Free Bruiser: A Lonely Housewife Embarks on a Passionate Affair with an Alpha Male MMA Fighter by Simone Scarlet Page B

the karate center distracted him from his thoughts. Banging on the glass door was a crew of seedy looking guys in t-shirts and dark glasses, lugging plastic bins and camera equipment.
    Brandon’s pal Vinnie was with them, and as he waved at Brandon through the door, the karate instructor unlocked it and let them in.
    “They’re from the MMA league,” Vinnie explained, as he ushered the camera crew in. “I told you they wanted to shoot a video about you.”
    “I could have done with some notice, man,” Brandon sipped his coffee. “The place is a mess. We’ve only got two classes this morning.”
    “The place is perfect ,” it was the guy in charge of the camera crew – a towering southerner who introduced himself as ‘Bubba.’ “It’s just what we’re looking for – it’s Rocky ’s meat-locker meets Average Joe’s gym from Dodgeball .”
    Brandon was familiar with both those movies, and wasn’t exactly flattered by the comparison.
    “The retarded… I mean special needs kids arrive at eleven,” Vinnie grinned. “And all the ghetto brats from Trenton get shipped in after school ends.” He rubbed his hands together eagerly. “You’re going to get some great footage. Just make my buddy Bruiser look good, okay?”
    Bubba grunted laconically – which, Brandon was soon to discover, was how he communicated about 50% of the time.
    “And as for you ,” Vinnie turned to Brandon, and thumped his friend on the shoulder. “We need an interview… Let’s get some footage of you sweeping the floors… Cleaning the windows.. All that humble, American-pie shit.” He snorted. “We’re going to make James MacDonald look like Prince Harry in comparison.”
    “Yo,” Bubba grunted. “We want some footage of training as well. Beating the shit out of a punching bag, sparring with somebody.” He held up a tiny camera on a monopod. “We GoPro that shit – in slow motion it’s going to look boss .”
    Vinnie narrowed his eyes.
    “You got anybody to spar with, Bruiser?”
    “I’ll call in my buddy who teaches the yellow belts,” Brandon nodded. “He’s nineteen. He’ll love being on camera.”
    Bubba nodded, and turned back to his crew. A moment later they were setting up equipment, and doing the really important stuff – like ordering breakfast. Brandon made sure to get a plate of pancakes added to their order from the local diner.
    Finally, he and Vinnie retreated to Brandon’s office, and shut the door.
    “Holy shit, man,” Vinnie grinned. “This is really happening .”
    “My thoughts exactly,” Brandon flopped down into the creaking leather seat behind his desk, and looked up at the row of trophies lining the opposite wall.
    They’d been good times. Some of the best of his young life.
    But even as he considered that, Brandon remembered an old Frank Sinatra movie he’d watched years ago – the original Ocean’s Eleven , before George Clooney had gotten his hands on it.
    It was about a bunch of WWII vets planning to pull off a heist in Vegas; and Dean Martin played the one character who tried to talk them out of the scheme.
    “Good times are only good once you’ve had ‘em,” he’d warned the group of aging paratroopers.
    Brandon was hardly aging – but even at 24, he’d been out of the professional fight circuit for nearly three years. Out of everything this bout was going to be, he knew more than anything it was going to be tough .

Chapter Twenty Eight
     
    Ava
     
    “Are you okay, honey?”
    Clark’s voice snapped Ava out of her daydream.
    She’d been standing at the kitchen counter, making Lex a Nutella-on-whole wheat sandwich – and it had taken her practically five minutes to stick the knife in the jar.
    “You’ve been acting really weird ever since you got back from the karate center,” Clark grabbed the knife, and finished Lex’s sandwich – before licking the Nutella off the blade. “Is everything okay?”
    Her red-faced, round-bellied husband narrowed his