King:Las Vegas Bad Boys(51)

I may hate the idea of marrying Grotto, but family is family. Not doing  what my father has asked of me would excommunicate me from the family  ... and my sister needs me. And I need her.

She's my family, and family is more important than going out with  friends-and certainly more important than marrying the love of my life.

Me: Sorry Lucy. I suck. But I'm on Auntie duty. Don't hate me. Let's do coffee this week. Xo

I slide my phone off, and roll up my sleeves.

Maybe when I'm done here I'll treat myself to a quick late-hour workout. It will help me clear my head.

God knows, today I need it. Grotto. McQueen. Mary. I need to get my priorities in check.

The only thing I have that's just mine is MMA fighting.

I've given up the idea of marrying for love, and now I've also given up  my virginity. But the one thing I want to keep, for as long as I can, is  my MMA gloves.

I won't give those up without a fight.

I just hope it doesn't come to that.





Chapter Six





McQueen



The dinner is boring as hell.

I mean, Emmy is a doll, obviously. But Tess made it to dinner and she  and Jack have been talking about his latest recordings throughout the  appetizers and the first few bottles of wine.

I'm ready for some fucking Budweiser.

I may play a cool-ass game, but deep down my roots are pretty middle  America. My dad has a mechanic shop and my mom bakes tater tot casserole  and is a secretary at an Elementary school. You can't get much more  red, white, and blue than them.

Right now, sitting in this five-star restaurant where the steak has been  aged sixty days and the fucking French fries are doused in truffle oil,  I miss my mom's Sunday meatloaf, the sound of the game blaring on the  front room TV.

I haven't been home for a while. I hate making excuses, but what I hate  even more is explaining my life in ways they can understand. Of course,  my parents don't have a clue what I'm really up to, and neither does my  brother, Mark. Like hell I'd tell them. I can't even imagine what they'd  say.

Still, I feel a long way from home sometimes. Even if the people there never understood me.

The truth is I hardly understand my goddamned self.

I also don't understand why JoJo has been on my mind all night long.

"You okay, McQueen?" Emmy asks across the table. "Need some more wine to take the edge off?"

"Naw," I say, waving her off. "I don't know what my deal is. Maybe I'm tired."

"Maybe you're always so busy hustling for the ladies, you don't know  what it means to just relax with your friends," Jack suggests.

Turning the tables, I ask, "Where's your lady tonight, Jack?"

"She won't be here for a week, shit. You know that; she's taking your stage."

"Oh, yeah," Tess says, animated. No surprise. Tess always wants to be in  on the gossip. "How do you feel about that, McQueen? That stage has  been yours for years."

"It's cool." I shrug. "The guys at The Cockpit are solid, and it's  honestly an easier gig than what I did at Stripped. There, I did an  actual revue, like dance numbers. There's a coach and everything,  teaching us the choreography."







"And this new show?" she asks.

I snort. "This new gig is just straight-up stripping. Different skill. We rehearse, but we come up with our own routine."

"And what's the skill? Jack asks, laughing. "Make sure you get a nice wax?"

His words piss me off, and I don't know why. I'm usually pretty good  about the shit I get over my profession. Still, it annoys me.

"Right. Gotta get nice and clean for those women who you might have had a chance with until they saw me."

"Ha, nice one," Ace says giving me a fist bump. Emmy pinches his arm as he does.

"Honestly though, Tess," I say. "I'm working out way more with this new  job. Straight-up stripping is no joke. I can't have movies like Magic  Mike put me to fucking shame. I gotta put out."

"Seriously, bro, it's our money on the line," Ace says.

I know he's joking, but it's still hard to swallow. I mean, there's a  fucking lot of pressure tied up in this. Ace, Jack, and Landon have all  put cash into the club, and their payoff hinges on my ability to draw a  crowd. I can't fucking mess this up.

The waitress finally brings out the main course and I eat as quickly as  possible. I want to ditch this dinner party and go let off some steam.

Steam I didn't know I had. I'm all wrapped up in this conversation, the pressure and money and having the right fucking moves.

And also, JoJo. I can't get that woman out of my mind.

Usually, it's wham, bam, thank you ma'am ... but with her, all I want is seconds.

I need to punch something and fucking get a grip.

Pushing out from the table, I set my linen napkin on my cleaned plate. "I'm out."

"You sure? We're gonna get drinks at the bar before we call it a night," Emmy says.

"Thanks, but I'm good. I'll let you guys enjoy your little double date."  I smile, tousling Jack's hair to annoy the shit out of him. "Don't have  too much fun without the life of the party."



Leaving the restaurant, I swing by In-N-Out for a shake, a few  hamburgers, and a few orders of fries. I'm suddenly starving. Must have  been that killer workout this afternoon. My legs are still aching from  it.

With the food in my Jeep, and nowhere to eat it, I decide to head over  to Kit's Gym. Maybe he's sitting in his office and wants an excuse to  B.S. at the end of the night. What are my other options?

I don't want to call Landon and go sit with him and Claire while they watch The Bachelor or some domestic shit.

What the fuck happened to my friends? They got themselves wifed up and  left me hanging. I need to get some new guys to go out with, or this  town is gonna get old, real quick.

The gym's open, lights are on, so that's a good sign, but the moment I  step foot inside I hear Kit talking animatedly with someone. The words  of the exchange become clear as I walk into the open gym.

"I need a fight. Soon. I just feel like my time is running out."

I'd recognize JoJo's sexy, raspy voice anywhere.

"You got lots of time, girl. You're twenty-three, in prime shape. We don't need to rush this."

"Maybe you don't, but I do. My family ... listen, it's complicated."

"What are you saying?" Kit asks.

Wanting them to know I'm here, I cough loudly.

"Hey. Uh, anyone hungry?" I hold up my bag of food.

Kit clenches his jaw, looks at the floor.

"Maybe I'll just go," I say, taking a step back, not wanting to intrude on anything.

"It's fine. Stay," JoJo says, looking up, meeting my eyes. "Kit, I'm not  trying to be intense, I just wanted you to know where I'm coming from.  Okay? This means everything to me." She brushes away a tear and I'm  reminded, again, of this girl's layers. She's a fucking onion at this  point.

"I'll do whatever I can for you, Jo," Kit tells her, pointing a fatherly finger at her. "You're a keeper-you know that, right?"

"Something like that." She looks at the ground, but Kit doesn't let her  off the hook. He gives her a quick hug, smacking her back as he does.

Pulling back, he tells her, "I'll find something for you, Jo. Promise."  Looking over at me he adds, "I'm gonna pass on the grub. I'm beat. But  feed this girl-she probably hasn't eaten all day. Am I right?" he asks  JoJo.

She shakes her head, smirking. "Not true. I had leftover chicken nuggets for dinner. And cold peas."

"I got you covered." I hand her the chocolate shake.

She takes it from me, smiling as she does-and then smiling wider as Kit leaves, locking the door behind him.











JoJo


I'm inhaling this fast food-after the day I've had, screw the low-carb,  high-protein diet I've put myself on. I'm not a crazy girl, obsessed  with being skinny. The diet is my effort to be as lean as possible, to  be ready for a fight.

I hope Kit heard me. That he'll find me one. Right know, I just need something of my own to hold on to.

I swallow a bite of burger, and look up, realizing McQueen is grinning  at me in that perfect way of his-the one where his straight, white teeth  gleam, and his chin juts out ever so slightly. And the dimples. He has  one in each cheek. It's ridiculous.

And hot as hell.

Maybe he can be the something I can hold on to.

Stop. It. Now.

I can't let myself go down that rabbit hole ... I'll be more lost than  Alice, and right now I need to stay grounded in reality. I can't let  myself fly away into a fantasy. Late night hook-ups do not fall in that  category.

"Earlier you told me you were going out tonight," he says, dipping a fry in ketchup.

We're sprawled out on the floor of the gym. His back is against the  wall, and I'm crossed-legged in front of him, the food between us. At  this exact moment I'm grateful for a greasy barrier, because I have this  desire to ask him to scoop me up in his solid arms and carry me away.

"Earth to JoJo, you okay?"

"Yeah, what did you ask?"

"You said you were going out tonight?" His eyes squint, as if trying to get a read on me.

I need him to stop being so damn handsome. I can't concentrate.

"Right. Well, I stopped by my sister's house after leaving the gym, and  she was having a hard time. I sent her to the bath with a bottle of  wine, and I took care of the kids." I shrug, knowing that when I left  Mary's the kids were all asleep, the laundry was done, and the kitchen  gleamed.