Losing All But The Fight. (complete) updated.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 8.

"Ally?" Vance question softly from the doorway.

I continued to cut in around the ceiling with my paintbrush. "Yeah?"

The apartment had been coming along nicely. We were into the second week and all we had left was painting. Right now, I was back in the bedroom. I figured it was as good a place as any to start.

"So how's that job panning out?" He asked, catching me by surprise.

My paintbrush paused for a moment before I dragged it along again. I hadn't seen Vance all that much in the last two weeks because of the time I was now spending down at the gym. After the first two fights Rick let me fill in as many fights as I wanted. This week I would have three which after the next one I would qualify for a larger purse, double what the first string fighters get. Rick knew that though. That's way he was letting me blow through the first string nearly back to back. If I kept it up for a few more weeks I would have enough money to stock a few extra toys and a scouting trip back home. Not saying it was the plan from the beginning but I wanted a little extra give in my resources.

"Uhh...it's ok. I'm making good enough money...just it's not really a long term thing. I'm still keeping my eyes open." Sure it wasn't a direct lie. I hated not being able to tell Vance the truth. It's for the best.

"Ever think about being a painter?" His light tone made me chuckle.

"Shut up, Vance. That's a horrible idea!" I turned giving him a smile and a wink. He was sporting some gray sweatpants and a white shirt. "Is that your painting uniform, sir?"

He groaned but nodded. "Where do we start?"

"I've already started, so I'll make you my bitch." I giggled when his mouth dropped open. "Your first task...MUSIC!!"

Three hours later and both Vance and I couldn't decide if we were drunk or high on paint fumes. "Well daaaaarrrlling?" I drawled out in a goofy accent. "I do believe we have done a bloody good job here." I stood in a classic thinking man stance with a hand on my elbow and the other under my chin while I took in our work.

Vance chuckled and threw an arm over my shoulder. "Good! You do know I can't take you seriously like this, right?"

I pushed up the black lenseless nerd glasses I found in an old box with painters white tape across the nose and looked up at him. My hair was crazy, strands were escaping my hair binder and I could feel paint on my face. I tried for professional and failed so I settled for pouting. "That was just hurtful."

Vance pulled me into a tight hug. "Oh, pumpkin. Stop it." He laughed even though he was trying to be soothing. "You look like an adorable, broken puppy when you pout."

Laughing I squirmed out of his arms, pushing him away. "So." I sauntered off with my arms behind my back, appraising our work in a little circle. "We only have the kitchen left to paint and a few spots with the accent color. I say we made good time."

"Good thing too."

I abruptly turned around and squared off. "What do you mean!?"

Vance gave me and odd expression and then his face started to turn red before he bust with laughter. What the hell?! Trying his best to calm himself, he stood up again and failed. "I can't look at you!" He chuckled. "At least take the glasses off. You look like a miniature porn star trying to pose as a librarian dipped in paint. I just..."

I cut him off throwing up my hands. "Bloody hell! Answer the question!" I wasn't even British, I just really liked the term bloody hell and couldn't help myself. Vance was still laughing his ass off and trying not to look at me so I took off the ridiculous glasses and tossed them on the counter smiling at him.