Fighter: A Bad Boy Romance Page 2

  Just as I pass the bar, someone steps in front of me.

  “Hey, how you doing?” the man says, sounding like Joey from Friends.

  I look up to see one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. Much more handsome than our normal clientele. In fact, to be blunt, he looks way too good looking to even be in this club. He’s easily over six feet tall, has very short dark hair and is wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that shows off the bulging muscles in his arms that have been decorated with several tattoos.

  My heart flutters, and I feel myself tense up. I’m actually shocked. After all the years I’ve worked at Max’s, and all the crazy things I’ve gone through here, I thought the days of me being surprised by anything or anyone were over. But there’s just something about this guy that has me frozen in my tracks.

  He’s giving me the cockiest smile the Earth has ever seen, and I honestly feel myself getting wet in the panties. This is absurd. My job at work can be pretty sexual sometimes in the way I present myself, but it’s just that—a job. And I manage to switch it on and off pretty well. I have never been turned on by a client. In fact, I’m usually pretty turned off by most of them.

  But this guy is something different. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. But it’s there. But before my body can get too carried away with itself, my brain kicks in.

  Focus, Jenny. He’s hot. The hot ones are always trouble.

  It’s a fact here around us girls. The hot guys never come here for a nice chat or a little time away. They don’t want to talk over drinks or spend a few bucks on a five-minute lap dance. They want more, and as soon as this guy opens his mouth, I know he’s the same.

  “What are you doing with a t-shirt on?” he scoffs. “Isn’t this a strip club? Where’s your lingerie or bikini or whatever.”

  I frown back, but for some reason I’m at a loss for words. “I mean, I can see you’ve got some honkin’ hooters under there. What are you doing covering them up?”

  His two friends behind him crack up. One of them is an enormous guy that has to weigh three hundred pounds, but you can tell he’s built on a foundation of solid muscle. The other is the complete opposite. He looks like he’s standing on two milky white chop sticks, is freckled all over, and has a fiery bush of red hair on top of his very round head. They’re all clearly a few drinks in.

  “Well what can I say,” I finally spit out. “I like to leave some things up to the imagination.”

  “Imagination?” he laughs. “What are you talking about? You’re a stripper aren’t you? Why don’t you give me a dance so we can get to the bottom of this mystery?”

  “Why don’t I not?” I reply, feeling like I could sock him right across his high cheekbones.

  “Aw, what are you some kind of princess?”

  “Well, even if I was, you’re no prince.”

  I move to go by him, but he steps in my way, a huge smile on his face.

  “Maybe I am, and you just don’t know it yet.”

  “I doubt it,” I say with my best smile that says fuck off. “Now, if you don’t mind getting out of my way?”

  Why is it the hot ones are always the assholes, I think.

  I put a hand on his shoulder and push him out of the way.

  Jesus Christ, he’s hard! I think. He obviously spends some time in the gym. What a contrast between his body and Roger’s.

  Okay, okay. Don’t think about it, Jenny! You’re here to do your job, not fall in love with another dick head.

  I’ve already done that once before. Colin was absolutely gorgeous. He still is, but I can’t see it in him after all the things he did to me. I swore off men after him, and would have gone lesbian if I didn’t have such a thing for abs and … other things.

  The crowd is thick, but I can see the door to the back room. Violet is shaking her butt on stage, alternating between each cheek. The guys are loving it, and some business men who fancy themselves players are raining money down on her booty, hooting and hollering like a bunch of high schoolers. And she’s loving it. I have to admire that control. I’ve never mastered any kind of booty acrobatics. Never had to.

  Just as I’m about to slide into the back room, I feel a hand grip tightly around my arm.

  “Rose isn’t it?” I hear a voice say. I whip around to see a shitfaced man in a grungy leather jacket looking down at me through glassy eyes. I yank my arm away and take a step back.

  “Have I met you?” I ask.

  “Nah, baby,” he says, slurring his words. “But I have had my eye on you for a long time. What do you say to a dance?”

  “Sorry, I’m busy,” I say, turning away, eager to be away from this scum bag.

  “Not so fast,” he says, and I feel both of his hands on my waist. He pulls me hard and presses his body against my back. I can feel his hard-on as he grinds it against my ass. My heart starts to race. “I got a fat stack burning a hole in my pocket with your name on it. What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?”

  “Get off!” I shout, my voice barely audible through the noise of the club. I try to wriggle away, but he’s stronger than he looks, and I can barely move.

  “Aw, don’t be like that, baby. I just want to have a good time. Don’t you want to have a good time with me?”

  “Let go of me,” I shout, feeling the panic rising inside me. I look around, but there’s no one paying attention to us. All the eyes are on Violet’s act on the main stage. He’s sweaty, and he stinks. I feel his arms tighten and the breath escapes my lungs. I’m at his mercy. I try to cry out again, but my voice catches in my throat. He leans in, and I feel the scruff of his beard scratch my neck.

  “Just relax,” he says. “I’m a nice guy.”

  And he opens his mouth and I feel his lips wrap around my earlobe and suck.

  I lose it. My entire body spazzes, and I kick my leg back and hit him solidly in the balls. He groans and topples over, and I hear his heavy body hit the floor, but I’m already running for the locker room.

  “Axel!” I shout to the bouncer who stands by the door. “That guy back there! Get rid of him!”

  “You okay?” he asks, very concerned, but already striding towards the scum bag.

  I don’t even have the ability to answer as I stumble into the locker room and brace myself against the sink. I crank the faucet on full blast and splash cold water on my face, not even worrying about my make up.

  This is the first real breakdown I’ve had in months, but I just can’t handle strange men having their hands all over me. No girl wants that, but every time a guy grabs me like that, it takes me back to the really bad days with Colin when he would drink too much, get angry, and take it out on me. I’ve been doing well and getting better as the years go by, but something like that always sends me right back to those nights.

  I look at myself in the mirror and see how much of a wreck I am. My eyes are red, my make up is smeared, and I look like a wet dog. I wish Kristen was here. She always knows how to make me feel better, but she’s upstairs with Roger’s partner probably having a grand old time. He’s going to be wondering where I am, but he knows me and won’t mind waiting. The night is still young, and he’ll be here until we close at three.

  I grab a handful of towels and pat dry my face and try to deal with the make-up issue the best I can. It is pretty dark in the champagne room, so it doesn’t have to be perfect, but I don’t want to go up there looking like a total wreck.

  I hear the sound of heels behind me and turn away as one of the new girls, I think her name is Cindy, comes up behind me.

  “Hey, Rose,” she says.

  “Oh, hey,” I say back quickly, trying my best not to let her see that I’m upset. The last thing I need around this place is more drama and more gossip.

  “Got me on the small stage tonight,” she says proudly. “Gonna bring it.”

  “Go get ‘em, girl,” I say, doing my best to sound encouraging.

  “Oh, I’m gonna!” she says effusiv
ely. I hear the sound of her heels clicking across the tiled floor. I wait until she’s gone to finish putting myself together.

  Just as I’m turning to the door, I hear my phone ring from my locker.

  “Ah, Jesus …” I say with a sigh. I pull open my locker door and fish through my purse, grabbing my phone just before it goes to voicemail.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, mom,” Ella says through the phone.

  “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but the neighbors are being loud again.”

  Great. Just what I need tonight.

  “Really? Is it bad?”

  “It’s pretty bad,” she says. I have the absolute worst neighbors in the world. My landlord didn’t mention them when I moved in. Well, actually she told me they were nice and quiet. Of course, that was a complete lie. What really happened was they were out of the state on vacation and everything changed when they came back.

  Not only do they fight non-stop, they also have crazy rabbit sex about ten times a day. Fight-sex-fight-sex-fight-sex. Rinse and repeat. That’s basically their lives. They’re both on welfare, have subsidized rent payments from the government and basically crank their music, order pizza, get in a fight, have sex and stay up to all hours of the day being generally obnoxious and impossible to deal with.

  “Can you just ignore them, honey? I really need to finish work tonight. I have to get the car running. I can’t keep bumming rides from people.”

  “I can, but Josh is pretty upset.”

  My heart sinks. That’s the one thing I was hoping she wouldn’t say. Josh is a very special child, and he’s easily upset. It took him a long time to get used to any amount of noise from the neighbors, and I had to work with him for a long time to assure him that nothing bad was going to happen to him. But if he’s upset tonight, that means two things: one, my neighbors are being extra loud, and two, I’m going to have to head home.

  “Okay, honey,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Just take him into the living room and put on one of his movies, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hang up and stuff my phone back in my purse. This is starting to turn into one of those legendary nightmare nights.

  Pacing quickly, I leave the locker room and step back into the main room. Violet is just ending her set, and from the amount of bills lying on the stage, I’d say she’s going to do pretty well tonight. Ending my night at this hour is really going to cut into my earnings, and that probably means working another night this week, one of the nights my regulars aren’t here.

  I can feel an anxiety attack coming on as I thread a line through the crowd, my eyes out for the creep in the leather jacket. But thankfully, he’s nowhere to be found. Hopefully Axel either kicked his ass or kicked him out. Or both.

  I race passed the bar and up the stairs to the champagne room.

  “You’re back!” Roger says enthusiastically.

  “I have to go,” I tell him, heading toward Kristen.

  “What?”

  “I’m so sorry!” I tap Kristen on the shoulder. She’s got both legs up on Roger’s partner’s lap and is obviously in full stripper mode. She wraps both arms around his neck and leans her head backwards to look at me.

  “What’s up?”

  “Can I get a ride?”

  “A ride? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s my neighbors again,” I explain. “Josh is freaking out, and I have to go.”

  “Aw, come on. Don’t you have a babysitter?” Roger’s partner says. I give him a glare that says shut up and he gets it.

  “Kristen,” I plead.

  “One second,” she says to the man as she climbs off his lap. She comes over to me and we step into the corner of the room.

  “Jenny, what is this?” she whispers. “Do you know how much money we’re going to make tonight?”

  “I know, Kristen! You think I want to leave? This is my night!”

  “I’m sorry. Listen, if I make more money than I expect, I’ll give you some, okay?”

  “You don’t have to do that, Kristen. Have fun. I’ll get a cab.”

  I give her a quick peck on the cheek and walk quickly from the room, calling over my shoulder as I leave.

  “Bye, Roger!”

  4

  Ty

  A girl named Natalia is shaking her very ample ass in my face as I sit in a tiny booth in the lap dance room, flanked on either side by Barry and Moore. The “booth,” is thinner than a bathroom stall with walls that barely come up to my elbows. The club doesn’t want anyone getting up to any funny business, so everything’s in full view of the bouncer standing by the door.

  Natalia’s right cheek brushes against my chin, and I hear her whisper to me in what sounds like a Russian accent.

  “You like this butt, yes?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s nice,” I lie, my mind drifting back to the ass on that girl with the t-shirt. I dunno what’s going on with me, but I can’t stop thinking about her, even with this chick here shaking what her momma gave her right in front of my face.

  “Ty’s an ass man,” Barry chimes in from beside me. His girl, an overly tan chick named Chocolate or Fudge or Caramel or something, has her tits in his face and is rubbing them back and forth at a speed that can’t be comfortable for either of them. She’s either going to suffocate him or knock him out with those things.

  “This is good for me,” Natalia says with a smile, running her hands between her legs to stroke the inside of my thighs. On any other occasion, Ty Junior would be at full attention, and I’d be fighting the urge to pick this chick up by the waist, back fist the bouncer and have my way with her in the back parking lot, but I can’t get my mind off the girl from the bar.

  She had a lot of sass to her, and I like that. I like a woman who can hold her own. My ex-wife was one of the most assertive, sarcastic women I’d ever known, and watching her tell off some jerk at the grocery store for trying to cut in line or bringing too many items to the fast lane were the best parts of my day.

  Am I crazy for thinking that girl reminds me of her?

  “Is this the life or what?” Moore says, tapping me on the shoulder. I can’t even remember the name of his dancer. The girls here all have ridiculous names, so I’m sure it’s something like Jasmine or Alexa or something. I don’t know who hired her either. Her legs are covered with bruises and it looks like she hasn’t washed her hair in weeks. Either that or she’s just waiting for it to turn into dreadlocks. She’s “dancing,” awkwardly, and it’s pretty obvious she doesn’t want to be here. But from the look on his face, Moore seems to be loving it.

  I raise my eyebrows and nod, trying not to let him see how bored I am. Natalia spins around and drops into a squatting position and presses my knees apart. She’s completely doggy style on the floor in front of me, and my mind should be on what her ass looks like when I’m slamming her from behind, but it’s not. I’m wondering where that other girl went and what she’s up to.

  “Hey, uh, what do I owe you?” I ask her, reaching for my wallet.

  “Is twenty dollars,” she says, looking a bit surprised. I pull out forty and hand it to her. She takes it quickly.

  “Thanks, uh … Natalia? I gotta hit the bathroom.”

  I stand up quickly, accidentally knocking her back onto her ass.

  “Uh, sorry,” I say, brushing past Barry on my way out the door.

  “Hey, where you going, man?” He shouts after me.

  “I’ll be right back!”

  The guys must think I’m nuts, but I don’t care. I have to know what she’s doing.

  The main room of the club is still packed. I can’t even imagine what the owner’s going to be pulling in tonight, let alone the girls. This place is like a money making machine. What the hell am I doing running a struggling tattoo parlor?

  I don’t even know where to start. Last time I saw her she w
as carrying a champagne bottle that looked like it could serve about twenty people, or two very hardcore alcoholics. Maybe the bartender knows.

  I don’t have a hard time getting through the crowd. Most guys just instinctively move out of my way when they see me coming. It’s one of the advantages to being a vet and a fighter; people just see the way you carry yourself and know you’re not to be fucked with. That is, unless they’re a drunk asshole, and then you sometimes have a situation on your hands.

  The bar isn’t too crowded, and I step up to the bartender, shouting over the noise.

  “Hey, pal. That girl from earlier? Do you know her?”

  “Which one, man?” he asks back. “’Bout a thousand girls in here.”

  “She was carrying a champagne bottle. Thong. Nice ass. T-shirt?”

  “Oh, right,” he says with a smile. “That’s Rose.”

  These girls with their names.

  “Rose, huh? You know where she went?”

  “I think she’s working champagne tonight,” he says.

  “Champagne? Like delivering champagne?”

  “The champagne room,” he says, looking at me funny. “Haven’t you ever heard of the champagne room?”

  I shrug, “This is my first time. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “No can do, champ. Champagne room’s rented out by the hour. You’re gonna have to wait until she’s done, or hope she comes down for a refill.”

  I slam my fist down on the bar in an uncharacteristic public display of anger. I usually don’t let my emotions get the best of me. I don’t know if it’s the drink I had or what, but I’m feeling pretty pissed off right now, and I don’t care who knows.

  “Easy, slugger,” the bartender says with a chuckle. “There’s girls all over this place. Take your pick.”

  Turning away from the bar, I look over the rest of the club with a sudden sense of disgust. I don’t want any of those other girls. I want the sassy t-shirt wearing chick with the sweet ass that told me I wasn’t a prince.

  She’s right about that. I’m a King.