And the Sweet (Addiction Series Book 2) (11 page)

See, Ben is an accountant, as is his wife. That’s how they’d met, I guess. And being accountants, they make good money. They have a nice little family with twin boys, and a modest house they’ve made a home in. They are doing well for themselves.

So of
course
the only reason I would leave Chicago and come back to Houston when I
swore
to myself I was done with the fucking place after my sister-in-law calls to tell me my brother – who doesn’t hate me or think I’m a walking talking pile of shit – has been hurt is because I’m trying to score some booze or drugs.
Of fucking course
! I mean really, it had absolutely
nothing
to do with the fact that I love Ben. He loves me. Whatever.

It really sucked seeing him laid up like he was because of some asshole. Never in all the time I was drinking did I think about driving. Sure it helped that because I was the lackluster child I didn’t get the car for my sixteenth like Ben did, and therefore had to bus everywhere. But even still. I did get my license. I had friends who had rides. Know how many times I got behind the wheel intoxicated?

Zero.

It wasn’t worth it as a teenager, it sure as shit isn’t worth it now. And it wasn’t worth it seeing what it caused my brother and his family. Which only reiterated my desire to stay away from all substances.

But you’d never know that from the way my parents act. I’m still that fuck-up they had to send to rehab. I’m still the one who leaves a negative mark on their perfection. They can talk about how great Ben is, how beautiful his family is. How proud they are. But when people ask about their other son? They have nothing to say. They know nothing about me. I’m out of the will, not that it matters to me. I’ve been getting by just fine without them.

But yeah, seeing them degrade me like they did five seconds after acknowledging me? That shit hurt. Thank God Ben married a good woman. She stood up for me. Even when my parents tried to manipulate her into thinking
I
was the manipulator and that she was being lead. She’d heard enough about me from her husband, my parent’s lies weren’t going to sway her. Nor was the fact that they should have been focusing on the fact that their first child was in the hospital, rather than beating down their second.

I left Houston promising to stay in touch with them, and I have, though I really have no intention of going back anytime soon.

“You look good, man. Almost as big as me!” Marshall laughs as he looks me over. He’s exaggerating. Marshall is still an intimidating figure. He tells me he’s a firefighter in Houston now, having gone through the training a couple years back. So he’s in pretty good shape. But with all the work I’ve been doing in construction, not to mention the fighting; I am definitely not the scrawny seventeen year old he knew once upon a time. 

“Nah, you’ll always be the house,” I joke digging into my meal. “So, how’s things going? What’s got you visiting Chicago?”

“I’m getting married,” he beams and I swear to fuck his dark cheeks tint a pinkish hue in his pride. “My future in-laws are from here. Came up to finalize some details and whatnot.”

“No shit. That’s awesome,” I tell him giving him a light punch. “Who is the lucky lady?” I know it’s not Tina. When we saw each other in Houston, he’d told me she’d moved on, and away. She went to school, met someone, and was happy. He was happy for her. He’d put her through a lot, it was the least he could feel for her.

“Her name’s Allison. She’s a physical therapist.” His smile is big as he talks. He pulls his wallet out, slipping a picture of a woman with light brown skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes. She’s beautiful and I can see how head over ass Marshall is for her. “We met in the cafeteria of the hospital when I stopped to grab a bite after one of my sessions.”

“Sessions?”

“It’s been ten years since rehab, and I’ve come a long way in my recovery. But through the years, there were instances where I felt like…falling off the wagon. When Tina decided to move on was one of them.” He balls up his trash and I do the same. “I’ve slipped up twice since leaving Trinity, and I know that I will probably always need to talk to someone about my issues. I wanted to have a normal relationship with someone. Not hurt them because I can’t keep my dick in my pants anytime a pretty face walks by.”

I nod my head in understanding. It takes a lot of guts to know you need help. Takes even more to get that help. “So you’re good now though, right?”

“I’m much better. I don’t go to meetings or see a counselor every week. Sometimes I go months without. Thanks to Ally, I’ve taken up yoga,” he laughs and I join in. I just can’t picture such a big guy bending all crazy. “It really helps to keep my mind focused. And I can enjoy sex without needing it all the fucking time.”

I take a minute to think about that. Here sits a man addicted to sex. But he's got it under control. Not even an hour ago, I thought I would lose my fucking mind if I couldn’t have Cecelia again.

To be honest, the way I felt before this meeting, it was like the need for that hit. It was that craving I couldn’t handle. It’s scary as shit and I will need to get a better grip on my control before I lose myself to another addiction.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“What about you? How are things for you?” Marshall knows some things. He was my roommate in rehab so he knows about my parents. Sort of.

“Just getting by.” It tells him nothing and I see his eyes narrow. My answer isn’t good enough. Shrugging, I lean back in my chair. “My parents disowned me though my brother still gives a damn about me. I work construction, running the excavator mostly.”

“And the slight bruising to your jaw? You get that from your job?”

I catch myself before I can gape at him. I didn’t even notice it. Though I do know Silas got one good hit in before I finished him off. “I also maybe fight sometimes.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

Huffing I lean back over the table. This really isn’t the kind of conversation you have in such a public place. “Underground,” I begin with my voice low. “A group of guys gather and we fight. Winner gets bragging rights and a pot of cash tossed in.”

“You mean like Fight Club?” he asks and his voice is both skeptical and in awe.

“Yeah, kinda. I mean we don’t talk about it because it’s not the most legal of things. And there’s no soap or desire to overthrow the man and whatnot,” I answer with a chuckle.

“No wonder you’re more bulky. You win much?”

“Always.” I’m not being cocky. I have yet to lose with Cecelia in my corner.

“Wow. I’d love to see that.”

Shrugging again, I look around the dining area. “It gets me by during the months it’s too cold to work.”

He nods, though I can still see he’s surprised by my news. I didn’t like conflict back at the rehab center. I really was scrawny. I stayed away from messes and didn’t court violence. I just wanted to be left alone. This person I am now, it’s not adding up for him. “What about a girl? You got one?” And with that, I can’t hold back my smile. My whole body relaxes and tenses and images of before flitter across my eyes. “Yeah you do, just look at that goofy fucking look. What’s her name?”

“It’s uh, it’s actually Cecelia.” I look down as a ‘no shit’ passes Marshall’s lips. “Yeah, we moved up here together after getting out of rehab. Her dad, well, he abandoned her long before we left, you know that. So we didn’t see a reason to stick around.”

“Wow. So you guys have been together all this time?” I can’t help the wince that comes as a result of that question. Truthfully, we should have, but because of my stupidity…we haven’t.

“Uh, up until two years ago, we were. Then some things happened, we had a falling out and have only reconnected a few weeks ago.” It’s the truth. Just without the grisly fucked up details. “But things are better now. Amazing, actually,” I say smiling again. She claimed me. Let me claim her. She said she loves me. Doesn’t get much better than that.

“Well, as long as everything is good now,” Marshall comments, seemingly letting go of the details I won’t divulge. “What’s she up to then? She a fighter too?”

I laugh because Marshall does. Only he doesn’t know the truth. Celia
is
a fighter. She may have only been in one fight, but she decimated her opponent. But her job, I can talk about that. “Cecelia is a bartender at some swanky place. Coco Pazzo. She’s there now.”

“Huh. That’s cool. She still as pretty as she was back then?”

There’s a part of me that’s nervous about this question. And for several reasons. One, Marshall is a recovering sex addict, and I don’t need him sniffing around Celia and screwing everything up. Two, it bothers me to know he really was looking at her back then, even though I always knew he saw her. And three, I am so fucking possessive over her, especially after just getting her back, that I know I need to calm the fuck down before I lose it. Or lose her. She may love my possessive side to a degree, but I know how thin the ice is. I can’t screw this up with her now that I finally have her back.

“She’s even more beautiful,” I finally say after a few minutes pass. “I don’t know what your plans are, if you’re needed somewhere, but uh, there’s a
thing
tonight,” I put emphasis on the word, thing, so he knows I mean a fight. “She’ll be there if you wanna say hi.”

Marshall contemplates for a moment. “Well, Ally is dress shopping with her mom. And her dad, who I was supposed to hang out with got called into work. So I told her I had an old friend in the city. I could always say we were going out to get a drink tonight.”

“I don’t really like the idea of you lying to your girl, man,” I say honestly. I know what lies do. I don’t want Marshall to ever go through that. He did once with Tina and it ended them. I went through it with Cecelia and it nearly killed us.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I’m not completely lying after all. I’ll be with friends.”

“But what if she wants to come?”

“Ha! Guess since you’ve never met Allison you wouldn’t know. When she and her mom go shopping, they tend to get drunk. It’s actually quite the scene,” Marshall laughs loudly, no doubt remembering. “She’s not going to want to go anywhere tonight but straight to bed. So really, it’s not a big deal. Just let me know the details and I’ll be there.”

I let my old friend know where the fight is taking place tonight. I let him know what time. And then we part ways and I go home to get some sleep before I have to battle.

ELEVEN

I text Celia to let her know I win my first round. To tell her I’m fighting Brutal who is driving Penny, his girlfriend, crazy, and she told him to get out of the house for the night. I tell her I can’t wait to see her and that I love her. She texts back when she gets a chance that she’s proud of me, can’t wait to see me kick Brutal’s baby-mama-annoying ass, and that she loves me too.

              I reread her text and shake my head and then laugh as another comes through.

            
 
~
That sounded a lot better in my head. Sorry haha!

Marshall shows right as I am taking some new guy named James down. It is an easy match. So easy, very few people were paying attention. That’s gotta be tough on a guy’s ego. And as I go to help James back up from where I landed him, he is obviously suffering from a bruised ego.

He’s grunting, pissed and waving me off. “I want a fucking rematch. Next week.”

“Whatever. Tell Stretch if you’re that desperate for another beat down.”

“Stretch, challenge. Chace, next week.” James yells, still shrugging off my attempt to help him.

“Whatever fucker,” Stretch replies heading toward Marshall.

As I shake my head at how dumb some of these guys can be, I hear Stretch speaking to Marshall. “It’s fifty for new member fees to hold your spot for Fridays. And if you were looking to fight tonight, we’re all set so you’ll have to come back next time. Pot fee depends on fighters but runs about a couple hundred.”

“Hey, asswipe, he’s not here to fight. He’s a guest,” I say jogging over. I grab my t-shirt and throw it on before I shake Marshall’s hand and shove Stretch off, making sure I don’t push him too hard though. Once I see he’s stable, I turn back to my former roommate. “Who in their right mind would fight in slacks?” I point down to my old friend’s pants. He’s dressed as though he was going out of drinks, just like he said.

“Oh, right. Whatever.”

Stretch wanders off and I shake my head. “Sorry about him. He’s been hit too many times.” I grimace as the words leave my mouth. Fortunately he isn’t nearby to hear them.

“No worries. Sorry I was late. Don’t really get around the Southside too often, almost didn’t know where I was going,” Marshall laughs and I join in. “You really are an amazing fighter. Ever thought about doing it as a pro?”

I shake my head as we head over to a bench so I can rest till it’s time to go again. “Nah, this isn’t a career. It’s good to make some money. It’s also good to get out aggression on. And sometimes, you just want to pummel someone and boxing, or being a pro wouldn’t allow that.” Especially when up until a few weeks ago, I thought the same assholes I was beating up were fucking my girl. It felt real good to kick their ass because of that thought. Now it feels good to kick their ass for trying to say they have. I don’t mention that to Marshall, though. He doesn’t need to know about my insecurities or mess-up. Even more since
none
of it was true.

“You guys meet every night?”

“No, usually just Fridays and Saturdays. We all have jobs, it’s easier to recover if you have a day off.”

Marshall nods, glancing around, his gaze locking. I follow his eyes and sigh. I am a fucking idiot. One of the biggest reasons I should have been nervous about him being here is right in front of us. Brin, a skinny bottle blond with too much makeup, and one of the newer girls that likes to hang around the fighters, and usually the one to leave with one, is smiling at Marshall. To be honest, she’s pretty much eye-humping him like a cat in heat. Fuck!

“Hey, skank! Quit with the pathetic eye-fuck. Find a hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t involve dick. Jesus Christ, you whores are pitiful,” a raspy voice calls out and everyone turns their attention toward it. Cecelia always did have a way with words.

“Mm, you and that mouth. Fuck, baby, you sure do know how to talk. Among
other
things,” Fife says getting in Celia’s way as she walks toward the group. She’s got cut-off shorts on tonight making her tan shapely legs look so fucking good, and another one of my shirts hanging off her shoulder, showing off a strap of her pink bra. “Just imagine what I’ll let you do with that mouth later.”

I see red. I’m on my feet in an instant to go stop Fife, especially seeing his hand try to grab for Celia’s ass. But before I can take two steps, she grabs his arm, twists it up and lays him flat on his back. Putting her sneaker-covered foot onto his chest, she leans down. “Keep your fucking paws off of me. There’s no way in hell I would ever imagine you and my mouth in any way. So get it out of your fucking head. I don’t want and have never wanted you. Or any of these other losers. I got a man.”

“Holy shit,” Marshall whispers beside me. I just nod because yeah. Holy shit, is right.

Stepping onto Fife’s chest to move away from him, Cecelia walks up to me with a devilish smile. “Hey, baby,” she coos before grabbing my jeans and tugging me into her for a kiss. I don’t resist, I let Cecelia take. I hear Marshall whisper in shock again and I can’t help but smile into the kiss. I may be a possessive motherfucker, but it appears Celia is too.

Breaking away, I nuzzle her nose for a minute. “Hey, back.” I smile at her before letting my eyes drift to where Fife is slowing standing back up. “You know, that was so fucking hot just now. Not to mention, Fife will never live it down.”

“Just making sure the message gets across,” is all Celia says.

Yeah, the talk still won’t stop.

I hear a throat clearing next to me and remember the manners Connie taught me. “Oh, right. Baby, you remember Marshall Ames from rehab, right?” I say that last part as quiet as I can. These fuckers don’t need to know this.

Cecelia looks Marshall over for a minute, her nose scrunched up a bit, and then she smiles. “Yes! You were the…well, you know,” she starts but cuts herself off before blurting out his addiction. We really don’t need the groupies to hear it. Especially not Brin. “How are you?”

“I’m doing really well,” he laughs and then point at her. “You seem to be as well.”

Blush covers Celia’s pretty cheeks. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I usually want to be buried inside her for the reaction it causes in me. “Uh, you could say that. You um, you learn real quick that these guys don’t just give respect. It has to be earned. Sadly even then it doesn’t always mean much.”

It’s a sobering thought. An unfortunate one too since I was just as guilty of not respecting her when I thought she was fucking everyone. Shaking my head to clear those thoughts, I smile and change the subject. “Seems Marshall is getting married.”

“Awe! Congrats!” Celia beams.

“Thanks. Yeah, I’m pretty excited.”

The three of us step away from the group, letting other fights go on, as we continue to talk and catch up. After nearly an hour and a half, I hear my name called.

“Yo, Delane. You’re up.”

“Fuck him up, baby,” Celia tells me with a deep kiss. She even lets me grab her ass.

Marshall wishes me luck as I walk away, pulling my shirt back off and tossing it to Celia. As I step up to Brutal, I hear two of the girls around our makeshift ring talking. They’re acting like they’re trying to have a quiet conversation, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I can’t believe he’s back with her. Just imagine all the diseases she must have.”

“I know, right? And look, that big guy over there, she’s probably fucking him too and Chace is too pussy drunk to realize.”

I roll my eyes. These people are so fucking pathetic. I can’t believe I ever allowed myself to fall for any of it. As my focus zeroes in on Brutal, I can see he wants to play too.

“It true? You really with Cecelia?” he asks with a laugh into his voice. Like the idea is so funny.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

He snorts. “You know, she probably is fucking that guy over there. For all you know anyway. Ain’t no way Hayley made up
every
thing about that fucking slut.”

It’s like white noise takes over. My vision hones in on my opponent. I care nothing that he and I used to
not
be mortal enemies. I care nothing for the fact his girlfriend is due at any moment, maybe even right this second and he’s such a fuckup he doesn’t realize adding to their medical bills with battle wounds is not the brightest move. The only thing that means anything to me at all is beating him. Showing him just how useless his taunts are. Proving just how powerful I am. And making it very fucking clear, I am done playing their games.

The fight starts and Brutal is taken down in five minutes. It’s my quickest match and his dumbest. I don’t even have a scratch or hit against me. He never had a shot. Never got a hit. As he struggles to get up, his breaths wheezing, his face bloodied and his movements shaky, I rest my hands on my knees so I’m closer to his battered face. “Seems every time you and I meet here you end up looking just like this.” I wave a hand at his broken and bloodied face. “Too bad your tactic didn’t work, huh? Too bad none of you assholes knows anything about the truth.”

“Fuck you,” he tells me through a harsh exhale. It’s possible I broke at least one of his ribs. Though the fight was so quick, I really am shocked myself, at the carnage.

“Fuck me? Nah, I don’t swing that way,” I laugh as I grab my shirt from Celia and throw it back over my head. “But thanks for the compliment.”

He’s on his feet now, swaying, but standing. “You think you’re so fucking perfect, don’t you, Delane? Like your shit don’t stink,” he begins and I can see his left eye is starting to swell shut. “Well, I got news for you boy; that bitch over there, we’ve
all
had her.”

It’s in this moment when everything clicks into place. From Hayley to these fuckers trying to get inside my head. They are all scared of me. Scared of what I’m capable of. They know bits and pieces about me. They know I come from Houston. I may have swallowed most of my accent, but it was there in the beginning, during more exerted actions. They know I had a whole fucking life before ever needing to fight. They look at me and see a guy who is
pretending
to be hard, pretending to be tough and every time I beat them, every time I take them down, it knocks their theory a little more. Because how could someone like me actually beat people like them? The ones who grew up in squander, who have actually had to fight to be where they are.

But they know nothing about me.

It’s funny to think, Cecelia Santos is my weakness. I would fucking kill for her. And she is absolutely worth dying for. But she’s not my weakness in the way they want her to be. At least not when it comes to these matches. They can taunt and act out all they like. Their words mean nothing in the end. Because at the end of the fight, all they managed to do was piss me off, not tear me down.

And what finally makes me laugh so fucking loud, they probably think I’ve lost my damn mind is the idea that they still think they can mess with my head, is this belief that they can somehow get to me. If Celia had never said anything to me about these guys, never told me flat out that she hasn’t let any of them touch her. If I hadn’t seen with my own eyes her rejection. If she hadn’t demanded my attention, my focus and my respect. This moment, Brutal’s declaration of them all having her does it. “Oh yeah? Hmm…that’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“Huh? Oh cause you see, a real man wouldn’t need to taunt and brag. He wouldn’t need to throw a conquest in anther guy’s face. All he would need is that girl on his arm, showing the whole fucking world the truth.”

“You think you can trust her? You think you know her? You don’t know anything about her.”

“And you do?”

“I know more than you do,” he shouts through a wheeze. “I mean it’s pretty fucking easy to Google a bitch’s name these days.”

I laugh, my head shaking. “Please. Enlighten me then.”

“You think you know who she really is, where she really fucking comes from. But I bet you didn’t know her daddy is a cop, huh? Or that she’s a fucking coke whore who did time in rehab a few years back,” Brutal keeps laying it on. And I keep on laughing.

Walking so I’m standing so close he has to lean back, I speak, looking at Brutal, but talking to them all. “Let me make something clear you; I know
everything
there is to know about her, from where she was born, what her momma’s name is, where she graduated high school from and what her favorite breakfast food is.

“And for your information, I happen to have met her daddy. Face-to-face. While we were
both
in rehab. And he’s a
sheriff
, by the way. But nice try.” There’s something in Brutal’s good eye that shows doubt. Perhaps he’s rethinking his actions here because I just admitted to knowing Celia during her druggy days, so I’ve known her longer than they all figured. Or perhaps he knows it should bother me, being the fighter that I am, doing something illegal, to be associating with the daughter of law enforcement. Since it doesn’t, his plan to keep taunting isn’t working. But I can’t let my momentum falter. “And just so you know, I’ll fuck up every last one of you if you don’t start showing Cecelia some respect.”

“Yeah, right, like you could take all of us on,” Fife chimes in, standing nearby. I hadn’t noticed him before, but now that I do, I notice where they all are in relation to my proximity.