Page 8 of The Ties We Break

“I just wondered who her brunette friend is. I haven’t seen her here before. She looks young,” I explain, as he lets out an audible sigh of relief.

“Cherry mentioned she would be bringing her friend here as a guest tonight. She’s just observing, as far as I know. She’s not underage or anything if that’s what you are worried about,” he rushes out, and I almost laugh. I already know there’s no possible way she’s underage. Jasmine handles all guest bookings, and once she has obtained the correct paperwork, Lincoln, my IT guy, completes a thorough background check. He’s also a fucking wizard when it comes to spotting fake documents. Nothing gets past him. And if by some miracle it does, Jasmine has complete control as the Front of House Manager to refuse entry to anyone, even a paying member.

“I’m not worried, but thanks for the information.”

Ryan wastes no time in handing over my drink before walking away. My face has returned to the usual ‘fuck off’ expression that I have permanently etched there, which is why Ryan doesn’t even bother with a goodbye. Everyone at the club knows that when I want to be left alone, I get left alone.

The only problem is, right now, I don’t want to be by myself. Instead, I want to follow that beauty into the back room. I want to see what type of scene she likes, what kind of things turn her on, and what makes her want to participate. But instead, no matter how hard I’m finding it, I stay in my seat. She needs to keep far away from me, which means no matter how much I might want to, I cannot chase her.

I’m halfway through my drink, moping over a damn girl I have never even spoken to but can’t stop thinking about when I hear my name being called.

“Dec, brother, are you going to buy me a drink or what?” Before the last word is spoken, my best friend, Kian O’Shay, rushes over to me and quickly wraps his arms around me in his very best version of a man hug. He pulls back with his usual cheeky grin on his face, and before his ass even touches the stool, Ryan has a bottle of cold beer open and ready for Kian.

“Cheers,” Kian says as he tips the neck of the bottle towards me in a toast that I don’t bother to meet as he’s already taking a gulp before I can pick up my drink.

As he drinks, I look over my longest friend and can’t help but roll my eyes at his appearance. Eejit! His pale skin is mottled in bright purples and blues all around his right eye, right cheek, and the bridge of his nose. I only saw him three nights ago, so these bruises are new, but I'm not surprised to see them. Kian looks like the cheeky boy next door with a mass of floppy blonde hair, bright sky blue eyes that you can barely see because of the bruises, and his lopsided grin that seems to literally melt panties, but he is far from it.

Like me, Kian grew up in care, and we learnt from a very young age that the only way to survive was to get strong. This is something neither of us grew out of. Kian fights for fun, to help let off steam and battle his demons. Whereas I did the only thing possible to avoid getting hurt, I closed myself off from everyone. I have never let another person into my life in any real way since the day Kian and I met in a children’s home when I was just six years old. Kian was only five, and we became brothers from the minute we met. They tried to separate us a few times but never managed it. We’ve been together ever since.

“So, what’s going on with you, Dec?!” My best friend shouts loud enough to be heard over the music and pulls me out of my walk down memory lane.

I look over at Kian, sitting with that same smile he always has, but he doesn’t fool me. He may look carefree, but I know him. I see the pain he carries around, which is why he fights. We are both broken. The only difference is, he wants to change. He just hasn’t found the right person to help him yet.

“I'm the same as I always am. Are we going to pretend that you don’t have fresh bruises? I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do too many fights close together, and you sure as fuck shouldn’t be doing one just before your big fight,” I chastise as Kian rolls his eyes. Just before he begins to reply, his eyes widen, and the dimples in his cheeks get more pronounced as he smiles, showing off pearly whites that are too good for a bare-knuckle boxer.

“This wasn’t an official fight. I got my ass kicked by someone who caught me off guard, but it won't be happening again,” he explains with a smile, but I can tell there’s more to the story, so I stare poignantly, just waiting. “Fine. So I got jumped during sex. I was over at the house of this bird I’ve been seeing. I had my back to the door because I was more concerned with ploughing into her doggy style, while she was begging for my cock. It didn’t even occur to me to watch the door. So, I was caught unaware when this guy whacked me around the head with a bedside lamp before getting in a few cheap shots. I fought back eventually, and I promise you he looks worse than I do.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Vulgar oversharing as always, Kian. Although I already have a pretty good idea of the answer, I’m going to ask anyway: who the hell was the man who attacked you?”

Kian’s face falls, and I know I’ve got it right. “Her husband,” he mutters quietly, speaking into his beer bottle, making him barely audible. As a light blush spreads across his cheeks, I’m amazed he has the humility to look embarrassed.

“Thought married women were off-limits for you?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face morphs into one of anger, and I regret opening my big mouth. He has never said he won’t date married women, but I know him. After all, that’s the exact reason he ended up in the care home with me. His mum, who already suffered from severe mental health issues, caught her husband in bed with one of her friends. She killed herself the next day. But rather than step up and be a father, his dad decided to take his new girlfriend and move to England. Kian has always blamed his dad’s cheating for him losing everything, which is why I’m surprised to hear he got involved with a married woman.

“They are. Bitch lied to me. She said she was divorced. Fucking women, it’s no wonder neither of us can find a decent girl to settle down with. There are none. They’re all liars,” Kian spits out, and even though his words are full of anger, it’s pain I can hear in his voice.

“Speak for yourself, bro. You know I have no intention of settling down. There’s no grand love story in my future.” Before I’ve even finished my sentence, Kian chuckles into his beer.

“It’s a good thing I love you, brother, because you are one fucked up individual. I feel sure that one day a girl will come along and thaw out that icy black heart of yours, and then I will be able to say I told you so. You know how much I like saying that.” Kian chuckles, and I can’t help but laugh because he fucking loves to gloat. My joyful mood quickly changes when I feel a shudder of repulsion at the mention of a girl breaking down all my defences. They are up for a reason, and they are never coming down.

The look I give Kian lets him know I’m in no mood to discuss this topic again. I’ve heard his view about how I need to get out more and let down my walls. It’s not fucking happening, and so he’s learnt to drop it, for the most part. He just gets little digs occasionally.

Hopping off his stool, he downs the rest of his drink before sliding the empty bottle across the bar to Ryan, who easily catches it. He asks if Kian wants another, but he declines. “I’m goin’ to find a nice pussy to bury my cock in. Preferably one with no baggage and where I won’t get my ass kicked before I even get a chance to blow my load. I’m gonna go into the back. Wanna come?”

“No, I’m working,” I reply, the same as I always do.

“Suit yourself. See you tomorrow for the fight, same time as always?” he asks, and I nod in confirmation. There’s no point in me telling Kian that he’s supposed to abstain from sex before a fight. Kian never follows that rule, and he isn’t going to start now. Besides, he believes it’s just a myth. I’ve seen Kian fucking a girl in the dressing room just a few minutes before walking out and slaughtering his opponent. His win record speaks for itself, so I leave him be.

We do the obligatory man hug, which involves our chests touching for a microsecond and a pat on the back before I watch Kian head off in the direction of the tamer back rooms. The one I saw Cherry and her friend go down earlier. My heart starts to race, and suddenly it feels like ants are crawling under my skin. The sinking feeling in my stomach is something I don’t recognise. I imagine Kian with the beauty, him charming her with his winning smile, before leading her off to their own room. If he sets his sights on a woman, they never turn him down, and for some reason, I don’t like the idea of him choosing her.

Before I know it, my ass is off its seat, and I’m speed walking to catch up with my friend. He reaches the door the same time I do, and I pat him on the back to let him know I’m here. “Changed my mind. A bit of fun won’t hurt.”

“Too fucking right it won’t. You need to let loose more often. You’re too fucking uptight, Dec.”

“Alright, alright. Save the fucking lecture and open the door before I change my mind.”

Kian doesn’t know that I have no intention of getting my dick wet tonight. I have too much control for that to happen. However, I appear to have developed an irrational obsession, and I can’t stop watching that beauty. I tell myself I need to ensure she isn’t getting into trouble and that she doesn’t look experienced enough to be here. I could tell after just a few minutes of looking at her. I will let her have her fun watching, but that is all. Any hint of wanting to participate, and she is out.

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