Read Online Savage Things (Chaos & Ruin Book 2) by Callie Hart - Free Book Online
Authors: Callie Hart
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Ben.
My best friend greets me out the back, where a hot blonde with gigantic fake tits is stroking her hand up and down his bicep like he’s some kind of fucking demi god. When he looks up and sees me, he slaps the chick on the ass and sends her packing.
“She won’t be so eager to bounce up and down on your dick later, when you’re black and blue and humiliated, asshole,” I tell him.
Ben smirks. “So what? My dick’s chaffed raw from her bouncing up and down on it already. I need some time to recover. There’ll be another chick just like her ready to ride my cock in a couple of weeks, and I’ll still be flush from this fight.”
He’s right. Rayne may make a shit load of cash from thrashing Ben tonight, but that’s not to say Ben will be going home empty handed. Everyone knows there’s no chance they’ll win against Rayne. It requires a decent purse to entice fighters to come and take the beating of their lives, and tonight it’s Ben’s turn to get thrown around the cage. Crazy bastard.
“You given any more thought to what we talked about?” he asks, holding up his hand wraps. I take them from him and begin to wind them around his right hand.
“No. You know I can’t leave, man. If there was any way…” A few weeks ago, Ben mentioned that he’s thinking about moving to LA to train with the pros and he hasn’t fucking let up about it since.
“They have schools in California, dickwad. They have auto mechanic shops, too.”
“It’s not that simple. Millie’s settled here. She’s got friends. I’d be screwed if Wanda didn’t pick up Millie from school every day. I wouldn’t be able to work.” I don’t mention that I have a DEA agent shoved so far up my ass, she knows exactly what I ate for breakfast. If I try to leave the state, Lowell will have CPS on my doorstep quicker than I can blink.
Ben flexes his hand when I finish wrapping him, easing the material around his knuckles so he can still form a fist. “All I’m saying is Los Angeles is where we need to be if we want to start making any headway in this industry. You know it, and I know it. If we stay here, fighting for chump change every weekend of the year, we’re never gonna end up on cards in Vegas. Joe Rogan ain’t gonna be talking about us on his podcast. This will be it for us. Until Jameson Rayne finally gets knocked the fuck out and makes room for the rest of us, we’ll always be playing second fiddle.”
I don’t give a shit about playing second fiddle. I’m not trying to build a career for myself here. I wouldn’t be fighting at all if I didn’t have Millie to take care of. Ben doesn’t understand this, because he’s young and he has no fucking responsibilities. I may be the same age as him, but I’m fifteen years ahead of him in the dependent stakes, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Every decision I make, every single action, every last move—it’s all for her, and it will be until the day I die. “Whatever, man.” I wrap his other hand while he tries, yet again, to tell me how easy it would be to get a job in LA. How kids Millie’s age always make new friends easy. It’s only when he starts bullshitting about how the hospitals are so much better in Cali and Millie would get better treatment out there that I cut him off.
“Look, dude, I just can’t. I’m sorry. Not right now. Maybe in a year or two. I’m sorry.” Ben can tell from my tone of voice that this is the end of our conversation on the topic. He sighs, thumping his fist into his palm, disappointment rolling off him.
“All right, Mase. But fuck. A year or two’s a long time in the UFC. I don’t know if I can hang around that long.”
“You should go,” I tell him. “Fuck, go and make your name, man. I don’t wanna be the one keeping you here. You don’t owe me anything.”
Ben grumbles. “You’re such an asshole. If you said don’t go, wait for my ass to be ready, then I’d get mad at you and go.
My best friend greets me out the back, where a hot blonde with gigantic fake tits is stroking her hand up and down his bicep like he’s some kind of fucking demi god. When he looks up and sees me, he slaps the chick on the ass and sends her packing.
“She won’t be so eager to bounce up and down on your dick later, when you’re black and blue and humiliated, asshole,” I tell him.
Ben smirks. “So what? My dick’s chaffed raw from her bouncing up and down on it already. I need some time to recover. There’ll be another chick just like her ready to ride my cock in a couple of weeks, and I’ll still be flush from this fight.”
He’s right. Rayne may make a shit load of cash from thrashing Ben tonight, but that’s not to say Ben will be going home empty handed. Everyone knows there’s no chance they’ll win against Rayne. It requires a decent purse to entice fighters to come and take the beating of their lives, and tonight it’s Ben’s turn to get thrown around the cage. Crazy bastard.
“You given any more thought to what we talked about?” he asks, holding up his hand wraps. I take them from him and begin to wind them around his right hand.
“No. You know I can’t leave, man. If there was any way…” A few weeks ago, Ben mentioned that he’s thinking about moving to LA to train with the pros and he hasn’t fucking let up about it since.
“They have schools in California, dickwad. They have auto mechanic shops, too.”
“It’s not that simple. Millie’s settled here. She’s got friends. I’d be screwed if Wanda didn’t pick up Millie from school every day. I wouldn’t be able to work.” I don’t mention that I have a DEA agent shoved so far up my ass, she knows exactly what I ate for breakfast. If I try to leave the state, Lowell will have CPS on my doorstep quicker than I can blink.
Ben flexes his hand when I finish wrapping him, easing the material around his knuckles so he can still form a fist. “All I’m saying is Los Angeles is where we need to be if we want to start making any headway in this industry. You know it, and I know it. If we stay here, fighting for chump change every weekend of the year, we’re never gonna end up on cards in Vegas. Joe Rogan ain’t gonna be talking about us on his podcast. This will be it for us. Until Jameson Rayne finally gets knocked the fuck out and makes room for the rest of us, we’ll always be playing second fiddle.”
I don’t give a shit about playing second fiddle. I’m not trying to build a career for myself here. I wouldn’t be fighting at all if I didn’t have Millie to take care of. Ben doesn’t understand this, because he’s young and he has no fucking responsibilities. I may be the same age as him, but I’m fifteen years ahead of him in the dependent stakes, and there’s nothing I can do about that. Every decision I make, every single action, every last move—it’s all for her, and it will be until the day I die. “Whatever, man.” I wrap his other hand while he tries, yet again, to tell me how easy it would be to get a job in LA. How kids Millie’s age always make new friends easy. It’s only when he starts bullshitting about how the hospitals are so much better in Cali and Millie would get better treatment out there that I cut him off.
“Look, dude, I just can’t. I’m sorry. Not right now. Maybe in a year or two. I’m sorry.” Ben can tell from my tone of voice that this is the end of our conversation on the topic. He sighs, thumping his fist into his palm, disappointment rolling off him.
“All right, Mase. But fuck. A year or two’s a long time in the UFC. I don’t know if I can hang around that long.”
“You should go,” I tell him. “Fuck, go and make your name, man. I don’t wanna be the one keeping you here. You don’t owe me anything.”
Ben grumbles. “You’re such an asshole. If you said don’t go, wait for my ass to be ready, then I’d get mad at you and go.
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