Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance by Roxy Sinclaire, Natasha Tanner Read Free Book Online

exit.
    Regret filled me for leaving Adam on that bus. I could have left with him, gone anywhere in the world, or at least in the country. He could have come with me, booked a flight with all that dough, and we could have just gotten lost in New York together, running off from my aunt. He was the closest thing to a friend I had anymore, I just left all of mine behind without any warning. He was the only person who seemed to really understand what I was going through, even if he didn’t know the full truth.
    I wished I had just figured out a way to keep him near me, his strong arms blocking off the awful world I kept getting sucked into. I kept picturing his face, so full of concern, caring for me even though I know I’d probably only been awful to him. I felt more guilt for him than I felt for either of my parents.
    I grabbed my carry-on and began to get off the plane, suddenly surrounded by the loud hum of people in the JFK airport. There wasn’t much room to be left alone with your thoughts there, and I was more than thankful for that.
    My Aunt Jo met me at the luggage carousel and pulled me into a sweeping hug. She had tears prickling at the wrinkles on the corners of her bright green eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of sympathy basically radiating off her. I hated it and got the impending sense of doom that I’d be getting that look from a lot more people in the following weeks.
    “How was your flight honey?” she asked, looking me over.
    “It was fine,” I lied. I kept my eyes flat on the luggage carousel, not wanting to give her more pity ammunition. She’d eat up every word if I gave her any.
    A man kept looking over at us, I could feel his eyes on us, and I regretted my aunt’s reaction to seeing me. I was worried we’d made a huge spectacle, and I couldn’t stand it if more people were going to be giving me looks of pity. Frowning, I turned and looked over at him, curious to see what the hell he was looking at.
    That wasn’t pity on his face.
    He began to approaching me, and somehow I didn’t think he was checking me out. “Hi, I’m Chet Hayver,” he said, thrusting his hand out to me. He was tall, moderately attractive in the way that most fake things are. I shook his hand though, cinching my brows together a little in a confused smile.
    “Brooklyn White,” I replied, letting go of his hand. I could feel my aunt tensing up behind me.
    “Brooklyn, how old are you?” he asked. That was straight forward. He was refreshing after what I’d been surrounded with for the last day. My aunt cleared her throat, we both looked toward her and she was borderline glaring at him.
    “Oh! Nothing funny,” he said, waving his arms for a moment, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.
    Chet Hayver
    Talent Scout
    Taking the freshest faces to the highest places.
    Springs Eternal Agency p 555-555-5555
    [email protected] o 555-555-5555
    “I’m seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in December,” I said, still looking down at the card. It was pretty classy, thick off white cardstock, light gold over the lettering. Springs Eternal wasn’t in the best taste for an agency name, but what did I know—I hadn’t been approached by one before.
    “I’m sorry, she’s grieving right now, I don’t know if this is appropriate,” my aunt said with that same damn sad face. It struck me that she was living off the drama in my life. She didn’t care if I was upset, she cared that it made her look good to care. Chet was quick to rebuttal: not to her though, to me.
    “Brooklyn, I’m looking for some new talent, and you have such a look,” he motioned to me. I didn’t feel like I looked like much and I wasn’t wearing my best things, but I had to admit I’d always considered going into acting. “I could easily get you gigs in Hollywood, you’d be a star in no time I guarantee it,” he said, as if I was supposed to take his word just because of a card. “Actually we’ve got a project