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“How much are you talking?”
“Don’t matter if you’re not interested in my little fight club.”
“I’m interested if I’m making money.”
“You only make money if you win.” Bobby touches his chin while he considers me. “From the looks of you, you ain’t winnin’.”
“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Then again, from the looks of you, you ain’t readin’.”
Bobby laughs, revealing several missing teeth. “All right, smartass. Come down to the ring tonight. Steve will take you. Show you how to get in. Then we’ll see if you make me any money.”
“Here are the rules,” Bobby shouts. “No weapons of any kind. If you get knocked out, or tap out, the fight is over. Other than that, anythin’ goes.”
This guy is seriously on a Brad Pitt power trip. Think he memorized the entire script from Fight Club?
It’s after midnight. Steve led me downtown to a building that’s under construction. Inside, we were escorted down a flight of stairs into the basement.
Roughly one hundred spectators stand around a makeshift octagon—metal barricades to separate the crowd from the fighters. Men in expensive suits with shiny watches shout over each other as everyone places their last-minute bets.
I need that money.
“Tonight, we got a newbie goin’ up against Destroyer.”
Destroyer? There’s no way in hell I’d go by a dumbass name like that.
The crowd boos as I climb over the barricade. I flip them off and they boo louder. I don’t need fans. Just need their cash.
My opponent jumps over the barricade and stalks toward me, fists raised in front of his face. He’s got about a buck fifty on me and at least six inches in height. I don’t know a damn thing about boxing, but I’ve been in enough fights to know when I’m going to lose.
Tonight, I’m definitely going to lose.
I’m not nervous though. I didn’t come here thinking I’d win. You don’t need to win a fight to prove yourself. All you need is heart. Tenacity. I’m underestimated because of my size, but what they don’t know is that I’ve got nothing to lose.
And that’s the most dangerous kind of person.
I last all three rounds with Destroyer. I got a few good shots in, but he pretty much rearranged my face. Totally get his nickname now. I think my jaw is broken.
But when he’s declared the winner, I’m still standing and ready for more. Random people in the crowd clap me on the back, and Bobby asks me to fight for him again.
“We need to beef you up, string bean.”
“Then I need to get fed,” I say.
“I’ll see what I can do about that.”
Chapter Eleven
The Present
Carla
“Pivot! Pivot!”
“Stop making me laugh. I can’t breathe.” I set my end of the table down and double over.
Mallory drops her end and wipes her eye with the back of her hand. “That is one of my favorite Friends episodes. It’s never not funny.”
“Come on. We’re almost there.” I grunt lifting the table again. “How much did you say you paid for this?”
