Mason
It’s Tuesday morning, and I’m stuck in the conference room with the rest of my camp while Cameron lectures us on shit I’m sure I already know.
After my volunteer day at the Community Youth Center, I couldn’t stop thinking about Trix. As incredible as she is dancing near naked, she’s just as amazing with her clothes on. Her moves weren’t nearly as provocative, but she’s clearly a gifted dancer. So why strip? Here in Vegas, a thousand different venues would pay well for a dancer with her skill, and she could keep her damn clothes on.
It doesn’t make any sense.
What doesn’t make even more sense is why the hell I can’t stop trying to figure her out. She’s like a Rubik’s Cube; the more I twist her around in my head, the less she makes sense.
My phone rattles against the conference table with an incoming text. I reach for it and check to see it’s from Drake. Shit.
Meet me tonight.
A prickle of unease races up my spine. I haven’t heard from my brother since that night at the hotel suite. I’d hoped they’d partied their asses off and gotten back home the next day with nothing more to show for their Vegas experience than a nasty hangover. But, no, he’s still here.
Which means he’s up to no good.
Although we were raised by our mother, our fathers couldn’t have been more different. Mine was attentive, always paid child support, showed up for every wrestling match, and bought me whatever I wanted. Drake was lucky to get a phone call on his birthday, and most years he didn’t. Because of that, I’d always look out for him. I’d lie and tell my dad I needed new shoes but buy them for Drake and take him shopping with my allowance. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could offer. I know Drake was resentful, and I often wonder if that’s why he made a play for Jessica. Yeah, I got the college education, but he got the girl.
“Mason! Pay attention!” Cameron’s growl of frustration calls me from my thoughts.
I lift my eyes to his, palm my phone, and sink back into my chair with a three-finger salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Baywatch.” Jonah leans into my line of sight, breaking my glare-off with Cam. “Quit with that shit.”
My shoulders lift a tad and I ignore Jonah. It’s not like I enjoy making Cam’s job difficult or that I have little respect for him after the way he fucked with Eve. Oh, who am I kidding? That’s exactly what it is. “Continue.” I nod toward the boss standing at the head of the table.
Hard as I try to stay focused, being in a room with Cameron and Eve isn’t my idea of a party. The sooner he stops talking, the sooner I can escape and go exhaust myself in the weight room rather than stare at Eve as she jots down notes while biting her lip in concentration. Fuckin’ A.
Cameron leans over the table, bracing his weight with two fists. “Thank you for your permission to continue my meeting.”
“Stop . . . please.” Eve’s whisper is low enough for only the few of us sitting up front to hear. Her eyes dart to mine and narrow in irritation.
Lame.
I smile wide and act like I’m listening. My foot taps anxiously; I’m so ready to get the hell out of here. A few fighters ask questions, but I remain zip-lipped. I already know everything I need to know. Cameron wants to set up a card with me vs Tanaphon Li, a Muay Thai badass who has been openly challenging me since my first televised fight with the UFL three months ago.
“. . . Caleb’s training in Europe for another two weeks, and until Blake is back, I want you with Wade and Rex,” Cameron’s words penetrate because they carry the tone of finality. “Train hard, boys.” He’s wrapping this shit up. Perfect.
He grabs a stack of papers and hands them to Eve, who shoves them into a folder. A soft expression on his face makes me want to punch a wall. The fighters trickle out one by one.
Rex grips the back of my neck. “Weight room in thirty.”
“Yeah.” I answer him, but don’t take my eyes off Eve, pinning her in place with my stare.
She must get it because, after the final fighter has left, it’s just the two of us. She slaps a folder down and glares at me. “What the fuck is your problem?”
A slow chuckle falls from my lips. “I’m surprised you’ve noticed I have a problem.”
“How can you say that? You’re one of my best friends.” Her eyebrows pinch together, and I’d do anything to erase the hurt I see in her expression.
Like she has the right to be hurt. “Was.”
“No, are. You are one of my best friends.”
My stomach churns, acid and guilt mixing in an I’m-an-asshole-induced nausea.
“I miss hanging out with you, Mase.”
I groan and drop my chin. Why does hearing her say that shoot straight to my gut? The truth is . . . “I miss that too.”
I hear the sound of her chair creaking and then shuffling feet. “Then why do you continue to do this?” She props her ass against the table next to me so that I’m eyeing her gray dress pants. “I’m trying to give Cameron a reason to like you, and you’re not helping.”
“I . . .” I shake my head. She asks a good question, one I can’t even answer. “I don’t know.” I shrug. “You’re happy.”
“I am.” The happy sigh that falls from her lips makes my fists clench. “I want you to be happy too, and if you keep taunting Cam, then things are never going to get better.”
She’s right. I’m a little bitch.
“Oh, I know! We should catch a movie sometime.”
“Are you crazy?” I glare up at her, meeting her wide blue eyes. “Cameron would shit himself if we went out alone.”
A soft smile curls her lips. “I didn’t mean alone. You, me, and Cameron.”
I flick a balled-up Post-It note across the table. “Fun.”
“Just think about it, okay?” The hurt in her voice sounds of disappointment, which tightens my chest.
I nod and avoid her eyes until she gets the hint and grabs her shit to leave me to my pity. God, I’m pathetic. First Jessica, now Eve. Hell, my own mother cheated on my law-abiding dad with a fucking criminal. Sooner or later I’m going to need to suck it up and get the hell over it.
“Keep your head down!” Rex is holding the pads, absorbing every punch I throw, which isn’t too hard since I’m exhausted. “Come on, Baywatch! Leave it all on the mats.”
I growl and throw a left, a right, a left, then drop my hands. “Done.” My breath saws in quick bursts. “I’m . . . beat.”
“Alright.” He drops the pads. “Good job. I think we can call it a day.”
“Thank God.” I rip off my gloves and toss them to the side of the cage and grab my water.
“You’re with Wade tomorrow for sparring. Take it easy tonight, and try to shake off that shitty attitude.”
“No clue what you’re talkin’ about, man—ouch! Fuck!” I rub the back of my head where Rex whacked me. “What was that for?”
He faces off with me, his expression serious. “It’s been almost a year.”
I turn and scoop up my gloves, prepared to end this convo ASAP. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but—ow!” I rub the back of my head again. “Stop fucking doing that!”
“You keep lying to me; I’ll keep hitting you.”
I exhale hard and consider what to say next that’ll save my noggin from another open palm slap. “I’m over it. I am.”
Rex’s hand flies, but this time I duck.
“Fine! Okay, fine. I’m pissed, alright! I don’t get it. Cameron fucked her up, and she crawled back to him, begging. Makes no sense. She’s smart and beautiful and . . .”
“Do you still want her?”
Yes! Well, not really, I mean . . . do I? I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
He tilts his head and pulls at his lower lip that is usually hooked with a silver ring. “So it’s not losing the girl that’s pissing you off; it’s coming in second place you can’t get over.”
No. That doesn’t even make any sense. Yet somewhere deep in my gut it makes perfect sense. “That’s stupid.”
“Is it? You’re competitive. You have to be to get where you are today. You lost to the underdog, and that shit’s been festering for a year.”
I blink and shake my head. Fuck, is that all this is? I’m completely over Jessica. Those feelings from high school fizzled out after I found out she was fucking my brother. And although I’d hoped for more with Eve, I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want me.
Am I a better man than Drake, better than Cameron? Yeah. So all this is my bitch ass throwing a fit because Eve chose a guy who isn’t as good for her as I know I would’ve been?
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Take my advice, bro. Move on. Suck it up. Cut your losses.”
“Yeah . . . maybe you’re right.”
“If you end up fighting Li, you’re going to get international attention in a major way. You’ll need to focus, give two hundred percent of yourself if you want a chance at winning. The dude is out of your league.”
“Thanks a-fuckin’ lot.”
He shoves my shoulder. “This isn’t a joke, Baywatch. Don’t let something like hurt feelings get in the way and fuck up how far you’ve come.”
I glare at him, wondering when the hell he got so damn smart. “What’re you? The love doctor?”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” He smiles, and I twitch with the urge to throat punch him. “You still on for poker night?”
No. Maybe. “I don’t know.”
“Alright, well . . . let me know. Lane and Wade are in. If you’re not, I’ll get Talon.”
I nod and shove out of the octagon and to the locker room chanting “I am a whiny ass bitch” over and over because everything Rex just said rang true.
I’m just a sore fucking loser.
Great.
Trix
It’s just past five when I pull into the back lot at Zeus’s for my shift. My phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, I grab my purse and push the long wet strands of my hair back off my face.
“Did Isaac make the varsity team?” My weekly call home to my folks happened later than usual because of my little brother’s football tryouts.
“We won’t know until later in the week, but you should’ve seen him. He did so well. I don’t doubt that he—oh, hold on. What is it, honey?” I hear the muffled sound of my mom pressing the phone to her chest, as she always does when our conversations get interrupted, which is often with five kids in the house.
“Mom, I’ll let you go.” I push out of my car and hope like hell no one notices I’m late.
“Leah wants to talk to you, is that okay?” My mom is the sweetest woman I’ve ever known, kind and gentle, gracious and loving, and she has the patience of a saint.
“Sure, but I’m late for work, so it’ll have to be quick.” I lean back against my car, waiting to talk to Leah before I go inside Zeus’s, not wanting to expose my little sister, even in voice only, to the debauchery of a strip club.
“Oh, dear. We’ll hurry. Here she is.” My mom mumbles what I assume is instructions to my sister.
“Hello?”
I grin at the sound of her tiny voice. “Hey, Leah, I miss you.”
“H-hi!” My parents adopted Leah from an orphanage in India where little girls are given up freely by their parents. She came to live with us when she was four and has always had the sweetest stutter. “I m-m-miss you.”
“I miss you too. How’s school?”
“Good, except for the kids who’re mean to A-a-ron.” Aaron was adopted from Tanzania and is the same age and grade as Leah, so they’ve been raised like twins. “They call him n-n-names for being black.”
My hand grips my phone so tight my fingers go numb. Those assholes! “Aw, well kids make fun of things they don’t understand. I’m sorry Leah-bear. Tell Aaron he’s perfect and that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
My poor parents. Raising eight kids adopted from all over the world and varied in color and ethnicity, Mom and Dad came up with a lot of creative ways to explain hate.
“Okay, Leah,” my mom says in the background. “Your sister has to go now.”
“I l-love you! Bye!”
“I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Bye, munchkin.” My heart cramps that I’m not there—that I’m in Vegas rather than home with my mom shouldering the weight of raising kids from the ages of five to sixteen. Being the oldest now, I should be there to help now that Lana is gone. Pain slices through my gut, reminding me exactly why I’m not home. “Mom?”
“Hi, yeah, sorry to keep you. They’re so excited for you to come home. We all are. I’ll let you go. Have a good night at work, honey.” There’s a sadness in her voice, but how could there not be? My parents know what I do for a living, and I’m well aware that it rips away at their hearts.
They don’t understand why I strip, why I left home at nineteen to become an adult entertainer. Some days, when weeks and weeks pass and I get no new leads, I don’t understand either. I get lost in playing the role and forget the reason why I started in the first place: for Lana, always for Lana. And once I accomplish all I need to do here, I swear I’ll move home and take care of the only two people in this world who have ever loved and accepted me for exactly who I am.
“Thanks, Mom. Give Daddy a hug and . . . I love you.”
“Love you too. Speak soon.”
I shove my phone into my bag and mentally prepare for my night. I try to convince myself that this lifestyle hasn’t gotten to me, that it’s not eating away at my soul, destined to leave me hallow and empty-handed. I’ve invested too much, given up too much to stop now.