Takedown

by Nikki Ash

  And then, instead of hanging out with her and making sure she was okay, I ran upstairs. I was so pissed at Isaac, at myself, at Mila! Fuck! This is why I stick to no-strings-attached sex. I’m not capable of taking care of someone else. This is exactly why my mom wants nothing to do with me. She knows I’m no better than my dad. I would only fail at taking care of her just like he did.

  Of course I wasn’t even upstairs for five minutes before Mila was messaging GetHooked. She asked me to make her laugh, so I found some cheesy as fuck jokes online. They got her laughing, and in return got me laughing. She has no idea how amped up I was, and with just her message, she had me calmed down and enjoying our easy banter. I wonder if she looks forward to our nightly messages half as much as I do.

  I push the door to the gym open, my gaze darting around for Isaac. I saw Tristan’s truck in the parking lot, which means I have about two minutes to pound the fucker into the ground before Tristan stops me. I zero in on Isaac going to town on the punching bag. Got you motherfucker.

  I stalk toward him, and because I’m not a fucking pussy, I make my presence known. “I warned you, fucker!” I shout. His eyes dart to me, and before he can argue, I cock my fist back and swing, my fist connecting with his jaw. His face jerks to the side, and then he’s coming at me, but he doesn’t stand a fucking chance against me.

  I lay into him, punch after punch to his face without giving him a chance to block or retaliate. His back hits the ground and I pounce on him, straddling his waist and bringing my hand around his throat to hold him still. His face is bloody so I don’t bother punching him again. “I warned you, and you didn’t listen!”

  “Mason!” Tristan shouts as everyone surrounds Isaac and me. “Get off him!” I ignore him, my hand squeezing hard around his trachea, cutting off his airflow.

  “You ever go near Mila again. Look in her direction. Hell, breathe the same air as her. I. Will. Kill. You.” I let go of Isaac’s throat, and stepping over him, make it a point to kick his ribs.

  “What the fuck happened?” Tristan demands.

  “What happened is”—I point my finger at Isaac, who is now standing, blood still covering his face—“that asshole took Mila out on a date, and when she refused to fuck him, he left her on the side of the road.”

  Tristan’s brows crease in anger as he looks around me at Isaac, and without even asking him for confirmation, because he knows damn well I wouldn’t make that shit up, he says, “You’re gone.”

  “What the fuck!” Isaac shouts. “You can’t kick me out without reason! And what I do in my personal life isn’t reason! I’ll sue you.”

  Tristan steps toward Isaac. “That’s where you’re wrong. When you sign with my gym, my training camp, you sign a morality clause. It states if you do anything that goes against the morals of the gym, I have the right to remove you, and as the owner of this gym, I’m removing you. Get your shit, and get out.”

  Isaac punches the wall, the drywall breaking and crumbling. “Fuck this!” he shouts, and storms off toward the locker room.

  “I’m going to make sure he leaves without issue. Go hang out in my office until he’s gone.”

  “Mason! Look what I found!” Lexi screams from downstairs as I button my pants. Tonight is the joint bachelor-slash-bachelorette party, and Tristan’s supposed to be dropping the girls off at his parents’ place, so I’m not sure why Lexi is currently here, screaming my name at the top of her lungs.

  “Mason!” Lexi yells again.

  “I’m coming!” I shout back down, and grabbing my phone and wallet, shove them into my pockets as I run down the stairs. “What do you have Lexi Girl?”

  “This!” She waves my box set of Harry Potter movies at me. “Didn’t want you to be sad without your favorite wizards!” She giggles, clearly making fun of me. “Poor Uncle Mason can’t live without Harry Potter and Hermione Granger,” Lexi says in her best British accent. I snatch her up—the movies hitting the floor—and flipping her upside down, I tickle her sides.

  “Stop! I’m going to pee!” she squeals like she always does when I tickle her, knowing I’ll put her down because I’m not about to risk the chance of her peeing all over me.

  “Then don’t make fun of the best movies, ever!” I tickle her once more.

  “Best movies ever, huh?” Mila questions through her laughter.

  “Damn ri—” I stop in my tracks, my words cut off, as I turn around and see Mila leaning against the wall. She’s in a strapless skin tight gold shimmering mini-dress with black fuck-me heels, looking every bit like the wet-dream every guy jacks off to in his bedroom at one point in his life. Only she isn’t a dream. She’s real…so fucking real.

  My eyes stay glued to the striking woman in front of me. Her hair is down in waves, and her makeup is barely there—just a little bit of lip-gloss that has me wanting to lick her lips to feel how silky smooth they are. It’s only when Lexi squeals out, “Uncle Mason! Put me down,” I remember my goddaughter is still hanging upside down in my arms. Flipping her right-side up, I place her back on her feet.

  “Uncle Mason looooves Harry Potter,” Lexi taunts, picking the movies up from the floor.

  “Give me those.” I grab them from her hands, and she giggles.

  “So, you’re a closet Harry Potter fan?” Mila laughs. “Didn’t see that coming.”

  “Where’s your father?” I ask Lexi, ignoring Mila’s jokes.

  “Outside. I told him I would tell Mila we’re here, so I could give you your movies.” Lexi giggles some more.

  “You’re getting a ride from Tristan?” I ask Mila. “What’s wrong with your car?”

  “It died this morning.” She frowns. “I need to buy a new one.” Shit, I’m surprised that piece-of-junk car has lasted as long as it has. It’s got to be close to twenty years old.

  “I could’ve taken you,” I point out.

  “Yeah, I know, but I figured if you were bringing someone with you or wanted to go home with someone…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous; I can take you. Lexi, go tell your dad that Mila and I will meet them at the club.”

  Lexi agrees and runs out the front door. I watch her run down the sidewalk and wait until she’s safely in Tristan’s truck before I close the door.

  “You look stunning,” I tell Mila once we’re alone.

  “Thank you,” she says shyly, that beautiful shade of pink heating her cheeks like it always does when I compliment her. “Ready to go?”

  “Let’s do this.”

  I’m sitting at the upstairs bar of Plush nursing my Heineken. Since Charlie and Tristan met while she was bartending at Plush, Mila thought it would be fun to have their party here. After speaking with the owner, who is the brother of one of Charlie’s good friends, we reserved the top floor of the club for the night. Mila offered to help pay for it, having no clue what it costs to rent out the entire upper level of a club and have an open bar, but I wasn’t letting that happen. I told her to plan and I would pay, and she reluctantly agreed.

  My back is toward the dance floor where all of our friends and Tristan’s sisters are hanging out and dancing. I know Mila is out on the dance floor but I can’t look at her. I drove us to the club in silence, my mind—and cock—stuck on the vision of her in that sexy dress and heels. The second we got to the club, I made some lame excuse and bolted away from her, needing some space.

  I down the last of my beer and set it down. “Would you like another one?” a busty blonde waitress asks, bending unnecessarily over to push her cleavage out while flashing me a flirtatious grin.

  “Sure.”

  Her grin widens as she grabs the bottle, pops the top and hands it to me. “Anything else I can get you?” She tilts her head, her seductive smile never faltering, and on a normal night, I would take her up on her not so subtle offer for a lap dance—or more. But tonight, the only female on my mind is Mila. Shit, maybe that’s reason enough to take this woman up on her offer.

  “I’ll let you know.”

>   “So, your knuckles…” The feminine voice has me looking to the left of me, and leaning against the bar is Mila. She glances down to my knuckles then to my face. “What happened?”

  I shake my head and take a long pull of my new beer. “Nothing.”

  “The day after Isaac left me on the side of the road, you come home with bloody knuckles and spend the entire afternoon avoiding me like the plague.” She lifts up to sit on the bar stool and my eyes go to that tiny dress as it rises up her thighs. “Please tell me he’s still alive.”

  My head jerks up. “Who the fuck cares if he’s still alive!”

  “I do,” she admits. “because I don’t want anything to happen to you. Alec is excited to see you fight in a few months...and so am I.” She shrugs, and I calm myself.

  “He’s alive.”

  “And how long are you going to avoid me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you.”

  “So, you always spend the entire day in your room?” The bartender comes back over, and Mila orders a cranberry vodka. Then she turns to me, her fingers grazing the tops of my knuckles, her eyes staring down at them. “I don’t know what I did.” She lifts her beautiful hazel eyes and smiles softly. “You’re my roommate and I don’t want it to be awkward.”

  “You didn’t do anything,” I assure her. “I’m pissed that I should’ve told you—stopped you from going with Isaac.”

  “You tried.”

  “Not hard enough.” My memory goes back to the night my mom was arrested. I know I was young, but too often I think about what I could’ve done to save her from going to jail.

  “Come here.” Mila stands and extends her hand out for me to take. Putting my hand in hers, I let her guide me away from the bar. We get to one of the private rooms where the door is open, letting people know it’s available, and she walks us into the room, closing the door behind her. She sits us down on the couch, her hand still in mine.

  “It was really loud. Now talk to me.” My eyes stay glued to our entwined fingers as I consider telling her about my mom. She already knows about the meth lab and her going to jail…

  “I was thirteen when my mom went to jail.”

  “Because of the drugs?” Mila clarifies.

  “And because she was prostituting herself out. I don’t really know all of the details to be honest. I was upstairs in my room and I didn’t go downstairs to help her. I heard arguing and knew shit was going down but then it got quiet, and I just sat there…waiting for her to come and get me. I didn’t do anything. She was arrested for the first time that night, and it was the last time I saw her.”

  “Is she still in jail?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “She got out when I was seventeen but said she couldn’t take care of me. A few years later she was back in jail again. She’s been in and out several times over the years. She actually got out recently.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mason.” The hand that isn’t linked with mine, rubs my arm soothingly, and it doesn’t go over my head that both times I’ve willingly spoken about my mom has been with Mila. “I can’t even imagine. But you were thirteen years old. You can’t beat yourself up over not helping your mom. She was the adult. You were the child. It was her job to protect you, not the other way around.”

  “True, but my dad, who was an adult, didn’t take care of her either. Anyway, my point was that when I got the call from you that Isaac left you on the side of the road, it hit me that once again I didn’t take care of someone who needed me.”

  “Mas—” She begins to say my name, probably to make some bullshit excuse for me, but I cut her off before she can.

  “And this time, I’m an adult.” I pull my hand back slightly, our fingers unlinking and our contact breaking. “This is a perfect example of why I don’t do relationships. You can’t let people down when they don’t depend on you.”

  “While I don’t agree with your logic or reasoning, I’m starting to think maybe you’re right in regards to the whole no-relationship thing.” She shrugs, her eyes lingering where our hands were, and I appreciate the fact she’s taking the spotlight off me, not asking me questions about my parents.

  “What happened? Aside from Isaac the asshole that is.” I already know what has happened, but I can’t say that. I should tell her who I am—that I’m GetHooked—admit that I’m the man she’s been messaging for weeks. But I don’t tell her. It will mean giving up our late night conversations and selfishly, I’m not ready or willing to give them up, yet. They mean too much to me.

  “I’ve been out with three guys in the last month or so and all of them have been horrible.”

  “From that dating app?”

  “No, but maybe I should really give it a shot. At this rate, I’m going to plow through everyone’s friends.” She groans. “My ex-husband’s teammate, the dad from the painting studio, Isaac, from the gym.” Her face falls into her hands and she lets out another groan before she looks up at me. “I haven’t had sex in almost five years.”

  I do my best to school the look of shock I’m sure I’m sporting. I knew she was looking for a relationship and not into one-night stands, but I didn’t know it’s been that long. “Because you don’t do one-night stands?”

  “Because my marriage sucked. We were young when I got pregnant. I wanted to do the right thing, so we got married. We worked okay together but the sex and the marriage was a bust and I wasn’t happy. My mom told me life was too short to settle right before she died from cancer. So, after she passed away, I got divorced and set out to find the one. I had it in my head I would find my soulmate and we would live happily-ever-after.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “Life.” Mila laughs softly. “I didn’t want my life to turn into a string of one-night stands, so I told myself if a guy was serious, he would wait to have sex with me until we’re married. I heard once on the radio that if a woman wants to be marriage material, she can’t give her goods away for free.” She scrunches her nose up adorably and blushes a beautiful shade of pink.

  “Huh?” I know what she means, but it’s fun watching her squirm as she explains it.

  “You know…” She giggles. “Why would a man buy the cow, if he can get the milk for free?”

  I chuckle at her analogy. “So, what you’re saying is, you won’t let a man milk you, so he’ll have to buy you?” I shoot her a wink, and she laughs.

  “Yes…no…you know what I mean.” She pushes my shoulder playfully, and our conversation reminds me of the ones we have on the dating app. “Only I got busy. Between raising Alec and going to school, then working fulltime. One year turned into five, and suddenly I’m a twenty-seven-year-old single mom who hasn’t had sex in almost five years and I still haven’t found the one.”

  “Don’t do it.” And as the words roll off my tongue even I’m shocked at myself for saying them. “You deserve the real deal…to be bought, not just milked.” She giggles and I chuckle. “Trust me, one day the right guy will come along and buy the whole damn farm for you.” He would be a fool not to, I want to add but don’t.

  Mila stops laughing. “Thank you, Mason.”

  “No problem.” And then she leans forward and wraps her arms around me in a hug, and I have to force myself to remember I’m not that guy, the one to buy her the farm.

  We get home from the party, but for some reason I don’t want our night to end. “Want to watch a movie?” I ask as she peels her heels off her feet, dangling them by her fingertips.

  “Sure, I’m going to go change. Pick something.” She starts to walk toward her room but stops in place and turns around, a mischievous grin splaying across her face. “Just not Harry Potter. Maybe something for adults.” She turns back around, laughing out loud as she continues back down the hallway.

  “Don’t hate!” I yell after her, “You’re never too old for the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.” Her only reply is her laughter getting louder.

  I run upstairs to change as well, throwing on a pair of basketball shorts
and a UFC shirt. I go through her DVDs and pick out 21 Jump Street, shocked she actually owns this movie. It’s too inappropriate for Alec and Mila seems like more of a chick flick type of woman. I put it in and fast forward through the previews. A few minutes later Mila comes walking down the hall. She’s wearing tiny grey cotton shorts, a long sleeve shirt with a few buttons going down the front—undone—and on her feet are colorful socks that go almost up to her knees. She looks adorably sexy and I’m completely fucked.

  “What are those?” I point to her feet as she falls onto the couch, her head hitting the armrest and her feet landing near me.

  “Reading socks.” She waggles her eyebrows playfully. “Feel them!” She lifts her feet up toward me and wiggles her toes, laughing. “Seriously! Feel them.” She nods emphatically. I touch the tip of her toe but she thrusts her foot closer. “No, really feel them.” I chuckle at her tenaciousness but do as she says, rubbing my hand up the top of her foot. The socks are thick and fluffy, and I find myself wishing I was rubbing up her bare leg.

  “Why are they called reading socks?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Because they’re soft and fluffy and comfy, and women wear them while reading so their feet don’t get cold.” She turns her head to see which movie I picked.

  “Ugh! 21 Jump Street. Of course you find the one movie Tristan left over here. I’d almost rather watch Harry Potter!” That has me laughing.

  “I can make that happen.”

  “No way! At least Channing Tatum is hot. Press play.”

  We watch the movie mostly in silence, aside from the funny scenes when we both crack up at Channing Tatum and Jonah Hill acting like fools. Mila’s feet remain on my lap the entire time, and occasionally I look down, shocked at how much I love her feet on me. I’ve never spent much time with women aside from having sex with them, but this is the second time I’ve watched a movie with her and I’m enjoying myself immensely. Being around Mila is comfortable. She’s completely down to earth, and the more I’m around her, the more I want to be around her.