Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance (6 page)

N
one
of my regulars are coming in tonight. I texted all of them: Tom, Frank, Jeremy and his wife Carol, and Charles. Usually I can let one of them know I’m working and they’ll come in, order champagne, book the room and I’ll sit there and listen to their problems. But not tonight. No one’s coming in tonight, and that means I’m going to have to work the room.

I hate working the room. I might even have to dance. It’s the worst. Not only do I just hate dancing, but you make less money, and you have to deal with the biggest assholes. The guys without any money are the ones who go to the stage and throw dollar bills at you. But they only throw about twenty bucks at the most. I can make six hundred an hour in the champagne room, and I don’t have to get my top off or feel like a piece of meat.

The men who come to see me do it because they want someone to talk to. Some of them have lost their wives, or have never had a wife, or are just older and lonely and need someone to listen to their problems. They don’t want me for sex, they don’t want me to get naked, they just want someone to give them a little companionship, and that’s what I’m good at. I like to listen, and I like to give advice. I make them all feel special, because they are. We’re all special, and everyone should have someone they can talk to.

Some of them want to spoil me even more. I’ve had offers to live with them for a yearly stipend, or men who have offered to buy me a car or a new television. But I turn them down for all that. I’ll work at the club, I’ll talk to them, but I don’t want my entire life being run by another person. I don’t want to uproot my children. I don’t want to set an example for my daughter. I want her to make her own choices and not grow up thinking men are nothing but a meal ticket. I don’t want to believe that either.

I look in the mirror and take a deep breath. I’ve put on more make up than normal, and I’ve sexed it up a bit. I’m wearing stockings and a thong, and I actually have a laced bra under my t-shirt, giving me another layer to strip off if I actually end up going topless.

I check my cell to see if Alicia has called to tell me she’s on her way. It’s getting close to eight so she should be getting here soon. Just as I’m finishing up my eyeliner, I hear a knock at the door. Bruno and Chester, my two pitbulls, go apeshit and start barking.

“Shh, it’s just Alicia,” I say, patting them on the head. They cool down just a bit, but they won’t go out of attack mode until they see her.

I step out of the bathroom and through the kitchen.

“Hey, Alicia,” I say as I grab the handle. “You didn’t call to let me know—”

But as the door swings open I see it’s not Alicia standing there; it’s Ty.

“Oh, shit,” are the first words out of my mouth.

“Nice to see you too,” he says, forcing a smile.

“You’re … you’re bleeding,” I manage to say. And he really is. His face is cut in several places and he’s holding his side with one hand. He looks pretty roughed up.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” he says. “But I gotta come in.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to respond; he just shoulders past me into the kitchen.

“Hey, wait a second!” I say, whirling around. “My dogs!”

I stop dead. I can’t believe it. The dogs aren’t barking. They aren’t growling. Hell, they aren’t even on full alert. They’re wagging their tails and licking Ty’s outstretched hand.

“Hey, boys,” he says calmly, stroking Bruno on the head. “How you doin’ tonight?”

Chester rubs his head against Ty’s knee as he strokes him. This has literally
never
happened to
anyone
, let alone a man. And I am stunned. Ty has no reason to know this, so he is completely unfazed.

“You got a bathroom?” he asks. I don’t know what to do, so I just point.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks,” he says. I stand frozen in the kitchen as the dogs follow him out of the room. He leaves the bathroom door open and I hear him turn the water on. “Sorry to just barge in on you like this, but it couldn’t be helped.”

I snap out of it and march quickly over towards him.

“Yeah, uh. What exactly is it that you think you’re doing?”

I gasp as I reach the door. He’s got his shirt off, and I can see just how muscular he is. He’s ripped. There’s like zero body fat on him. His abs look like something carved out of marble, and the muscles in his arm look like they’re ready to pop out of the skin. He has more tattoos than the few I saw at the club. Tasteful as well. No dumb quotes or terrible portraits of ex-girlfriends.

“Had a little trouble tonight. Need a place to crash.”

“A place to crash,” I say, completely shocked at the audacity. “So you thought you’d just come here? I have children you know?!”

“I know. Can’t be helped,” he sighs, splashing water over his face.

“You are
not
staying here,” I say firmly, trying to keep my voice down. The last thing I need is Ella or Josh coming out of their rooms and seeing him. I never bring men back here. I don’t want my children to see me dating unless it’s something serious that I know will last.

“Say, do you sew?” he asks me, eyeing his forehead in the mirror.

“Do I what?” I stutter, so taken aback by the question.

“Sew. You ever sew? I got a pretty bad one here,” he says, and when he turns to me I understand. One of the cuts above his eye is bleeding pretty badly and definitely needs stitches.

“If you need stitches, you go to the hospital. You don’t come here.”

“Can’t,” he grumbles. “They’ll be looking for me at the hospitals. Can’t go home either. You’re stuck with me.”

“I am not—”

“Look, princess,” he snaps, turning towards me. “I saved your ass the other night, now you’re gonna return the favor. Now you don’t want the kids seeing me, fine. I’ll crash in the closet if you want. But I’m here for the night, and you’re gonna go get a needle and thread and sew my fucking forehead up, all right?”

His words hit me in the chest and all the air escapes my lungs. I don’t even know what to say. I can’t do anything but stare. I’m so shocked that he thinks he can talk to me that way, but I’m also so turned on by his sweaty, chiseled body on full display before me. The man I was fantasizing about, rubbing myself to in the shower, is now standing in my bathroom, and somehow I’m upset about it.

It’s like a civil war raging inside my body with my head saying, “Get rid of him! This is ridiculous!” And my vagina saying, “Jump his bones! Jump his bones!’

“Okay, one second,” is what comes out when I open my mouth. I turn on my heels and go to the closet and rummage around until I find my old sewing kit, which is basically a mess of needles, bobs and threads in a pink shoebox. When I get back to the bathroom I find Ty sitting on the toilet, seat down, holding a large wad of paper towels over his cut.

“Got any rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide or something?” he asks me.

“Cabinet by your knee,” I say quickly, sitting down on the edge of the tub beside him. He leans down and grabs a brown bottle and pops the cap. Without hesitation, he douses his wound with it. I expect a reaction. That must sting like crazy. But he doesn’t let out a noise or show any signs of pain.

Who the hell is this guy?

“Any color preference?” I say, trying to joke and add some levity to this situation. My mind is racing. I have no idea what the hell is going on right now. Every emotion that a person could possibly have is flowing right through me. I’m turned on. I’m horny as hell. I’m confused as to what he’s doing here and where he got these cuts. I’m furious that he just showed up like this, but excited at the same time. I’m pissed, but also happy to see him, and I’m scared that one of my kids is going to walk in and see him here.

Also, what is with Bruno and Chester? They’re sitting happily at the door, eyes on Ty like this is completely normal.

“As long as it’s not pink,” he says with a smile.

“What a man,” I say sarcastically, doing my best to thread a roll of light grey thread through the eye of a needle. I finally get it and lean forward towards him. “Okay, I haven’t done this ever, and I haven’t sewed since I was about thirteen.”

“Yeah, well I’m bleeding so as long as you can stop that I think we’re fine.”

He leans in and pulls his hand away. The cut is pretty bad. It looks less like a cut and more like he got hit by something and the skin just split open. I feel my stomach twist as more blood seeps out. He dabs it quickly with the paper towel.

“Let’s go,” he says, obviously in more pain than he’s letting on.

“Okay!” I snap, trying not to shout. I take a deep breath, and push the needle through his skin. Again I expect a reaction but get none. Not a flinch, not a gasp, not a wince. Nothing. I push the needle through the other side of the wound and pull. It starts to close pretty well. I loop the thread back and push through again, repeating this several times.

“How did this happen?” I manage to say after I get four loops closed.

“Would you believe me if I told you I bumped my head on a door?”

I look down at his face for just a minute, seeing that same cocky smile I saw at the club. My heart flutters in my chest, and I have to go back to my stitch.

Those eyes,
I think.
It’s like he sees right through me
.

Two more stitches and the wound is closed. I pull the last one through and tie it off.

“There,” I say proudly. “Give me that.”

He hands me the wad of paper towels. I dab the wound, getting rid of the excess blood, then dump more peroxide over it.

My phone vibrates. I check it. A text from Alicia:

On my way!

Shit, this isn’t good
, I think.

“Be right back. Stay here,” I say, rushing from the room. I instantly dial Alicia. She answers after the first ring.

“Hey, have you left yet?” I ask her.

“No, not yet, why?”

I sigh heavily, “I’m not gonna need you tonight. I’m so sorry, I hope you didn’t cancel any plans.”

“No, that’s okay. My friends are going to Johnson’s, I’ll just meet up with them. You’re not going in?”

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling well. I’ll make it up later in the week.”

“Oh, okay. Well I hope you feel better!” She is always so cheery.

“Thanks, Alicia. Have a nice night out!”

“Okay, bye!”

I hang up and let out a deep breath. This is the last thing I need. Not only do I have a strange man in my house, a place I swore I’d never bring a man, but he’s forcing me to miss a night of work when I really need the money. I can’t go in, not with him here. There’s no way I’m letting Alicia see him, or my children, and there’s no way I trust a man I barely know well enough to be here without me.

I turn back into the bathroom and my heart almost stops.

Standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and underwear, is Ella. And she’s staring right at Ty.

“Oh my God,” I can’t stop myself from saying.

“Uh, mom?” Ella says, turning back to me. She’s not even red. Why isn’t she red? Isn’t she embarrassed? She’s fifteen years old and standing half naked in front of a grown man she’s never met before. Why isn’t she freaking out?

“Ella!” I stammer. “This—this is Ty.”

“Hey,” Ty says, waving casually, one hand still holding a gauze over his stitches.

“He’s a … friend. He, uhm … he needed a little help.…”

“Yeah,” Ty says, interrupting me. “Was out for a walk and hit my head. Your mom’s being nice enough to help me out.”

Ella doesn’t look convinced.

“Right. Your
friend
.”

Jesus. Now
I’m
embarrassed.

“Ella, why don’t you go put some clothes on. What are you doing?”

“Well, I had to pee and I thought I was here alone like I normally am.”

“Okay, well we have a guest. So please go put some pants on or something!?”

Ella gives me an annoyed look, blows out a deep breath, but turns and walks back to her room. I take the opportunity to race over to Ty. I grab him by the hand and pull him into the living room.

“Okay, you
have
to go!” I say, pounding my fist against his hard chest.

“No can do,” he says, checking the gauze for blood.

“What!? Why!?” I snap. I’m on the verge of freaking out, but I don’t need Josh coming in here. One kid seeing him is bad enough.

“It’s complicated,” he replies. “Trust me. You don’t want to know. It’s probably better that you don’t.”

Ella comes back out of her room wearing a pair of pink sweatpants that I’m not sure I approved her buying, and shuffles into the bathroom, closing the door, but not before giving me the eyeball. Suddenly, I feel like the child in this situation and I’m being scolded by my mother.

When I turn back, I see Ty making himself at home on the couch.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, my hands on my hips like some indignant little girl.

“Look, I’ll crash here tonight, and I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow. Just relax, okay?”

He’s settling right in, pulling the blue afghan my mother knitted over him and closing his eyes. I’m so stunned by all this that I’m not even angry. I don’t even know what I’m feeling. It’s a mixture of everything, just swirling around inside me like a stew, threatening to boil over.

I hear the water run in the bathroom and the door opens. I spin around to see Ella giving me another strange look.

“Oh, go to bed!” I say, waving my hands at her. She scowls at me and sticks her tongue out, but heads back to her room.

“Listen,” I say, getting down so I’m right in Ty’s face. “This is
one
night only! Understand?”

Ty doesn’t react. He just lies there with his eyes closed.

“Hey!” I say in a loud whisper. “Are you listening to me?”

And then Ty does something I can’t even believe, something that just puts a cherry on top of this insane sundae of a night.

He snores.

Is he already fucking sleeping?

I wave my hands in front of his eyes and snap my fingers.

Yes. Yes, he is
.

“Unbelievable,” I say to myself, standing up and running my hands through my hair. I’m breathing heavily. I look down at Ty, already asleep on my couch, and don’t know what to think. There’s so much wrong with this right now that I can’t even process it.