. Like I’d ever screw around with someone who bumped uglies with my brother. No way. After that she moved onto Royce. Chick is weird and I couldn’t believe it when I saw her on Royce’s arm at one of the fights.

  “Why do you want me back? You dumped me. Remember?”

  Royce and I first met at the gym. When we first met he was in a bad place. It was a long time before he opened up to me about what it was that kept him so guarded with me.

  Royce was in love once before me, with a girl named Elizabeth, but he wasn’t the only one. His best friend at the time loved her as well. It tore their friendship apart. A long story short, Elizabeth was killed in a car wreck. Royce and the other guy were pressuring her to make a choice. She took off driving while distraught, and when she crashed her car, the trauma killed her. However, the most fucked up part is that when she died she suffered a miscarriage. Elizabeth was carrying a child; which no one knew she was pregnant with.

  When she passed away, Royce and the other guy were both left not knowing which one of them was the father, or who she was going to choose. Royce has never been able to forgive himself, or fully be the man I deserved because of his guilt when we were together. He thinks if he would have stepped aside letting his friend be with her…she’d still be alive. The accident wasn’t Royce’s fault though, or the other guys. Elizabeth had no business getting behind the wheel of her car while she was so hysterical. I’m not saying the accident is her fault either. Bad shit happens. It’s tragic and I’m sorry it happened, but life goes on.

  Royce was trying to move on with me, until he wasn’t.

  I remember the first day we met like it was yesterday.

  Royce had come into the gym to talk to Jay. I remember thinking wow, when he walked in. He was a guy that clearly took care of himself. Standing at 6’4 and weighing a good 250 all muscle, with a nice tan complexion, he was pleasing to the eyes. His eyes were roaming all over my body as I stood behind the counter answering the phone.

  He couldn’t keep his attention off me.

  I held my finger up as I took a call coming through. It was someone wanting membership pricing. He continued to gaze at my body, like he was undressing me right there on the spot.

  I felt exposed, but not uncomfortable by it, like I normally would when men checked me out. I returned his gaze and drank him in. His hair was medium brown, peaked in a faux hawk, and he had a smoldering pair of sexy grey eyes. I could have gotten lost in the storm brewing in them for days.

  There was a sea of pain hidden behind his flirtatious stare. A sea I wanted to drown in as long as he kept looking at me like he was.

  He broke me out of my trance when he started speaking. “What is it that you do exactly, other than standing here looking beautiful and making me hard?” I couldn’t help but laugh and blush at his forwardness. Those were the last words I expected to hear.

  He was charming, the word beautiful rolled off of his tongue like velvet. How could I not melt with the way he was looking at me, like I could be his anchor. Men never came on to me so blatantly. Sure they would stare, but not like Royce. They weren’t genuine like he was. Like I believed he was.

  “What you see here is pretty much it, exciting right? So what is it you do?” I turned the conversation back on him, I wasn’t comfortable talking about myself. Years of bullying had left me socially awkward.

  “A little of this a little of that,” he replied vaguely. He laughed and then he just had to bite his lower lip and lick it.

  I stood there like a mute, unable to speak. There was something about the way he bit that lip, and the way his tongue circled his mouth. I suddenly felt parched and, took a drink from my water, covering my awkward pause. Was I just imagining this man grabbing my face and thrusting his tongue down my throat? Maybe.

  I shook my head and continued to gape at him.

  “So pumpkin, what’s your name?”

  “Pumpkin,” I mumbled to myself. I followed his eyes as they shot to my chest. I could feel the heat of embarrassment washing over me.

  He leaned in close, whispering his words, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your tits look like perfect pumpkins. In fact, I think I will just refer to you as Pumpkin Tits, that is unless you decide to tell me your name.” I remember thinking, what in the hell? This guy had some real nerve or no filter. But I found that I liked it. A lot.

  The level of red my cheeks were had to be a solid ten. What was he asking? Oh, right my name. “Brandi,” I answered in a giggle.

  “Brandi sweet like candy. I like the way it tastes as it rolls off my tongue. Tell me, do you think you taste as good as your name?”

  I didn’t know what to say as I stood there giggling with red cheeks.

  A man who is that big of a flirt should have come with a warning label. Caution: Bites his lip and licks his mouth in a seductive manner. So fucking sexy it is a sin. Has the capability to make you forget your own name. Gives cute pet names to strangers that makes you want to get down on your knees and beg him to call you by it one more time. He screamed danger and hot sex. And the way he was smiling at me right then told me he knew every thought I was having about him. Yeah, he knew he could push every single one of my buttons and hit the right spot.

  And God did I want him too and boy did he ever.

  “Yeah, I know that, but I miss us. I miss your smile. Fuck, I even miss the way you laugh. This is hard for me to even ask but will you take me back? I need you Bran. If I could take it all back, I would.” He rubs my cheek lovingly with his rough, calloused hand.

  A part of me longs to lean into his touch and just say yes, but it’s not that simple. Royce hurt me, badly. My heart has the scars to prove it.

  It would be easy to fall right back in with Royce, but just because he misses me doesn’t mean I am ready to forget the past five months since we’ve been apart. Royce has made no secret of his bachelor lifestyle full of booze and the skanks at the gym, and not to mention him flaunting them on his arm at the fights. Sometimes a girl on each bicep.

  “Royce, I wasn’t expecting this—from you. I thought maybe you wanted to talk about the fight or something. Not us. I need to think about it. I just need time.”

  “I get it. I fucked up. Can I at least call you, this weekend? I’m not fighting. We could watch Kline’s fight together. Like we used to.” He looks at me and that pain he used to hide is prevalent. I have to wonder though if this is because OZ was flirting with me on Instagram.

  “You hate Kline.”

  “Hate is a strong word. I just don’t like him very much. We disagree on some things. Just say you’ll think about it. You know you want to.” He smiles at me and pierces me with his dimples; a guy with dimples wins me every time. “We can have an early dinner.”

  “Fine call me Saturday, but I have to leave right after. I have to work the closing shift.” I’d love to know who came up with the bright idea to be open until 1 AM. I hate that shift, but believe it or not the insomniacs love it, and have been pushing for 24 hours.

  Royce plants a kiss on my cheek. “Saturday, I won’t forget.”

  I can’t help but blush as his lips brush across my skin. I’ve got to talk
to Tiffany, before I make a mistake like calling Royce back over here before he walks out of the garage and back into my heart.

  I go to work unable to concentrate.

  Inside, Royce is working out and keeps smiling at me. I have to keep avoiding his eyes. In recent months he’s been avoiding me too. I don’t get why there is a sudden change in him.

  I check the dance studio and make sure all the yoga mats are rolled up and out of way for the next class. As I work, I can’t stop thinking about Royce and what he said. I don’t know if I am ready to take him back. It’s so sudden and we’ve not talked about anything. I do know that I don’t want anyone else on the receiving end of his smiles though. I see that whore Sash trying to talk to him, but he is walking away from her. Good.

  The thought of the women he’s been with since we split pisses me off and ruins my good mood. Why am I good enough for him now, is it because I’m skinny, and will look good on his arm? Is it because I am making a name for myself online? Or could it be that he truly misses me, and loves me still after all this time?

  I am dragged from my thoughts by Jay’s wife, Christi.

  “Things are pretty slow, why don’t you go stock the locker rooms. Make sure there are plenty of towels. We ran out the other day,” she says with a smirk.

  “Sure thing.”

  What was that look all about? I brush it off and start stocking the lady’s locker room. I fill the baskets with towels. Checking to make sure the complimentary soap is stocked as well before moving on to the men’s room next. I knock loudly and ask if anyone is in there. Definitely don’t want to get my eyes full. I hate walking into the men’s locker room here, it reeks of dirty socks. No matter what the cleaning service Jay hired does to the room, it has that soured sweat smell.

  I proceed in stocking the baskets near the showers, and that’s when I hear a shower cut off. Shit! Someone is in here, they must not have been able to hear me, and I didn’t hear the water over the radio. Turning to run out, I end up hitting the metal baskets, knocking all of the towels onto the floor with a loud clang as the containers follow.

  “Bloody hell!” I say a little too loudly. I bend down to pick the towels and the baskets up, when I am met by bare feet right under my nose. I am afraid to look up, never know what member might be staring back at me from this height.

  “Brandi, you okay? What are you doing in here?”

  My cheeks must be beet red, and it just has to be Royce standing before me. I slowly stand trying to look anywhere but at him or his crotch, where my eyes want to travel at their own free will.

  I am going to kill Christi! I get the feeling that this is exactly what that look was about. That bitch has got to stop trying to play matchmaker.

  She’s always pulling little stunts trying to fix me up with one of the members. I guess she thinks I should give Royce another shot.

  He’s dripping wet. My eyes land on his naked chest. Heat pools between my thighs. Why does he have to look so damn good in his towel? If the cotton was another inch or two shorter I could see everything. Everything I remember being mine, once upon a time.

  He even tattooed my name on his chest. Who does that unless they are serious about a person?

  My fingers trace the intricate pattern of the star tattoos that cover his upper torso. I never noticed before but on the inside of the first is my name. A tear slips from my eye as I wonder when he did such a thing. He inches down closer to me on the bed and lies down next to me. He takes over guiding my fingers to the next star, “One day these will bear our children’s names.” My fingers are brought to his mouth and the promise of his words sealed by his lips.

  I close my eyes attempting to shut out the past, and answer with a clipped “fine!” It comes out a little harsher than I had anticipated, but damn it, I still want to be mad at him. I’m entitled to be. Damn him. I spin on the heels of my feet, darting out the door.

  One question still lingers in my mind. Why now?

  When I get back to my desk, Chris is grinning ear to ear. I point my accusing finger at her annoying smile. “You!” I shake my head.

  “Hey, I don’t know what you are talking about.” She holds up her hands, and flashes a guilty grin at me. To be in her thirties Christi looks like a teenager still. She has pixie cut blonde hair with some low lights. She’s slim, tall, with a nice tan, and blue eyes.

  Casually strolling out of the locker room, Royce waves briefly before exiting the building. I flip him the middle finger when he isn’t looking.

  Chapter 3

  “Come on slacker show me what you got.” Kline dances around me hitting me with playful jabs to the gut.

  “Kline, I’m not in the mood to spar with you today. I have a hair appointment and I am getting my nails done before auditions. Do you want to grab lunch with me real quick?”

  “Can’t I’ve got another fight this weekend, gotta stay in tip top condition.” He flexes his biceps and kisses one of them after taking a bite off of his banana.

  “Suit yourself, I’m starving. What night is the fight again?” A part of me hopes he says it’s been moved so I can get out of Saturday with Royce. Wishful thinking anyway. I would like to talk to him even though I shouldn’t. I know if I’m around him long enough, his sweet words and familiar touch will have me at his mercy. I’m nearly squirming now thinking about his hands on me. It’s been so long since we were last intimate. I guess I should have seen the breakup coming, but I was smitten. He began cutting back on the time he was spending with me. Extended practices. Taking fights outside of Vegas. Phone calls and text messages going ignored for hours sometimes a day.

  “Saturday, early in the evening— so you’ll come with right?”

  “Yeah like I ever miss one, but I’ll see you there. One of us actually has to work for a living. Do you need the bathroom before I start getting ready?”

  He doesn’t even bother answering as he takes off in mad dash to the bathroom. I really wish we had gotten a place with two bathrooms so we wouldn’t have to share. “Turn the fan on!”

  Trust me if you had to share a bathroom with my brother you’d want to make sure the fan is on. Men are pigs, plain and simple.

  I straighten up our tiny place; it doesn’t take much to keep it livable even with my slob of a brother. Neither of us are usually home long enough to make a mess.

  I get the kitchen trash taken to the dumpster and call Tiff to get her take on shit with Royce.

  “Tiff I’m dying here. Royce wants me back. What do I do?”

  “What do you want to do? Do you love him? Honestly, I think you’re too good for him.”

  “I know buuttt… he was so genuine and he was sweet like he used to be,” I whine.

  “Don’t get sucked back into his bullshit. I just don’t want to see him hurt you again.”

  I mull over her words. A part of me knows she’s right. Royce had a hard time letting me all the way in. However, a deeper part of me knows that I love him. He’s in my bones and I can’t get him out. I will have to sort this on my own. No one can choose for me as much as I wish they could.

  “Okay enough about me. How are you?’

  I grab my keys while Tiffany chews my ear off about Kline not calling her since the other night.

  “Tiff I warned you, you know what kind of guy my brother is. But here I am calling you asking if I should take Royce back when he’s more of a dick than Kline,” I grumble feeling more agitated by Royce by the second.

  She laughs. “We got it bad for them bad boys with tattoos that like to throw down.”

  “I know, kill me now. I gotta get out the door or I’m going to be late for my hair appointment. I’ll talk to you later, and maybe I’ll tell my brother to get his head out of his ass, and call you. Love you, mean it.”

  We always end our calls with that line. We’ve been saying it since the tenth grade when we had a horrible falling out. I can’t even remember what we were fighting about at the time. We had gone weeks without speaking until tragedy st
ruck our circle of friends. One of our classmates was killed in a hit and run. It made us realize to always make sure we tell the people we love most that we really love them no matter what. Nothing in this life is guaranteed.

  I give up getting to use the bathroom knocking on the door I yell, “I’m leaving shithead. Don’t forget to call your girlfriend asshole!”

  **

  “Girl that brother of yours is one fine piece of man candy. You let him know that Roberto is single and ready to mingle.”

  “If he starts looking for a fine piece of man candy I’ll let you know.” I roll my eyes on the inside.

  He grins. “So what’s good girl? I see you on Insta getting comments from all them sexy ass motherfuckas. Any of them batting for my team?”

  I should seek him on OZ for giggles, but I won’t.

  Roberto is such a cut up. He has been doing my hair for a few years now. He and the girls are always teasing me about Kline. Shit, I feel like I can’t go anywhere without someone wanting me to hook them up with my brother in some shape or form.

  “Not that I know of but I’ll keep an eye out for you.” I wink as he takes the cape from around my neck and brushes my shoulders off.

  I leave the salon with new highlights in my hair and a new French manicure. I still haven’t had a bite to eat no thanks to Kline hogging the bathroom earlier.

  I would hate to eat something heavy before my audition. I decide to hit up Healthy Vines, my favorite. This place is always crowded, I can’t ever get a decent table, but the food is definitely worth it. Scanning the dining area for a table I spot Royce of all people. I hope he doesn’t see me. Maybe I’ll ask for my food to go instead. I’m not above eating in my car if it means avoiding a run in with him right now, when his words are still too fresh. It’s hard to tell him no.

  I have got to be one of the unluckiest people in Vegas. “Brandi,” Royce calls my name, and waves me over to the table he is sharing with a few of his asshole buddies. What makes them assholes? When Royce and I broke-up they came into the gym and made asses of themselves. They treated me like a hooker—a piece of ass they could do whatever they wanted with. Needless to say it didn’t go over well when I let it slip to Kline, fueling their rivalry further.