I flung open the door with a here goes nothing attitude and stumbled into the building. Stupid doorjamb.
I straightened and saw a woman dressed as a cigarette girl wearing a tiny hat sitting in an old-fashioned ticket booth.
‘You here for the fight?’ she asked, snapping her gum. ‘Participant or spectator?’
‘Neither,’ I said, walking towards her. ‘I’m looking for Lana Sharapova. I believe she’s expecting me.’ I raised my eyebrow knowingly.
‘Are you drunk?’
I smiled. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘Me,’ she said, curling a lip. ‘They make me clean up the vomit.’
‘I see. Well, fear not. I am tipsy at best.’
She gave me a sceptical once-over with some heavily make-upped eyes.
‘What do you want with Luscious Lana?’
I leaned on the counter of her ticket booth. ‘I believe that is for me and the Lana … I mean, the Lana … I mean, the lady to discuss.’
She shook her head and sighed. ‘She’s getting ready for her match. Go down that hall, turn the corner, and it’s the first door on your left. You’d better hurry. She’s up next.’
I nodded my thanks and headed down the hall.
Suddenly I felt very aware of myself. Perhaps the vodka had hit me harder than I thought. I tried to focus on walking normally, but that only made things worse. I needed to get this job done and have a coffee before my date with Pierce. I turned the corner of the hall, banging my shoulder against the wall. Up ahead an entourage of people in shiny black tracksuits was shuffling through the first door on the left, headed in the opposite direction. In the middle of the scrum was a blonde woman in a pink satin robe, two L’s embroidered on the back.
‘Lana!’ I called out. ‘Lana Sharapova!’
The group didn’t stop.
I scurried after them. ‘Lana! Mr Pushkin sent me!’
The group stopped in one solid mass. Then Lana twisted her head and grimaced, revealing a large gap between her two front teeth. Her gaze met mine, and then she spat on the floor.
I scuttled forward. A few of the men surrounding her backed away to let me into their group, then moved back around to swallow me in the swarm.
‘Um, hi,’ I said with a little wave. ‘I’m … actually, never mind who I am. I believe Mr Pushkin told you I was coming? He said you have something for me?’
She looked at me. Her eyes felt heavy on my face. Finally, she said, ‘Walk.’
‘Well, you see I’m kind of in a hurry. I have this important date. Well, it’s not really a date. But it has the potential to be a kind of a watershed type moment with—’ Lana had already walked away. I felt some man’s breath on the back of my neck, so I hurried to catch up.
When I reached her shoulder, she asked, ‘How is he?’
‘Who?’ I furrowed my brow. ‘Mr Pushkin?’
She stopped and spat on the floor again. At least I hoped it landed on the floor. ‘Oh, I get it,’ I said. ‘You do that every time I say Mr P—’ I caught myself just in time and wagged a finger at her. ‘Cool. I guess everybody needs a thing.’
Silence.
‘Um, he’s fine.’ She resumed walking. ‘He got a new eyeball today. That’s fun.’
We stopped before two large doors. I looked around the group. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.
Lana reached a hand into the deep front pocket of her robe. She pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it to me.
‘Oh, great!’ I gave her a big smile. ‘This was easier than I thought.’
She rolled her head around on her shoulders, giving off a few snaps.
‘Well, good luck with the fight,’ I said with a chuckle. ‘Hope yours goes better than mine did.’
I turned to leave just as Lana said, ‘Hit it.’
The doors banged open and deafening music that could only be described as the love child of death metal and hip-hop, rocked the air.
The entourage swept forward, carrying me into the throngs of screaming spectators. My eyes darted around the room. It was larger than I thought. Two levels of screaming fans filled the stripped-down auditorium that circled what looked to be an authentic retro wrestling platform. I had known going in that this was an underground fighting hall, but I hadn’t really believed it until this very moment.
‘Um, Lana?’ I shouted. ‘Now that I have the package, I’ll be on my way.’
An elbow caught me in the ribs.
‘Hey!’ I said to the man beside me. He didn’t meet my angry gaze, which left me glaring at his cauliflower ear.
‘No talking,’ he replied. ‘Look forward. Give scary face.’
I quickly looked around the entourage. They all had the same deadpan look, as though they couldn’t actually hear the music and screaming that would leave us all deaf by the end of the night. I sighed and caved in to the scary-man peer pressure.
A moment later, I found myself actually feeling pretty cool. The power of the entourage! I curled my lip a little to show some teeth.
‘Too much,’ the man beside me said, looking at me from the corner of his eye.
‘Right.’ I shut my lips. A few seconds later, we stood at the edge of the ring, and Lana’s music died, replaced by some hard country.
I wanted to look behind to see Lana’s opponent, but I didn’t want to disappoint the man with the cauliflower ears, so I kept my eyes on the view in front. It was a fairly typical crowd, I guessed, for this type of match. Everyone looked properly rowdy and drunk. But a group on the second level stood out. Actually, it was the man who stood out.
From this distance, he looked attractive enough … but … but … just no. I could have forgiven the slicked back hair. I could have forgiven the tuxedo with the open dress shirt and the bowtie, unravelled and hanging loose. I maybe could have even forgiven the fact that he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls in shiny jewel-toned dresses that squeezed their bodies like blood-pressure cuffs. And I only could have forgiven him for that because, really, what were those girls thinking, fawning over any man in a horde like that? But what I could not forgive was the aviator sunglasses indoors. Nothing spelled douche like sunglasses inside. Medical conditions excluded.
I jabbed the big man beside me with my elbow. ‘Who’s that guy?’ He followed my gaze up to the second level.
‘He’s Big Shot.’
I laughed. ‘Tuxedo and sunglasses does not a big shot make.’
He looked over my outfit. ‘What does dirty windbreaker on scrawny girl make?’
‘Hey,’ I said, furrowing my brow. Then my hand flew to my mouth. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Oh my God what?’
‘I just realised something,’ I said, trying to speak over my horror. ‘I am judgey.’
The man screwed up his face. ‘You not pudgy. You bony like starving chicken.’
‘Judgey. I’m judgey.’ The man nodded and looked away.
This really wasn’t turning out to be a very good night, and if this match didn’t get going soon, I was going to be late for my date.
‘You look unhappy,’ the man beside me said, turning back. ‘You want drink?’ He tipped a flask in my direction.
I waved him off. ‘I think I’ve had enough.’ I was already feeling the sad stage of vodka.
The match was about to begin, but I couldn’t help but spare one more glance up to the man in the stands. There was something about him … something almost familiar … something that made my chest feel a little tight.
The opposing entourage came into view and snapped me from my thoughts. The entire crew wore camouflage overalls and cowboy hats. Two female bodybuilders stood in the middle, their overalls cut into shorts. ‘Whoa, which one is Lana fighting?’
‘Both.’
I scoffed. ‘Well, that’s not fair.’
The big man looked at me sideways. ‘This was not surprise.’
‘Oh, right.’
Suddenly the voice of the announcer boomed through the auditorium. I plugged my ears, but that only earned me another elbow to the ribs.
Ladies and Gentlemen, in this corner …
I got up on my tiptoes to shout in my underground fighting mentor’s ear. ‘Is this going to take long? I’ve got a date.’
His eyes widened. ‘Down. Scary face.’
I dropped heavily back down to my heels. Scary face. I blew a thin stream of annoyed breath through my lips. Pouty face would have to do. I should be back in my apartment right now, putting on a dress, having fake conversations with Pierce, drawing hearts on my mirror with lipstick. Okay, maybe not drawing on my mirror—that was a fine waste of both lipstick and spray cleaner, if I had any—but the spirit of the fantasy was bang on. I watched all three women enter the ring and circle each other. Lana spat on the floor again. This sucked. I should just leave. I mean, what could they really do to me? Everyone was focused on the fight. They wouldn’t even notice.
I took a half-step backwards.
‘You sure you don’t want drink?’ Suddenly the flask was back in front of me.
Without thinking, I grabbed it and took a swig.
Hot alcohol exploded in my mouth before it burned a hole down to my stomach.
‘You like?’ The man asked with a smile in his potato-like face. ‘I make it myself.’
‘It’s great,’ I croaked.
A loud roar rose up from the crowd as Lana threw one of the duck hunters into the air.
I sighed heavily.
I should call Pierce.
I pulled my phone out from my belt and tapped his number.
‘Bremy?’
I plugged my other ear with the index finger on my free hand. The crowd thundered around me. Hopefully, Pierce could hear me better than I could hear him.
‘Hi!’ I shouted.
‘Where are you?’
‘Oh,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘it’s hard to explain.’ This was a problem. In the month or two I had known Pierce, I had told him a few lies. Needless to say, this had left us with some trust issues. As a result, I had made a promise to myself that I would not lie to him anymore. That being said, I thought my accepting a job as an errand girl for the mob was really something that should be explained in person and not over the phone.
‘It sounds like you’re in a death match at the Coliseum.’
‘In? No, no. That would be silly,’ I replied with a chuckle. ‘I’m just watching.’
He didn’t say anything for a second. ‘Oh, um, okay. I thought we had plans?’
‘We do! I’m just running a little late,’ I said, noticing out of the corner of my eye that one of the hillbilly cowgirls was leaning on the edge of the ropes staring at me while her partner was trying to pin Lana to the floor.
‘Oh.’
My concentration snapped back to Pierce. ‘No, oh. No, oh,’ I said, waving my hand as though he could see me.
‘Bremy, are you okay?’
‘Awesome possum.’
‘Have you been dr—’
‘You know what? Forget the whole late thing. I’m leaving now. I’ll be there. I … will … so … be … there.’
‘Okay. Well, good,’ Pierce replied, voice brightening. ‘You know, you don’t have to be worried about telling me what’s going on with you. I just want you to be safe.’
I shook my head. ‘I so want the same thing.’
‘Right.’
I tilted my head and smiled. ‘We have so much in common.’
‘Do you need me to pick you up?’
‘Ha! No,’ I said, imagining the horror of that. ‘I’ll meet you at the restaurant, okay?’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Me too.’
‘Good.’
I smiled again. ‘I mean, really, me too.’
‘Okay.’
‘No. I mean, I really—’
‘Bremy, are you sure you’re okay?’
‘Don’t question the awesome possum.’
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Where are you? I’m coming to get you.’
‘Hey!’ A new voice shouted seemingly at me. I looked up to the redneck huntress in the ring. She was pointing directly at me. ‘Aren’t you …’
‘Pierce, I gotta go. I’ll see you at the restaurant.’
I ended the call before he could say anything. I held the gaze of the ‘roided up woman looming above me.
‘I think she is talking to you,’ the man at my side said.
‘I got that.’
The woman shifted back and forth on her feet with a pretty serious thinking face on. ‘You’re that little socialite bitch.’
I chuckled awkwardly. ‘Me? A socialite?’ Oh, this was bad. I really didn’t need to be recognised here. I looked around the stadium at the hundreds of spectators, but all I saw were hundreds of phones with cameras.
As I said, my father and I have a complicated relationship. I hate him with the hatred of a thousand white-hot suns, and he occasionally tries to kill me for my lack of family loyalty. I couldn’t be absolutely certain, but aside for the occasional no-neck man in a suit following me, I was pretty sure my father was leaving me alone. The no-neck man was just his way of saying I can take you out anytime. If I got caught embarrassing St. James Industries by say, being part of an underground fighting racket, well, I was guessing that the anytime part of the take you out threat would come sooner than later, and I couldn’t take on my father just yet. Not until I found Ryder.
But wait! All was not lost!
I had a mask!
I quickly felt around underneath my jacket for the silky piece of black fabric. I strapped it over my face, and instantly felt better.
‘What are you doing?’ the man beside me asked. ‘You want to go in?’ He jerked a thumb towards the ring.
‘Oh, no,’ I said, pulling a face and shaking my head. ‘Actually, I really need to go.’
‘Hey!’ the voice yelled again. ‘It is you!’
I rolled my eyes slowly back up to the ring. Why couldn’t this chick just go and shoot the hell out of some poor duck already?
‘What? You think you’re cool, slumming it with the rest of us?’
I took a quick glance around. This was getting worse by the second. Most of the crowd was still focused on the throwdown happening between Lana and the other hillbilly, but a growing number of people was trying to figure out what her partner was yelling about.
‘I really have to go,’ I told the man quickly. ‘Maybe I’ll come back another time.’ I sidestepped around one of Lana’s men before pushing past another.
‘Hey! Get back here! I’ve always wanted to beat a rich girl’s ass!’
Nope. Nope. Nope. She may have thought her smack talk was going to get me in that ring, but all it was doing was making it clear that I did not have time for these shenanigans. I had a hot, sweet reporter waiting on me, and I already had some egg-splaining to do.
‘Hey, look Daisy!’ she called out again. ‘She’s leaving!’
I peeked one eye over my shoulder. Lana had the so-called Daisy in a headlock, but she still managed to grunt, ‘Who’s leaving, Lee Lee?’
‘That girl. The socialite. You know the one with the sister who’s a retar—’
A lot of things happened really quickly after that.
I tossed the package to the man I had been standing beside.
‘What are you doing, Little Chicken?’ he asked, glancing down at the package. ‘You fight now?’
‘Oh, you bet I fight now.’