Fighting Heart: Fighting Heart Erotic Bad Boy Romance Series Book 1 (11 page)

Brandon laughed. “For a clever guy, you’re actually very dumb. Stick with poems, streaky, or I’ll put your butt back on the floor. Understood?”

Cody turned to me and fixed me with a serious look. I saw the shape of his face, the firmness of his jaw. I was seeing him anew. “I mean it Ashley. I
won’t
let that happen.”

I nodded, just about processing all the feelings rushing through my body.  Cody turned and started to walk away. He had given me the freedom to decide my future in a way that Brandon never had. In Brandon’s mind I was still caught in his trap. I had my ultimatum. If I left Brandon’s grasp, my whole college life, my dreams would be in tatters. But if I stayed, there was a good chance I would be whittled to nothing, despised by his entourage and seen as a floozy by the Dean and anyone else who knew my situation. Cody had walked away and left me to choose… but he couldn’t have known that he was taking a piece of me with him. With my crazy mind doing cartwheels, I wondered if I had permanently blown my chance with Cody. I was in a trap most Smiths girls would have cut their right hand off to swap for… but there could only be one choice. If I followed my heart it was going to cost me everything. Weak as I was right then, with Brandon’s poise declaring victory, I knew I had no choice but to fight and fight on until I was free to choose the life and the man I wanted… It wasn’t going to be easy. But I was born to fight.

Cody’s world quickly shrank and faded to his living quarters as for two weeks and more nothing happened. There were no special phone calls, no knocks at the door, and worst of all when he eventually saw Ashley in class, she was simply friendly. Friendly, but weighted somehow. He felt a connection to her, but her eyes told him conversation about her life with Brandon Lynes was off limits. Without her in his life all he could do to stave off the pain was to write and keep writing and write some more until the source of this powerful madness left him. He could do nothing else. He wrote at the expense of his coursework, missing meals and sometimes whole days and he wrote until the damn thing was done. His writing contained every grain of passion and feeling he had experienced about Ashley – the blonde girl who dominated his mind. But even after he wrote it, he knew the fiery yearning inside him was still not extinguished. So what point had his writing served, he wondered. After he finished writing he pondered the title for his manuscript, not knowing whether he would even keep it, or shred it for all the good it did him…

This book was about his Seismic Girl. And she had left him with aftershocks.

A week later, stiff suffering aftershocks, Cody’ glanced at a competition in the back of Writer’s Monthly, something about winning a chance to get an agent, maybe even a publisher. Without caring too much he posted his manuscript away without keeping a copy. That way at least, he knew the book’s demise would serve some kind of sane purpose.
Seismic Girl
had taken Cody two weeks solid to write. It took five minutes to print. Thirty seconds to post. And then it was gone. Cody didn’t feel any better, and by now he didn’t expect to. But like a seed planted in the desert, something happened to that manuscript that Cody could never have anticipated.

Something that was going to change everything.

The story continues in Fighting Heart 2: Questing Heart

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed reading the first book of The Fighting Heart series.

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-Nicole

PS

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I looked back on that evening outside the Union bar so many times. I recalled Brandon leaning close to whisper into my ear about how he could either help me or ruin my college career depending whether I stayed with him or not. Every time I replayed that in my head I ended up telling Brandon what he could do with his power and influence. I resisted the call of his big blue eyes and lion-like looks, and told him exactly what he deserved to hear. In this imaginary place I walked away with Cody, and all of Brandon’s threats turned to nothing. They were hot air and dust. Brandon Lynes left me alone and I was free because I chose to be free. I loved the indulgence of these dreams, because they left me free. It also left me able to say all the things to Brandon I needed to say. But every time I came back from those little daydreams I felt even lousier than before. Because I never did run from Brandon.
Why?
How could I stay with him after that? I know the answer of course. I had worked two years to fund my college dream, and then lost it because my drug dealing brother owed big money to another dealer who was going to hurt him. Can you imagine that? I worked so hard to get there, and I was prepared to work every hour under the sun to pay those fees all over again just so as Dean Mayhew couldn’t throw me out. So that evening outside the Union bar when Brandon whispered those threats into my ear and stole a kiss, my head swam with panic. I knew Brandon had influence. I had seen it. I knew he was successful. And I knew from how he destroyed my job at Purdy’s that Brandon would definitely act against me if he wanted to. My initial feeling was to fight him, but my practical side, and fear of losing everything I hoped for, hemmed me in. So what if Brandon was a little controlling? He was also the best looking guy I’d ever been with in my life. So what if he had a big ego? He was a writer, and writers were supposed to have big egos, right? So what if he insisted I go here or there with him from time to time, he was my boyfriend, right? Don’t you cooperate with your partner? And besides, some of the sex we’d enjoyed was beyond anything I’d ever known. But there was another side of that particular coin. Sometimes the sex wasn’t so good. Sometimes he was too forceful and only cared about his own needs. But no relationship was ever perfect, right? And at the end of the day, from the outside, if you didn’t know us better, you would have thought we were the perfect college couple. But inside was a different tale. And inside my head, I was at the very beginning of a steep tail spin.

The incident outside the Union bar happened a month back. Apart from one curt little phone conversation I hadn’t even spoken to Cody in that whole time, but I knew he was hurt and totally disappointed in me. Hell, I was disappointed in myself. But I was still with Mr Brandon Lynes, the up and coming writer and all-round hunk, and that in itself made an exciting life. I had dreams of my own, but I didn’t talk about them, not to Brandon. It really wasn’t worth it. He was focussed on his own path. But I did work on my dreams regardless. In the solitude of research and in the writing of essays, I worked hard. I already knew Brandon didn’t want to hear about my dream; I was part of the scenery for the outworking of his. But at least I was okay. And at least I was at college. And at least I had a trophy hunk boyfriend. Yeah, right. Things are rarely ever what they seem.

***

Tonight I was with Brandon and his guys again.  We were in central London, at a bar called Rendition, near Covent Garden. Rendition attracted an arty and music crowd. Up and coming musicians drank here. Poets drank here. Artists schmoozed. All I noticed was that the place was dark, with an obsession for silver and neon which looked very dated to me. Maybe it was an eighties revival thing, or just bad taste. I couldn’t tell. Tonight I was Brandon’s squaw attending another one of his readings. A few other published writers were reading from their books and there were to be book signings too.  I sat on the fringe of Brandon’s gang, keeping well away from the two ice-cold idiots who were involved in the fracas with Cody. Amanda, she of the arty fringe and generally Arctic attitude towards me, stayed at the opposite end to me. The only one of this gang I didn’t mind at all was a guy called Tony. Tony seemed genuine and friendly, but as far as I could tell, he was only there to be the fall guy for the pranks of all the others. Poor Tony wasn’t stupid, but he just seemed not to care that they treated him so badly. To make up for all the crap they put him through, I decided I would be nice to him. The thing is - in the eyes of the neutrals - I’d put myself in the same camp. These people had already given me a cool shoulder. Now I was supporting Tony, they gave me no time at all. I can pretend this suited me fine, because I didn’t have much in common with any of them. But to be honest, I was already lonely before that. These bastards ignoring me hurt like hell, no matter how much I wished it didn’t.

Brandon walked onto stage and Tony’s big shiny face pointed to mine with a warm smile.

“Here’s your man, Ashley. How do you think he will do tonight?” asked Tony.

“Brilliant, he’s always brilliant,” I lied. Tony was a huge fan of Brandon’s, a true groupie. It would have been unfair of me to contradict him.

There was a welcoming round of applause, which settled as Brandon shushed the audience with his hands. In his mind Brandon wasn’t a writer, he was a rock star. A Jim Morrison for the twenty-teens.  I cringed inside, but was still strangely proud. That arrogant son of a bitch, was my outrageously handsome, fine-bodied, arrogant son of a bitch. And he was up there on stage, being fêted like a real star. I still couldn’t believe how people fawned over him. And I was still grateful that even though his buddies despised me, Brandon still liked and desired me. I guess I didn’t realise how bad my self-esteem had gotten for me to be thinking like that. But the worst was yet to come. Brandon’s skin was glazed with a fine sweat. His eyes were set. His jaw strained. He looked heroic out there on stage. And then he opened his mouth, and everything changed. From the first words, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Not good at all.

“Bring the fire, I told her. I will bring the fire and burn this place and these people to cinders…”
was the opening dialogue of his piece. The words themselves were fine, but Brandon was slurring. He was drunk. And in the silence which started with reverence and fondness, I felt the energy shifting toward silent mockery. And it all happened within two loudly slurred pages of Brandon’s work. I went hot and red on his behalf and I looked to the floor. Tony looked around at me when Brandon had finished, joining in the slow round of applause with a hundred other people.

“Not bad, huh?” said Tony. That was the single worst review I’d ever heard from Tony.  Now I knew without a doubt that Brandon Lynes had been truly awful.

As Brandon walked away from the stage he looked strangely troubled, yet distant from the whole thing. He looked like a guy who’d forgotten something but couldn’t remember what it was. It was bizarre. I looked for his eyes to find me, to see if he wanted me to come and comfort him. From Amanda’s posturing and straining at the other end of the seating, I knew she was trying to do the same thing… and Brandon was ignoring us both. I guessed that he wanted to deal with his suffering alone, probably using drink to dull his pain. Either way it was pretty clear that he didn’t want either of us with him. I looked down the line of seats, and saw Amanda looking dejected. She caught my eye again. Our eyes were locked until she threw mine off with typical repugnance. But I didn’t care. I was beginning to feel pity for her. She looked so cool, her style and looks so A-list, but now I knew the girl was twisted up inside worse than me.  “Let’s go for a drink, Tony,” I said. We went for that drink alone. We made small talk, and I waited for Brandon to emerge from hiding, tail between his legs. He didn’t come. When the drink was finished, I made certain to check Amanda was still around and then walked away to find the backstage area. I soon found it.

Out in the back corridor near the dressing rooms, I started looking at the dressing room doors. “The guy’s in there, but boy is he in a pissy mood?! Bloody prima donnas,” said a hipster guy with a beard who was carrying empty a tray full of empty glasses. I nodded and smiled. Brandon was prima donna, but he was still my prima donna and he needed comforting.  I laid my hand on the door handle when the hipster waiter called back.

“I wouldn’t disturb him right now, honey. He’s with his girlfriend.”

It was one of those movie moments. You know the one. The camera zooms in on my face as my mouth opens, and the world shifts around me. Zoom in, pull back. I felt my mind peeling with confusion, upset and the onset of panic and rage. I took a breath and I opened that door quick and hard. I walked inside and shut it behind me. They only looked up when they heard it slam.

She was a girl with a sharp bob cut which finished just below the nape of her neck. She was my build, but not blonde. Her hair was a shocking red, so red I guessed the hair was a wig. But it wasn’t. She was naked down to her knickers. She had big tits. Brandon was standing there in front of her, above her. In profile I saw it all. The girl’s head moving diligently over his dick, her lips working like a pro. Brandon had his head back and he was swaying with pleasure. Suddenly they both looked across at me, and Brandon Lynes was suddenly awake. The girl gave me a sour face which told me to take a hike. But I had taken all the hikes I was ever going to take on account of Brandon.

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Brandon, that has to be the dumbest thing I think I have ever heard you say. In fact it could be the most stupid statement of all time.”

I could see the girl with the red hair was shaping up to give me some verbal.

“And before you start, bitch. This bastard was my boyfriend until twenty seconds ago.”

When the door opened again behind me, Brandon and the girl just looked confused.  Amanda appeared beside me and gasped, covering her hand with her mouth. I saw her eyes glaze with tears in an instant. I wasn’t ever going to go there.

I walked out of the room, stomping back towards the bar. I heard shouting and upset behind me. Then I heard footsteps pursuing me. Brandon stopped me just before I emerged into the public area. His shirt was undone but his slacks were back on.

“Honey… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She was just a groupie girl and I felt…sorry for her… and I was… I felt weak tonight. I was terrible. Really terrible tonight… and she gave me a little comfort.”

“I’m supposed to be your comfort, Brandon. Remember that?”

He was looking at me with big blue appealing eyes, his eyes flicking from left to right. He licked his lips, trying to find the words to say. I saw that his nostrils looked a little red and sore too. I looked again. Was that a trace of white powder just beneath his nose? I hoped not.

“Can you forgive me… will you stay with me?”

“Brandon... You are a wicked, evil, nasty piece of work and you treated me like shit tonight. Do you know that? Can you even comprehend what you’ve done to me?” I asked him and waited for the answer. He ran a hand through his hair. I believed he was weak. I believed he knew how bad his performance had been, but after everything else, I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive him.

For two whole minutes he implored me. He asked me to say sorry. He held my hand and he kissed my cheek. I hated him, and I felt sorry for him. His desperation was scary, weakening the power of his good looks.

But in the end, because I had nothing else to say right there or then, because I had no allies left or friends to call my own, I told him we could work things out. I had no conviction of that, but I felt it was almost possible. He still had the power over the levers in my life.

But as I drank in a quiet corner with him, listening to his pathetic excuses, I knew I didn’t want any more of his crap in my life. I missed my friend Cody. I missed my freedom. I missed my self-respect. No matter what my life was going to be like – with or without him – I had to do something. Living in denial was no longer an option…