Dirty (4 page)

It was par for the course for Frieda to make excuses for her sons. It was always everyone else’s fault except theirs. Simone had managed to amass a healthy savings and with the success of her boutique
,
she was comfortable these days. She contemplated giving her mother whatever she needed
,
if it meant no more contact. But knowing her mother, it wouldn’t matter. There would always be something else. With a heavy sigh
,
she asked, “How much is he in arrears?”

“Only forty-seven.”

“Hundred?”

“Thousand.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well
,
it is for five children.” Her mother’s words were defensive and self-righteous at the same time.

Simone tugged on each ear in turn to make sure she’d heard her mother correctly. “Did you say five kids? The last I heard there were only three.”

“Well
,
he was engaged for a while and she had twins last year. You would have known that if you didn’t think you were too good to keep in touch with
the
family. Look
,
are you going to help your brother or not?”

“I could send half, but that’s it. No more handouts.”

“What is he going to do with half? It’s not like you don’t have the money. I heard about that little shop of yours. You’re willing to let your brother go to jail?”

“Why don’t you ask the church for help? That seems to be your solution to everything.”

“Those folks don’t need to know our family business.”

It was typical. Simone’s mother was married to the pastor of a small church. Frieda lorded her first lady
status
over the members of the congregation by putting on airs and pointing out everyone else’s sins instead of looking at her own. Of course
,
it wouldn’t do for everyone to know that her son was a deadbeat. When Damon had gone to prison, Frieda had told everyone he’d gotten a job up
north
even though anyone who was so inclined could look up the
correctional facility
website for that state and find him listed as an inmate.

“If I give him all the money
,
what’s going to happen the next time he gets behind on his child support
? And
he will
,
if he refuses to get a job.”

“I should have known better than to ask your ungrateful ass. Lord help me, I did the best I could by you but all you’ve done is cause me nothing but heartache. You might think you’re so high and mighty now because you have a little money in
your
pocket, but mark my words, you’re going to regret turning your back on your family. You’ve forgotten
,
I know the real Simone. You can dress a piece of shit up in a fancy dress and call it a successful business woman, but it’s still shit.”

Refusing to be verbally assaulted a second longer, Simone pushed the end button and put her phone on silent. She didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted a wet salty tear at the corner of her lips. No matter how hard Simone fought to get past the pain and mental anguish her mother put her through, some reminder always cropped up to pull her back into a deep well of despair. She could change her cell phone number again, but it
wouldn’t
matter, Frieda always seemed to find a way to get to her.

Simone took several deep breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and she wanted to scream and not stop. And then she felt it, that compulsion to be bad.
It had been a few months since she’d given in to the temptation of her baser instincts. She tried
desperately
to battle this demon inside of her
. The demon
that led her on this course of self-destruction but each time, she gave in, just like she knew she would the minute she left her office. She’d seek out someone who was no damn good for her and maybe, just maybe
,
she’d managed to resist doing it again for another several weeks.

Simone swiped angrily
at
a tear cascading down her cheek. And then she remembered…she might have a solution to her problem after all. Grabbing her phone
,
she scrolled through her contacts until she stopped on the name she sought.

Paul Winters.

Chapter Four

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he ignored the deafening chants of the crowd, chanting and cheering for their favorite competitor. Paul skillfully dodged a fist flying his way before throwing a punch and a knee of his own. His opponent was younger and a bit quicker, but he was undisciplined and made a lot of mistakes which gave Paul the advantage. He moved in closer and delivered an uppercut and just managed to avoid another blow coming
straight
at his face. Unfortunately
,
he was unable to block the knee that connected to his solar plexus
,
sending the wind whooshing from his lungs. Unable to breath
e
, Paul could only put his hands up in a defensive
pose
to defend himself as his young adversary rained blows to the side of his head.

“Yeah, mother fucker! Yeah! Not so big and bad now are you?”
The
kid taunted.

Paul managed to fend off most of the blows his adversary threw his way. He bided his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. The kid was cocky and in Paul’s experience, that always led to one’s downfall. Ducking and dodging, he
continued to
bide his time, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Come on
,
bro. Give me more of a challenge.” The kid laughed before throwing another punch. This time
,
however, Paul was ready for him. He blocked the blow with one arm and gave his opponent a kick
to his
body. The
blow
was enough to make his adversary temporarily drop his defenses.

Paul balled his fist and delivered a haymaker that sent the kid stumbling backward. Not giving the arrogant little son of a bitch the chance to recover, Paul gave him an uppercut that sent the kid flying. He was out cold before he hit the ground. The rowdy crowd that circled them let out a mixture of cheers and boos, mostly accolades as he had been the favorite.

Paul was a bit rusty since he had been away from this scene for some years, but once he squared up with an opponent, instinct always kicked in, taking him to a space that told him to beat or be beaten. Even as he stood over the unconscious kid’s body, it took him several calming breaths to get into a head space where he wouldn’t automatically attack anyone who approached him.

A few of the onlookers rushed over to the kid to make sure he was still breathing. It wouldn’t after all be the first time someone had died during one of these fights. He remembered when he’d just been an observer, one man had punched another so hard, he was sure the guy’s skull had been fractured. The injured man had fallen into a dead faint never to wake again. Death was a hazard of squaring up in one of the most popular underground fighting rings in the city
,
where the rules to win
were
to knock your opponent out cold or get them to surrender.

Paul took pride in the fact that he’d won all his fights by
the
way of
a
knock out. He’d built a reputation for being relentless during a fight. Though he’d been away from the illegal fight club for
some
years, he found himself easing back into it as if he hadn’t been away at all. He was
,
of course
,
an older man at thirty-three instead of the youthful kid who had fought to make a few extra dollars for college. And he was slightly slower, but
what
he lacked in the speed of youth, he made up
for
in power and cunning. He took his time to assess his opponent and ferret out any weaknesses so he could deliver the quickest route to victory and depending on whether his opponent was an asshole or not, to deliver the maximum amount of pain.

Years ago, he thought this was a chapter in his life that he’d closed. He’d earned enough money to make it through college with only a few broken ribs, a busted nose and several scrap
e
s and cuts. He’d certainly gotten off lightly compared to some of the other fighters. But he’d had the responsibility of the taking care of his sister
,
Alyssa
,
and supporting her financially which meant getting a respectable job and walking the straight and narrow.

And he’d been content with his life. He’d graduated college with a degree in Business Administration and continued on to grad school for his MBA. Having finished at the top of his class, he landed a position working as the Executive Assistant under the head of Rothschild holdings. The job was grueling but the money was so good, he not only was able to take care of his sister and live a comfortable life,
but
with some savvy investments, he set himself up to live comfortably for a very long time.

He hadn’t been content
,
however
,
to work for someone else. Eager to strike
out on his own
in a venture he had more control over, he and his good friend opened a bakery which had by far exceeded their expectations.
With t
he fact that they were constantly expanding and had
received
national recognition, he should have been happy. But for the last several months, something had been nagging him. It wasn’t until he’d overheard what the woman he’d lusted over since the moment he’d seen her really thought about him. It had been his wake up call.

Paul was stoked. He was on the verge of closing a deal with a third party distributer to move his and Noelle’s product. He had told her that by the end of the year more people will have heard the name Dot’s Bakery. Of course
,
it would also mean investing in more workers to meet the demand he was sure they’d encounter
. But
with how well business was going, he wasn’t worried about how they’d come up with the funds.

Before he signed on the dotted line, he had to run this by Noelle. Although he handled the business and financial side of the business
and
she handled operation and product creation, they often consulted each other on big changes that would affect the bakery. So far that formula had worked well for them.

After parking his car in the space reserved for him in the back of the building, he let himself in. He didn’t expect the shop to be particularly busy so he was hoping to have a few words with Noelle. She wasn’t in the kitchen.

“Brandy,” he asked one of the workers who was icing cupcakes. “Where’s Noelle?”

The girl looked up from her task and grinned, showing every single one of her teeth. “Hi, Paul. I didn’t expect you in today.” She put down her icing utensil and moved in
his
direction, stopping only when she was practically in his face. Noelle had teased him about some of the girls having a crush on him but he ignored her. But now, from the way the girl who wasn’t more than nineteen stared at him, he realized his partner might be on to something.

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Uh, Noelle? Is she out front?”

“Yes, she’s having tea with her cousin.”

He raised a brow. “Simone is here?”

“Yeah. But they seemed to be having an intense conversation. How are you, Paul? Haven’t seen you in the shop lately.” Brandy inched closer.

She was a pretty girl, with black hair and big blue eyes. But she was still just a kid. Besides, while he could acknowledge that Brandy was indeed attractive, she couldn’t compare to Simone. Not many woman could. “I’m good thanks for asking. I’ve been handling a few business matters, but I’m usually here later in the day. I imagine your shift is over by then. I’m sorry I can’t chat right now, but I have a few things I need to take care of. How about you finish frosting those cupcakes. I’m sure they’ll need to be done by the late afternoon rush.

A flush of red dotted her cheeks revealing the girl’s embarrassment. “Oh. Sure.”

Although he hated to hurt her feelings, he needed to be firm with her in case she got any ideas. Not waiting around to further the conversation, he headed to the front. He halted in the doorway when he heard his name.
He saw Noelle and Simone sitting at one of the tables.

“What about Paul?” Simone seemed agitated for some reason.

Paul hung back so they wouldn’t see him.

“He’s a nice guy. And you have to admit, he’s not bad to look at.” Noelle gave her cousin a knowing smile.

Was she trying to play matchmaker again? He’s already told Noelle to let it go and that he was quite capable of getting a date for himself. Even if Simone had turned him down before
,
he preferred doing his own purs
u
ing. He was sure Noelle meant well, but he made a mental note to have a talk with her about this later.

The decent thing to do would have been to make them aware of his presence by announcing himself instead of hanging in the shadows and eavesdropping, but curiosity got the better of him. Maybe he’d get some insight into why Simone had turned him down.

“He is nice,” Simone’s answer was evasive.

A smile tugged the corner of his lips. To his recollection, no one had ever described him as nice.

“And attractive,” Noelle persisted.

Simone shrugged. “Yes. I’d have to be blind to not recognize that, but looks aren’t everything.”

Paul’s grin grew wider. So she did find him attractive. He told himself to walk
forward
and announce himself before they continued, but something held him back.

Noelle frowned, placing her teacup on the table. “So what’s the problem?”

“Besides the fact that I’m not interested in dating anyone, Paul would be the last person that I’d pick.”

And just like that, his smile disappeared. He never considered himself to have a huge ego, but what he did have, Simone had just shattered into pieces. Yet, even now, hearing her negative declaration, he remained still, unable to move or breathe.

Noelle winced. “Ouch. I didn’t realize you were so adverse to him.”

“I’m not, but he’s just too…soft. I’m probably wording this wrong but like
I
pointed out earlier, he’s a nice guy. A little too… milquetoast.”

“Uh, cuz, your explanation isn’t making it any better.”

Paul clenched his fists at his side. Though milquetoast was the harsher of the two adjectives, hearing himself being referred to as soft cut him deeper than any insult she could have thrown his way. It brought up memories he’d fought hard to suppress.

“Okay maybe that isn’t the right word, but he’s just not for me. You know how I am. I just can’t….you know…”

Paul didn’t wait to hear anymore. If that was what Simone really thought of him, he’d make sure to leave her alone. He slowly backed away so that the ladies wouldn’t
hear his movements.
As he stalked through the kitchen, Brandy called out to him. “Hey, that was quick.”

“I just remembered I have something to do. Do me a favor, will you?”

“Sure. Anything.” Brandy fluttered her eyes expectantly.

“If Noelle asks, tell her you didn’t see me. I’m heading out.”

She pouted as if she’d expected him to ask her something else. “Sure. No problem.”

Paul had spent the better part of the next year focused on his business. He even allowed his sister to play matchmaker for him. Most of the women barely lasted a month,
though
he actually enjoyed the company
of a couple of them
. But when it all came down to it, there was always something missing. If it got to
the
point of sex, he often found himself going through the motions. After a while, it all boiled down to the fact that none of those women were Simone. No matter how hard he tried to push her out of his mind, he failed miserably.

Once he acknowledged to himself that no other woman could compare to Simone, he realized there was something else bothering him. The itch that he’d managed to keep at bay for years had reared its head with
a
vengeance. Perhaps it was because Simone had accused him of being soft or maybe it was because of the letter he’d received from the parole board
,
but the urge to experience the adrenaline rush he got from participating
in
the fight club became too strong to ignore.

He’d found himself getting in contact with one of the organizers and before he knew it, Paul visited his first fight in years. Watching the two men square off in a no holds barred,
knockdown,
drag out fight gave him a feeling he
hadn’t
realize
d
he needed until that point. It was how he found himself back here now, standing over his unconscious opponent.

“Good job.” A tall, barrel-chested man with a thick Russian accent approached. Misha Petrov gave Paul a
loud slap on the back
as a smirk curved his lips. It wasn’t often the man behind the fights put in an actual appearance. Little was known about the man other than the fact that he owned a few jewelry stores that some whispered
were
a front for the illegal activities he participated in.