Lawton Read online

  But then a funny thing happened. I didn't crash, at least not the way I thought. Within a year of that beat-down, everything changed. Somebody's secret footage, starring me in one of countless underground fights, went viral in a big way, which led to a reality series, which led to a world of merchandising and event opportunities.

  Five years later, I'd gone from being a messed-up nobody to a financial powerhouse. Between the global fitness centers, the line of apparel and workout equipment, and all those mixed martial events, some might say I was a busy guy.

  Not bad for someone who'd just turned twenty-six.

  As far as the girl, I did look for her. I'd paid others to look too. But she'd been a phantom of the sweetest kind. I'd had nothing to go on – not her name, not her address, and not even a decent description. because how do you describe an angel to someone who's never been to Heaven?

  But now, after all this time, I'd finally found her, right here in my own neighborhood. There was only one problem. The way it looked, she belonged here. I didn't.

  If I had my way, she'd be willing to forget all that. The next time she walked by, I'd be ready.

  Chapter 5

  Standing in my front doorway, Amber leaned around me to peer inside the house. "Oh my God," she breathed, "will you look at this place? It's absolutely amazing." She gave a playful poke to my chest and giggled. "Do you love it or what?"

  Next to her, Brittney spoke up. "Of course he loves it. How could he not love it?"

  I said nothing. I loved it more five minutes ago, before the doorbell rang, interrupting my work. I'd been reviewing security plans for my next mixed martial arts event. Normally, I did this at the office.

  Not today. Today, I was working from home. Again.

  And I knew why. It was because of her.

  But the girls in my doorway weren't her. They were nearly identical Barbie Dolls with blonde hair, blue eyes, and bikini bodies that they loved to show off.

  Brittney was smirking. "My mom's place – no offense Lawton – is just as nice."

  Brittney's mom was a bank president. I knew because Brittney had told me. A hundred times.

  In my doorway, she was still yammering. "She's a bank president, you know."

  Make that a hundred and one.

  "Her house is so big," Brittney continued, "my mom swears she can totally get lost in it."

  I'd heard it before. I didn't care then. I didn't care now. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

  Brittney gave me a long, steamy look. "Isn't it?" She leaned close and ran a finger along my jaw. "I mean, bigger is better, right?"

  I stiffened, and not in the way she wanted. I knew exactly what she meant. I didn't want to hear it. But that never stopped Brittney. She stood on her toes to purr into my ear. "If you need a co-star for your next video, hey, sign me up."

  I pulled back. "There's not gonna be a next video."

  And there wouldn’t be. The first one had been bad enough.

  Here, a girl I thought was my friend had tricked me into having sex on camera. Even now, people acted like it was the best thing that could've happened to a guy like me. A lucky break. One more step toward fame and fortune.

  Yeah, right.

  That kind of fame, I didn't want. And as far as money, I had all I needed, thanks to ventures that didn't require me to show my ass or other parts.

  I used to fight for a living. I used to be poor. I used to be a lot of things. Now, I was just the guy who wanted to be left alone.

  I glanced at my watch. "Next time, call first, alright?"

  Brittney frowned. "We did call. You didn't answer."

  Well, there was that.

  Again, Amber peered around me to look into the house. "So, are you gonna give us a tour or what?"

  "Sorry," I said. "I'm working."

  "But you're not at work," Amber said. "You're here." She pointed to the marble floor at my feet. "See?"

  I looked down. "See what?"

  "Where you're standing," she said. "It's not your office, silly."

  "I meant my home office."

  My main office was downtown. But the girl with the terrier wasn't downtown. So I'd been ditching the commute to work here, where I could watch the front sidewalk and, if I was lucky, catch her when she walked by.

  The setup couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. From my study, I had a front-row seat to the route she took at least twice a day. There was only one problem. The time of day varied, which made it hard to predict.

  In my doorway, Amber was still talking. She turned to Brittney and said, "What now? Should we let him work?"

  "Screw that," Brittney said, giving me another steamy look. "Who wants to work when you can play?"

  Suddenly, I felt myself smile, but not because of Brittney. Through the open doorway, I'd just caught movement on the sidewalk – not in front of my house, but on a nearby side street.

  It was her.

  This time, she wasn't alone. She was with another girl. The friend looked exactly like the type you'd expect in this neighborhood – the kind who went to private schools and didn't think about the cost.

  I looked to the blondes blocking my path. "I've gotta go."

  Brittney frowned. "But we just got here." She gave me a pleading look. "And you haven't even let us inside."

  Again, I glanced toward the sidewalk. If the forecasters were right, it would be raining buckets for the next five days. If I didn't catch her now, I'd be waiting almost a week.

  Screw that.

  Brittney's voice cut into my thoughts. "Lawton!"

  I looked down at her. "What?"

  Brittney gave a small huff. "Talk about rude." Her head swiveled to the sidewalk, where the two girls were laughing a couple of blocks away. Brittney pursed her lips. The look on her face said it all.

  I was a pig.

  Yeah. Whatever. Oink oink. Now get the fuck out.

  "Look," I told Brittney, trying to be civil, "you just can't just drop in like this."

  Next to Brittney, Amber spoke up. "I told her that, Lawton. Honest. But she wouldn't listen."

  Brittney gave a dramatic sigh. "Aw come on. We drove all the way out here. We're not leaving without a tour." She turned to Amber and said, "Right?"

  "Right." Amber frowned. "I think."

  I wanted them gone, but I didn't want a scene. The reason was simple. She might see. The girl with the terrier. My reputation was bad enough already. No need to reinforce it.

  Desperate to be rid of them, I said, "Come back Friday. I'll, uh, grill or something."

  Brittney's gaze narrowed. "You're not gonna cancel on us again, are you?"

  I wanted to cancel. And I wanted them to get the hell out of my way. The way it looked, I couldn’t have both. "You've got my word," I told them. "Now I've gotta go. Alright?"

  Ten minutes later, they were finally gone. From now on, I decided, I'd make better use of that big iron gate that kept gawkers away. I'd moved out here for a reason, and it wasn't to be hounded by girls who couldn't take a hint.

  From my front closet, I grabbed the nearest tennis shoes and tugged them onto my feet. I rushed out the back door and headed through the trees toward the rear of my property.

  I had three acres of woods surrounded by a tall, iron fence that matched the front gate. In the far corner, there was a narrow, gated opening, hidden by hedges, unless you knew where to look. I strode toward it like a man on a mission.

  Hell, I was on a mission. And I had a plan.

  I was going to intercept those girls.

  Judging from their route, they'd circle the block and end up walking along the outside of my fence. When that happened, I'd be ready.

  My plan, if you could call it that, was to wait until they passed. Then I'd slip out of the hidden gate, walk up behind them, and see what played out.

  Maybe I'd be just the new neighbor guy, out for a walk, catching up to say hi. That's what normal people did, right?

  Chapter 6

  I heard them comi
ng from a block away. The friend was laughing. "Oh come on, Chloe. You know you want him."

  Chloe. I felt myself smile as the name hit home. Somehow, it fit.

  "Oh stop it," Chloe said with a laugh. "He's a total train wreck."

  I recognized the voice, just like I recognized the laugh. The thing I didn't recognize was the tone. Or maybe, I didn't want to. The way it sounded, they were talking about me, and not in a good way.

  "Yeah," the friend said, "but he's a hot train wreck."

  "Who cares?" Chloe said. "Some pretty boy with a death wish? Who needs that?"

  Standing like a dumb-ass behind my fancy hedge-row, I let those words sink in. Pretty boy. Death wish. I didn't want to be pretty, and sure as hell didn't want to die.

  The friend was still laughing. "Hey, I'd do him."

  "Oh shut up," Chloe said. "You're not a groupie any more than I am. I mean, seriously, you heard about that actress, right?"

  "Which one?"

  "You know which one," Chloe said. "The one he left naked in that bathroom."

  The friend paused. "You mean in that Beverly Hills restaurant? Oh yeah. I remember."

  I felt my jaw clench. I remembered, too.

  The friend was still talking. "He beat the crap out of some bouncer too, right?"

  "No," Chloe corrected. "Not some bouncer. Three bouncers."

  I shook my head. Bouncers? Hardly. Mostly, they were hired thugs, courtesy of the actress in question – some publicity-hungry skank who'd played me like a video game.

  "Three?" the friend said, sounding impressed. "Nice."

  "Nice?" Chloe repeated. "Seriously? The guy's an animal. I don't know why people put up with him."

  "I know why. He's a total bad-ass."

  "Like that matters," Chloe said. "In five years, you know where they'll find him?"

  The friend gave another laugh. "In my bedroom?"

  "No," Chloe said. "On some new reality show. Except this time, he won't be the hot newcomer. He'll be the washed-up has-been." She hesitated. "Trying to kick some coke or cupcake addiction."

  "Hey, with abs like his," the friend said, "he can be my cupcake any day."

  "I'm serious," Chloe insisted. "And in ten years, you know where he'll be?"

  "Where?"

  "Six feet under."

  Listening, I felt my eyebrows furrow. Me? Dead in a decade? I did the math. At thirty-six? I shook my head. Not if I had anything to say about it.

  "Or," Chloe continued, "he'll be working as a security guard or something." She made a scoffing sound. "Probably at a low-rent shopping mall."

  "No way," the friend said. "He's like a billionaire. You can't go through that much money."

  "You just watch," Chloe said. "And even that gig? It won't last. He'll be canned for sure."

  "Oh please," the friend said. "Canned for what?"

  "I don't know," Chloe said. "For snorting coke in the bathroom?"

  The friend gave another burst of laughter. "What?"

  "Or," Chloe continued, "for beating up a customer."

  "Now this I've got to hear. Why?"

  "Well, um, maybe the customer wants to take his picture."

  Standing there, I shook my head. What customer?

  Their voices were very close now. Concealed by the hedges, I saw their silhouettes pass just a few feet away. They were still laughing. I wasn't. Apparently, I wasn't just the neighbor guy.

  I was a total loser.

  A drug-snorting, hot-headed fucktard with a not-so-promising future as a mall-cop.

  Most of the time, I didn't give a rat's ass what people said or thought of me. For some reason, this wasn't one of those times.

  Before I knew it, I'd slipped out the narrow gate and turned to follow them. They were several paces ahead, but their voices still carried. Chloe was talking when her friend interrupted. "But he doesn't have a drug problem."

  About this, the friend was right. Oh sure, I'd tried a few things, but those days were gone. Now, I had something to lose, and not just my temper, listening to this line of bull.

  "Not that you know of," Chloe was saying.

  "And you can't go through that much money," the friend said. "It's not even possible."

  "Oh yeah?" Chloe stumbled forward, dragged along by the little dog. "Tell that to Mike Tyson."

  Following behind them, I tried to not take it personally. Yeah, I had a bad reputation. And yeah, some of it was earned. Okay, a lot of it was earned. But I was no loser.

  Walking, I waited for them to turn around, or at least notice some muscular, tattooed guy following after them. But between the hyper dog and their little joke-fest, they kept on going without a single backwards glance.

  Rich girls in a rich neighborhood. The lack of street-smarts shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  Before I knew it, we'd circled back to the sidewalk in front of my house. Passing my front gate, Chloe slowed down. She glanced toward my front door and said something too low for me to make out.

  Looking toward my house, the friend gave a low whistle. "Wow, that's seriously huge." She laughed. "Like the rest of him, huh?"

  Without thinking, I picked up the pace. The joke might've been funny the first time. Now, after five years of fame, not so much.

  "What I can't figure out," Chloe said, "is why he's living in Rochester Hills of all places."

  "Well, he is from Detroit."

  "Yeah, but shouldn't he be living in Hollywood or New York by now?"

  I was just a couple steps behind them, and they still didn't notice.

  The friend snorted. "Want to know what a million bucks buys in New York? A coat closet."

  Again, Cloe glanced toward my house. "What? No room for orgies?"

  Oh, for fuck's sake.

  I spoke up. "Yeah. That's it." It came out louder than I expected, and I stopped moving.

  They whirled around to look, even the dog. When they spotted me, they froze. I should've felt bad. But I was too pissed off. Or maybe I was just too crushed.

  For years, she'd been the girl of my dreams. And here she was – just a girl who hated the guy I'd become.

  Orgies, huh? I gave her a hard look. "You volunteering?"

  Standing on the sidewalk, she stared up at me. At something into her eyes, I felt myself swallow. I was being a dick, and I damn well knew it. From the look on her face, she knew it too.

  I opened my mouth to say something. What, I'll never know, because just then, her gaze slid from my eyes and travelled slowly downward. She stopped at my crotch.

  What the hell?

  And then, as if remembering herself, she looked quickly down to my feet. At the sight of my old-fashioned red tennis shoes, she paused. At the color? Or the fact I wasn't barefoot like the last time she'd seen me?

  After a long moment, she looked up. When our eyes met, I held my breath and waited. The years fell away, and there she was – the girl I'd been dreaming about, right here within arm's reach.

  Any minute now, she'd make the connection.

  I waited.

  For nothing.

  On her face, there was no sign of recognition. She had no idea who I was – well, except for an orgy-loving druggie who ran around barefoot. Between that and the mall-cop thing, I was batting what? A negative four-thousand?

  Again, she glanced at my feet. Her eyebrows furrowed.

  "Yeah," I said. "I own shoes. Surprised?"

  She glanced up. "No." Her tone was stiff with a country club accent. "Of course not."

  The tone threw me. She sounded nothing like the girl I remembered. The girl I remembered was warm and funny. This girl? She had a stick up her ass so thick, it was a miracle she could walk at all.

  She glanced at her friend.

  I waited. For what, I didn't know.

  As if taking some hint, the friend gave a small wave in my direction. "Hi. I'm Erika, and you are –?"

  A dumb-shit. That's who. Screw this. I heard myself mutter, "Just the neighbor guy."

  I stepped
around them and kept on going. Behind me, I heard the dog going nuts, too late to do any good.

  I made a sound of disgust. Forget the dog.

  Forget her.

  The way it looked, I should've done that years ago.

  Sammy had told me. Turns out, I should've listened.

  Chapter 7

  It was maybe a couple days after the beat-down – five years and a lifetime ago.

  Lying in that cheap hotel room, I battled the brain-fog, wondering what the hell they'd been giving me. Drugs, obviously. But what kind? Pain-killers? Maybe laced with something else?

  I wouldn’t know, because I'd never been a fan. The way I saw it, I'd rather hurt like hell than be too messed up to know my ass from my elbow. But as I lay there on that lumpy mattress, the drugs kept coming, whether I wanted them or not – injected by force, thanks to Sammy, Trick, and the shifty-eyed guy who claimed to be a doctor.

  My eyes were shut, but my mind was working. Slower than normal? Yeah. But faster than the day before. That was something, right? Tomorrow, I decided, I'd make a break for it.

  Sammy's voice broke through the mist. "The girl. Who was she?"

  Slowly, I opened my eyes. Sammy was slouched in the chair beside the bed. He was chomping down a sub-sandwich while flicking through channels using the TV remote.

  Through the fog, I heard myself mumble, "What?"

  "The girl," he said again. "The rich chick. You know her?"

  I squinted up at him. I didn't know any rich girls. Never had. Probably never would. It wasn't like I hung with that kind of crowd.

  I looked past Sammy to study the windows. They were covered in ugly brown curtains that looked thick enough to stand on their own. Was it day or night? Night, probably. But I couldn't be sure.

  Trick was gone, and so was the doctor.

  Sammy clicked through a few more channels and stopped on some infomercial. The announcer's voice boomed through the mist. Smoothies. Veggie drinks. Cocktails. This thing did it all with just the touch of a button. All for five easy payments if you called like now.

  But wait, there's more.

  Sammy shoved the last bite of sub into his open mouth and set down the remote. He reached for a notepad and scribbled down the number, repeating it out loud as he scratched out the digits. He ripped off the top sheet of paper and shoved it into the front pocket of his saggy jeans.