Silas Read online

  “You find a way to distract me now, and I’ll show you the workshop when we’re done,” he said. His fingers danced over my nipple, erect to his touch.

  “That sounds like a deal for me too,” I said.

  “How long has it been?” Tempest stood at the counter, her back toward me, stirring a bowl of cookie batter with a wooden spoon. A pair of my sweatpants, too large for her, hung around her hips; and she wore one of my t-shirts knotted up underneath her breasts, baring her midriff. She looked over her shoulder at me, hair falling messily in pieces from its ponytail, and my heart swelled just looking at her.

  “What?” I asked. I was distracted, too distracted by the fact that this girl- this girl who I’d loved for so long, this grifter who’d conned Coker- was standing in my apartment, wearing my clothes, and baking fucking cookies.

  Cookies.

  Like she was Martha Stewart or something.

  Tempest turned around, her back against the counter, the bowl and spoon in her hand. “You’re staring,” she said. “You’re looking at me like…I don’t know what it’s like, but you’re creeping me out.”

  I grinned. “Oh, I’m creeping you out, am I?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I’m not sure if you’re hungry or -”

  “I’m definitely hungry,” I said.

  Tempest smiled. “You just had your fill of me this morning.”

  “I know. And now I’m starving again,” I said. “What were you asking? I’m too distracted by the fact that I can see right through that shirt you’re wearing.”

  “Wait,” Tempest said, turning around and setting the bowl down on the counter. “Is there a cookie sheet here?”

  “Do I look like the kind of guy who has cookie sheets in his house?” I asked. “You should have told me you wanted me to pick those up at the store when you sent me for the cookie stuff.”

  Tempest sighed. “Do you have a pan, at least?” she asked. “And I was asking, how long has it been since I’ve been here?”

  I opened the counter and handed her a flat pan. “The days are blending together, aren’t they?”

  Tempest looked at the pan, her face scrunched up. “I guess this will work,” she said. “It’ll just be one giant cookie, right?”

  I watched as she poured batter into the pan, the act of us cooking in the kitchen now a regular routine. It had been three weeks since she’d agreed to stay here, since she’d decided to press the pause button on everything else that existed outside of this place. When she left to get her things at the bed and breakfast where she’d been staying, I was sure she wasn’t coming back.

  But she’d returned not even an hour later, standing in my doorway.

  The next day, I was certain that she’d be packing up and running. But she stayed. And one day turned into three, turned into ten, and now it had been three weeks.

  I felt myself getting used to having her here.

  She felt like home.

  I didn’t want to go back to reality. There were things I knew I’d need to deal with - Elias had called last week after someone had told him I’d gotten arrested, and started to lay into me, so I knew he was wondering what the hell was going on. I needed to rejoin the real world at some point.

  But holing up here with Tempest was the closest I’d felt to peace in a long time. And I thought she felt the same way.

  My cell phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. I ignored it the first two times, but on the third, Tempest insisted. “Seriously, Silas,” she said. “Answer the damn thing already. Just because we’re holed up here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t answer your phone.”

  I chuckled as I walked into the bedroom to get it. “Hello.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” Trigg asked. “Shit, man, I’ve texted you and called you. What the hell?”

  “I’ve been busy,” I said.

  “Too busy for your fucking friends?” he asked. “What, you screw one girl who’s out of your league and you’re suddenly hot shit?”

  I was silent.

  “Wait,” Trigg said. “Are you still screwing her? You’re not still in Vegas, are you?”

  “No, I’m not in Vegas,” I said.

  “You didn’t say you weren’t still screwing her either,” Trigg said.

  “Because it’s ridiculous and I’m not answering that.”

  “You are,” Trigg said. “Shit, man, I’ve known you how many years now? I know when you’re avoiding shit or trying to lie. You’re the worst damn liar in the world.”

  “Trigg,” I sighed. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Well, I want to know about the TV producer chick,” he said. “But since you’re not talking about that, I’ll tell you why I called.”

  “That would be nice,” I said. “Getting to the point would be wonderful.”

  “I’m doing you a damn favor, Silas,” he said. “You could be a little nicer about it.”

  “Sorry, Trigg,” I said, my voice sing-songy. “Did I hurt your feelings? I’ll even say please.”

  “You should,” he said, fake sniffling. “Quit screwing around. I wanted to tell you that some weird shit has been going on with Coker.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked warily, waiting to hear that Coker was looking for Tempest and the rest of her team.

  “He’s all around the fight circuit looking for fighters, bragging about some big money-making opportunity he has going on,” Trigg said. “International fights. He’s talking about making people stars. Abel and I are obviously not idiots. But some of the guys are getting into it.”

  I exhaled, my relief palpable. Whatever Tempest had promised him, Coker was apparently too much of a tool to have realized that they weren’t going to deliver. “Yeah, I would stay out of that, Trigg.”

  “Do you know something about it?” Trigg asked.

  I stopped. Tempest would want me to be discreet. “Nah, I don’t know anything,” I lied. “But if it’s something Coker’s involved in, you don’t want to be.”

  Trigg was silent for a minute. “Roger that,” he said. “There’s another opportunity for you, though. Coker’s not involved in it at all. One of the other promoters wants you- he’s been trying to get in touch. There’s a fight coming up that has a big purse. Ten grand. Have you been keeping up with shit?”

  Had I been keeping up with shit? I’d been running in the mornings with Tempest, using the heavy bag that hung in the corner of the garage downstairs for practice.

  I wasn’t supposed to be fighting. Doctor’s orders. The last fight had been impromptu, unexpected, really. I was doing Abel a favor.

  I wasn’t trying to get back into it, but the pull was strong.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been keeping up with shit.”

  “You should do this fight,” he said. “I know that last one was it for you, that you paid off your tab to Big Johnny, but it’s ten grand. That would be a lot of weekends bouncing, you know?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, thinking of Tempest in the other room. I knew she’d hate the idea of me fighting.

  “Ten grand, Silas,” he said. “This guy had a hard-on for you specifically. He’s been trying to track you down. What could you do with ten grand?”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, hearing Tempest behind me.

  “What’s there to think about?” Trigg asked.

  “Dude. I said I’d think about it,” I said.

  “Well, think hard about it,” Trigg said. “And fast. It’s coming up real soon. Need to know ASAP.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I’ll let you know.”

  I hung up the phone and turned to face Tempest, who slid her arms around me. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “That was one of the guys I trained with out in Vegas,” I said. “Did you know Coker hasn’t figured out that you’re scamming him yet? He’s looking for fighters for some international TV channel or something.”

  Tempest grinned. “I told you we’re good at this,” she said. “We usually string them along for a while. Emir