Blake: A Bad Boy Romance (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Blake finished fifty pull ups and landed on the soft mat of the gym, rolling his shoulders as his arms burned. It felt good be back at the gym. It felt good to be back at work. He had missed almost an entire week of training after his arrest and everything that followed. But Blake was in exceptional shape. He could take a week off and not have it ruin him. He was still strong and fast and he was ready for his upcoming fight.

Jamal tossed a heavy exercise ball at Blake and he caught it before throwing it back. They went back and forth, throwing the heavy ball at each other, working the muscles in his abs and arms. It was a punishing training. Jamal was making him pay for his many missed sessions. But Blake like being pushed; he liked seeing just how strong he really was. It gave him confidence to push through the pain and keep going.

He got a break, finally, after fifty push ups and Jamal, like his own personal warden, let him take a break for a phone call. He called Ivy, and was happy to hear her voice on the other line. She told him what the police said. The part about her safety troubled him. He didn’t like that the police themselves said she was in danger.

“Can I come see you?” Ivy asked into the phone. “I’m bored here and I think maybe I want to pick up where we left off with our training the other day. I know how to punch, but I imagine there’s more to it than that.”

“Yes, come whenever you want. But do me a favor and use the car service,” he said. He was worried about someone tampering with her car, or grabbing her in an empty parking lot somewhere. It was all too easy for him to imagine it: Ivy walking alone, the wind whipping her hair about her, and then the squeal of tires as someone raced up behind her, grabbed her, and stuffed her into the trunk.

***

She arrived dressed for the gym in a pair of yoga pants and a tight tank top that showed off the curves of her body. He couldn’t help but be proud of the fact that he was with her. She was so beautiful and smart and heads literally turned as she passed. But she was his and his alone.

He smiled as she approached him. “Ready to work?”

“Yes,” Ivy said. “I’m ready to be your pupil.” He took her hands and wrapped her knuckles in tape and then kissed her palm before he let her go. “Don’t get soft on me now, Lambert,” she said with a crooked smile.

“Not a chance,” he said. He positioned her in front of a punching bag. “I want you to kick and hit right here,” Blake said, pointing to a spot about halfway up the punching bag. “The heel of your foot needs to hit right here.”

Ivy nodded and he watched as she squinted and focused on the bag. She got into position and lifted her leg and then kicked hard at the punching bag, pushing it into Blake. “Good,” Blake said. “Ten more.”

Ivy did ten reps on either side and then he gave her a break. She was out of breath and there was a thin film of sweat on her face and chest. Blake realized it had been a long time since he had seen her blush. Perhaps she had moved past her bashful stage; maybe she was harder to embarrass now. She had grown stronger right in front of his eyes.

“Okay,” Blake said. “That was good. Now I’m going to teach you some basic self-defense moves. The eyes, throat, stomach, and groin are the major weak points. You are smaller, so you don’t want to try and fight your way out of a situation. You need to be smarter than that. If someone attacks you, you need to hit their weak points as fast as possible and then use the time to get to safety.” Ivy nodded, but Blake needed to be sure she understood. “These moves are not so you can beat your enemy to a pulp. They are just ways for you to escape a dangerous situation. Now, put your hands up. Don’t let me attack you.”

Ivy dutifully put her hands up. Without a word Blake snatched out his hand and grabbed her wrist. He spun her around and then pulled her back against him, holding his arm across her throat. In one smooth motion he had trapped her. She gasped against him and struggled, but there was no getting out it.

He released her and she looked up at him aghast. “That was easy,” she said and the blush was back on her chest.

“I know,” Blake said. “I’m going to show you how to prevent it. When someone grabs your wrist like that,” he said reaching out and grabbing her, “you must act quickly. Don’t let anyone get the upper hand. Don’t think, act. When I grab your wrist I leave myself open to attack. Your legs are still free. So kick me hard, right in the stomach.” Ivy nodded. Blake released her and then he came back quickly, grabbing her wrist, but before he could pull her close she pulled on his arm and aimed a kick right at his solar plexus. It connected and Blake let out an “oof!” as he let her go. “Good job,” he said with an appreciative nod.

Her hit was nothing to him, but he was used to being hit. To the average man it would be quite the attack.

“Next time, when it’s not me. Aim for the balls,” he said with a smirk and Ivy nodded. “And remember the eyes. Someone has you in a headlock you use both your hands on their eyes. Don’t bother trying to fight off their hands. Go for the eyes.”

Ivy nodded and Blake moved on to other maneuvers. But with every new defense he found a new attack followed. There were so many ways for a smaller person to be overpowered. So much was given to the element of surprise. How could he ever truly prepare her for every threat that Darryl could bring?

“Do you smell smoke?” Ivy asked as she massaged the sore knuckles of her hand.

“Don’t try to distract me. We’re only just getting started,” Blake said with a smirk.

“I’m serious,” she said, looking around the gym. But she wasn’t the only one who sensed something. Heads in the gym were raised. People were looking about them, taking off their headphones and wondering at the commotion.

The fire alarm went off. It echoed loudly across the bare walls of the gym. And Blake winced as his ears became accustomed to the noise. “Let’s go,” he said as he took Ivy by the arm.

She grabbed her bag and together they joined the large crowd of people making their way to the exit.

“Blake, there you are!” Jamal said as he and Ivy stepped out of the parking lot. He hurried over to them and then glanced at Ivy as he spoke. “Can I talk to you, alone...”

“Why?” Ivy demanded. She knew the language that people spoke in. She knew when they were trying to protect her from something she was already well acquainted with.

“Your car...” Jamal said.

Blake took Ivy by the hand and together they walked to his car in the parking lot. There was a crowd of worried people around it. They were taking pictures and whispering to each other as Blake and Ivy approached.

He had all four tires replaced last night. But now tires were the least of his worries. All of the windows of his car had been destroyed, the front and back windshields, as well. The shattered glass was scattered over the blacktop and sparkling in the grey, rainy light. Across the hood of the car in garish yellow paint was one word: whore.

The sound of sirens calling from atop police cars and fire trucks could be heard getting ever closer. Blake walked towards the car, his feet crunching over the broken glass. He peered into the car, but there was nothing inside, only more broken shards of his windows.

“Someone set the fire,” Jamal said from Blake’s window. “I just heard from one of the cleaners. There was a trashcan filled with torn up newspapers in one of the bathrooms. Whoever did it surrounded the trashcan with dry towels. But someone got it with an extinguisher and put it out before it got too bad.”

“Darryl,” Blake said. It had to be. He glanced over at Ivy.

She was standing with her arms crossed as she frowned at the car. Her face was serious and her eyes were hard and Blake knew that she had moved past her fear of Darryl. There was no fear in her eyes, only righteous anger.

Chapter Forty

Ivy slept well that night. She shouldn’t have. Darryl had destroyed Blake’s car and set fire to the gym while she had been in it. He was becoming more deranged by the day and still the police couldn’t find him. He was broke and desperate and most likely living on the street. But still he eluded capture. Like a rat that could squeeze through any opening and kept managing to find ways to escape.

But after a day at the gym and a night with Blake, Ivy was beyond exhausted. She fell asleep in his arms, her head resting on her shoulder. She only woke once during the night. She had been in a deep, dreamless sleep when the faraway sound of an alarm going off woke her from her slumber. Blake was sitting up in bed, listening. He was tense and she could see the muscles on his back straining.

Ivy listened, too, but she could only hear that far away sound of a distant car alarm. “It’s nothing, Blake,” she whispered, reaching up to touch him. She put her hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down to bed. He lay on his back, but he was wide awake, his eyes staring at the ceiling. “Go to sleep,” Ivy whispered as she rested against his chest. She felt him slowly relax and then drifted back off into darkness.

In the morning there was still no arrest. Darryl was still out in the wild. But Ivy wasn’t worried. She liked to imagine him living on the run. The spoiled little rich boy who never had to want or work for anyone suddenly out on the streets. Was he cold, hungry, miserable? In the deepest most secret part of her heart Ivy hoped so. She hoped he knew what it was like to be miserable.

The fight was getting closer. Blake was in training all day, and Ivy was doing some work from home. He was still generating headlines and people were still desperate to talk to her, but she found ignoring their requests easy. Women’s magazine, serious magazines, talk shows, they all wanted to talk to her. But she wanted to talk to none of them. She knew that if she ignored them they would eventually stop. But she wasn’t the only one getting offers.

“
GQ
?” Blake demanded.

“
Gentleman’s Quarterly
,” Tim said. They were eating take-out food in Blake’s kitchen. Tim had come by to personally give the offer. “They want you on the cover, a photo spread inside, and a full length article to go with it.”

“That sounds like great news,” Ivy said looking between Blake and his manager wondering what the other shoe was and when it would drop.

“It is great news, very good. But, there is one thing you should know.”

“What?” Blake asked.

“It’s a sex issue. So, they will want to talk about you and the sex tape.”

Blake looked at Ivy, but she wasn’t sure what her response should be. Should she be embarrassed? Should she stop it? “What do think, Ivy?” Blake asked.

“I think you should do it,” Ivy said with a shrug. “I mean, the tape is out there, but it’s hosted illegally. People will have to do some work to find it. People know about it, so maybe there’s no reason to run from it anymore. Maybe instead of the sex tape being some sort of thing that punishes us, it can be something that helps us.”

“Ivy is right. People like it when celebrities have a sense of humor about themselves. Running from it and letting be a thing you’re embarrassed about will only make it more of a taboo and people will only talk about it more. Embracing it with a shrug and a wink is the best thing you can do.”

Blake drummed his fingers on the table. Ivy knew he was really worried about her. He would love nothing more than to be labelled an official sex symbol, a title he would wear with pride. She gave him a crooked smile and a nod. He had her permission. He could be a sex symbol; she had no problem with that because he was hers alone. She knew he would never touch another woman as long as they were together. She wasn't worried he would stray.

Whore
. That was the word written on his car in jagged yellow spray paint. Darryl’s message. He thought it a taunt or something they should be ashamed of. He wanted them to hide their love away. But, instead, they would do this. They would embrace it. Blake would be a sex symbol and the tape something they regarded with a weary shrug. It was sure to drive Darryl to the breaking point.

“Do it,” Ivy said. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“All right,” Blake said with a shrug, “I guess I’m doing this.”

***

Ivy went back to work. She refused to let it be weird or awkward. She forced herself to walk with confidence and look at everyone she passed in the eye. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed about. She was dating guy who was about to be on the cover of
GQ
and the shallowest part of her loved it. She worked the entire day, catching up on emails to her clients and checking her deadlines. It felt good and it felt normal. Darryl, wherever he was, wasn’t this. He was probably hiding in some dank hole somewhere and Ivy still had her life; she was going to beat him.

“I want to see it,” Ivy said.

“Absolutely not,” Detective Diaz said as she crossed her arms. “It’s violent and deranged and nothing comes of you seeing it. If it goes to trial, you’ll see it then.”

“I deserve to see it,” Ivy said and she stamped her foot, unable to control herself, but still smart enough to know she shouldn’t shove a cop.

“Ivy, maybe it’s best if we don’t see it. They still don’t have Darryl-”

“That’s all the reason we should know!” Ivy said.

No one understood what she was feeling. They had found Darryl’s dark, dank hole. It was a motel about twenty miles outside of town. It was a decrepit old place with chipped paint and falling rafters. The rooms were rented out hourly to the truly desperate. But Darryl had paid in advance; he had been there for four weeks. Until he went to jail. He went forty-eight hours without paying and the manager opened the door. He expected to find a dead body in the bed, another overdose. But, instead, he found Ivy. Dozens of pictures of Ivy. Ivy walking around town, Ivy at the gym. Close up, long shots her face lined the walls. In some pictures her eyes were blacked out. In others there were large red exes over her eyes and mouth. It was disturbing.

The owner called the police and the manhunt picked up new evidence. They knew what car he was driving and they knew he was flat broke. He was going to do something desperate now. Whether it was hold up a convenience store or try to kill himself no one could say, but he would have to show himself soon.

Ivy had been able to see a few pictures of the evidence, but only a few. She wanted more. She wanted to go there and stare where he stood. Then maybe she could figure out what this monster had been thinking, she could finally understand why he had been so obsessed with her, or the idea of her.

There were guns, too. Three handguns and a sawed off shotgun and lots of shells. But the shells were scattered about the room like he had thrown them and the detectives were still counting. They had warned residents of the city to be on the lookout for Darryl. He was wanted, and very dangerous and citizens were advised to call the police and stay as far back as possible.

“But we don’t think he has any guns on him right now,” Detective Diaz said. They were standing in Blake’s living room photos splayed out on the table in front of them. “We don’t think he’s gone back to the motel since he was arrested. He didn’t have any firearms on him when he was taken into custody, so we’re hoping he stashed them all at the motel.”

“But why would he leave them there and not have any way to pay the motel if he got arrested?” Blake asked.

“He paid with one of those renewable gift cards. They’re like an untraceable debit card. People put money into the account and whoever has the card can use it. We don’t have access to the parents’ financials, but we think Darryl’s parents have officially cut him off and he’s run out of any reserves. He expected the money to be in the account and the room and all of its contents to still be there when he got out. But no money was put in his bank account, so none went to the card, and the motel room was officially unpaid for.

“So, he’s got no money, no one to call, nothing to sell, what’s he going to do?” Ivy asked.

“We don’t know. But we want you two to be as careful as possible. Try not to go out alone, always tell people where you’re going and when you expect to get there. Make sure someone is looking for you.”

Ivy felt Blake’s hand squeeze hers and she nodded at Detective Diaz. She was ready. Whatever it was Darryl wanted to throw at her. She was ready for it.