Whether I get it or not, by the time I scrape up the energy to protest, I’m already inside a rental car, sitting next to Izzy, who thankfully dressed for the occasion in more than a piece of silk to hide her ass crack. I’m going to chase the truth on the streets of Las Vegas.
I have to admit, this is one hell of a surprise that I've set up for Ty. Not the one I wanted to pull, but surprising nonetheless. Have I already mentioned that I hate surprises?
Chapter Thirteen
There’s a saying that when you’re dead, you don’t know that you’re dead.
It’s the same way when you’re acting stupid.
Right now, I feel both dead and stupid.
Dead, because the idea that my relationship with Ty may be a major mistake makes me feel cold all over. Stupid because my gut tells me that I’m in for a terrible surprise, and my gut is never wrong.
Izzy is babbling to distract me so I don’t overthink. My sister, despite disguising her own problems with superficiality, is actually one of the most compassionate human beings I’ve ever met. She doesn’t want me to think about Ty when I’m sad. She’ll never kick me when I’m down.
“I was like, I can’t believe I’m eating carbs after six! But Blaire, you had to see the catering in that place…”
I watch her talking with her dramatic hand gestures. She has tons of rings and bracelets on both hands and she mimics other voices as she tells a story about Singapore.
I mumble responses at her on auto-pilot as we slide into the huge parking lot of The Heat. The lot is at the side of the peeling yellow-stucco building and is packed with cars. Why, I don’t know. The gym is as depressing as being cornered by your oversharing aunt at an open-bar wedding. Decaying walls, half-torn fences and garbage baking in open dumpsters.
Nothing good is going to come out of a place like this.
Izzy has stopped talking, and she now has my hand in hers. I didn’t even feel her taking it, but I’m grateful for the human touch. If it’s true and Ty really is a male prostitute, whatever reason he may have (I know he isn't driven by money, but he is one hundred percent addicted to his job), I will need a lot more than a hand to get me through this.
I dread the idea of walking into what fate has in store for me, but I'm also eager to step out of the dark.
I squeeze Izzy's hand with a grateful nod and slide out of the car, weaving through the parking lot to find the nearest entrance. I decide to try the back, hoping to sneak in, unnoticed until I gather my nerve. I suddenly feel like I’m spying on Ty, which, of course, is totally untrue, because spying is mysterious and sexy, and I’m sweating my pants off here. I’m guessing throwing up my guts earlier today didn’t actually send me on a brisk walk down Hotsville either.
As I get ready to turn the corner to the rear of the gym, I look over my shoulder and see Izzy sitting in the idling car, AC on full blast no doubt, as she messes with her phone. She’s my getaway ride if things go south. I’m completely shaken by the prospect things will go south.
I hurry toward the entrance, constantly glancing sideways to see if Ty is among the fighters practicing in the venue. Then I spot his Jeep. His unmistakable ride. Even though I knew he was here, my heart beats wildly in my chest. My eyes are trained on his vehicle when I take more and more steps toward the door. Then I hear someone pushing the door open and a dark, muscular man steps out, laughing and sucking on a protein shaker.
Jesse.
I crouch down immediately, surprised by my own instincts, and crawl underneath Ty's Hummer. Thankfully, it is huge. Wait, thankfully? Why am I even hiding? Ty is the one who has some explaining to do, yet I'm the one tucked underneath his car.
Shane is right, I'm way different whenever Ty is around.
“Shit, man, Doherty’s going down!” I hear Jesse’s hearty laugh. Then I hear Ty's throaty chuckle. He is out here, too. They both sound so close to me, too close to me.
I try to breathe as silently as I can. Shhhhh, Blaire. Oxygen is overrated.
“Let’s see these bad boys in action.” Jesse is jumping up and down beside the Hummer, like he is warming up.
I shrink lower and peer under the car, praying they'd walk away.
“Guy’s as good as dead,” Ty says, laughing.
God, I've missed his laugh.
They seem in good spirit, and I find myself easing a little. He didn’t answer my calls because he was practicing. There are no girls here. No funny business. Just work.
“I saw him with his trainer earlier,” Jesse says. “He looks jittery, unfocused. You’ve got this, bro.”
My heart is beating like a motherf*cker. It’s not like I can’t just stand up now and yell surprise!
Damn. I can’t get caught. Eavesdropping is a complete breach of faith, and although slashing my best friend’s tires and keying his Mustang doesn’t precisely scream boyfriend material, I know Ty has more style than to hide and listen to my conversations. I have no way to explain this situation. And I already demonstrated a healthy dose of nuttiness in front of Ty without adding stalker to my list of personality faults.
I hear a car squeal into the parking lot. It’s obviously being driven by someone with a ballistic missile shoved up their ass. A stray cat shoots in my direction before the car—Mercedes actually, I now see—screeches to a stop in front of the Hummer.