Authors: Glenna Mayanrd
Fighting Dirty Series
Glenna Maynard © 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
For those who love a dirty story with a twist.
To Liz King, who first inspired this story, I love you HBIC.
To Brandi, my sis, I love you, thank you for being my namesake for this book.
To my leading man and kiddos, (Bo too) I love you thank for continuing to believe in me.
Royce King wants nothing more than to move on with his life after the woman he loved was murdered at the hands of his best friend. However, moving on doesn’t prove to be easy when the past is everywhere he looks. Especially when it is staring at him in the form of his new girlfriend who resembles the love he lost.
Brandi Evans is immersed in the MMA fighting world and wants nothing more than to be a cage girl. Things were going her way, until she found she shares the love of her life, and her face with a dead woman.
Sin City is full of juicy secrets, dirty lies, and ugly truths.
Are you ready to get dirty?
Dirty Love is the first book of a series, but each story can be read as a standalone.
“Come on Brandi, no one cares if your hair is perfect. We’re going to the gym, not the fucking mall!” My brother, Kline is screaming at me from the doorway of our apartment. He’s such a dick. He goes there to work out, I however actually work there, at Hot Bodies. I’m not one of the gym bunny hangarounds, who pretend they are there to get buns of steel, but instead are there hoping to land a fighter. My dick brother got me a job at the gym where he trains a couple of years ago as a receptionist. I am working towards becoming a personal trainer someday. I fill in sometimes as the instructor for the pole dance class when needed also.
Dickhead bangs the door shut. Our neighbor’s baby starts to cry. The walls here are so damn thin.
The apartment we share is decent and livable. It isn’t the best neighborhood, but no one messes with us, thanks to my brother and his reputation. I was hesitant to move in with him at first, after living with him my whole life, and knowing what a dirty pig he is, but I’ve gotten him trained to make some one woman very happy one day. He knows I’m not his maid. It took my leaving my tampons laying out in the bathroom a few times before he started cleaning up after himself. Now I don’t have to remind him not to leave his wet towels on the bathroom floor. And after he fell in the toilet when he had a bad stomach virus he no longer leaves the seat up.
I’ll never forget being woken in the dead of night to his screaming in horror from landing his bare ass in the toilet water. I giggle aloud to myself thinking about it. Catching my expression in the mirror I look like such a dope.
I give up on perfecting the perfect ponytail and throw my crimson hair up into a messy pile on my head. When other girls do it, their hair looks sexy. When I do it not so much. I appear to be a struggling homebody. Turning off the bathroom light, I yell back,” I’m coming get your protein bar out of your ass.”
Some think growing up in sin city is like a 24/7 party and they are right. My whole life has been nothing but a never ending party. A fantastic shit on Brandi party— on the never ending road to shitville— that has been what my life has been like. Even now, but before we get to the now let's rewind for a minute. Yeah this is one of those stories, so sit back and listen.
My whole life has been one huge clusterfuck. My real dad walked out when my brother and me were still in diapers. Our mother later remarried the fuck-stick—Charlie, who has never been much of a dad, but he has always kept food in our mouths and clothes on our backs. Charlie is a gambling addict who is always making bets he can’t afford to pay out on. He fucks Peter to pay Mary and Paul.
The only man I have ever been able to really depend on has been my brother, Kline.
Kline always ends up taking a fight to cover Charlie’s ass. My brother is a bad ass who can hold his own in the octagon. He’s a cage fighter with quite a reputation in Vegas. They call him TNT because when he gets in the ring, he leaves his opponents looking like they’ve been blasted by dynamite.
His involvement in the fighting circuit lead me down the road I’m on right now. He’s training me and I’ve been documenting my progress on social media, showing the world how I’m going from flab to fit. I actually have built up a decent following on Instagram. Some Magician, Johnny Magic has taken a liking to me and sends me tickets to all of his shows, it kind of weirds me out. It’s been good for Kline too, a few girls have turned up to see him fight and offered to hire him among other things. I try not to think about the other offers they have made him. Some chicks have zero self-respect. It’s sad.
My goal is to feel good about myself, but what I really want is to be a cage girl. Yup, one of those girls. I want to strut my assets in the cage carrying a round card a showing everyone whoever called me fat or chunky monkey in school that I can do it. My childhood wasn’t that great. I was constantly getting picked on due to my size. I developed boobs in third grade, I was an early bloomer. I had my period in fourth grade, way ahead of girls in my class. The bullying didn’t end at the school bell. I’d get shit at home too, from Charlie. He was always being a prick, calling me fat ass and hitting me for eating too much.
Kline started training because of me. When we were in fifth grade he started beating up anyone who called me names, including Charlie. Didn’t matter boy or girl he would punch, kick, attack. Whatever it took to get them to leave me the hell alone. He was my savior. When we got older and it became apparent he could really fight, Charlie got him involved in the underground, taking advantage of Kline and his ability.
After grabbing my bag and locking the door, I go to the car and am confused that Kline isn’t in it with the AC running. He whistles from the end of the block. “We’re walking.”
Ugh! I am already sweating and it’s only 8 AM. The gym isn’t that far from our street, but still it’s hotter than hell. I don’t complain though. I know he wants the best for me. He’s made sure I am losing weight the healthy way. Maintaining and building muscle while shedding inches. Over the past year I’ve dropped 120 pounds. I’m at a healthy weight now. I don’t need to lose any more weight, I just need to keep it off and maintain my curves.
“You ready for your next fight?” I ask when I finally catch up to him.
He shrugs and I know he’s nervous. He shuts down when he’s anxious. This guy he’s fighting has quite a reputation. My brother has a big fight coming up against ‘The Killer.’ Then after that he fights ‘The Punisher.’ That fight could change everything for my brother. The winner gets a shot at a title fight, against my ex, Royce King. He is the current King of the Cage and underground fighting royalty. His ego has gotten out of control. Royce dumped me when he scored some deal for a power bar. Said his endorsement contract had stipulations. I think they didn’t want him seen with a chubby girl. I was still working off some of my weight when he signed that deal. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me anyway. Him and my brother are both signed with the same company, so I see a lot of Royce.
I remember my conversation with Jay last night before he locked up the gym.
“Stop worrying so much about Kline, he knows what he’s doing.” He nudges my shoulder.
“I get the feeling Charlie will fuck this title shot up for him. You know how he is. Any opportunity to use Kline to make a dollar he puts the squeeze on him.”
“I fucking hate that dude.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he walks me to my jeep.
“You don’t have to tell me. Hello, you’ve known us a long time Jay.”
“Yeah Bran, I know.” He shakes his head as I open my door.
I turn and give him a quick hug. “Thanks for always having Kline’s back and mine.”
“You know it.”
“Kiss the girls for me,” I say with a wistful smile. His and Christi’s girls are adorable. They’ve been together as long as I’ve known him. They married straight out of high school. Jay is easy on the eyes, but no one steps out of line when it comes to him. Christi is a body builder and trust me, she isn’t a bitch you want to mess with.
“I will. Stop worrying about Kline. He can handle himself and Charlie.”
Easier said than done.
Jay’s Kline’s best friend and one of mine too. Him and Kline were in kick boxing classes together in middle school. Jay has always been around; like the other brother I never knew I needed but am glad to have. I can go to him for anything. He manages Hot Bodies. Some say the gym is owned by Parker Garrett, but Jay just shrugs when I ask and says it’s privately owned.
My brother has so much more than bragging rights riding on his fights. I know even if he isn’t confiding in me. He’s quiet as we walk to the gym and I leave him to his thoughts. His shoulders are slumped and he isn’t walking with his normal swagger. The bad ass fighter walk.
A lot of the fighters in the underground and Pro circuit workout at Hot Bodies. Their presence definitely makes for some nice eye candy while I stand behind the counter. Most guys don’t even look my way. They know who my brother is along with my ex and don’t want to burn that bridge. My brother however doesn’t respect the no dating friends’ restriction he’s put on me after shit with Royce ended so badly.
He’s been screwing around with my best friend, Tiffany. I swear if he hurts her I’ll twist his nuts off. I told them I will not be involved in their shit. Tiff can cry to me duh, but I won’t get in the middle. Their relationship is fresh so we shall see how it goes. I’m not hopeful. I guess that makes me a shitty friend, but I know them both. They aren’t good at doing the whole committed relationship thing. Kline doesn’t like to answer to anyone and Tiff can get super clingy early on in a relationship.
She’s super cool at first, but at the first sign of a guy getting serious about her, she’s practically pulling out bridal magazines. God love her, she really wants to get married. My brother isn’t the marrying kind.
I’ve been witness to too many of his failed attempts in the past.
We part ways at the door. My brother goes straight to the leg presses and I make my way to my pole class after clocking in.
When I first signed up to help out for this class I was so nervous. The class is on the other side of the weight benches only separated by a glass partition. So while we are working the poles, the guys working out get their eyes full. It’s been a real confidence booster though. Now that I don’t mind getting ogled like prime meat.
I figure if they like what they see I might really have shot at getting signed as a cage girl with Lucky 7 Promotions. They are the real deal. The Pro circuit. The company is owned and ran by a young mogul, Parker Garrett. To say the man is sexy would be an understatement. He’s one of Vega’s most eligible bachelors. He’s the talk of the fighting world. His company is rising fast and becoming one of the most viewed events worldwide as far as online presence goes.
They are holding an open call for cage girls in a few days. I’m so nervous and excited. My next goal is becoming a fitness model. One of the girls my brother screwed around with was featured on a few book covers. I was shocked when I saw her face on the front of a romance novel in Target. That would be such an honor and so freaking cool to do.
I smile at Sug as she waits for everyone to get in place. She is such a character. Pole dancing is her day job; at night she’s shaking what her momma gave her at some gentlemen’s club on the strip.
She has offered to get me a spot, says I have what it takes to make some serious cash, but I would probably embarrass myself. I pull my yoga pants and my tee off leaving me in a sports bra and booty shorts. The advanced class is first on the schedule this morning and things get hot and sweaty quickly.
“All right ladies. Stomachs in and bootys out,” Sug sasses with a wink. We usually teach as a pair because the class is so large. I take the days that Sug or Yvonne can’t. Yvonne works here part time; the rest of the time she is going to nursing school.
The music starts low and slow as we go through our stretches. The more we move the faster and louder the music thumps in sync with our routine.
I steal a glance to the weight room and it’s filling up. It usually does when we have class. I giggle to myself and shake my head seeing a few of the fighters my brother spars with watching. One time a guy dropped a weight on his foot and broke his toe. I felt bad for him, but he should have been paying attention to his work out and not my ass.
One of them being a new guy in town. I feel the heat of his gaze traveling my body as I hook my knee around my pole. I catch my reflection in the mirror that lines the wall behind Sug, and I have to say I move fluidly. When I swing around the pole I don’t see him, and I get lost in the music, working my body hard.
I’m determined to sign with Lucky 7. It would be so awesome to get a deal with them.
After class I cool down with a water and go over the leg presses to check in with Kline. I snap a quick selfie and hashtag it:
#Training #Lucky7 #CageGirl
The new guy, I think his name is OZ winks at me and says, “You can work that pole, I got one you can slide down too.”
My cheeks flame with embarrassment. I’m not used to getting hit on so openly and in front of my brother. I look away right as my brother smacks him in the gut and warns, “OZ! That’s my sister you dirty fucker.”
“I meant the pole at the station.” He grins and I remember that he’s a firefighter. He’s only been a here a few months. He’s a transfer from St. Louis. I remember Kline saying something about staying away from him because he’s a womanizer.
Tribal tattoos snake up his forearm, highlighting his bulging biceps. With all American looks and blond hair, OZ is sexy, but man when the guy opens his mouth, not even his gorgeous baby blues can save him.
“I have a big hose too!” he chuckles and darts out of the way before Kline can clock him.
I shake my head still blushing. A few wispy strands tumble from my bun. I check my Instagram and holy shit! OZ hearted my selfie. I cast a side glance, peeking from the veil of my hair, but don’t see him.
“Please don’t tell me you are smiling over OZ?” Kline doesn’t seem to know whether to laugh or be disgusted, based on the confused expression plastered on his face. His dark brown hair is tucked around his ears. His dark green irises narrow on me as he folds his arms across his sweaty pecks.
I raise my brows with a mischievous smirk. “What if I am? I am a girl who likes boys. OZ has charisma and a long hose.” I crinkle my noes on the last part giving away my true feelings.