Ruined: Loving An Alpha Male(6)

We stared at each other for a second longer before I made the first move and let go of her. She seemed to step back reluctantly from me. Could that really be true? I watched her leave the building, focusing on her hips and beautiful apple-shaped ass sway as she moved.

I shook my head involuntarily and said out loud, “Who was that Lou?”

“Max,” was all he said.

Max turned and smiled at me again before she completely disappeared from view, and I knew at that very moment that I would do anything for that woman.

I felt Alex lean into me, “Yeah, she’s definitely out of your league.”





Chapter 2


Maxine


“Come on, Max. Will you do this for me?” Mimi asked.

We were in the back of a place called “The Bar,” getting ready for our shift, when she asked if I would sing with her and two of her friends tonight. Michelle “Mimi” Waters and I have been friends for four years now. We’ve been roommates the entire four years, while each of us attended school: me in nursing and she an arts major at Drexel University. I filled out an ad for the room on the bulletin at school, and it’s been great ever since. She found this job here at “The Bar” as a bartender first; then when I needed the extra money, she got me hired, too. What helped me get the job as well was me knowing the owner personally.

Typically there are various bands that play at The Bar on Saturday nights, but Fridays are open mic. All you have to do is let the manager of the bar know—his name is Keith, by the way—and he’ll give you three minutes to perform. We have had some very hilarious people get up there and sing or dance and even recite poetry. Almost every Friday, Mimi and her two friends Laura “Lulu” and Teresa “Tiny” get up on stage and sing and dance for the patrons. Most of the time, when it’s known they’re singing, this place gets packed with crazed horny men and even some women. They know that Women’s Dream Men’s Desire, or WDMD, as they like to call themselves, are typically half-dressed and usually give the crowd a hell of a show and view.

Mimi told me her brother was getting married, and they were just going to stop in to have a few drinks before they went bar hopping. But since he called her complaining about his strippers, she changed the plan. She told me they were supposed to have strippers come to their hotel earlier, but whoever was in charge of the extra-curricular activities did a piss-poor job picking the women (her words not mine).

I frowned and shook my head, “Aw, Mimi. Why can’t you three just sing?”

I didn’t mind singing, but I didn’t feel like being half-dressed. I remember the last time I sang with them, and my boyfriend saw me. He had to be escorted out of the bar for fighting.

“Because you can sing better than the three of us put together, number one. I really want to make sure my brother’s friends have a good time with four very hot ladies singing for them.”

I groaned. “You know I would love to. I like Mikey. I really do. But remember the last time I sang here, and Trip saw me?”

Mimi frowned, “You haven’t broken it off with that psycho yet? Come on, Max. What are you waiting for?”

I met my boyfriend, Travis “Trip” Weeks, during my internship last year at an amateur MMA fight. I was helping Lou, who is like an uncle to me, with his fighters last year—taping up injuries, stretching, and doing physical therapy for his fighters. Travis was so sweet and attentive when I met him. He swept me off my feet so fast that I didn’t know what hit me. He showered me with gifts and time and attention. I was really happy, and even the sex was pretty good. He was my first interracial relationship, and I had reservations about it. But he never made it awkward. Travis was about six feet and weighed at least 270 pounds. He had brown eyes and short brown hair, with a body that was something to dream about.

A few months ago—after our one-year anniversary—things started to change. He started to get more agitated and aggressive with me. It has only gotten worse since he started training extra hard for this MMA season. He started accusing me of cheating on him multiple times, and I was getting fed up. Travis’ brother, Train, keeps telling me he’s under a lot of stress trying to go pro in MMA, but I think it’s more than that. I keep telling myself that it will get better. But as the weeks have gone by, it is actually getting worse. Sometimes he scares the crap out of me and gets very aggressive with me physically.

I cringed, “I know, Mimi. I was planning on doing it today, but he was really off his game tonight and pissed at me. So I didn’t want to make a scene.”

Mimi put her hands on her hips.