Page 25 of Twisted Lies

Chapter 12

Astrid

You can’t sneak into the Pit while a fight is on, but during the week, it’s just an old, abandoned warehouse. Justin parks his Range Rover behind the dark, empty building on the side that doesn’t face the street. His light blond hair reflects the pale light from the moon, highlighting his refined profile.

“Do you play guitar?” I ask him.

His expression is indifferent to the question. “Yeah, why?”

I shrug. “You look like you would.”

“You want me to serenade you sometime?” he smiles teasingly.

I grimace. “Please don’t be that corny.”

“Why, Astrid?” He faces me. “Don’t you think you deserve to be romanced?”

I swallow as if he’s figured out my desire. “I never really thought about it.” And I really haven’t. At my old school, if a guy liked you, he let everyone know you weren’t available, and then he’d show up at your house with a stolen TV. Wow, my life has changed.

I shove the car door open and get out, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. Pacing underneath the multi-pane windows, I look for one to break to get inside when Justin pulls out a ring of keys. I gawk as he opens the back door by the changing rooms.

“We decided not to use a keypad or cards,” he explains, “The locks are easy to break in.”

“Like we’re doing now?” I smirk.

He wraps his arms around my waist. “How are we breaking in when I have the key to the city?”

I smile and wrap my arm around his waist as we stumble into the building. He heads over toward the office where the rich kids hide out. I look at our reflection in the glass and smile. “I’ve never been in here before to watch us get beaten up.”

“Watch us?” he asks. “Club members shouldn’t fight.”

I don’t answer him. Grinder was right. I’ve been placed on the opposite side. I wasn’t consulted, but it was done. I stepped over the tracks into a strange new world, and I better get used to that fact.

I walk over the threshold in a state of awe. The inside of the office looks nothing like the rest of the Pit. It’s spacious with dark leather sofas and widescreen monitors mounted on the walls. I assumed they all crowded in front of the two-way mirror to watch the fights, but they obviously don’t. They relax on overstuffed couches and chairs and watch us battle it out on the screen.

I turn around when Justin turns up the dimmers, and my jaw hits the floor and bounces. “Look at that fucking bar!” I squeal.

The back wall of the entire room is a fully loaded bar of name-brand liquor. I grab a bottle, and it’s not the cheap vodka that burns chapped lips. This is the expensive stuff. I take the cap off a whiskey bottle and take a sniff.

Justin laughs. “You can take a sip if you want.”

I put back the cap and shake my head. The refrigerator has a glass front like a cooler in a store, and maybe I should just stick to those. Justin takes down a bottle of tequila in a glass skull from a high shelf. That stuff is valuable, and it goes down smoothly. That won’t burn my throat.

“Let’s have this,” he says.

“Won’t someone complain when it’s gone?” I ask.

He scowls at me. “There’s a cover to be in this room. I’m entitled to anything in this room, and so are you.”

Nervously, I look away, and he uses his fingertips to tilt my face back in his direction.

“You’re entitled to anything in this room,” he says.

“I’m not entitled,” I snap, backing away.

“Why?” he asks, “Because you didn’t sweat to earn money to pay for it? Little girl, you have a lot to learn about being rich.”

I turn away and look at all the pricey stuff surrounding me, all the things they enjoyed while I was out there in that ring like a savage. And the crowd was herded into a warehouse like animals. Shoulder to shoulder, sweating and screaming while they watched Rome burn, sipping fine wine.

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