The Fighter (The High Rise, Book 1) Page 7

  But when people say, “You should see the other guy,” well, you should definitely see the other guy. I think I broke his nose and he has two black eyes he’ll have to deal with. I ended it when he went in for a side kick but missed then made the mistake of turning his back to me giving me the opportunity to take him to the floor with a rear-naked chokehold where he ended up tapping out.

  So I’m on frickin’ Cloud Nine right now, feeling like I could conquer the world.

  I’m still reveling in my victory as I pull a t-shirt out of my bag at one of the benches I’m sitting on in the back of the room when Matt approaches. After putting it on I can’t help but grin up at him.

  “You looked good, man,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder, setting his gym bag on the bench.

  “Thanks,” I reply. “You up next?”

  “Yeah, after this match.” He nods at the cage where two loanees are going at it.

  “Who do you have?”

  “Guy standing next to Crowley.”

  I look over and see a guy almost the same size as the one I just took. “Damn,” I mutter because Matt’s probably five-eleven and about a buck eighty.

  “Yeah,” he says with a snort. “Couldn’t talk you into taking my place, could I?”

  I chuckle. “Not tonight, buddy.”

  “Got any advice?” he asks.

  I shrug then stand to pull on wind pants. “I’d get him in as many clinches as I could, of course making sure to hold his arms so you don’t get an elbow to the head. Don’t grapple with him because he’s got the size advantage.” I pull socks and shoes out putting them on. “But be the better striker. I saw him in warmups and he’s slow. If you play it smart, you’ve got a chance. If you can take him down and get him in a heel hook, try to break the fucker’s leg. Guarantee he’ll tap out before that happens.”

  I’m not sure if this advice helps but Matt’s nodding as if it might so that’s something.

  “I’ll try. You gonna stay and watch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Maybe we can get a beer afterward.”

  “Sounds good. I’ve gotta make a phone call but I’ll be back. Remember, just be smart.”

  “I’ll try. Gonna go warm up now. Keep an eye on that?” he asks nodding toward his bag on the bench. I nod back then he says, “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. And, hey, there’s no shame in tapping out yourself. Hell, if not for my pride, I’d just start tapping out after the first round in every fight. Kyle’s gonna make money either way, right?” I say. It’s technically true. But knowing him, he’d penalize anyone who did that, probably quadrupling their monthly amount, the fucker.

  “Good point. Thanks.”

  I nod and pull my phone out of my bag then walk to the stairwell where I can get some quiet.

  “Did you win?” Aaron answers after the first ring.

  I chuckle. “Yeah.”

  “Good. How’d it go?”

  I tell him the details of the fight letting him know I’ll have a black eye when I come see him tomorrow but it’s cool. After hanging up, I go back in to see that Matt’s in the ring waiting on his opponent. I’m nervous for him but soon realize I shouldn’t be. Dude’s been holding out on me. The minute the fight begins, he’s much faster than his opponent and he’s all over him, executing uppercuts, jabs, kicks, the whole nine yards as if he’s been fighting for years. I’m in awe as I watch thinking I’ll have a few questions for him once this is over.

  And it’s over by the second round when Matt implements a Superman, taking the guy down then he just wails on him until the ref stops him, subsequently calling the fight because the guy gets a cut so deep on his cheekbone that I swore I saw bone. Jesus.

  When Matt walks over I’m giving him the eye.

  He snorts and sits on the bench opening his bag to pull out a t-shirt.

  I’m still staring at him until he chuckles and asks, “What?” as he pulls on his shirt.

  “You know what. You’ve either done this before or you’re the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I have. Why?”

  “Because you held back on me yesterday. Don’t do it again,” I warn jokingly.

  “I was afraid I’d hurt you,” he jokes back.

  This makes me huff out a laugh. “Sure, old man. Whatever you say.”

  He snorts then stands and pulls on running pants sitting back down to put on his shoes. “We still on for a beer?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. I need one. There’s a sports bar couple blocks away. I’ll drive,” he says.

  We stand picking up our bags and leave the basement out the back door.

  “Really?” I ask when we approach his car.

  “What?”

  “A Crown Vic? I figured you more for a late 60s Barracuda kinda guy. At least a ’76 Trans Am,” I explain.

  “Who do you think I am, Burt Reynolds?”

  I look over the car roof at him. “Who’s that?” He throws me a look then gets in the car which makes me laugh as I get inside.

  He starts the engine shaking his head the whole time. “Making me feel old, kid.”

  “You are old,” I say still laughing.

  “That’s it,” he says, pulling out of the garage. “You’re buying.”

  Nine

  I hate admitting it but seeing Heath with that other woman really hurt.

  After I got my dig in on him—which was pretty weak, I know—I went back inside the apartment and drank my coffee as I read the newspaper as if nothing happened.

  Next I took a shower and after dressing called Stella at The Arches who said she had the perfect apartment for Mrs. Lanning so we set a viewing time.

  I called Mrs. Lanning who was thrilled then proceeded to chat me up for thirty minutes about her cats then another thirty about her grandson who just turned thirteen, got expelled from school for calling in a bomb threat and is coming to stay with her for the summer because his parents can’t handle him anymore. Yikes.

  We hung up and since Dani was gone to a tryout Chastity had for a popular vampire TV show and possibly some parties afterward, and since there was nothing better to do, I flopped down on the couch to see what Saturday mid-morning TV shows were on, landing on some house-flipping show on which I wasted three hours, watching several episodes.

  Now I finally get up and start a load of laundry before coming back to lie on the couch again. Whoopee. I don’t think I can watch more DIY TV so I decide to call my mom.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she answers.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “What’s wrong, Laney?”

  How does she do that, always know when something’s going on with me? It must just be some inherent mom thing that comes with birthing a child, I guess.

  “Nothing,” I mumble.

  “Tell me,” she coaxes.

  I let out a dramatic breath. “Well, you know how I always seem to date players?”

  She chuckles. “I’m still not sure what that means but you’ve told me before about a few of these ‘players.’”

  “Well, what would you do if you knew a guy for three days, he’s really handsome and flirty, but then again he’s standoffish at times like he hates you, and then he keeps accusing you of doing something and you have no idea what he’s talking about. Then you almost kiss and the next day you see him with another woman?” I ramble.

  “Oh my. That’s an awful lot happening in a short amount of time,” Mom comments.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” she says with a sigh, “I don’t know, honey. What do you know about him? Do you know his hobbies? Where he works?”

  I frown. “I guess his hobby would be working out. He’s been in the weight room every morning. Well, at least Monday through Friday. Dani and I don’t go on weekends so he could be there those days too. As for work… I’m not sure but he could be a male escort,” I say jokingly.

  “What?” Mom questions with a gasp.

  This ma
kes me chuckle because it’s a ridiculous notion. But then the more I think about it, the more I think maybe he is an escort. I mean, case in point: he works out every morning; he’s got a fantastic body not to mention a handsome face; the full-sleeve tattoos and other tattoos, well, everywhere else, just top off the sexiness. And the fact that he didn’t deny being an escort when Dani teased him about it makes it all the more credible along with his walking a woman from his apartment this morning.

  I suddenly spring up from the couch and scream, “Oh, my God! He is! He’s an escort! Holy fuck!”

  “Laney Adele Kyle!” Mom scolds.

  I put my forehead in my hand and lament, “I told you I always fall for players.”

  “Why don’t you come to dinner tonight and we can talk? Invite Dani too.”

  I’m still shocked about this new revelation when I answer, “I can come but Dani’s working.”

  “That’s too bad. I haven’t seen her in a while. Daddy should be home by then,” Mom says.

  “I’ll be there. Love you,” I say distractedly.

  “I love you too. See you soon.”

  Mom makes the best pork chops ever. She knows they’re my favorite and I know this is her way of making me feel better.

  My parents live in Bel Air in the same house where I grew up. It’s a beautiful house but there’s nothing showy about it, but I remember thinking it was the best house in the neighborhood. I know now that it was because my parents made it that way with their never-ending love and support. I also love that my parents are so down-to-earth despite the fact that they’re wealthy. Neither of them has a pretentious bone in their bodies and they raised me to be the same. Oh, they attend all the charity functions getting all dressed up, Dad in a tux and Mom in a sequined gown, hobnobbing with the rich and famous, but I’ve never seen them act any differently at these affairs than they do at home.

  Dad just got home and we’re now at the table chatting over dinner.

  “You’re doing great, Laney,” he tells me. “This month alone you’ve signed eighteen leases.”

  I shrug. “It’s not me, Dad. People show up, I hook them up.”

  “It’s because they can’t resist your sales tactics, not to mention your beauty and charm, Button.” He calls me Button because he said when I was born I had the cutest little button nose.

  “Dad,” I mumble, embarrassed.

  “Take the compliment, Laney,” Mom chides.

  Since I look a lot like her, I guess I’d be killing two birds by accepting it. Whatever.

  “So what’s this about a man you’re seeing who’s a gigolo?” Dad asks.

  I choke on my wine. After I finish hacking up a lung, I give Mom a look before replying, “I’m not seeing anyone. And I don’t know what he does for a living.”

  “Hm. Your mother said he’s a, what’d you say she called him, Meredith?”

  “A player,” Mom shares before mumbling, “whatever that means.”

  God. When did my parents get so old? But I guess they always have been since Mom was thirty-eight and Dad was forty-two when they had me. I’m twenty-four, so you do the math.

  I explain for the billionth time, “A player is someone who plays around and doesn’t want to get serious with a woman. The bad thing is they usually act like they’re serious but they cheat behind their girlfriend’s back.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound right,” Mom comments.

  “Any man does that to my little girl and he’ll have hell to pay,” Dad chimes in.

  “You don’t have to worry, Dad,” I mumble.

  “So what’s Dani been up to?” Mom thankfully changes the subject as she leaves her chair and starts clearing the table.

  “Just working for Chastity.” I get up to help as Dad finishes off what’s left of the green beans and hands me the empty bowl.

  “We should have her parents down again soon,” Mom says from the kitchen as I come in.

  Dani’s from Thousand Oaks and her family’s just as wealthy as mine and are much the same in nature, meaning they’re not snooty. When Dani and I roomed together at UCLA, our families became fast friends which is pretty cool.

  “The marathon is in May. I’m sure they’ll be there and you can invite them then,” I state.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Mom answers. “Okay, why don’t you get the pie out of the fridge.”

  “You made apple pie too?” I ask, opening the refrigerator.

  “It’s your favorite.”

  “You’re the best, Mom.”

  She amazes me always finding time to do things. She doesn’t have to work but she does as the office manager at Kyle Properties. Dad always teases that he gets to fool around with the secretary to which I always make a gagging sound at but secretly I love that they are the way they are.

  After dinner Dad talks me into watching a movie with them. They cuddle on the couch like teenagers and I know that’s what I want my marriage to be like someday. It’s just finding the right guy out of all the assholes that’s making it take so long.

  “Button,” I hear Dad whisper.

  I wake up from where I fell asleep on the couch while watching the movie. “Huh? Oh. What time is it?”

  “Almost midnight. Why don’t you just stay here?” Dad suggests.

  “No, I need to get home. I’ve got a showing tomorrow morning,” I explain, standing up and stretching before getting my purse.

  “All right. Be careful and text me when you get home.”

  “I will,” I say, tiptoeing up to kiss his cheek. “Tell Mom I love her.” She’s passed out on the couch and I know Dad will pick her up and carry her to the bedroom to put her in their bed. “Bye, Daddy. I love you.”

  I leave their neighborhood and head home, opening the car window to let the crisp night air wake me up a bit. It’s about a thirty-minute drive so it’s not a big deal, and on the way I have Siri text Dani to see if she’s home yet to which Dani answers, “Won’t be home until Monday night. See you then!” I text back telling her to have fun then turn up the radio singing along which helps me wake up.

  Once back at the apartment, I park in the garage and head inside to the lobby through the side door. As I wait on the elevator I turn just in time to see Heath coming in the front door.

  Great.

  I ignore him hoping he’ll chat up Isaac who’s working the front desk and won’t see me, but just as the elevator dings and I think I’m in the clear, I hear him holler, “Hold the door!”

  God.

  I get in and push the Door Close button twenty times in succession trying to avoid him, which of course doesn’t work. Do those buttons ever work?

  Heath walks in and I let out a defeated sigh. But, my lord, he has such a presence about him. He’s tall and muscular and just seems to command attention, which I choose to ignore, but it’s hard to do.

  “Hot date?” he asks with a snicker.

  “You could say that,” I answer still not looking at him.

  “Must not have been too hot if you’re home this early.”

  “Yeah, well, some of us have morals.”

  He laughs. “So that’s what they’re calling being frigid these days.”

  This gets my hackles up and I turn to face him ready to cuss him out when my eyes go big because he’s got a black eye and a cut lip.

  “What happened?” I ask on a gasp.

  He grins. “You should see the other guy.” I stare at him and he shrugs. “I took your advice.”

  “What advice?”

  “You said I should look into your uncle’s fighting ring.”

  “And you listened to me?” Ugh. Now I feel terrible.

  He smirks then grimaces a little because of the cut on his lip.

  “You need to get ice on this now!”

  The elevator doors open on our floor and I unthinkingly grab his hand pulling him with me to my apartment. As I dig my keys out of my purse, I look back up at him and cringe. “I can’t believe you.”

  He follows
me in after I unlock the door and answers, “Just following your orders.”

  I put my purse and keys on the table by the door and head to the kitchen feeling like an ass for suggesting he fight. “I didn’t know you’d actually do it!” I frown as I get the ice bag that Dani used once on her ankle out of a drawer then open the freezer to fill it with ice. Turning to take it to him I see he’s leaning against the bar.

  “It’s not that big a deal. I’ve had worse,” he shares.

  “I don’t even want to know,” I warn with a shudder. “Come lie down on the couch.”

  I hear him chuckle but he follows and does what I tell him to do. I sit on the edge of the cushion and lean in placing the bag on his eye.

  “Is that okay?” I inquire worriedly.

  He nods bringing his right hand up to hold the bag.

  “Do you have a headache? Do you need ibuprofen?” I start to get up but he wraps his arm around me putting his hand at the back of my waist keeping me there.

  “This is good. Just stay here.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I mumble.

  “For?”

  “For telling you to fight.”

  I see his chest jumping as he silently laughs. His hand at my waist moves up a bit, pushing my shirt with it then his fingers start gliding along my bare skin. It feels nice and I know I’ve got goose bumps from his touch alone. I also know I should stop him but I find I don’t want to.

  “Baby, not a lot I do is because someone told me to,” he says quietly, his fingers moving a little higher.

  It feels nice to have a man’s hands on me again. I sigh contentedly but then I remember something.

  “I need to ask you a question,” I say.

  He looks at me with his left eye making me feel horrible again for suggesting he fight.

  “What exactly do you do for a living?” I lick my lips nervously waiting for his answer because if he tells me he’s an escort I think I might be more disappointed than I should be.

  His hand stops moving and his eye narrows as he watches me. “What do you think I do?”

  I fidget a little, bringing a hand up to push a lock of hair behind my ear then I shrug. “Well, on the way home from the club, Dani asked if you were a male escort and you said she couldn’t afford you. And this morning, you were with a woman…”