Blame It on the Pain Page 14

  “Okay, fine. But you should know that I'm holding this as leverage. Just in case, I want to drag you to a chick flick or something in the future.”

  He pulls me even closer to him. “I'll do anything you want. Anything. As long as you promise me this.”

  He's being so serious, it's almost scary. “I promise.”

  The next words out of his mouth, confuse me. “If you could do anything for your birthday, besides go to my fight, what would it be?”

  I have to think about this for a moment because, in all honesty, I have no idea. Between witnessing my father dying and spending the entire weekend in the interrogation room. The night Ford and I had when I was 17. Heck, even the night of the sex tape fell on my birthday.

  My birthday has always been bad. I'm convinced it's officially jinxed.

  I close my eyes and feel the crisp, cool October air around me.

  And for a second, I pretend that I'm someone else. Someone different. Someone, “Normal,” I whisper. “I want to be normal and do something a normal 24-year-old would do for her birthday.”

  “Like what? Go out to a club or something?”

  I open my eyes. “Yes! That's exactly what I want. I've never been out to a club because I was 21 when the sex tape happened and feared being recognized.” My face falls. “I still fear being recognized. I can't go to a club, Jackson.”

  He tilts my chin up. “I think you're forgetting something, Damsel.”

  Normally I hate when he calls me that, but he says it so softly and sweetly, I fight back a shiver. “What's that?”

  The corners of his mouth tilt up. “Your birthday falls on Halloween. You can be anyone you want to be.” He brushes my lower lip with his thumb. “We can be anyone we want to be.”

  I hug him. I hug him so tight because he's right. And I haven't seen the upside to my birthday in such a long, long time. This is a gift in and of itself.

  “But what about your fight tomorrow?” I ask, disappointment floating in the air.

  He thinks about this for a moment before saying, “Fuck, I'm the last one on because I'm the main event. I won't be done until a little after 10.”

  For some reason, I refuse to let this get in our way. “Most clubs don't really pick up until after that.”

  “True. I'll take a quick shower and meet you at the apartment after...if that's okay? I would pick you up but that would cut more time out.”

  “Don't be silly. It would make sense for me to meet you at your place. In fact, there's a really good club not too far away from here that has some kind of masquerade theme that night. I saw the fliers for it in your apartment complex.”

  He smiles and pulls me even closer, crushing me to him. “It's a date,” he whispers.

  Then he touches my ass.

  For a moment I'm convinced this whole thing is a dream...but no, he's really sliding his hand into the back pocket of my jeans.

  Then he pulls out my phone. “What are you doing?”

  “Rectifying a situation,” he responds with a wink, before handing it back to me.

  I want to tell him to put it back the exact way he got it, but his voice stops me. “I just text myself from your phone so I have your number. I'll see you tomorrow, but I want you to text me when you make it home safe. And if you need anything between then and tomorrow night, you can always call me.”

  “I need a back rub and a pedicure. How are you with those?”

  He laughs and releases me. “Trust me I'd have no problem giving you a good rub down, but you definitely wouldn't want me polishing your little toes.”

  “How do you know I have little toes? I could have full on Flintstone feet for all you know.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows. “I have my ways.”

  “I'll see you tomorrow night, Jackson.”

  “See you tomorrow night, Alyssa.”

  I turn around and face my car. “By the way,” he whispers in my ear before he backs away. “I really like the fact that you're still wearing my t-shirt. Looks good on you.”

  I blush the whole ride home.

  Chapter 15 (Jackson)

  I jog up the stairs to my apartment, happier than I've been in awhile.

  She agreed.

  She agreed to stay away from the club and she didn't question me about it.

  I still have a shot at not royally fucking this up.

  I open the door and head for the living room where everyone else is still congregating.

  I jerk back when I hear what sounds like Alyssa's voice coming through the surround sound speakers.

  My smile plummets when I walk in the room and realize that Alyssa's sex tape is being broadcast on the big screen television while Lou-Lou's standing there with a smirk on her face, holding the remote control.

  “Jackson, so glad you came back. We were just getting to the good part.”

  I fucking lunge at her.

  Tyrone and Ricardo try pulling me back, but I'm out for her blood. I have to dig deep and talk myself down from the ledge so I don't actually attack her.

  “I swear, man, we had no idea she was gonna play that shit. We didn't see much. I didn't even realize what the hell it was at first,” Tyrone yells, holding me back.

  “Yeah. What the fuck is your deal, Lou-Lou?” Ricardo barks.

  Alyssa's voice zaps me. “What do you want?”

  Then I hear a guy's voice. “Strip for me. Show me those nice titties of yours.”

  Tyrone and Ricardo lose their grip on me and I lunge forward and get in her face. “Shut it the fuck off now, or so help me God. I will tear your head right off your skank infested body,” I shout so loud the windows shake.

  Lou-Lou's trembling at this point but I literally don't give a fuck. With shaky hands, she presses the pause button.

  I want to remind the stupid bitch I said to turn it off, but I'm just happy the sounds are gone and it's no longer playing.

  Besides, Momma herself decides to get a piece of the action. She reaches for Lou-Lou's arm and begins dragging her toward the front door. “Don't mind me, boys. I'm just taking out the trash.” She throws Lou-Lou out the door. “Next time I won't be so kind—” She pauses. “What's that word you like to use again? Oh yeah...Puttana,” she snarls before slamming the door shut.

  She rubs her hands together and looks at Ricardo. “I think it's time for you to find a new distraction.”

  Ricardo nods. “I still can't believe she pulled that. I always knew she was territorial, but this...is going too far.”

  Tyrone hikes his duffle bag on his shoulder and looks at me. “Maybe I can catch a later flight,” he offers.

  “No, it's fine.” I give him a pound. “Go and get your girl, man. I can't wait to meet her.”

  He gives me a grin. “Break bad on em' J-man. Call me after you win the fight tomorrow night.”

  “Will do.”

  Momma barrels into me and puts her arms around me. “I look forward to seeing more of Alyssa. That girl is something special, I have a sixth sense about these things you know. And my opinion on her hasn't changed one bit. Love you, sugar. There are some leftovers in the fridge for you.”

  “Thanks. Love you too, Momma. Have a safe flight.”

  After they leave, I sit down on the couch. I'm still reeling from what happened. I force myself to sit on my hands in order to stop myself from putting them through the wall.

  “Hey,” Ricardo starts. I sit up and glare at him. He blows out a breath. “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” I bite out.

  He holds up his hands. “Okay. I get it, man. I do. That couldn't have been easy to walk in on. Talk about being fucking blindsided. We all were. None of us even knew about that tape or what the hell Lou-Lou was making us sit down and watch. It makes even more sense now why you're so protective when it comes to her. I don't blame you.”

  I grunt and look away while he continues, “Normally, I'd say this anger would be good for training.” He pauses. “But tomorrow is a big fight and I need
you to be clear and focused enough to go over strategy's.” He heads for the door. “So, I'll give you a few hours to cool down before we head to the gym. And I meant what I said, Lou-Lou won't be coming around here anymore.”

  He stops and taps the wall beside the door. “As your coach, I can't say that I like the idea of you and Alyssa together. You've got one hell of a hero complex and this visceral rage inside you is like nothing I've ever seen before. It makes you great in the cage...but it's a liability on the outside. And I'm afraid that she might be the thing to tip the scales in the wrong direction for you.” He opens the door. “But as your friend...I think there's something special between you two. I think, in some way that's beyond my understanding; you guys need one another. I think you two get each other in a way that no one else ever will. Anyway, if you change your mind and want to talk about it, I'm here.”

  “Thanks,” I whisper.

  I lean back and look at the television. The image on the screen is still paused.

  The freeze frame of Alyssa permeates my vision.

  I didn't actively go searching for this shit. But right now, this is my very own Pandora's box and I don't know if I can resist the urge to open it.

  I know it won't change how I feel about her...but maybe it will help me understand her more. At least, that's what I tell myself when I hit the 'play' button on the remote.

  The first thing I register is that she looks a little different. Not a whole lot, but there are some subtle distinctions.

  For one, her blonde hair is shorter, resting slightly above her shoulders instead of halfway down her back like it is now. She's also wearing less makeup in the video, it makes her appear younger. And the way she's dressed...she's wearing a full sleeved cardigan and her long flowing skirt is almost touching the floor.

  It's not a bad look, she's still beautiful...it's just different...innocent.

  I can't help but notice that the camera is angled directly behind the guy's head. There's some ridiculously generic tribal tattoo on his lower neck. There's literally nothing else giving his own identity away. You wouldn't even know it was the mayor's son filming this.

  The camera is solely focused and zoomed in on Alyssa. That alone makes my blood boil...because I know this was all a setup.

  “Strip for me. Show me those nice titties of yours.”

  For a moment, I see the hesitation in her eyes before she answers, “Um. Okay. I can do that.”

  My first instinct is to look down when I see her standing there in her white cotton bra. I'm part enraptured and part disgusted because I can only imagine how many men have ogled what I'm seeing now. How many men just chalked it up to her being some 'whore' and thought they were entitled to watch her like this. Not even caring about the life changing repercussions she suffered from it.

  None of those men deserved to be seeing her like this. Hell, I'm not even sure if I do.

  “Have you ever sucked a dick before, hot stuff?”

  I think I'm going to be sick.

  “Yeah. My high school boyfriend,” she answers.

  “Did you like it?”

  She blushes and nods. “I did.”

  I can see even more now why the video went viral, not only is she beautiful in a natural way—which alone is appealing. But these personal questions she's answering? It makes it so genuine and real. Like you're right there in the room with her.

  “What did you like about it?”

  She appears to think about this for a second before replying, “Being able to please him with my mouth. Knowing that I was the one responsible for his pleasure. It's empowering.”

  And now my dick has officially joined the party in the third circle of hell.

  “Yeah? Why don't you finish getting naked and show me how much you like it?”

  I hear the sound of a zipper in the background while Alyssa pulls down her skirt. Then she pauses.

  “No, sweetie. I want you naked, now. Take everything off,” he commands.

  The shame hits me hard when she starts stripping. Not just because my dick's reacting to it...but because I could see myself uttering that very same command to her. The turbulent wave of jealousy that washes over me when she drops to her knees before him naked steamrolls over any shame that I felt.

  Even my dick decides it's too much of a hassle to compete with my mind and gives up.

  My mind wants to conjure up its own alternate version that has her putting her clothes right back on and turning the camera around on him before taking a fucking bat to his head.

  I can't watch any more. I already know what happens next. I don't need or want to see another second of it. I'd rather gouge my own eyes out with a rusty spoon. Disgusted with myself, I rip out the wire connecting my laptop to the television.

  It was exactly like Pandora's box. I found no answers by watching it...all it showed me was a different brand of evil in the world.

  I wish I never watched it at all.

  It still doesn't change how I feel about her, though.

  Chapter 16 (Alyssa)

  I'm leaving the cemetery when my phone buzzes with a message.

  Jackson: I know this is random, but I just wanted to tell you how amazing you are.

  I stare down at my phone and hit the 'reply' button as I continue walking.

  I stumble back slightly when I bump into someone.

  I look up with an apology ready to leave my lips due to my clumsiness.

  Deep blue eyes meet mine and I stifle a gasp.

  Ford.

  Before I can say anything, he grabs my arm and spins me around until my back hits a large marble statue.

  “You haven't been answering my phone calls,” he growls.

  I swallow down the fear rising in my chest. I'm perfectly aware he's called me a dozen times in the last few weeks...I just haven't really been up to talking to him.

  “Sorry. I've been busy,” I say.

  And then I brace myself. I brace myself for his comment telling me that I'm a whore or something else along those lines, but it never comes.

  His gaze locks on Jackson's t-shirt that I never changed out of. “These aren't your clothes. Where have you been?”

  “I already told you. Busy,” I repeat.

  He leans in close to my ear. “You're getting a little too big for your britches there, sweetheart. Remember who it is that you're speaking to.”

  I push my shoulders back and look at him, feeling annoyed now. “You know, lurking around graveyards is a little creepy...even for you.”

  His eyebrows draw up in surprise. I haven't given him attitude like this in a very long time. Since I was a teenager.

  He positions one of his hands on the statue behind my head. “You know why I'm here. I still mourn your father, unlike you who tarnishes his memory with your internet antics and whore-like ways.”

  And there it is.

  Ever since that day in his office, I've felt like I was made of glass around him.

  But not today.

  Today...I feel a little bit stronger. Not a lot, but enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Didn't stop you from indulging in my whore-like ways in your office that day, now did it? Or when I was 17 for that matter.”

  To say he looks shocked would be an understatement. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself and looks down at his feet.

  “I'm sorry,” he breathes.

  I'm certain that I must be hearing things. Ford actually apologizing to me is not something I ever expected to hear in this lifetime.

  “What?”

  This time, when he looks at me, I see a glimpse of the old Ford. The one who was always there for me. The one who actually loved me. The one who saved me.

  “I should have been there for you that day. I turned you away and I treated you like garbage.” He tilts my face up. “I couldn't stand the thought of you giving that part of yourself to someone else. I wanted it to be me that you shared your innocence with.” He closes his eyes. “I thought you wanted it to be me.”<
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  He cups my cheek and looks at me. “I'm fucked up, Alyssa. You make me that way. I have tunnel vision when it comes to you. But I know deep down inside you know that no one else will ever love you the way I do. They’ll only hurt you, sweetheart. And when they do...I'll still be standing here. I'll still be loving you when no one else in the world ever will.”

  I'm at a loss for words. Actually, no. I'm not.

  “You hurt me, Ford. That day, you broke something inside of me. I never knew you could hurt me like that.”

  He pulls me into his arms. “I know, sweetheart. I know. Why do you think I couldn't bring myself to touch you again after that day? I hate myself for doing that to you.”

  I rub my cheek along the fabric of his suit and fight back tears because it's so familiar and strangely comforting to be held by him again.

  “Let me make it up to you, Alyssa.”

  “How?”

  “You know how.”

  I begin walking away from him, knowing perfectly well why he came here now.

  “I told you. I still have to think about it.”

  Irritation crosses over his handsome features. “It's been almost a month. How much time could you possibly need? I already gave you the location and even went as far as to set you up with an interview.”

  He spins me around. “Don't you want to get vengeance for your father? All I need you to do is go undercover and tell me if DeLuca owns that fight club. We start there and find something we can use. Then we take him and all his other establishments out little by little. I know it's not ideal and it will take awhile. But we need to move stealth-like so he'll never see it coming.”

  I bite my thumbnail, hating that what I'm about to say will disappoint him. It's the real reason I've been avoiding him. “I went to the club, Ford.”

  His grip on my arm is so tight I'm sure he's going to leave a bruise. “And? What the fuck happened? Why didn't you tell me?”

  I wince in part due to his tight hold and because I know I failed him and my father...once again. “And it turns out that it's not his club. I'm sorry. I wanted it to be...but it's not.”