Page 47 of The Catalyst

Just fucking great.I groan.

“I thought you said your mom stopped that shit,” Nigel growls, irritated. He’s not happy at all.

Once everything was settled between me and my mom, I told Nigel about her trying to set me up with Devon Jordan, and that probably wasn’t smart on my part because the volatility between those two has never been worse. Granted, I thought it was all over.

Stupid wishful thinking.

“She said she was. She hasn’t said anything to me.”

“Am I missing something?” Michael asks, amused. He has no clue what’s going on, but he thinks something about this is funny. It’s not funny at all, though. Maybe it would be if I hadn’t been living it.

“Her mother has been interfering with our relationship,” Nigel mutters before I add, “It’s her midlife crisis. She’s constantly trying to set me up, but no offense, I would never come to your house for dinner.”

Michael snorts. “Trust me. I don’t even want to. Imagine sharing a table with a sociopath, a drunk, and a bunch of people running in and out of the room pretending not to see a goddamn thing. It’s stifling.”

Suddenly, I feel a kinship with Michael. His home is even more of a prison than mine, and I felt like I was drowning. I can only imagine how he feels about his family. The way he describes it reminds me of the times my mom would drag me to church after my dad died. Everyone could see that we were dying on the inside but ignored it because ofGod’s will.

Screw God. God didn’t save my dad or stop my mom from hitting me or getting drunk. God doesn’t exist. If he does, he’s a prick.

“Looks like it's time,” Michael mutters as he nods ahead. “My brother is coming out.”

If every single fight Nigel has is against Martin Gray, I will gladly watch just to see that asshole get what’s coming to him.

“Just a friendly warning. If your brother comes near my girl again, I’ll kill him,” Nigel says so nonchalantly I almost miss it.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that tonight,” I murmur as my eyes find Martin in the crowd, and the sight of him shocks me down to my core.

He’s not alone. The tall, charming blonde man carries the beautiful blonde woman over his shoulder like she doesn’t weigh anything. It’s not just any girl, but Casey, Nigel’s ex.

I would yell for someone to help her, but she’s laughing and smiling as Martin hauls her around like a piece of property. It’s one thing to do that in private or around close friends, but I doubt she knows everyone in this room, and I bet money that she’s plastered.

“What?” Nigel gapes at me, and then his eyes follow where my gaze is focused—the scene of Martin and Casey. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, that’s been happening,” Michael says, but my gaze doesn’t leave Martin. If he puts a finger on her in any way she doesn’t want him to, I’ll bring out my brass knuckles and beat him worse than my boyfriend would.

“For how long?” Nigel asks.

“Pretty much since you guys broke up. Mom has been on his ass to put an end to it. Honestly, I don't think it has anything to do with you at all. Casey had been trying to get in good with Martin since long before you two ever dated. He's the one who kept friend-zoning her, but something must've changed.”

I don’t like Casey. As a matter of fact, she’s a little cunt, but she’s also a person. A living, breathing human with thoughts and feelings. She may be a bitch, but that doesn’t make her a bad person, and I don’t trust Martin. It seems strange that he waited until after Nigel dumped her ass to take her up on her offer.

She doesn’t seem in need of rescuing, though. She looks happy with him.

“Come on, babe,” Nigel mutters as he grabs my hand and leads me away from Michael without so much as a goodbye through the crowd and to the middle ring.

Nigel strips off his hoodie as my gaze flashes to where Martin stands with Casey, giving her a big smile. He must feel my eyes burning a hole through the side of his head because he turns his head, his oceanic blues meeting my stare impassively. Then, he winks at me as if he knows I’m punching him in the face in my imagination, and he thinks it's something that would never happen.

Tell that to Devon Jordan. I’m pretty sure his balls are still recovering.

“Ignore him,” Nigel demands before kissing me, full of passion.

“Ditto,” I smirk before returning his kiss. Nigel’s dimple shows as he hands me his hoodie, and I slip it on. “Kick his ass.” The smile across my face spreads wider as my boyfriend sends me a wink as if to say, “That was the plan already.”

The match between Nigel and Martin has barely started when Casey steps in front of me, and almost simultaneously, Michael stops by my side.

Martin is smarter this time, and Nigel is more levelheaded. Nigel told me they have to be meticulous about where they hit. Give the crowd a show, but also wear out their opponent. The aim is five to fifteen minutes. The body can only take so much, and as long as the crowd has a good time watching the fight, they’ll still come back for more matches and bet on their favorite fighters. It’s the strategy of pleasing the crowd. This isn’t a legal match, so the only source of income Nigel gets is from the people who bet against him.

He has to make it look like a close call from time to time so people think he might lose someday, but mostly, he just has to stretch it out.

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