Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance (3 page)

T
he air
in the parking lot feels like Heaven after stepping out of the thick atmosphere of the club. Even though the place smells like trash and gasoline, it’s better than booze and body odor. The lot is empty of any other people, and I shoulder my purse that feels like it weighs about thirty pounds now and head towards the cab stand by the street.

As I grow closer, I hear a voice behind me.

“Going home so early?”

I know before I even look. It’s the drunk creep from the club who had his hands all over me. And he’s got two friends with him.

One of them is a giant, like something out of a strongman competition, and the other is a wiry blonde that may or may not be homeless. He looks strung out on something. This is bad.

I turn away and pace quickly towards the street but he moves quickly and stumbles in front of me and holds his hands up to block my path. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and my cheeks are hot and flushed. The adrenaline is starting to course through me, and I feel my instinct to run kick in.

But both of his friends are now behind me. They’re so close I can smell them. I can feel the heat of their bodies against my back. The man in front of me smiles and licks his lips. His saliva is thick, white and foamy, like a rabid dog. I feel my stomach lurch and want to look away, but I’m frozen in place. My legs might as well not be there. It’s all I can do to keep from falling over.

“You look scared. What’s the matter, baby? We’re just looking to have some fun. Isn’t that what you gals are all about?”

He takes another step forward. He’s looming over me, and I can see dark patches of sweat on his t-shirt.

“Yeah. We’re nice guys,” one of his companions says behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck. Someone puts their hand on my side just above my hip. My whole body tenses up, but I still can’t move.

The ringleader licks his bottom lip again and reaches his hand out. It’s like I’m paralyzed. All I can do is watch as he takes ahold of my shirt and starts to lift. I feel my legs give out, and I topple over sideways. My elbow slams into the pavement, and I feel the skin break.

The man leans down, looming over me like a hungry predator. He reaches out a thick, sickly hand towards me.

“Let’s get a look at those babies—”

Before he can finish his sentence, a fist comes out of nowhere and smashes into his jaw. The man drops to the ground like a three-hundred-pound slab of meat. Shaken out of my stupor, I snap my head around and look up to see the handsome, arrogant dick from the bar looking at me with a smile on his face.

“Sup?”

“Fucker!” The large man behind me shouts as he lunges forward at my defender. But he dodges the large man’s fist easily and swings back, hitting him hard in the stomach. The man doubles over and is taken down with a swift kick to the jaw.

“You want some too, pal?” My savior says with a laugh, rubbing his knuckles with his other hand. I turn to see the last of my attackers standing nervously, unsure of what to do. He looks ready to fight, but he’s just seen what happened to his friends and is having second thoughts. “I got all night, buddy. Take your time.”

The man twitches. His eyes dart back and forth to his fallen comrades, and then finally, he bolts.

“See ya later!” The cocky man shouts before turning back to me. “You all right?”

“I—” The words catch in my throat as I try to speak. I cough, clearing my throat. “I think so.”

“Sons of bitches,” he laughs. “Wannabe tough guys.”

My heart is still pounding, but I’m starting to calm down. I can actually feel my legs again, and I manage to run my hands through my hair and take a deep breath.

“What’s your name?” he asks me. I look at his face and our eyes meet. Is this the same guy that was telling me to get my tits out half an hour ago?

“Rose—uh, Jenny,” I say, correcting myself.

I just gave him my real name. Why did I do that?

But it somehow felt natural, like lying to this man would be the wrong thing to do.

“Ty,” he says, extending a hand. “You know you should really be more careful. A lot of scumbags hang out at places like these.”

“I know,” I say, still shaken.

“Don’t you have a taser or something? A gun? Mace?”

“I have … wasp spray …” I stutter, reaching into my purse and fishing around for the can. I find it and pull it out.

“Wasp spray?” He asks, obviously confused.

“Yeah. It’s legal and really messes you up, plus you have to go get a shot if you ingest it.”

“Yeah, if you can get it out of that suitcase you’re carrying.”

I don’t even know what to say. My head is spinning, and I really just have no idea what to do right now. Ty is giving me the once over, but not in the sleazy way he was looking at me back at the bar. His eyes fall on my scraped elbow.

“Busted that up kinda good,” he says, stepping forward and taking my arm in his hands. They’re strong, callused, with what look like scars on the backs of his knuckles. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He says it so casually that I don’t think twice as he takes my hand and leads me across the parking lot to a battered up, red and white pickup truck. He pulls open the passenger side door, which squeaks like a banshee.

“Have a seat,” he says, motioning to the large bench seat.

“Thanks,” I say, stepping up into the cab. The truck is obviously old, but it’s been taken care of. It smells like a man. And in a good way.

Ty leans over me and opens the glove compartment and pulls out a small red box. He grabs a water bottle off the floor and pops the top.

“Here, let me see that,” he says, motioning to my arm. I lift it up and he takes it gently and pours water over my scrape. It stings, but I can see bits of dirt, grit and pavement wash off. He opens the red box and pulls out a piece of gauze and carefully wipes at my injury.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” I say with a smile.

“Oh, I’ve patched up more cuts and scrapes and whatever than you’d ever imagine.”

“Dangerous line of work?” I ask as he pulls out a small bandage.

“You could say that,” he says with a smile as he sticks the bandage over my wound and presses down on the adhesive strips. “There you go. Good as new.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. This has been the craziest night I’ve had in a long time, and the past hour has been such a back and forth of emotions that I don’t know what I’m feeling, but something about this man is getting to me … in a good way.

We strippers have a rule for working at the club: don’t fall for customers. You just don’t do it. Ninety percent of the time they just want you for one thing, and they’ll do and say whatever it is they can to get it. The rest of them just want someone to talk to, because they’re unhappy at home or they just don’t have a woman in their life, and the guys that are actually interested in you are so few and far between that they get lost in the mix.

So then why am I looking at this guy like he might be more than just another man who wants me to work for his money?

“So what do you say I get a quick peak at those puppies for helping you out?” he says with a smile, nodding towards my chest.

My heart sinks.

Nope. Just another dickhead.

“Nice,” I say sourly, sliding out of his truck and shouldering my purse.

“Hey, I’m just kidding!” he says as I start to pace away.

“Uh, huh,” I reply, eager to be out of here. This is why we have rules at the club, because dumb girls like me think guys will always be different and then wind up getting our hearts broken.

I pick up the pace, but I can hear Ty’s footsteps behind me in pursuit. My heart’s starting to race again. Is this seriously happening right now? Isn’t there
one
guy in the world who can just be nice and not expect something in return?

As weird as it is, I hear Ty’s voice inside my head, and instantly reach into my purse and grab my wasp spray. Using my thumb, I flick the top off and put my index finger on the nozzle. I hear his footsteps getting closer.

“Hey, where you going!?” he shouts after me. He races up beside me, and I whirl around and point the spray right at his face.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he exclaims, jumping back with both hands in the air. “What the hell are you doing!?”

“Is it that much to ask for a guy who doesn’t want sex as a payment for everything!? What kind of a girl do you think I am!?”

“A stripper,” he says, flashing me the smile of a dickhead. I push the wasp spray towards him, two seconds from unloading the whole can in his face.

“Hey, hey, I’m just kidding! I’m kidding! Christ, can’t you chicks take a joke? I just saved your ass, you know?”

“Yeah? And so what? I have to fuck you!?”

“No! Where the hell did you get that idea?”

“You just want to see my tits,” I snap back.

“Oh, and you’re offended by that? You got a great rack. I can tell.”

It’s just such an absurd thing to say at a time like this, that I can’t help but laugh. All the stress of the night has been building and building, and I break into hysterical laughter that probably makes me look like a crazy woman. Much to Ty’s delight, I lower the wasp spray and place it back in my purse.

“All right, we cool now?” he asks. “I mean … just gimmie a little flash.”

I snap my eyes back to him.

“Kidding! Kidding!” he laughs. “Look, you need a ride home or something? I saw you heading towards the cab stand. Why don’t I give you a lift?”

Every part of my rational mind is telling me to say no to this. I’ve already been an idiot tonight, and I don’t need to continue the trend, but there’s something about this guy that is getting to me, even though thirty seconds ago I was ready to wasp spray the shit out of him.

“I’m not gonna kidnap you or something,” he assures me.

“Don’t you need to head back inside with your friends?” I ask. “There’s still at least four more girls set to dance tonight.”

“Nah,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and I don’t need to go broke in there paying girls
not
to sleep with me. Not that I’d pay girls to sleep with me, but you know what I’m saying.”

“Oh, that’s good to know,” I joke, loosening up a bit. I give him another hard look. It’s almost criminal how good looking he is, and he’s definitely not lying when he says he doesn’t have to pay for it. But I can tell he
knows
he’s good looking, which is probably why he is such a cocky bastard.

But he doesn’t look like a bad guy. And he did just save my butt from those guys back there. It wouldn’t make much sense for him to go through all of that to then just offer me a ride and end up kidnapping me or something. Not to mention the last cabbie who picked me up from the club ended up not knowing how to get to my part of town, got on the highway and ended up charging me an extra twenty dollars for his mistake.

“All right,” I say, giving in and praying that my judgment is sound tonight. “I’ll take a ride.”

“Yeah?” he says, smiling and walking past me towards his truck. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get another kind of ride.”

I roll my eyes and groan, and I think I hear him laugh as I turn and follow him.

H
er scent is intoxicating
. Something about this girl is driving me wild, and I don’t know what it is. She’s sitting quietly beside me, and I keep stealing glances at her out of the corner of my eye. In a world of traditional bodies and cover model bombshells, this girl would not fit in, but there’s something so incredibly sexual about her that I’m having a hard time not pulling over and jumping on her.

She’s not stick thin. She’s got a bit of meat on her bones, but she carries it perfectly. Too many girls these days just starve themselves because they think it’s what we men want, but if they’d just chill out and ask us, they’d realize that we like all types of women.

She’s thrown some booty shorts on, but I can’t stop picturing the little thong I know she has on underneath. It’s rare you see a girl in her underwear before seeing her fully dressed, and now seeing her with clothes on I’m somehow getting turned on even more. I can feel my cock starting to swell against the buttons of my jeans.

That better not get any worse or I’m not gonna be able to walk
, I think.

“So where are we headed?” I ask her.

“Maple St.,” she says. “You know where that is?”

My heart sinks. “I do.”

There’s only one way to get to Maple St., and right now it’s the last place I want to go. I’m going to have to pass the house, and that’s still hard for me. I’ve been doing my best to put it out of my mind, to try and forget what happened, and ever since that night I haven’t been able to put a foot back in the place. I don’t even like to look at photos of the place, and now, tonight, I’m being forced to drive by.

“Is that okay?” she asks. She’s smart. She’s read the tone in my voice and knows something’s up.

“What, that you live on Maple St.?” I say, deflecting. “Yeah, that’s fine for me if it’s fine for you. You like it there?”

“It’s a dump,” she says sadly. “But my lease isn’t up until January, and I don’t want to lose my deposit.”

“Fuck it,” I say. “Just leave and don’t pay your last month’s rent. That’s what I did.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have time to be going to court when they sue me.”

“They never do,” I reply. “But, hey. Do what you like.”

“Also I have dogs. Big dogs. And it’s hard to find a place that will take them.”

“How big we talking?”

“Hundred pounds.” she says proudly.

“Jesus, what are you doing over there?”

“They’re my guardians. They keep strange men away from me and my children.”

A smile twists over my lips, and I rub my face to hide it from her. This girl knows how to take care of herself. Wasp spray and man sized dogs. She must have been through some shit working at the club, and now she’s prepared for the worst.

I look over and see her texting furiously.

“Everything all right?”

“It’s my neighbors,” she says with a sigh. “They’re the worst, and my daughter called me to tell me they’re being loud and upsetting my son.”

“Two kids?”

“Yup,” says. “Fifteen and seven.”

“Fifteen, wow,” I say. “You don’t look that old.”

“Teenage pregnancy,” she says, looking at me with a sad smile. “With a man that is literally the Devil! I wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.”

“We all make mistakes,” I say, trying to keep this from turning into a therapy session.

I turn off Route 1 and onto Winter, leaving the busy part of town behind. It’s a warm night, and I feel the cool, familiar breeze against my arm as we head out of town. This used to be the best part of my day, driving down this road on my way home to the smiling face of my daughter and the warm embrace of my wife.

Now it’s just a terrible reminder. A reminder of what I’ve lost. A reminder of the life I used to have.

I rub my eyes and sigh as we pass the familiar landmarks: Carnival Deli, Green Lives Market, the movie theatre. We’re getting closer. I can feel Jenny’s eyes on me, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s perceptive. She knows something’s up, but also that I don’t want to talk about it.

“So what happened to your friends?” she asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Oh, who knows. Last I saw of them they were smiling like idiots with a pair of tits in their face.”

“Not a lap dance fan?” she asks. “Aren’t most men?”

“I’m not most men,” I let her know. “And I had some weird Russian chick who thought she had a nice ass.”

A loud laugh escapes Jenny’s lips. “Natalia?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah, she’s not Russian. Her real name’s Bree and she’s from Hartford. She’s usually the hostess, but she’s been dancing a bit lately.”

“You’re joking!” I say.

“Nope.”

“So that’s why she sounded like someone had hit her over the head.”

“Yeah, that accent is pretty terrible,” Jenny laughs. “But she thinks it’s somehow exotic or something. The rest of us have tried telling her, but she doesn’t listen.”

I know I should say something back, or laugh at her joke, but we’re going over the Red Bridge now, and that means we’re getting close. I clench my free hand and bite my lip, doing my best not to lose it. We pass the old yellow mill and that’s when I see it.

Right there, on the corner of Cherry St. and Main, the old blue house I used to live in with my wife and daughter. Everything in my mind tells me not to look, but I can’t help it. And as I gaze past Jenny, out the window, and see the grassy front lawn, the battered front porch and the tire swing hanging from the oak tree on the corner of the lot, all the memories come flooding back.

Thankfully, we pass the house quickly, and I’m able to turn back and concentrate on driving, but Jenny has seen and I can feel her eyes on me.

“Are you okay?” she asks me. I feel my heart jump in my chest, and my knuckles whiten around the steering wheel.

“Fine,” I lie, stepping on the gas, eager to get to her place. I turn down Columbia Ave, and take the last right onto Maple. “Which one?” I say quickly.

“Twenty-four,” she says. It’s clear she knows something’s wrong, but she’s not pressing the matter, which is good, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together. I’ve gone out of my way to avoid this part of town, and coming back here was not a good idea. I should have just let her take a cab.

I spot her apartment building, a dingy old converted house that looks like it needed a remodeling at least fifteen years ago. I pull up to the front, my heart still battering around inside my chest.

“So … thanks?” Jenny says beside me. I turn to her and give her the best smile I can.

“No problem.” She looks at me hard for a second, like she wants to say something. I hold my breath. Finally, she decides against it and picks up her purse.

“Okay, well I’d invite you in for a drink, but my dogs hate men and might end up killing you.”

“That’s okay, I can’t stay,” I say. I need to get out of here. I need to leave this whole part of town in my rear view mirror.

“All right,” she says. “Well. Thanks again.”

“Yup, have a good night.”

She climbs out of the truck, and I don’t even wait for her to get inside before I slam my foot on the gas. My tires squeal and I am off down the street in an instant, heading for the highway and out of town.