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Shaking my head, I say, “Promise me she won’t be wearing a tutu.”
Smirking, she says, “If she does, I’ll make sure it has skulls and crossbones.”
We head out shortly after breakfast, Christy in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger. This has been happening more and more often as of late. She loves this car as much as I do and having Muffin as a co-pilot makes it pretty clear I am going to need to do something about Christy not having a car. Those two go everywhere together lately.
Maybe when she wins her fight, I’ll get her one as a reward. Something like mine but bright pink or whatever color she likes.
She doesn’t like me saying she’s going to win her fight, like there is any other option, but it’s true. We, as her team, will not allow her to falter.
She’s got this in the bag.
Dropping me off in front of the corporate offices, she leans over and gives me a deep, smoldering kiss. “Knock ‘em dead in there.”
Laughing, I say, “That’s my intention. They want me in a contract and I am going to make them court me. That new outfit out east in New York is offering lots of money for people to jump ship.”
“Would you really consider going there?”
“Nah. I know some of the higher-ups, and they treat their fighters like shit if they’re not a top name.”
She nods her head and I hug her before turning to plant a kiss on Muffin’s head. “Be a good girl and keep Christy in line.”
“Hey! I can do just…” I don’t hear the rest as I shut the door to the car.
She gives me a honk but takes off just fine.
Chapter Thirty
Christy
Driving down the street with the windows down and the wind in my hair, there’s a freedom I don’t get to experience anywhere else. Here, behind the wheel, I feel truly at ease. I can go anywhere I want to go.
I’m completely and totally free.
In the passenger seat, Muffin rides beside me with her head hanging out the window and her long pink tongue flapping in the breeze.
We’re just two girls out on the town, enjoying our day. Just taking it easy while we wait for Alex to finish his contract negotiations.
We’ve probably been driving around for about twenty minutes when my phone starts buzzing.
Thinking it’s Alex, I answer right away.
“Hey!” I say cheerfully. “You’re done early.”
“Christy.” Nicole’s voice comes through the speakers sounding rather deflated.
Immediately I feel a pang of guilt because I haven’t really been talking to her lately. In fact, we haven’t hung out since I’ve moved in with Alex. We’ve made plenty of plans to meet up but every time the day rolls around something always seems to come up. I’ve just been so busy with work and training.
“What’s up?” I ask. “Are you okay? You sound upset…”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I truly am.”
“For what?” I ask with a bit of trepidation. What could she possibly be sorry for?
The speakers crack and it sounds like the phone is being jostled or something.
Travis’ voice comes through the speakers, nearly giving me a heart attack. “Hey Christy.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I want to hang up and reach for the button but then he speaks up as if he can read my mind. “If you hang up your little friend is going to get it.”
“Don’t you fucking dare touch her,” I warn him and feel such a strong surge of adrenaline my hands start shaking.
Travis laughs and the sheer creepiness of it sends shivers down my spine. “Why? Jealous?”
Is he serious?
“No…” I say slowly and pull off the road, parking in the lot of a pizza joint.
Muffin looks over at me and gives a bark of complaint. I reach over and scratch her behind her ears to keep her calm.
“Good,” he says. “You don’t have to be, baby. All I want is to see you.”
Not going to happen, I think, but know better than to tell him that.
“Sorry, Travis, I’m really busy—“
“The fuck you are,” he says angrily. “I know you quit your job at Burger Bells. What the fuck have you been doing?”
“I’ve been busy doing other stuff,” I say evasively.
“Who the fuck have you been seeing?”
Fuck. If he didn’t threaten Nicole, I wouldn’t be putting up with this shit. As it is, I have no choice but to say, “No one.”
“I don’t believe you,” he says accusingly.
I want to tell him I don’t care but decide to bite my tongue instead.
“Look,” he says after a moment, sounding as if he’s trying very hard to remain calm. “I just want to see you. I miss you. You need to swing by the house.”
“I can’t, I’m busy—“
“Stop fucking saying that!” he snaps loudly. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing. You will meet me at the house.”
