“Huh, never would have thought that.”

“Are we done with this conversation?” Diego asked, visibly uncomfortable. I was glad I wasn’t the one uncomfortable. “Because I think we should talk about how Kace used to be a professional boxer.”

My head snapped up and my gaze fell on Diego. It felt like fire was spitting out of my eyes as I stared him down.

“Or maybe we don’t,” Diego retracted, getting my message loud and clear.

Uncomfortable eeriness settled over us as we all leaned on the bar with our elbows propped up and drinks in our hands. We didn’t talk, we didn’t look at each other. We stared straight ahead and tried to let the awkward moment pass.

“So, want to live with us?” Diego finally asked, breaking the silence with a dickhead smile.

“Why the fuck not?” I answered, already regretting my decision.

Blane clapped me on the back. “Thatta boy. Maybe you can even be a part of the show.”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Not going to happen. You couldn’t pay me enough to get up on stage and prance around in leather vests and top hats.”

“We don’t prance, we stride,” Diego said.

“Yeah, so much better.” I rolled my eyes. I cleared my throat. “In all seriousness, thanks for the offer. It will really help getting out of the hotel. Plus your place is closer to the community center, which will be convenient.”

“Why don’t you just get your own place?” Diego asked. “I’m sure you have enough money in that stacked bank account of yours.”

What little he knew. Yes, I had a stacked bank account, but the money didn’t belong to me. I gave it to someone else every month. I lived on the bare minimum and was okay with that.

“Not in a position to have a place of my own right now,” was all I said.

“Fair enough,” Diego responded.

“How’s the community center coming along?” Blane asked.

“Great,” I answered, liking the change in subject. “We should be able to get in there soon to start getting it ready. The girls are excited. They’re starting to get stir crazy. Jett has them on a strict study regimen right now, to educate them as much as possible on business management before running the center.”

“Babs was telling me about it the other day,” Blane said. “He has them going through all sorts of non-profit education.” Babs was a Jett Girl who had fallen quickly for Blane. From the far-off look in Blane’s eyes when he mentioned her, I could tell he felt the same.

“It’s good for them,” I said.

“What about your girl?” Diego asked. “The hot gallery chick.”

“Lyla?” I assisted him.

“Yeah, Lyla. What is she doing?”

“Working at Kitten’s Castle. She doesn’t want anything to do with Jett’s offer to work at the community center.”

“She’s at Kitten’s Castle?” Diego almost sang. “We’re going.” Quickly, he pulled out his wallet, dropped a hundred on the counter, and got off his bar stool.

“The fuck we are,” I responded, not budging from my chair.

“Lighten the fuck up,” Diego complained. “She won’t even see us. Come on. I haven’t gone to a strip club in so long.”

“You own one, you ass nut,” I said.

“I mean a skeezy one,” Diego responded, grabbing me by the neck and pulling me off my stool. “You’re coming because shit, you need to loosen up a bit. Stop brooding all the time. It’s depressing to be around you.”

He led me out the door while Blane brought up the rear.

“If you don’t like my attitude, then leave me alone,” I tried to reason.

“Can’t do that, sorry.”

We made our way to Bourbon Street, which was packed with street performers and drunken idiots. There was a bachelor party on every corner, inebriated women holding on to each other for their dear lives, older couples enjoying the younger scene, and show girls at the entry of every strip club, enticing those who passed by to have a little look inside their establishment.

Diego and Blane dragged me along the cobblestone walkway of the closed-off Bourbon Street to the hot-pink neon sign of Kitten’s Castle. The last time I had been here, I’d been recruiting a new Jett Girl with Jett for his club. That was when I’d seen Goldie for the first time.

Even though Kitten’s Castle was a dirt hole, Goldie had stood out. She was exquisite. From the first moment I’d seen her handle herself on the floor, I’d known she was going to be a spitfire. Fortunately my best friend was able to tame her. Well, slightly tame her.

“Hey, sexy. You want to come in?” a girl at the door asked, shaking her hip at me and trying to entice me, but I was not biting. She was wearing fishnet stockings that had a tear in one leg and a pair of scuffed heels, her lipstick was smeared, and her bra was fraying on the straps. They must have been suffering for employees because when Goldie had worked at Kitten’s Castle, this kind of appearance wouldn’t have been acceptable.

“Not really,” I muttered to her as Diego and Blane dragged me inside.

A mixture of sweat and booze attacked my senses, and the pounding bass assaulted my ears. The room was humid, dark, and the air was thick, almost so thick I couldn’t breathe.

No one was on stage at the moment, but there were plenty of girls out on the floor. I checked my watch and saw it was only a little past nine. There was no way Lyla would be working now—at least I assumed she wouldn’t be. She liked the late shift; it was when she got the most tips.

“Score. Front row seats.” Diego pumped his fist in the air as he went over to the stage.

The moron acted like he’d never been to a strip joint before, let alone owned his own sex club.

“Can you clam the raging hormones and present yourself in a semi-cool manner?” I asked. “You’re acting like a total tool bag.”

“Just trying to fit in with the crowd, man. What would it say about us, being locals and hanging out at a strip club? People will judge us.”

“Unbelievable.” I shook my head, wishing for this night to be over.

Looking around, Blane leaned over and whispered, “These chicks are kind of… skanky.”

I took a gander myself and had to agree. They weren’t the most well-put-together women I’d ever seen. A lot of them were melting from the humidity, their faces sweaty and their makeup smeared, making them look almost ghostly in appearance. They moved around the club on autopilot, interacting with the customers like they’d been taught, bending and smiling at the right times but never getting too close unless they were paid to.

I hated that Lyla worked here, hated it to the point that I started to heat up from the thought. She was so much more than this. She was so much better.

“What are you doing here, Kace?” Lyla asked behind me, her voice smooth.

Shit.

Chapter Six

My past…

Another phone call from Jett. I disregarded the ten missed calls displayed on my phone and pressed ignore once again.

From my ESPN notifications, I knew my story had broken through and I was now considered one of the biggest hometown disappointments.

A bottle of Maker’s rested in my hand, the plush couch I’d had for a few short months formed to my sated body as I waited for the one phone call I was dreading. It was going to happen; there was no way in hell I wouldn’t get the call. The matter was when.

Numb was all I felt looking around my house, taking in the framed pictures of me in the ring, of my accomplishments that were awarded to me. All of the hard work, the sweat, the blood I poured had all been for nothing.

All I had ever wanted growing up was to prove my worth, to show my city even though I grew up in a trailer park, watching my parents raise our family on the barest of wages, I could make something of myself. I hadn’t needed help from anyone; I had just needed my determination and will to set goals and achieve them.

Much good that did me.