Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
BETH
M y mother has been busy getting packed for rehab. Our health insurance is excellent and they are paying for residential treatment at a long-term facility in Houston. Luckily, it won’t be too far and it’s only a ninety-day program.
She hasn’t tried to tell me what I can or can’t do, which has been a blessing. I’ve been so stifled in the past two years. I need to spread my wings. It’s hard enough to convince Nigel that I need to go home every night. It would be even worse if my mom tried to stop me from being around him. Heck, sometimes he doesn’t even want me to go to school. He likes hogging my attention a little too much.
Tonight, he doesn’t mind so much. He likes showing off that I’m his property.
Yeah, the man is a walking oxymoron.
Nigel pulls me into a kiss as soon as we are out of his truck, his fingers digging through my hair, dragging me against him.
“Tonight,” he rasps, “you’re all mine.”
“I thought I was already yours, O’Reilly,” I tease him.
“Day and night for the rest of your fucking life.” His hand comes down hard on my ass.
“Then, what makes right now any different? I’m still yours.”
“Yes, you’re still mine. Right now, I need you to be my good girl, and when we leave, you can be my dirty little slut all you want.”
Nigel specifically dressed tonight to avoid an incident like his last fight, where Martin Gray put his hands on me. He’s already dressed for the ring, except for the hoodie covering his chest.
Not only is Nigel not leaving my side until the fight starts, but he also gave me a little gift to keep in my pocket– a pair of brass knuckles. I may not have as much strength as Nigel, but even my minimal strength, mixed with the knuckles, will cause some damage.
“Let’s go,” he mutters as he places one arm around my waist, and I release his neck, letting him guide me through the front door of the abandoned warehouse that hosts the fights.
I scan the area immediately, looking for a sign of the threat–the same threat I was unaware of that night. I’m not an idiot. Martin Gray is smart, but I’m mean.
“Nigel!” My gaze snaps around as a blonde man with dark blue eyes and pale skin dusted with freckles jogs over to us. “Good to see you’re on time, unlike your previous fight,” he jokes, and unlike when anyone else messes with him, Nigel cracks a big smile, laughing.
“Come on. Get off my ass, Michael.”
Michael? As in Martin’s little brother? I mean, I knew the one who trained Nigel was Michael Gray, but I had no idea that he would be so…lean. He shares many of the same features as his brother, but Michael’s disposition is kind.
Nigel was right about the difference between the brothers. A few days after his last fight, he mentioned that Martin was also solely raised by the patriarch, and Michael was raised by their mother.
Michael’s expression and lack of cockiness shows how big of a hand nurture has over nature.
A rich boy with a heart. I thought I’d never see the day, but I guess you can’t judge someone by the size of their wallet.
“Be careful, man. You’ll make me look bad.”
“As long as I show up, you look good.”
“Until you stop showing up.” Michael smiles and doesn’t even notice me here, focusing entirely on Nigel and their conversation. I’m not sure if that’s just genuine interest or…something more.
“This is my girlfriend, Beth,” Nigel says, nodding down to me, and Michael’s eyes flash with…hurt. Nigel isn’t watching the emotions, but I am. The moment the word girlfriend leaves Nigel’s mouth, Michael looks like Nigel just drove a knife straight into his chest, twisted the blade, and ripped out the beating muscle.
Poor guy.
It’s crystal clear now. Michael thought there was something between them, and Nigel has absolutely no clue that he just broke his friend’s heart.
I thought that Nigel was straight this whole time, but this all begs the question. Is Nigel…bisexual? I’m not one to judge. I had my own experimental period of kissing girls, but it never went past curiosity. I wouldn’t be mad or hold it against him if he took the time to discover what he truly wanted.
Was there something between Nigel and Michael before I came around? Or…is there still something? No, that’s silly. Fidelity is very important to me, and I made myself clear that if he ever screwed around on me, I’d dump him, block his number, and never speak to him again. I’d move away if I had to.
Still, I know I’ll have to ask for my own piece of mind. Later, privately. I wouldn’t want to add embarrassment to Michael’s trauma.
“Oh, hi, Beth. Nice to meet you,” he greets with a mild smile.
I release myself from Nigel and offer Michael a hug, knowing how shitty it feels to deal with rejection. His body jolts with surprise, and I whisper quietly in his ear, “Sorry.” I slowly pull back and see Michael’s confusion before offering him a sad smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Michael. Nigel has told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you.”
I did until this interaction. The same goes for Nigel. Isn’t sexual orientation usually the first thing a couple talks about? Hell, I told him about my experimentation back in Hempstead, but he never once added to it.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe Nigel is utterly oblivious to Michael’s attachment. Maybe Michael wasn’t comfortable with putting himself out there like that. That’s completely understandable.
Recognition flashes in Michael’s eyes as he gazes down at me. He knows I know his secret and that I won’t judge him for it. I’d be a hypocrite if I did.
“She’s a keeper,” Michael says with a kind smile.
“Don’t I know it?” Nigel mutters playfully as I move back to him, but he gives me a look that says he’s going to ask me about that later. If he asks, I’m not going to lie.
“Your brother is a real piece of work, no offense,” I say. I notice the way the tension rises in Michael’s jaw. I can’t tell if it's that he agrees or if he hates to hear people talk badly of his brother.
“I’ve heard that so many times I’ve lost count. Trust me when I say my dad is worse,” Michael shudders in a way that makes my skin crawl.
Someone worse than Martin? Martin is a real scoundrel, but I don’t know if he would actually hurt anyone. Sure, he is physically capable of it, but is he really that dark and twisted? What about their dad? There’s no way someone could be worse than Martin without breaking the law or Nigel’s rules, and the Grays aren’t that stupid, right? They’d have to know the Bastards would be watching.
“How long has your family been in Grove Hill?” I ask curiously.
Nigel’s head snaps around, watching me with confusion.
“My great-grandfather moved here from St. Charles in the early nineteen-hundreds. Why?” Michael’s gaze shifts back and forth between me and Nigel, uncertain.
“Just curious. Me and my mom just moved here a little over a month ago. Everyone else seems to have lived here their whole lives,” I say, trying to defuse their suspicion.
“Pretty much. It’s weirder for people to move here than for someone to move away,” Michael mutters as he scratches the back of his head, nervousness evident in his expression. Then, he sobers. “Is your mom Darcy Mercer?”
I blanche at him for a few moments before I clear my throat. “Um, yeah. That’s my mom.”
“Cool. I thought you looked familiar. She’s been spending a lot of time with my mom. She said she wanted to bring you over to our house for dinner.”
Just fucking great. I groan.
“I thought you said your mom stopped that shit,” Nigel growls, irritated. He’s not happy at all.
Once everything was settled between me and my mom, I told Nigel about her trying to set me up with Devon Jordan, and that probably wasn’t smart on my part because the volatility between those two has never been worse. Granted, I thought it was all over.
Stupid wishful thinking.
“She said she was. She hasn’t said anything to me.”
“Am I missing something?” Michael asks, amused. He has no clue what’s going on, but he thinks something about this is funny. It’s not funny at all, though. Maybe it would be if I hadn’t been living it.
“Her mother has been interfering with our relationship,” Nigel mutters before I add, “It’s her midlife crisis. She’s constantly trying to set me up, but no offense, I would never come to your house for dinner.”
Michael snorts. “Trust me. I don’t even want to. Imagine sharing a table with a sociopath, a drunk, and a bunch of people running in and out of the room pretending not to see a goddamn thing. It’s stifling.”
Suddenly, I feel a kinship with Michael. His home is even more of a prison than mine, and I felt like I was drowning. I can only imagine how he feels about his family. The way he describes it reminds me of the times my mom would drag me to church after my dad died. Everyone could see that we were dying on the inside but ignored it because of God’s will .
Screw God. God didn’t save my dad or stop my mom from hitting me or getting drunk. God doesn’t exist. If he does, he’s a prick.
“Looks like it's time,” Michael mutters as he nods ahead. “My brother is coming out.”
If every single fight Nigel has is against Martin Gray, I will gladly watch just to see that asshole get what’s coming to him.
“Just a friendly warning. If your brother comes near my girl again, I’ll kill him,” Nigel says so nonchalantly I almost miss it.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that tonight,” I murmur as my eyes find Martin in the crowd, and the sight of him shocks me down to my core.
He’s not alone. The tall, charming blonde man carries the beautiful blonde woman over his shoulder like she doesn’t weigh anything. It’s not just any girl, but Casey, Nigel’s ex.
I would yell for someone to help her, but she’s laughing and smiling as Martin hauls her around like a piece of property. It’s one thing to do that in private or around close friends, but I doubt she knows everyone in this room, and I bet money that she’s plastered.
“What?” Nigel gapes at me, and then his eyes follow where my gaze is focused—the scene of Martin and Casey. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, that’s been happening,” Michael says, but my gaze doesn’t leave Martin. If he puts a finger on her in any way she doesn’t want him to, I’ll bring out my brass knuckles and beat him worse than my boyfriend would.
“For how long?” Nigel asks.
“Pretty much since you guys broke up. Mom has been on his ass to put an end to it. Honestly, I don't think it has anything to do with you at all. Casey had been trying to get in good with Martin since long before you two ever dated. He's the one who kept friend-zoning her, but something must've changed.”
I don’t like Casey. As a matter of fact, she’s a little cunt, but she’s also a person. A living, breathing human with thoughts and feelings. She may be a bitch, but that doesn’t make her a bad person, and I don’t trust Martin. It seems strange that he waited until after Nigel dumped her ass to take her up on her offer.
She doesn’t seem in need of rescuing, though. She looks happy with him.
“Come on, babe,” Nigel mutters as he grabs my hand and leads me away from Michael without so much as a goodbye through the crowd and to the middle ring.
Nigel strips off his hoodie as my gaze flashes to where Martin stands with Casey, giving her a big smile. He must feel my eyes burning a hole through the side of his head because he turns his head, his oceanic blues meeting my stare impassively. Then, he winks at me as if he knows I’m punching him in the face in my imagination, and he thinks it's something that would never happen.
Tell that to Devon Jordan. I’m pretty sure his balls are still recovering.
“Ignore him,” Nigel demands before kissing me, full of passion.
“Ditto,” I smirk before returning his kiss. Nigel’s dimple shows as he hands me his hoodie, and I slip it on. “Kick his ass.” The smile across my face spreads wider as my boyfriend sends me a wink as if to say, “That was the plan already.”
The match between Nigel and Martin has barely started when Casey steps in front of me, and almost simultaneously, Michael stops by my side.
Martin is smarter this time, and Nigel is more levelheaded. Nigel told me they have to be meticulous about where they hit. Give the crowd a show, but also wear out their opponent. The aim is five to fifteen minutes. The body can only take so much, and as long as the crowd has a good time watching the fight, they’ll still come back for more matches and bet on their favorite fighters. It’s the strategy of pleasing the crowd. This isn’t a legal match, so the only source of income Nigel gets is from the people who bet against him.
He has to make it look like a close call from time to time so people think he might lose someday, but mostly, he just has to stretch it out.
“What do you want, Casey?” I mutter as I cross my arms.
“Oh, nothing. I’m surprised you remembered my name. Your head has been up Nigel’s ass since you arrived in town, and you’ve got the Gunderson freakazoid following you around like you shit rainbows. I didn’t think you had the time to notice much else,” she breathes out, and the blood in my veins boils.
No one talks about Judy like that. We have different ideals and tastes, but she’s my friend. She goes through enough shit without this bitch dragging her name through the mud.
I want to punch her straight in the nose, knee her in the gut, and kick her across the room, but this is an organized fight. I don’t think whoever set this up would appreciate it if I beat up Casey during Nigel’s fight. Plus, the last thing I want to do is screw with the money Nigel will make from this fight. I don’t care about money, but Nigel has to make a living in a way that doesn’t interfere with school. This is the only job he can manage right now.
No, I won’t react
“That’s my best friend. Watch your filthy mouth.”
“Touchy,” she giggles as she covers her mouth. “I’m not the only one who says it. Haven’t you seen the scars on her arms? The girl is a cutter. She can’t take any type of stress. It’s a fixation. The school even forced her parents to send her to a therapist, but nothing helped the poor girl. She just can’t deal. It’s sad, really. Some of us drink, some of us do drugs, some of us even fuck to numb the pain, but Judy Gunderson…bleeds.” Her tone morphs to pity, and her expression…it’s almost as if she actually cares about Judy, but the way she talked about her and to her at the party, it’s hard to grasp.
“Why don’t you just move along?” I groan as I roll up the sleeves of Nigel’s hoody, baring my forearms before crossing them over my chest.
“Because this fight will be over in just a minute and my man is going to knock Nigel off his pedestal. I really want to see the look on your face when you watch him take his first loss.” That cocky grin returns to her face as she steps closer to me. “You know, when Nigel and I were together, I learned this trick that professional athletes’ spouses do pregame to help their significant others play their best. I did that trick for him before every fight, and he barely broke a sweat, but now, I’m with Martin, and he’s the one who benefits from my skills. Do you want to know what it is…Bethany–that’s your name, right?”
I remain silent. I know her and Nigel were a thing before I came to town. I have no jealousy about that. Casey was his past, and the past stays where it belongs–behind you. Nigel was through with her shit before I stepped into Grove Hill.
Her eyebrow arches, her ego vibrating in her eyes. “It’s simple. An orgasm. I don’t mean getting him off, but actually making him orgasm . Did you know a guy can come without having an orgasm? It’s quite fascinating, actually. So, get ready to watch your boyfriend fall from his high horse.”
I nod along as she speaks, and I peek over her shoulder. Two minutes. That’s how long they’ve been going round and round each other. Only three more minutes until Nigel meets his target time.
“Were you even listening to me?” Casey gapes as I snap my eyes back to her.
“Oh, yes. I heard every word, but unlike you, I don’t feel the need to gloat.”
Her head shifts to the side, tilting to give me a quizzical look, but I don’t answer the question in her eyes. “Gloat about what? What could you possibly have to add at this point?”
Well, she asked. It’s not being cocky if someone asks, right?
“I don’t talk about my sex life with my boyfriend because it's private unless we choose to invite someone into it, but since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you,” I mutter sarcastically. I shift my gaze to Michael, letting him know that he should probably walk away if he doesn’t want to hear this, and he nods, understanding, before walking away. I snap my head back to Casey, impatiently waiting for me to explain myself. “Nigel and I have a very active sex life. On the weekend, we fuck over ten times a day, and he…well, I’ll let you fill in the blank for the number of orgasms he has daily. Plus, it looks like Martin isn’t doing so good. Maybe he needs to see a doctor?”
I peek around her head again. Yeah, Martin doesn’t look so hot. Bruises cover his chest and his face, the skin drenched with sweat and speckled with blood.
Casey snaps her head around and groans like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Seriously, why does she feel the need to throw her weight around like that?
Her eyes settle back on me. Seething. “You do know Nigel isn’t going anywhere. He’s a Bastard. He was born in Grove Hill, and he’ll die in Grove Hill. If you bind yourself to him, you’ll be stuck here, too. That’s why I moved on from him. Martin is going places. We’re going to get married, have a family together, and move out of this dead-end town. Do you know what you’ll be doing? Raising the next generation of degenerates with Judy, Perla and Arely. You’ll be just another tragedy.” She pauses for a moment, but I let her get out her frustration. Some people just can’t handle stress, and they lash out. I did it to Judy, and I’d be a royal bitch if I didn’t stand here and take it while Casey does it to me.
“You’re just going to be ripped apart by the curse anyway,” she says, displeasure blanketing her expression.
What is she talking about?
“I’m guessing he never told you about the curse? I wonder why that is. He told me, but I’m not superstitious. Every generation of those five families is cursed. Each of them loses one or both of their parents before they reach their teenage years. It has happened since their ancestors moved to Grove Hill. Either by death, prison, or they just run away…they’re left orphans. Look at Nigel. His mother deserted him, and then his father went insane. Oisin’s parents? Murder/Suicide. Charlie’s folks? His mom went to prison when she took the fall for his dad. Do you need me to continue?” Her expression is solemn. Her dark bangs cast shadows over her face, but her eyes show genuine concern.
If she isn’t superstitious, why does it seem that she actually believes in this curse? She’s looking at me like she’s had a premonition and knows I’m going to die young.
It’s stupid, though. Curses aren’t real. Everyone knows magic only exists in folklore and Disney movies.
“Get out before it fucks with your life, too,” Casey says before she turns and walks away.
Do I believe in this curse? No. There are such things as coincidences, and bad things happen every day. It’s not bad luck. Good people suffer while the wicked prosper.
I’ve accepted that I will go through my trials because of the man I’m with.
“Casey, wait,” I call for her.
Society says I should hate Casey. She’s a real bitch when she wants to be. Everyone who is a bitch is that way to protect themselves, whether from rejection, abuse, or general trauma.
I don’t hate her, though. I don’t want her to suffer either.
“What?” she grumbles as she turns to face me, crossing her arms defensively.
“You don’t like me, and you don’t have to, but in the spirit of girl power, be careful with Martin Gray.”
Her eyes narrow, but I catch the hint of knowing in her eyes, no matter how much she tries to mask it with anger.
“If you want to be with him, that’s your prerogative. I don’t know if he’s hurting you or if he ever will, but if he does, I’ll do what I can to help you.”
I know she’ll argue because it’s in her eyes, so I leave her with my parting words and walk to the front of the crowd to watch Nigel deliver the final blow to Martin’s gut. The despicable man falls like a tree in the woods.