Doomsday Love: An MMA & Second Chance Romance (26 page)

He stood me up.

But before that, he left without a proper goodbye, only a stupid note and the gift I gave him when we were ten.

I left that cross in a shoebox in the closet of my old bedroom. I never wanted to see it again. I knew what that cross represented now.

It represented absence and sorrow. It represented broken bonds and shattered souls.

It represented emptiness, worthless promises, and desolation.

Sue was wrong.

The pain will never go away.

Because even now, it remains.

There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about him. It became easier to accept, but it still left a cramp in my heart that I couldn’t ignore.

Whenever he crossed my mind, I grieved. I couldn’t seem to move forward at all.

Every day I went through the motions.

Class. Drake. Eat. Class. Drake. Class. Drake. Homework. Eat. Drake. Sleep. Drake.
Drake, Drake, Drake!

It never ended. It was a cycle, one I’d grown way too accustomed to.

Drake Davenport robbed me of my heart. He left a brokenness in me that couldn’t be mended unless he himself put the pieces back together again.

And all I ever wondered each day was one small thing—Did he realize just what he had done to me?

Did he realize that after what he did, that I would never be the same Jenny Roscoe again?

The answer was one I could give myself—a simple response that caused a great impact on my life thereafter.

Just one, simple word.

No.

No, he didn’t know.

He honestly had no fucking idea.

E
verything is
…different now.

A lot different.

With all of the complications that arose, I didn’t think I’d ever make it past college, but I have. I am alive and well, though I still struggle with damaging issues. My issues, unfortunately, have developed into bad habits that I can’t seem to shake.

I try not to think about my past too much, but when I do I get the same feeling I used to. Like a block of lead has nestled its way deep into the pit of my belly. Like my eyes are on fire as I try to fight off the unwanted tears.

“Shane, can you turn on the air instead? I’m hot.” My skin is sticky. I’m burning up. We landed at the Las Vegas airport thirty minutes ago and now we’re in the rental car and, of course, it’s the most expensive one.

A yellow Ferrari.

“I’m not turning on the air, Jenny. Why would I do that? We’re in Vegas. I’m in a Ferrari for Christ’s sake. Don’t you want to feel what this city is like?” Shane grips the steering wheel as he pulls onto South Las Vegas Boulevard. It’s jam-packed as soon as he turns the wheel.

These wheels aren’t going to be rolling anytime soon, which means no sort of breeze will flow by. And it also means I am still fucking hot.

“Shane. Please.” I meet his brown eyes. “We are sitting in traffic. It’s over 100 degrees out here.”

“You know what?” He extends his arm and presses a button. He pushes it so hard the skin outside his thumb turns white. “There’s your fucking air, Jenny. You happy?”

Very.

That’s what I want to say, but I don’t. I’m not in the mood for arguing.

He rolls up the windows and I check my cellphone, waiting for the call that will change my mind about this entire trip.

Nothing yet.

I sigh and lean forward. The air blows directly onto my face. It feels amazing—refreshing compared to the thick, humid blow-dryer air outside.

I feel Shane looking at me as I bathe my skin with the cool air, but I don’t care. He’s so fucking judgmental. Sometimes I hate him for it. But, still, I sit back—but only because I want him to stop looking at me.

I really need a drink.

“Listen,” Shane starts, “while we’re out here, we won’t be doing a bunch of running around. I have a plan for us tonight, which should entertain us for a few hours, and then after that we’ll catch a few drinks at the bar and then head back up to the hotel room.”

“You’re going to spend your graduation gift—in Vegas—in the hotel room the whole time? What about going to the pool? Shopping? Gambling? We’re only here for three days.”

“Exactly. And I’d like to relax. Besides, I’ve been here before. There’s nothing but drunk women and even drunker men walking around, betting their lives away. Lying. Cheating. It’s stupid.”

“So why did you drag me here?”

“Because this was a gift from my parents to us, Jenny. They want us to enjoy ourselves.”

“So do that then. Enjoy yourself. I know I will whether you do or not.”

He releases a dry laugh. “You should watch your mouth. It always gets you in trouble with me.”

Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

Forget needing one drink. I need three now. I can’t wait to get to the hotel. As soon as we check in and drop our bags off my plan is to go down to the bar and order a few.

It doesn’t matter that it’s only about to be three in the afternoon.

That’s the great thing about Vegas. You can drink whenever the hell you want to and no one will judge you. I guess it’s a good thing we are here. I just hate that I’m spending my graduation with him.

I really didn’t have much of a choice though.

I refuse to go back to Fox River. I don’t want to see Mom or Dad. After I heard they let Sue go only a year after I left, I knew I would never set foot into that home again.

Sue was the only reason I wanted to go back. I wanted to see her again and talk to her about the general things in life, but that can no longer happen. She moved all the way to Texas, back with her mother. I don’t blame her.

I place my elbow on the armrest to my right. I stare out of the window, studying all of the flashy signs that pass by.

There’s a sign at the MGM Grand with some men with big arms on it. I can’t really see it from where we are or with the glare of the sun right behind it. I look away.

After sitting in traffic for nearly twenty minutes, we finally arrive at the Aria. Seeing it brings me so much relief—so much pleasure. We’re finally here.

It’s so big. So shiny. Guests flood in and out of the front entrance, cab drivers pulled to the side.

A long line waits up front for cabs. Women are dressed in their sexiest attire and men are sporting their best name-branded clothing. No one looks below average here. They all look…
rich
.

Shane drives towards the valet and then climbs out of the car after parking it.

He tosses the valet driver the car keys and I climb out in my wedges, tucking the loose strands of my recently-highlighted brown hair back. Some pieces stick to my forehead and the nape of my neck.

I’m still hot, but not as much as before. A cool breeze flows down from the ceiling fans. It feels amazing.

As I make my way towards the entrance with Shane at my side, several men look my way. I feel their eyes hard on my hips, my bust, but I never look to see who’s actually watching.

I can’t lie and say it doesn’t give me a sense of empowerment. After leaving Fox River and spending so many months down in the dumps, I gained more than the freshman fifteen.

I gained over twenty pounds. I couldn’t fit into any of my clothes. I felt like a revolting slob.

So one day I decided to make a change.

I needed a change.

I needed to do better.

I needed to remember my worth.

I took up an aerobics class, as well as kickboxing, to unleash some anger here and there, and on top of that, I met Shane Crastor at a frat part during the end of my junior year. My guy friend—well, my rather rich guy friend, I should say.

He’s asked me to officially be his girlfriend over a dozen times, but he’s too much of a loose cannon for me. I’ve never said yes to him, but of course he thinks we are “together.” Right now I am a misguided soul, going with the wind, and he just so happens to carry a nice breeze.

Sadly, Shane takes full advantage of my misguided ways. In a sense, I do need him right now.

I don’t care that he’s rich. Honestly. I’ve been surrounded by money all my life. There was just something about him that got to me when we first met. I don’t know if it was his confidence, his pride, or maybe it was just the fact that he reminded me of… someone from the past.

His money is a good thing for me now. It comes in handy, since I haven’t looked much into my musical career yet.

I know what you’re thinking.

What about my parents?

Allow me to explain.

My Dad used to send me money every month so my rent could be paid, my fees would be covered, and for groceries, etcetera.

He stopped sending money to my account after a while. He never told me his reason why, but I know Mom had something to do with it. I know she’s still upset about what I told her about Mitchell.

Though it was true, it was also a mistake on my behalf. Mom has Dad on a leash, and if she says stop, he’ll stop right away.

When I was running low on funds I called Dad one day and he told me these exact words:
“Jenny, you are growing up. It’s time to create your own opportunities. It’s time to be a woman. This world isn’t easy, and if you aren’t ready now, you never will be.”

I knew that was just some lame excuse to cover up for Mom, so I hung up.

I haven’t spoken to him since and I haven’t spoken to Mom since I left for college.

And to think I was going to end whatever this was with Shane as soon as my lease was up. Luckily, I’d saved up enough money from what Dad had sent. He would always send too much.

Now…well, Shane pays for my nicer things, as well as some of the bills I can’t pay. I had a job on the side where I taught kids vocal and guitar lessons. It was making me pretty good money to get by, and it helped pay off some of my student loans as well as my rent, but it wasn’t enough.

I stopped vocal lessons when Shane found out. He told me he would help me as long as I focused on finishing school and graduating…so I did just that.

I kind of hate myself for stopping.

I loved seeing the light in those kids’ eyes when they got a note right. I loved how they sang along with me and how some of them were really learning how to play the guitar by my side. I was a great teacher. I hope I can do that again whenever I find a stable place to live.

I know it’s bad to say, but I have been sort of using Shane. Don’t worry. I plan on stopping as soon as this trip is over…hopefully.

He bugs me, but he brought me here, to Vegas. I can’t complain much about what he’s done for me, but I do know he will be so pissed when he finds out Kylie is going to be in Vegas with us.

Speaking of, as Shane is standing in the line for check-in, my phone rings. When her name flashes on the screen, I squeal like a banshee.

“Kylie!” I answer.

“Jen, babe! Where are you? I’m at the Aria and I just checked in. I’m by the poker tables now!”

“Seriously?” I shriek. “I’m in the lobby!”

“Really?!”

“Yes! Meet me by the slot machines. They’re right across from me.”

“On my way.”

I hang up and then look towards Shane. He’s already looking at me, so I point a thumb back at the machines. He rolls his eyes, nodding reluctantly.

He’s in a long line. It will take him a while.

I rush in the direction of the slot machines, peering around, on the hunt for my only best friend.

I don’t see her at first, but when I spot her coiled, bleached hair and all of the gold bangles she loves to wear on her wrists, I squeal again. We’re like little piglets, I swear.

She stands in the middle of the walkway with her arms stretched wide and I run right into them, nearly tackling her to the ground as I lock my arms around her neck.

Everyone looks at us like we’re insane. I don’t even care. I haven’t seen her in six months. It’s been six months too long.

“Kylie!”

“Jenny!” she sings. She pulls back and looks me over. “What is this? You’re all dressed up! Since when do
you
dress up?”

I laugh. “I wanted to look nice coming into the city.”

“Well, you looking fucking amazing, baby love.”

“And you look just as stunning as always, my dear.”

She winks playfully and we make our way over to sit at two of the empty slot machines.

“So where’s the prick?” she asks, and her eager mood rapidly dissipates.

I roll my eyes, pointing back. “Checking in. Oh, by the way, I haven’t told him I was linking up with you, so don’t get too offended if he says something about you being here.”

She thins her eyes as she looks towards the check-in line. “I wish that fucker would say something about why I’m here. It’s a free fucking country and you were my best friend long before you ever met that jackass.”

I giggle. “Kylie, stop it. He’s not that bad.”

“No, no. You’re right.” She waves a dismissive hand, but then she zeros in on me with those bright hazel eyes. “He’s worse. He’s the spawn of Satan.”

I fight a laugh. It’s hard to hold it in when we both think the same way sometimes.

“Why don’t you just ditch him? Come stay in my room? It will be just like old times.”

“I would love that.” I sigh. “But, unfortunately, that’s not how it works with Shane. I would feel bad to just abandon him after all he’s done for me, you know?”

“Hey, like you always tell me, he’s not your boyfriend. He’s just a ‘friend’.” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “If you need someone to get you off, I can find a guy. I’ll pluck one right out for you and you’ll be set. This is Vegas, baby. Forget Shane.” Kylie turns to face the machine. She digs through her clutch and then pushes a few coins in.

Grabbing the lever, she asks, “Anyway, what are your plans for tonight?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “He says he has something planned but he’s so damn boring. I’m hoping it’s not an opera or something.”

Kylie chokes on a laugh. “Let’s hope not.”

“Whatever it is, I know you’re coming with me. I refuse to spend my time in Vegas wallowing.” A woman passes by us with two drinks in hand. My tongue tingles at the sight of the short, round glasses. “You know what? Speaking of wallowing, I’m about to go to the bar. I can fit one drink in before Shane is finished, don’t you think?”

“Fuck yes—wait… one… sec. Oh, come on!” She bangs the slot machine when it buzzes. “Damn it! I never fucking win at these things.”

I snort. “Does anyone?”

We meet at the bar where a young blonde is. She smiles at us, asking what we’d like. I order a whiskey sour, and as soon as the cool glass meets my hand, I bring the rim up to my lips.

It’s tangy, the whiskey not too strong. Perfect. Settling.

Kylie orders a margarita and once we pay, we turn and walk through the casino. “So, how is life?” I ask.

“Life is… good.” She smiles, and then looks over at me. Her face changes, her cheeks now rosy red.

“Uh-oh. You hesitated.” I study her face. “What’s wrong?”

Sighing, she straightens her back and looks me right in the eyes. “Jenny… I have to tell you something and you have to promise not to get mad.”

“Oh, come on, Ky. Every time you say something like that, it’s hard for me
not
to get mad.”

She puts on an unsteady smile. “Promise,” she begs.

I sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try not to. Spill it.”

She lowers her drink and purses her glossed lips. “Well, I really wanted to come here for you, and you know that, but I’ve been keeping up with Oscar on Facebook and Twitter and—”

“Wait—what? Oscar?! Oscar
Davenport
?”
Oh, God.
I groan. “Kylie, you have to be kidding.”

“No. Now wait a minute. Just hear me out!” She throws a hand in the air before I can say anything else. “So he sent me a message a while back on Facebook and we started talking about how we missed each other and then Vegas came up. He said he would be here this weekend for some MMA championship fight for a friend. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you wanted me to come on the same weekend he was coming. It’s fate, I swear! It has to be! I get to see him again after all these years.”