“Spill it. You look frazzled.” Folding her legs Indian style onto the couch, Ally turns to face me, clicking off the television with the remote.
“I saw Vinny again today.”
“Get. Out. I thought you had his story reassigned.”
“I thought so too.”
“What happened?”
“Vinny happened, that’s what.” I take another gulp of my wine. “He refused to do the interview with Summer, said he would only give me his story.”
I look up at my best friend and she’s smiling at me excitedly.
“What the heck are you smiling at?”
“I think it’s kinda hot that he demanded you.” Ally laughs. “Always was fearless. Is he still gorgeous?”
Grudgingly, my mind wanders to Vinny Stonetti. Vince Stone. The years have only made him sexier. While he was always gorgeous on the outside, something about his confidence and strength made him even more so. A force of nature, something I’m not quite sure I’m ready to reckon with. “Yes, he’s still gorgeous. But that’s not the point. He screwed me once, I’m not going to let him do it again.”
“He can screw me instead.” Ally wiggles her eyebrows. We’ve been best friends since grade school. Although we seem to have the same taste in men in looks, I keep away from the bad boys. Ally, on the other hand, keeps away from the good boys.
“So how did the interview go?”
“I didn’t interview him yet. I’m meeting him tomorrow for lunch.”
“A date. Nice.” Ally smiles and sips her wine.
“It’s not a date.”
“Are you meeting him at a restaurant and eating together?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point. It’s a business meal.”
“Couldn’t you have interviewed him when you saw him today?”
“I tried, he said no. Wanted me to interview him over dinner.”
“So you negotiated dinner down to a lunch date?”
“Yes. Wait, no. It’s not a date.”
“Whatever. As long as I get all the details afterwards, you can call it a communication session with ingestion for all I care.”
Chapter 10
Vince
“Who was the girl here earlier?” Nico’s damn nosey. The fucker thinks training me means he gets to control every inch of my life. Been this way since I was thirteen.
“An old friend.” I hit the bag with a roundhouse kick and one of Nico’s feet drops back to keep his position. I’ve been trying for more than ten years to take him down. Figured after he retired he’d lose a little strength, slow down on his workouts. But no, a year after he retired and the fucker is still in pristine shape. Once. I was able to take him to the ground once in ten years. And I paid dearly for it. Came in to train high and Nico called me on it. We got into it and half the place had to pull us apart. Got me thrown out of the gym and lost my trainer for six months until I could prove my sobriety with random piss tests.
“Elle went on about her for two hours last night. Says she’s great. Nice girl, would be good for you. She rambled on something about needing coffee and then got pissed off at me because I could drink coffee. Even though I don’t drink the crap. Pregnancy has made her crazy.”
Nice girl. Yep, that’s what Liv is. A nice girl. One I’d like to bend over and fuck. Hard. Damn it, I should know better. Me and nice girls don’t go together. I tried that route once. Even managed to have a somewhat normal relationship, went at it missionary style for almost a full month. But it’s not who I am. Eventually I gave her a taste of the real me and she went running scared. Wasn’t even the hard core stuff. Just a little spanking and hair pulling and I’d freaked her out. Probably went and found someone named Biffy to marry. Biffy, who would give it to her missionary style and keep his deviance for the whore he keeps on the side. “Yeah, she’s a nice girl. But it’s business. She’s writing a story on my next fight.”
“Elle was business when I met her.”
I was twelve or thirteen when Elle and Nico met. At first I thought it was a strange coupling. Elle, an attorney, always dressed in her girly business suits, helped Nico get out of a contract. She was just so different from the semi clothed women that I normally saw prance through the gym once. Twice if they were lucky. But all that shit stopped the day he laid eyes on Elle…and went after her with his usual relentless pursuit of getting what he wants. I may not have understood the pairing at first, but it didn’t take long to figure out there was no one else for Nico Hunter.
“Whatever, I’m not you.”
It’s late when I finish up at the gym and all I want to do is head home and crash. But my pain in the ass mother looked bad yesterday, so I stop in and check on her. I can’t stand the sight of the woman, yet I feel compelled to take care of her. She’s been a drug addict as long as I can remember. Hasn’t held a steady job in all her life. When she was younger, she danced at night. Left me alone from the time I was five to work nights at some seedy place for a guy she wanted me to call Uncle Wally. Uncle Wally my ass. All his girls were high, he kept them that way. Made them more dependent on him.
She sobered up once. Even left Wally’s Den. I was about seven. Lasted almost three months. I remember the months clearly. The house was clean and we had food regularly. And no losers sleeping all over the house. Even took me to the zoo once.
It didn’t last long. Uncle Wally got her to come back. Two weeks back working at the Den, the house was a mess and the losers returned. Been that way ever since. Some days are better than others. Yesterday was a bad one. She looked like shit. Split lip and a lot of shakes. Swore she fell and split her own lip, but I don’t trust Jason, the new loser she’s hanging out with.
I knock once, but there’s no answer. So I use my key. The TV is blaring so loud, I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t called the cops. I find my mother sitting on the couch. She’s crying. She tries to hide it when she catches sight of me, but it’s too late, I’ve seen it. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Nothing, Baby. Everything is fine. You can go home. I told you, you don’t have to check on me every day.” Her eyes dart to the bathroom and back to me. She has one hand on her cheek. I’d thought she was wiping her tears when I walked in, but she’s hiding something from me. I walk to her and take the hand from her face. There’s a hand mark and it’s bright red. Fresh, like it’s just been made, and the color hasn’t had a chance to change from stinging red to welted pink yet.
I look at the closed bathroom door and back to my mother. “Is he in there?”
“Don’t, Vinny. Jason’s a good man. Helps me out financially too.”
Yeah, helps her out by paying for her drugs. Then raises his hand to her. What a great fucking man he is. No fucking way. I can’t help it. I see red when his dirty, skinny face walks through the door.
He’s so fucking high, he can’t even protect himself when I beat him to within an inch of his life. What’s fair is fair. Mom was the same way when he raised his hand to her. Fucking useless piece of shit.
Mom didn’t even argue after the first punch. She knows how I get. There’s no stopping me once I get going. Especially when it comes to protecting my mother. I can’t keep her from pumping that shit into her own veins, but I can damn well keep her from being smacked around. It’s not the first time I’ve taken care of a loser who thought raising his hand to my mother would make him feel like more of a man. Started when I was fifteen. Lost count of the assholes over the years.
Leaving the piece of shit on the floor, I carry my mom to her bedroom and tuck her in. She couldn’t walk if she tried. Too high and frail. Needs to eat more. I kiss her goodbye on the forehead and walk back to pick up the loser and toss him outside to the curb. I can’t stand my mother, yet I can’t let her be.