Page 34 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“You do make a pretty cat. But I’d rather hold a beautiful woman in my arms all night, if it’s all the same to you.”

With a soft hum, Deepa said, “Can I ask you a question, if you promise not to get sentimental about it?”

Roz raised her brows. “Sounds intriguing. Also sounds like a trap.”

Frowning into the roses, deliberately not looking at the other woman, Deepa asked, “Do you believe in love?”

Roz made an incredulous sound.

“True love, as the stories say. One half of another soul, and such.”

“Yeah, fairytales aside, I believe in love,” Roz replied, amused. “Might have even fancied myself in love, once or twice before.”

“Truelove?” Deepa repeated, twisting around in Roz’s arms to look at her this time. “As in, soulmate love?”

“Yeah,” Roz said with a shrug and a smile. “I do.”

“And you thought you’d found it before? But it couldn't have been true love, then, if it didn't work out.” Deepa immediately winced at her lack of tact.

“Maybe not, but there's all sorts of love. Some of it fizzles out. Some of it isn't strong enough to stand up to outside forces.” Roz paused for a second, as if there was some specific example still fresh in her mind. Deepa didn’t have the chance to ask before she continued. “But yeah, I think there's a love out there that can last forever, if I can find it.”

“That’s overly romantic,” Deepa informed her.

“What about you? I take it you don't go in for that sort of thing.”

“I can believe a love like that exists,” Deepa allowed reluctantly. “For all the one-sided infatuations and train-wreck relationships I've seen, I’ve also seen couples head over heels foreach other years after getting together. If that's not real love, I can’t imagine what is.”

“But?” Roz prompted, stroking Deepa’s arm.

“But, I don’t think it’s for me.”

A month ago, Deepa would have declared it proudly. Love was a frivolous, if not dangerous, thing, and she would never risk ensnaring her heart when it was cold calculation and manipulation that would get her all she wanted. Now, with that leopard waiting for her every night, for the first time, her loveless life seemed something of a failure.

“It’s a vulnerable thing, I’ll give you that,” said Roz. “Opening yourself up to love. I can see why you wouldn’t want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just don’t think you much enjoy being vulnerable, that's all.”

“And you do?” Deepa touched one finger to the broken bridge of Roz’s nose. “A boxer who can knock a man flat with one punch and lift girls one-handed is hardly a picture of vulnerability either.”

“I'm soft where it counts,” Roz said quietly.

As if admitting some grave sin, Deepa said, “You make me want to be a softer person.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

With a sigh, Deepa distanced herself from the warmth of Roz's side. “I can’t afford to be.”

“Things change,” Roz offered.

“Not fast enough. When I think about how far I have to go…”

“Do you never look back to see how far you’ve come?”

Deepa shook her head. “I can’t risk becoming complacent. When I’ve made enough money to buy my mother a nice home of her own, and I can keep myself comfortable without taking to the stage every night, then perhaps I’ll stop long enough to celebrate my successes. But not before that.”

“Seems to me you've achieved plenty already. Not enough, I know,” Roz added, before Deepa could interject. “I just think you could do with having someone celebrate you once in a while. Remind you how remarkable you are.”

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