Fearless (5 page)

“And good luck with that birthday party.” He squatted to the floor in front of a barbell and easily ‘clean jerked’ a weight heavy enough to pop my groin muscle from here into next week. “Enough talk, bro. Let’s get started.”

We continued our training session for an hour and a half, repeating sets on various kinds of workout equipment, focused on building strength in my legs. As we headed to the locker room, Chase turned to me. “How is it going with Kenny, by the way? Did he start chemotherapy yet?”

“Yep, two days ago. He’s hanging in there, but man, chemo is brutal. The stuff they gave him, it’s pure poison to the human body.”

“I know. That’s some serious shit but serious shit is what it takes to kill those cancer cells before they kill him.”

I nodded and pulled my workout shirt off over my head as I sat on the bench in front of the open locker. I finished changing out of my workout gear and stuffed the sweaty clothes into my gym bag. “Hope he can handle it. I doubt we’ll see him at work much. I told him we’d cover most of his shifts and not to worry. ”

“Of course, no problem, we’ll handle the bar.” The metal of the locker door rattled as Chase slammed it shut. “Damn…good thing you decided to come to California. Otherwise Kenny would’ve been six feet under.”

The musky stench of the men’s locker room faded away as we wove our way around wooden benches toward the exit doors. I held open the glass door at the front of the gym and allowed Chase to pass ahead of me. “Yeah, life has a strange way of turning out, sometimes. It would suck to have my dad die right after finding out that I actually have a dad who’s alive.” I snorted. How ironic. “That’s why I always say…” I lifted my bicep with the tattoo. “…Carpe Diem.”

We were at Chase’s car, in the parking lot, by now, gym bags slung over our shoulders. Chase wasn’t laughing at my lame joke, not even a smirk. He paused at the driver’s door and aimed his key fob at the handle.

“Listen, I wanna talk to you about the bar.” His jaw tightened and I stepped around to his side of the car, anticipating a heavy conversation before we got in. “It’s no secret we need more customers to make it profitable again. And it doesn’t help that Kenny isn’t going to be around much. Maybe we need to advertise, pay for some ads in those coupon books people get in the mail.”

Chase was right. Lately, even the regular patrons had diminished. The worry on his face deepened as he rubbed at a dent in the door of his old Camry. My eyes followed the movement of his fingers as he poked at a crevice in the paint. I had never really noticed how ghetto his car looked until now. He worked two jobs, yet didn’t have enough for a better ride than this. His concerns about the bar were well founded. Shit, who wants to hang out in a bar with a graveyard atmosphere? We needed a marketing plan, pronto, that would put some life back in Rookies and make it the favorite neighborhood hot spot.

“That’s a bitch alright, but there’s no money for ads. Every cent Kenny has saved will be eaten up by this cancer treatment.”

“Damn, I figured as much. I hope I’m not going to be out of a job in a month. I need this income, you know.”

“You and me both.” My fears for the bar were the same as his, but I kept a poker face; I didn’t want him to get skittish and bail on us. I sure as hell wouldn’t blame him if he did but, on the other hand, I didn’t want to let him down either. He had been an employee at Rookies since it opened and had loyally stuck by Kenny and the place.
Fuck .
One more responsibility to heap on my shoulders right now. “Things will work out, bro.”

He flipped up the door handle on the back door and tossed his gym bag into the back seat and held it open for me to do the same. I tagged his upper arm with an affectionate slap and said, “Worst case scenario, I’ll hire you as my personal fitness trainer when I’m back on the racing circuit.”

Chapter 6

Niki

“Are you sure I look okay?” Jesse stretched both arms out at his sides as he stood in the living room of my apartment. I was getting ready for Cinnamon’s birthday party and Jesse had just arrived to pick me up.

“You look great, baby. Don’t worry about it.” It was so cute. This was the first time I had seen Mr. Self-confident appear nervous. He looked panty-dropping hot in his black jeans and black T-shirt, that stretched tight across his toned chest muscles. Printed graphics in gray swirled across one shoulder and onto the front of the shirt, with a hint of a metallic shine reflecting off the design as he moved. And then there were those dangerous locks of hair falling in his eyes. He reeked of ‘bad boy’ and I wrinkled my nose, with a mental ‘bwah-ha-ha.’ He looked so damn hot in that shirt, like a rock star. His bad to the bone looks were sure to raise an eyebrow or two from the Brentwood crowd at my dad’s house, who would all be wearing polo shirts with golf motifs. Boring.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his hotness. There was not a rational thought in my head and I nearly blurted out, ‘Come on Jesse, bend me over, pull my hair, whisper dirty things in my ear and…’ But we were late and ripping the clothes off that gorgeous body would have to wait until later.

I groaned and spun on my heels to rush back to finish my makeup in the bedroom. As I sat at the dressing table, my eye caught some movement in the mirror. Then the heat of a body behind me announced Jesse’s presence before I looked up. The lip gloss wand tumbled to the makeup table. I felt his hand on my waist. I turned my head to the side, casting my eyes downward. The warmth of his palm slid up to my shoulder and his other hand swept my long hair to the side. A shiver tickled my skin as he slowly lowered his lips to my neck. Lightly, his mouth brushed against me as his hands circled my body, locking me in an embrace.

“We should hurry, babe.” He mouthed the words against my neck. “Don’t want to be late the first time I meet your dad. They’ll think we're not coming.”

I closed my eyes and a pleasurable moan lulled in my throat. “You are making this really hard.” I exhaled. Still locked in a bear hug, he gently rocked us side to side.

“Hard?” I could feel his mouth smile against my neck. “Hold that thought for later.” He pulled his head up out of the crook of my neck, where he had been nuzzling me, and crossed the room. “We’d better get going.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me; we are not missing anything exciting by being a little late.”

I shut off the bedroom light, checked my makeup again in the hallway mirror as I passed it, and grabbed the birthday gift. Soon I was sitting next to Jesse, in his huge black pickup truck, on our way to the birthday party.

Brentwood was the next town over from Santa Monica but, in this part of California, all the cities had merged together over the years due to massive urban sprawl. If it weren’t for the welcome signs, posted at the city limits, a person couldn’t tell when they left one area, to enter the other. In the older neighborhoods, the lanes of the streets were uncomfortably narrow. Streets that were intended to accommodate only one car width had been expanded to two lanes over the years, as the population grew. It was almost comical driving Jesse’s lifted pickup truck in an area dominated by German engineering; low slung Audis nestled next to the curb, parked alongside sleek BMWs and flashy Mercedes.

After driving up a steep hill, on the private road which led to the stately house, we rolled up in front of the ornate black wrought iron gate of my childhood home, the one I had just moved out of at the beginning of summer to move into an apartment with Kat. It was a modern traditional estate, situated behind gates, on a large lot in the Mandeville Canyon area of Brentwood. Nestled among other four to five thousand square foot homes, it boasted an ultimate ‘great room’ with vaulted Birch ceilings. When I was a child, I loved how the wood made me feel like a little bit of the trees from outside were inside where I played. The grounds around the house were equally amazing: a wonderful pool house, a six-stall barn, a tennis court, for the time in my life when I thought I wanted to be a tennis pro, a guest house with an office, where Dad sometimes worked from home, and a life-size chess board, built right into the grass with black and white squares of cement.

With his mouth hanging open, Jesse gawked at the sight of the place. “I had no idea...I’m impressed.” He pushed the down button on the truck door and the rumble of the engine filled the air as the window smoothly retracted. He stared blankly at the intercom speaker box for a moment, like he was about to place an order at the drive through. He looked a little pale.

“You okay?”

Eying the keypad on the box he asked, “Do I just press the button?”

“No, wait. I have the code to open the gate,” I chuckled.

The lift kit on Jesse’s truck made it too high to reach the keypad from inside, so I jumped out and ran around the front of the car. I entered the four digit code and climbed back in the truck, as the gate rattled and opened slowly.

I pursed my lips and sucked a breath in through my nose. “It’s show time.” Although my focus was straight ahead, I saw Jesse nod in my peripheral vision.

As we drove up to the house, the driveway was packed with several other cars. Must be some of Dad’s lawyer friends. I could tell by the makes and models which belonged to lawyers and which belonged to Cinnamon’s ditzy girlfriends. Pretty sure the brand new Porsche belonged to one of Dad’s clients. Then my vision settled on a familiar outline.
Fuck!
Jason’s car was there too. I looked at Jesse.

“Looks like my dad invited Jason; that’s his car.”

“This should be amusing,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, define amusing.” I gripped the handle of the pink gift bag with white knuckles as Jesse pulled the truck to the side of the long driveway, behind the last car in line.

“God, I can’t believe he did that. What a manipulative…”

This was going to be really awkward for Jesse. Pangs of guilt shot through me as I realized the situation I had put him in.

“Don’t worry. I can handle Jason. It’s your dad I’m worried about.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He doesn’t own a shotgun, does he?”

I let out a breath “Okay, now you’re freaking me out.” I laughed. “No guns, it’s his wife that I’m most worried about.”

He slammed the truck into ‘park’ and reached for the door handle, then paused. “Hey, wait. How will I know which one is Cinnamon?”

“Her boobs will greet you before she does.”

“Oh crap.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Let’s do this.” He kicked open the door then popped up on my side of the truck and gallantly opened my door to help me out.

We were within ten feet of the porch when the front door sprung open and out came Cinnamon with a high cheek boned, slender, trendy looking guy with black lined eyes, Adam Lambert style. They laughed loudly, like something she said was the wittiest remark ever. Her brain was incapable of housing witty remarks. It looked like she and ‘Adam Lambert’ were sneaking out for a cigarette.

Dad didn’t know she still smoked. A few years ago he bought her a new, flashy, convertible BMW, when she had promised to quit smoking.
That
didn’t last long. Before the ink was dry on the sales contract, she developed the habit of sneaking out, whenever she could, for a quick smoke. She had the backbone of a snake.

“Niki, baby!” She squeaked in surprise, her long blonde curls bouncing as she started. So glad you could make it.” She pulled the front door shut behind her. Her spiky silver high heels clicked on the stone pavers as she baby-stepped her way back to her friend’s side. The short, tight fitting, red dress she wore was so tight it hobbled her, and forced her to take little short steps when she walked. The dress had various geometric ‘cutouts’ that showed off the dark tan of her skin and covered only the most essential areas.

“Cinnamon, I’m hardly your baby.” I rolled my eyes. “Please refrain from using any such terms of endearment, for my sake.”

She waved her hand in the air in a dismissive manner and tipped her head sideways toward her friend. “She’s always in a grouchy mood.”

Jesse’s eyes were wide as saucers and glued on a pair of boobs that nearly had as much square footage as the house. No doubt he was thinking how huge they were. I didn’t blame him. Everyone had the same reaction. They
were
huge, actually, huge as planets. Complete with
their own gravitational pull.

“Who’s your friend, Niki? Is he my birthday present?” Jesse had managed to unglue his eyes and was kicking an imaginary rock. She looked him over with flirtatious eyes, threw her head back and laughed like a horse. God, I hated that laugh.

“Cinnamon, meet Jesse; and no, he is not your present. He’s with me.” I shot her a cold glare and hung both my arms around Jesse’s neck.

“Jesus, girl. No need to be all territorial. I was just joking,” she teased as her gaze raked him up and down.

Jesse turned on his charm. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Milani. I’ve heard great things about you. May I wish you a very happy birthday?” He extended his hand.

Oh, he was good. Way to go, Jesse. I’d never heard him smooth talk like that before.

“Oooh, the pleasure is all mine, darling.”

It was not only my stepmom who stole lusty glances at Jesse. Her Latino friend certainly claimed his share as well. “Cinnamon, who’s your friend? You haven’t introduced us yet. Is he your choreographer from Vegas?” She turned slightly towards him. “Oh, sorry. Carlos, this is well…my step-daughter, Niki. Carlos is a friend of mine from Vegas. He came for my birthday and…” She dipped her fingers into the cigarette purse and pulled out a tightly rolled joint between her forefinger and thumb. She hunched up her shoulders like she had a secret. “Carlos and I were just coming out here to…have a little fun.” She wrinkled up her nose and smiled. “Want to join us?”

“Oh Jesus. No, Cinnamon. But hey, knock yourself out there, birthday girl.” I gave a nod to Carlos and pulled on Jesse’s arm. As usual, Cinnamon had made a memorable first impression.

We pushed past the two of them before Cinnamon could get her claws, or her overly pumped up lips, on Jesse. That woman had had more work done in her young life than a 1950 Buick. As we entered the house, I heard her say, “Carlos, hun. I totally forgot my drink in the house. Do you mind getting it for me while I light this shit up?”