Crash: A Bad Boy MMA Romance (4 page)

I woke with my stiff cock in my hand, the memory of Harper's face still fresh in my mind.
Damn.
I had to get this girl out of my system. Finding her wasn't going to happen, but finding some other piece of ass probably would. I pulled myself out of bed and slipped into some clothes. As I was making myself a pot of coffee, the phone rang.

"Hello," I said.

“Mr. Nolan," an American man said from the other end of the line.

"Yes." I figured this was probably a promoter or someone who had learned I was going back to the States today.

"Mr. Nolan, I regret to inform you that your mother Jessica Nolan has passed away."

I didn't speak for several moments and the telephone line hung silent. My mother had always been there for me. Her sweet and calming presence was a consistent reminder of who I turned out to be.

I hadn’t been able to face her in the last year, and that was part of the reason I'd spent so much time in Brazil. She'd wanted me to come home to LA, but I'd pulled my usual bullshit and told her I had other things to do.

"How?" I finally uttered.

"Your mother had stage three breast cancer," the man said.

"She never told me she had cancer," I said angrily.

"Your mother's been sick for quite some time. As her attorney, I must inform you that as her next of kin, it is your responsibility to dispose of her estate."

His words were so clinical that I could barely think. It just couldn't be happening. The last time I’d seen my mom, I'd given her some bullshit excuse about why I couldn't stay. She'd never told me she was sick. That was so like her to keep it to herself. Anger and desperation bubbled in my gut, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to make somebody pay for the pain I was feeling. But I couldn't do any of that. This attorney, my mom, I couldn't take it out on either of them. I couldn't take it out on anybody except myself.

"I'm on my way back to the States today. I'm in Brazil right now, but I could come see you tomorrow morning."

My voice was distant and soft. I almost didn't recognize myself. Even when a buddy of mine had been blown to bits in front of my face, I hadn’t felt this kind of pain. My mother was everything to me. I had been such a jackass. I'd been a selfish fuck.

After I’d gotten out of the service, I’d told myself I would change, I'd stay home, I'd be a better son, but I had taken off just like always and left her alone. This time, I’d left her alone to die.

"That will be just fine, Mr. Nolan.”

I hung up the phone and sat in silence, staring at the carpet. Nothing felt real. It felt like someone was playing some sick joke on me. It was like I’d gone to hell and I was paying for all my sins.

But the one who was really paying was my mom, and I had been the devil who'd hurt her.

All the way to the airport and during the entire flight back, I was barely present. I medicated myself with the hardest liquor I could find.

I arrived in the States as the early morning light was rising over the city. The plane set down, and I was home. Los Angeles could be a princess or a bitch, depending on who you asked or who you were.

It was a princess for the wealthy and beautiful. The ones who had it all, the Hollywood producers and billionaires. It was a bitch for everybody else. Bumper to bumper traffic on crowded highways, poverty and gang violence, drug addiction and prostitution.

I’d barely made it out alive myself. As an angry young man on the streets, I could have become a gangbanger like so many of my friends. Even a white kid like me could join a gang, deal drugs, smack people down for the scraps that small time criminals could find in a broken world like the ghettos of Los Angeles.

But my mother’s integrity and watching her work her fingers to the bone as a maid, just to put food on the table for me, gave me at least a little bit of honor.

I’d joined the service right out of high school. I’d graduated. I’d made her proud. Maybe the last time I ever made her proud? But she was there that day. Watching me get my diploma. I remembered the smile on her face and that look in her eyes. It was one of the proudest moments of my life, even though getting a high school diploma didn’t mean shit. It meant a lot to her, so it meant something to me.

That’s why I’d joined the military instead of joining a gang. But I’d thrown it all away by leaving her. I didn’t know if I could ever forgive myself for that.

Instead of thinking about it, I’d drunk myself into oblivion for the last twenty-four hours. I hailed a taxi and gave the Middle Eastern driver the address to my mom’s lawyer’s office. It wasn’t far from her house in East LA, and I sat in the back of the cab in silence the whole way there.

When I got there, I gave the driver a big tip, feeling more generous than usual. Maybe if I gave back a little, it would take away some of the guilt I was feeling.

But I doubted it.

I slammed the door closed and stood in front of the strip mall lawyer’s office in the bright glow of the Los Angeles morning sunlight. I slid my shades over my eyes and looked around. The place wasn’t going to open for another fifteen minutes. I went into the coffee shop next door, hoping the coffee would help sober me up from the bender I'd been on since leaving Brazil a day ago.

I walked inside and pulled off my sunglasses. A girl I recognized from the old neighborhood was behind the counter. Maria or something. Her light brown skin gleamed under the frilly white tank top she wore. I walked up to the counter and recognition sparked in her eyes. Andrew?" She asked. Nobody but my mom had called me Andrew in a long damn time. I was still searching for her name when she relieved me of the responsibility.

“It's me, Martha. Do you remember me from high school?" she asked.

“Of course," I said, glancing down at her hands. I didn't see a wedding ring there. "Martha, how’ve you been since high school?"

"Pretty good. Can't complain. I heard about your mom. I'm really sorry," she said, her eyes growing sad. "Is that why you're back? Last time my mom talked to your mom, she said she hadn't seen you in a long time.”

"That's why I’m back," I said. The prodigal fucking son returns.

"What can I get for you today, Andrew?"

"I'll take a triple espresso over ice," I said, wanting to mainline caffeine as quickly as possible.

"Coming right up," she said, moving towards the espresso machine. I glanced over the counter at her ass. Martha still had a kick ass figure and a sweet little behind. That I remembered from high school.

My eyes ran down her thighs and her legs, noticing the short skirt she was wearing and the knee-high boots. My eyes rose again and rested on her cleavage as she sat my drink in front of me on the counter.

I'd never tapped that in high school, but I was thinking that tapping it now wouldn't be such a bad idea. I paid for the drink without flirting or trying to make plans for later. For some reason, all I could think about was Harper. It was like everything that I had ever been in my life had suddenly been cut off.

What the fuck was I supposed to do now if I couldn’t get my dick wet? I was not cut out for being celibate. And there was no fucking way I was going to ever find Harper Kelly.

I walked back outside. The lawyer’s office was open, so I went through the front door and told the middle-aged secretary that I had an appointment with the attorney. She eyed me up and down, taking in my physique. I smiled at her and rubbed my belly, knowing what she was thinking.

I’d had a few older women in my day. The thought of Harper flitted through my mind again. Her thick thighs. Her round ass. Her plump breasts and lips. The little dimple in her left cheek. The twinkle in her pretty almond shaped eyes as I sank my cock inside her.

The sound of her moaning in my ear would haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn’t fuck somebody else soon.

The lawyer called me back, and I went into his office, chugging my espresso. I sat in the chair across from his desk, and he slid into his office chair, fumbling through stacks of paper.

“So, what do I need to do with my mom’s belongings?” I asked.

“Her rent is paid through the end of the month, so you will need to get her things out by then. Unless you plan to take up residence there. Then that is between you and the landlord.”

“I can’t live there,” I said. There was no way I could stay in my mom’s house, the house I’d grown up in. Way too many memories to play on my guilt.

I had some money saved up from my military days and from my wins in Brazil. I could get a new place in a much better neighborhood than where my mom lived.

“So, here are the keys to the house. Her will is pretty straightforward. She’s left everything to you. She doesn’t have any debts. Even her medical bills are paid off, so all that is free and clear. Do you have any questions?”

“Not really,” I muttered. I was ready to get the hell out of this two-bit office. Not that I wanted to go deal with my mom’s worldly possessions. But I’d learned that the best way to deal with a challenge was to crash right through it.

I swiped the keys off the desk and stood, turning away from the lawyer.

“Sorry for your loss,” he said to my back.
Now he acts like a human being.

“Yeah, thanks.”

I strode out of the office and through reception area. I could feel the secretary’s eyes on my ass as I walked out the door. For a moment, I considered going back to the cafe and hooking up with Martha. But my heart wasn’t in it. My mom had just died, and I couldn’t get that fucking doctor out of my mind.

I went down to the end of the street and waited at the bus stop until the Fifty-nine came and picked me up, headed for the old neighborhood. Palm trees and bag ladies under the California sunshine. The bus stunk of piss, so I opened the window. A girl across from me threw me a shy glance. She smiled and quickly looked away. Spreading my arms out over the back of the chair, I spread my legs wider and gave her a slight grin.

She giggled to her friend and put her earbuds back in. My stop came up, and I pursed my lips at the girls as I passed. They giggled even louder that time, but I didn’t stop to get their numbers.

Descending the bus steps, I took in the sight of my old neighborhood. I’d lived in this place my whole life until I’d joined the military. My mom’s little pink house came into view as I walked up the narrow, cracked sidewalk. The front yard was still manicured with begonias and palms. My mom always was a nurturer.

Walking up the front path, I pulled the key out of my front pocket and trotted up the porch steps. Memories flooded my mind. Lemonade on hot summer days. A skinned knee from falling off my bike. My mom’s loving smile when she comforted me.

Shit.

This would have been much easier if my mom had been a bitch. I slid the key into the door and turned the knob. The musty smell of medication and body odor hit me. It smelled of sickness and death.

I nearly gagged walking in and left the front door open behind me. Flipping on the ceiling fan, I coughed. This place needed to be aired out big time. Had she actually died here? The thought of my mom dying at home alone made my stomach lurch and sink. Across the kitchen was her antique liquor cabinet. I was going to need some liquid courage for this shit.

I opened the tinted glass door and peered inside. A bottle of bourbon sat waiting for me. Not even opened yet.
Nice
.

I pulled off the cap and took a swig before surveying the lay of the land. Papers were stacked on every surface. There was a pile of dirty laundry in the hallway. This place was a mess.

I groaned. This was not my area of expertise. They didn’t teach killers how to clean out dead women’s houses. Feeling morbid and morose, I walked into the living room and flipped on the TV. Who knew how fucking long this was going to take?

My mom’s favorite soap played across the screen of an old ass TV. It was like she was telling me “Welcome Home.”

Two and a half weeks of grueling hours at the hospital were taking a toll on all of us. I hadn’t left the hospital for a few days and was starting to feel like I might faint from fatigue. That’s about when I knew it was time for my shift to be over.

The hours a new resident had to work might be cruel and unusual punishment, but it was like a rite of passage for young doctors. I wasn’t going to puss out and complain. Not that my class wasn’t complaining. Mia and Ava could barely hack it and whined to each other every chance they got in the locker room. I didn’t intend to participate in the complaining. It wasn’t like it would make it any easier.

After an eighteen-hour shift, I was finally going home to sleep in my own bed. Pulling off my scrubs that smelled conspicuously like BO, I threw them in my duffel bag to take home to wash. Putting my jeans on felt like slipping into a warm, comfortable glove. After being puked on, pissed on, having blood spewed all over me, and the general fatigue of a resident shift, my street clothes felt like haute couture.

I pulled my fleece over my head and sat on the bench to pull on my shoes and tie them up. My stomach suddenly did a flip flop and I could feel the vomit spiraling up toward my mouth.
Shit!
I ran to the bathroom, just before it unloaded into the toilet.

God.
The work load was even getting to me. I remembered Crash in the Atlantic but brushed it aside. This was nothing a good night’s sleep and some warm food wouldn’t cure. I flushed and went to wash my face and hands. Scooping water in my palms, I sipped it into my mouth to wash out the taste. I’d need to brush my teeth when I got home. If I could stay awake that long.

I pulled some scratchy paper from the dispenser and wiped my face and hands. A few other residents piled into the room, telling dirty jokes. I grabbed my duffel bag and said my goodbyes to my friends.

Out in the parking lot, a cool breeze blew over my face, bracing my skin. I shivered. Even in LA, it could get a little nippy sometimes in the winter. Using the remote key, I unlocked my car and threw my duffel bag in the passenger seat. Just as I turned over the motor, my phone rang.

I pulled it out of the side pocket of my bag and looked at the ID.

MOM.

I was way too tired for my mom right now. But I knew that if I didn’t answer, she’d just keep calling. Somehow, she knew my schedule. I flicked my thumb over the answer button and put the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Oh, Harper. I’m so glad you answered.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of busy.”

“You just got off your shift.”

“I’m busy getting ready to drive home and sleep. That qualifies.”

“Oh good. I’m glad I caught you. Why don’t you come up to Don’s house? We’ve got plenty of room, and it’s so much closer to the hospital than your house.”

“I’m not going to be very good company, Mom,” I reasoned. Maybe she’d let me off the hook. I didn’t think I could handle my mom and her new rich ass white boyfriend while sleep deprived.

“Nonsense. Come up to the house. We’ll make you some food. I mean, Gloria will make you some food. Her enchiladas are to die for. Then we’ll let you sleep.”

“I need to sleep now.” I wanted to tell her I’d just puked my guts out in the bathroom, but I didn’t want to give her any sign that I was too weak to hack it in the ER.

“Just come up to the house. We have something really important to tell you. Plus, Gloria’s enchiladas really are excellent.”

“Okay. Fine,” I finally agreed. I mean, enchiladas were my favorite and having them cooked by some rich dude’s cook didn’t sound half bad. At home, I had half a carton of spoiled half and half and a moldy bagel.

“I’ll text you the address. It’s just over the hill toward the water.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll be there in a few.”

I hung up the phone and a text pinged onto the screen. After keying in the address to my GPS, I backed out of my parking spot. A few minutes later, I was on the way to her boyfriend’s place through some of nicest neighborhoods in Malibu. It
was
a lot closer to the hospital than my place. The GPS directed me to a driveway that led through lush, tropical vegetation. Who had this much land in LA county for God’s sake? This guy must be loaded.

My mom had only been dating him for a few months. I hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet, with all my work and the trip to Brazil. She’d moved in over the holidays while I’d been gone. I thought it was going way too fast. But… whatever made her happy. She deserved a little happiness after being single for so long.

My dad had left us both when I was a little girl. Neither of us had heard from him since. At least, that’s what my mom told me. Growing up without a father had made me stronger in a lot of ways. But it also gave me this gaping sense of emptiness that I felt I needed to fill. Unlike most girls with daddy issues, I filled my emptiness with work instead of men. 

I pulled up in front of what could only be described as a mansion. It was in a modern style with big glass windows that looked out onto the view of the lush private grounds. It must have been on about five acres from what I could see, and had a long stretch of private beach down the hill from the house.

Holy shit.

Calling Don “well off” was the understatement of the millennium. This guy must have literally been a billionaire. When she’d told me what he did, I hadn’t paid much attention. Something about the movie industry and land development. I’d been too distracted to listen to her gush about her boyfriend right as I was breaking up with mine.

As sweet and supportive as my mom could be, she’d liked Jeremy way more than she should have, considering what a dick he’d turned out to be.

I guess at the end of the day, he was just the “right” sort of person. While I was just really starting out my career, Jeremy was already well established in his. He made three times what I made as a resident, working eighty hours a week. Not that it would be like that forever, but for now, I was basically paid slave wages.

A maid in a black and white uniform opened the front door when I approached and graciously invited me inside. The front hall was painted in rich, dark tones of gray. The polished wood floors gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the big open windows.

As the maid guided me through the house, I was most captivated by the amazing views of the ocean and the property. I emerged into a comfortable sitting room where my mother was chatting with Don as they lounged on the long, modern sofas.

“Harper! You’re here. Good. Lunch is almost ready.”

“Great,” I said wearily. I didn’t have the energy for my mother right now. Or this fantastic house.

Don stood and shook my hand, introducing himself as Donald Porter. He was tall and good-looking for a man in his late fifties. Dark hair was dusted with gray, but his physique was still fit and built. He towered over my tiny mom, but I could see the gleam in his eye when he looked at her.

"Your mother has told me a lot of good things about you," Don said, giving me a brilliant white smile.

"She's told me a lot of good things about you, too," I said, eyeing my mother. The fact was, my mom had told me very little about Don. Their relationship was a bit of a shock to me. They were moving so fast.

"I'm so glad you came over," my mother said, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"Lunch is ready," a small, plump Hispanic woman said from the hallway.

"Thank you, Gloria," Don said.

We all followed the cook into the dining room. It was a room with another massive window that looked out over the ocean. A long, modern table was surrounded by cushioned high-back chairs. The enchiladas had already been brought to the table, and when everyone was seated, Gloria began serving them.

She slipped a fantastic smelling enchilada onto my plate. My stomach was still gurgling from earlier, but I didn't feel the need to run from the table to throw up again. I really needed to get some sleep or I was going to be hurting on my next shift in twenty-four hours.

"This looks fantastic, as usual," Don said to his cook. There was a pitcher of sangria at the table, but I knew I couldn't stomach it after the incident at the hospital.

"Christie tells me you're in your first year of residency at Santa Monica General," Don said, digging into his enchiladas.

"I am. I've been working all my life to get to this point.”

"Young doctors work a lot of long hours from what I understand," Don said.

I simply nodded my head as I ate my lunch. I wasn't going to complain about the hours in front of my mother. She wanted me to go into an easier specialization then surgery, and I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I'd thrown up at the hospital today.

“We've been talking about your work schedule and the fact that my house is so much closer to the hospital than your house is," Don said.

"That's true, it is much closer than my house. Thank you for inviting me over for lunch today."

"This wasn't just for lunch, honey. Don and I have something important to tell you," my mother said, barely containing a look of glee on her face.

"Really?" I said, taking another bite of enchiladas. Were they going to pay off all my student loans?

"We have very special news," my mom said. Don reached out and grasped her hand. They gave each other a meaningful look, their eyes full of adoration.

"Christie and I are going to be married," Don said. I dropped my fork on my plate from the shock. It made a loud clang, and they both cringed.

"What?" I looked from one to the other, taking in their gleeful expressions. "But you've only been dating for a few months."

"When you get to our age, there's no point in waiting anymore. When it's right, it's right," Don said.

My mother was giggling and grasping his hand, looking like a high school girl with her first boyfriend right before prom.

"Aren't you happy for us, honey?" my mother asked.

"Of course I am, Mom."

“The other thing we wanted to talk with you about," my mother started. "We were thinking that it would be more practical for you to come stay here at the house instead of living in your old rental. It's so much closer to the hospital. We'll get more time to spend together. You won't have to make that commute. And when you need a nap between shifts, you can just come over here and sleep in a regular bed instead of one of the cots at the hospital."

Everything she was saying sounded fantastic and immensely practical. I could already feel myself crawling into one of the assumedly luxurious beds in Don's fabulous house. But the fact that my mother was getting married to a man that she’d only been dating for a few months just wasn't registering.

This was a woman who had always been so careful. The woman who had always counseled me to be cautious, to wait, to bide my time and to make sensible decisions.

She was jumping into a marriage with a man she barely knew. Sure, Don seemed like a nice guy. He was definitely rich and handsome and all that. But I just couldn't understand why my mother, of all people, would make such a rash decision.

"What do you think, honey?" my mother said. The look in her eyes was so full of hope and expectation. I couldn't let her down by telling her I thought she was an idiot. Suddenly, I snapped back to myself and realized I was being rude.

"Congratulations, you two," I said, trying to bring myself back from my social blunder. It wasn't my responsibility to tell my mom want to do. She was a grown ass woman after all. She'd raised me. She'd sacrificed and worked all my life to take care of me. But now my saintly mother was acting like a whimsical teenage girl, and I just didn't know how to handle it. I finally decided that the best course of action was to behave as if it were all completely normal.

“I think it's great you two are getting married," I said. “And I would love to stay here in the house."

It was true, I did want to stay in the house. It was huge. My mom and Don's relationship might be a little bit weird, but I was sure that middle-aged adults were quieter and less disruptive than my current twenty-something roommates who had managed to get through medical school while still partying on a weekly basis. Plus, I was sure that the accommodations were nicer than mine. And, you know, free food.

"It's settled then!" my mother said, clapping her hands together giddily. "Then you'll be able to help me plan the wedding!"

Oh great. There was the catch.

"Sure, Mom. When is the wedding, anyway? Next year?”

"We're going to be married in a month," my mother said. If I’d had food in my mouth, I would've spit it out.

"One month? You've got to be kidding me." My mother's face fell. "It's just so soon," I said.

"I know, honey. I know it's hard to understand. It's okay if you feel shocked.”

"It is a little shocking."

"Let me show you your bedroom," my mom said, rising from the table.

"Okay." I followed my mom down a hallway to another wing of the house. She opened a door, and we walked into a room that was twice the size of my room at my rental house. It had double doors that opened out to a patio overlooking the ocean. I walked into the room and sat on the big king-size bed. It was more comfortable than any bed I'd ever felt.