“I hate her.”
He looks me over. “She’s not bad. She’s just . . . different.”
“She’s a whore.”
“Maybe she is. She’s been fucking Nate off and on, so you could ask him his opinion. I don’t know. You know why? Because I don’t care.” He stands and offers me a hand. When I place one in his, he pulls me to my feet. “The only girl I care about is standing in a beautiful yellow dress right in front of me. And despite the fact that I am semi-annoyed that she can’t listen to save her soul and showed up here at ten at night alone, she’s all that matters to me.”
“Really?” I say, fighting the corners of my lips from tugging up just yet.
“What else would matter?”
“Dom, seriously, she better never touch you again. I mean it. I’ll go crazy. Rich girl crazy. We have tons of avenues of destruction at our hands.”
“Noted.” He bends down and puts his lips on mine. I don’t kiss him back at first, trying to hold out long enough to make my point. Then his tongue licks along my bottom lip and I can’t help but return the gesture. “Now that’s settled—”
“Oh, it’s not settled,” I resist. “I hate her. You have to understand the depths to which I’d like to see her eaten by a host of fire ants.”
His laugh washes over me and makes me smile even though I don’t feel like it. “Fire ants?”
“It’s all I could come up with.”
He moves to the side and winces, almost dropping to his knees in pain. “Fuck.”
“What can I do for you, Dom?” I say, rushing to his side.
Sucking in a breath, he stands back up slowly. “Nothing,” he hisses. “I just have to wait ’til it goes away.”
“You can’t fight like this. You could get seriously injured. This is no joke.”
“I’m fighting. That’s the end of it.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to remember I’m playing the role of supportive girlfriend, not naysaying nag. But when his face pales and he doubles over again, gripping his side, a gleam of sweat dotting his forehead, I can’t help but want to protect him.
“Dom, I’m serious. There’s no reason for you to risk this. You have to think about your health here.”
“I have to think about paying my rent that just went up. I have to think about buying groceries and feeding Ryder until Nate gets himself back together. I have to think about making sure The Gold Room doesn’t go to the tax sale this year and sock a little away to buy a few things for Christmas. This is my way of not having to do it again.
“This money is my rainy day fund, Cam. Without it, I’m more paycheck-to-paycheck than I already am. I’ve counted on this for years now, like a bonus I get every six months or something. Don’t think I don’t know I can’t keep doing it . . .” He looks at the floor, embarrassment written all over his face.
Instantly, I feel bad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”
“It’s hard for you to think about things like this. It must be. You were just at a place where people were giving their money away, offering trips to Paris. I’m destroying myself so I can keep a roof over my head if I get laid off at some point.” He smiles a broken, wobbly smile. “I don’t blame you for thinking the way you do. You’re right, actually. But sometimes being right doesn’t fix things.”
“Can I at least come watch you?” I ask, my hand on his forearm on his Joey tattoo. “Let me be there. I want to be.”
“There’s no way.” His response is immediate and with a flourish of finality.
“Why?”
“Imagine the wildest, most about it people you can think of. Now put them all together in a room where the purpose is fighting. What do you think you have?”
When I don’t answer, he does it for me.
“Mayhem. You have mayhem.”
As if the conversation is over, he climbs out of the ring, taking a few seconds to recover from the movement in his ribs. He helps me out, kisses my forehead, and after I slip on my heels, he leads me out the door.
Dominic