“No strings attached,” I reminded her, expecting one last confirmation from her.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t plan on wasting time and energy on starting a relationship with a thirty-year-old fuckboy, no matter how handsome.”
Not that it mattered to her, but I was twenty-seven. Everything else in her statement was correct. I was a fuckboy, and she would be wasting her time with me. That image served me well for years. It kept people away from me. Not only women. Men too. No one wanted an irresponsible guy like me for a friend. For a drinking buddy? Sure. But never for a friend.
There was another bang on the door, right before I swung it open. Chloe frowned at me and Tracy. It made her look like she had only one brow. Her lips were a thin line.
“It’s time,” she roared. I felt Tracy’s body tensing beside me. I looked my new fuck buddy in the eyes, ignoring Chloe.
“Give me a heads up before you come next time, okay?”
Tracy nodded and turned her back on us. I smiled at Chloe and pretended nothing happened.
“Shall we?” I waved my hand towards the locked door that hid the staircase leading to the basement. She stepped in front of me. My eyes slid down her body.
Fuck. Those uniforms are slutty.
I didn’t own the bar, so I didn’t have the last word on anything around here. If it was up to me, I would have never made the waitresses wear these. I had seen waitresses in strip clubs with more fabric on.
I knew Chloe hated dressing like that. I tried to talk to the owner about it. Long story short: he didn’t care.
He didn’t want to run the place. He inherited it from his old man when he kicked the bucket a few years ago, but since his father loved it so much, he didn’t have it in him to close it. So he hired me as a manager. He was happy to have some profit from it, but didn’t want to invest anything more. Which meant no new uniforms.
Chloe offered to pay herself for hers when she started working here, just to be able to buy something less revealing, but I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let the others think she was getting a special treatment. They already gossiped about us and weren’t exactly thrilled I gave her a job in the first place.
They thought we were bumping uglies when we vanished together every Friday night. Been there, done that, I wanted to tell them. But it was a good thing they came up with a story about our disappearances, that had nothing to do with the reality.
“How is Liam?” I asked. She shot me a look over her shoulder, then abruptly spun around to look at her feet while we descended to the basement. Her long black velvety ponytail brushed my chest through my shirt.
“He’s asking about you,” she paused then exhaled loudly. She knew better than to ask me for the millionth time to visit them. I always declined her invitations. “He loves the truck you bought him.”
“And the ear infection?”
“He’s fine.”
“Do you need more money?”
On Fridays I made tons of cash in that basement. Cash I desperately needed.
“No,” she shook her head. “But thank you for offering.”
I reached over and squeezed her elbow encouraged by her softer tone. She sighed and patted my hand right before we reached the door of the basement.
“Things will get better,” I reassured her. “I’m working on it.”
A faint smile twisted her lips as she pushed the door open. A lot of people were seated already.
“Are you fighting tonight?” Chloe asked and her voice cracked.
I shook my head. In the beginning I fought every week. I challenged the drunken assholes upstairs. My lean body made them think they could snap me like a stick. Their friends bet against me and lost the majority of the time.
I didn’t have to fight that often these days. Our secret activity got so popular I had to step down from the ring to give opportunity to other men to get their asses kicked. I also booked the fights a month in advance and had two bouncers, huge guys, to help with the security. Not that we kicked people out or anything. I couldn’t afford that. First of all, I wanted their money. Second of all I didn’t need trouble. Everyone had to be happy.
“Clementine is coming tomorrow. I can’t show up with bruises. You know.”
Chloe nodded. “What about our newest customer?”
“Is he here?” I asked. I deliberately didn’t look at the table in the back when we entered the basement.
“Yes. It’s his third Friday in a row. What does he want?”
“What do you think he wants? Money, of course.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Just take care of the drinks like any other night. Ask him what he wants, then bring it to him. Leave the rest to me.”
Chloe was the only one who knew what I was doing down here. She came with me every Friday to serve drinks to the customers who bet huge amounts of cash on those fighters. I kept alcohol down here especially for Fridays. I never used the supply upstairs. I broke a few laws down here, but I wasn’t dumb. There was no connection between the bar and the ring. Except Chloe. But she would never rat me out.
I waited for her to start taking orders. People loved her. She was nice and always smiling. She always got the best tips upstairs. When I was sure she wasn’t paying any attention to me, I turned to the man who was standing a few steps away from me ever since I entered the basement. He was a beefy dude. Everyone in that basement would totally bet on him if he entered a fight. People preferred to place their money on someone with lots of muscle. The truth was the best boxer wasn’t necessarily the hefty one.
I extended my hand to him. “Tyler Hartley. How can I help you?”
He didn’t even glance at my hand.
“My boss wants to talk to you.”
Chapter Four
Tyler
I entered the restaurant where I was supposed to have dinner with my sister and her fiancé. A beautiful brunette greeted me and led me to our table. I couldn’t help it. My eyes slid from her back down to her ass. It was a nice one, wrapped in tight black skirt that reached her knees.
I was so preoccupied with said ass that I didn’t notice that Hannah Spencer sat there, at a table for six, until the hostess left. She looked at me like I was the last person on the planet she wanted to see and yet she wasn’t surprised to see me. She knew we were having dinner together.
Standing up next to a chair, I just stared at her. How come I managed not to run into her for five years and yet I was seeing her for a second time in just one miserable week?
She stared back at me. Cool. Collected. Silent.
That was one thing that I would never believe if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Hannah Spencer with her mouth shut.
“What are you doing here, little Spencer?” I asked and sat right next to her. “I thought my sister wanted to see me and yet here you are. Again. Is that some elaborate scheme to make me take you out?” I knew I shouldn’t go there because of our history. Clem knew nothing about it. And I wanted to keep it that way. It wasn’t wise to irritate the woman who could rat me out, but wisdom wasn’t my forte.
“I see your ego is intact.”
“Unlike my sense of humor,” I said, referring to her words about me not being funny. I could accept a lot of insults, mostly because they would be accurate, but boring I was definitely not.