Page 10 of Shattered Diamonds

“Are you feckin serious?” I turn in his arms. “Jacob said he lost his finger in an unfortunate accident.”

“It was an unfortunate accident for him now, wasn’t it?”

“I can’t… I’m… Ciarán, seriously? Tell me what the difference is between then and me standing here now?”

“You’re with me. Now, tell me who you want for your bet, and let’s see if we can find a bathroom.”

He pushes his way through the mass of people. I follow close behind.

“Luca! Luca! I’ll take a grand on Rock! I’ll take Ghost for five!” Shouts are yelled at the guy taking bets.

The guy standing next to who I assume is Luca is younger. He’s holding a pen and paper marking all the bets. Money soars through the air, thrown in their direction as if it has no value. It’s sickening, but I also get the thrill and excitement of underground fighting because here I am, stepping up to these two men to make a bet.

“How much and who?” Luca demands, not looking up, his attention on the wad of cash in his hand.

I shrug, unsure, looking up into his deep, hard eyes when he finally glances up. Shrugging once again I turn back and silently ask my cousin for help with the decision. “I only have fifty bucks,” I tell him.

“Who do you want?” He turns to Luca and hands him a wad of cash.

“Ghost,” I tell him. “Ghost will knock Rock out in the first round.”

Two sets of eyes shoot in my direction. Unease ripples down my spine. I glance at my cousin nervously, waiting for an answer as to why the air surrounding us just became so intense. I look to the younger guy who is now watching Luca take my cousin’s money with a disapproving glare. His eyes slide over, connecting with mine. Then he looks back at Ciarán. The moment becomes tense, uncomfortable. I become anxious. Luca lifts his gaze over Ciarán’s shoulder. With a sharp jerk of his chin, he hands the cash over to the young guy as if he had to wait and get permission to take the bet. “If she wins, she has to collect the cash herself. Alone.”

My heart sinks. Boulders take action, freefalling to my lower belly. I want to reach out and grab my cousin’s money and run, but the young guy, whom I now know as Joseph, already has it stuffed away.

“Ciarán.” I grab hold of his forearm.

“It’s fine.” With his hand on my elbow, he starts to lead me away, but then he stops and turns back when he hears the guy Luca call him.

“Ciarán,” he thunders, his deep voice demanding. “He’s not happy about this.”

I’m stunned in my spot, standing in unfamiliar territory. The tension is high. Words are silently spoken between the two.

“I can take my bet back.” I step out of my cousin’s clutch and towards Luca. “If I didn’t bet properly, I can take it back.” I glance over my shoulder at my cousin and then give my attention back to Luca and wait for his decision.

“Your bet will be dealt with.”

“What does that mean?” I pierce him with a fierce glare before glancing back at Ciarán because I can’t hold my counterfeit bravado much longer.

“Enjoy the fight.” Luca nods, turning away and taking another bet from someone else, effectively dismissing us.

“Thank you,” I utter, stepping away, not knowing what else to say. I watch him from the corner of my eye, protecting myself.

“Ciarán,” Luca’s deep voice calls for his attention. “Take her to the third tunnel. There is a bathroom down on the left. It’s private.”

I stop in my tracks. Shocked that he overheard me say I had to use the restroom.

With his hand on my lower back, Ciarán confidently maneuvers me through the crowd. Two men stand guard at the rope blocking the tunnel we were told to go down. The behemoth of a man on the left has his hand against his earpiece, intently listening. His examining regard connects with mine. He opens the rope, nods at me, and holds his hand up for Ciarán to stop. I stop short and retake the steps back to my cousin.

“Go on. It’s okay. I’ll wait right here for you.”

“No, that’s okay,” I nervously tell him. “I can wait.”

“Haven, go use the restroom. You will be fine. I’ll be right here when you come back.”

I want to question him but there is a tone to his voice that urges me to go on. With each step down the dimly lit tunnel, the roaring of cheers becomes less and less earsplitting but still loud. When I approach a corner and realize I must turn to find the bathroom, my nervousness makes me glance back and check to make sure Ciarán is still waiting. He’s in a full-blown conversation with a man I have never seen before.

I see the opening to what I believe is the bathroom. There is no sign posted, just a curved opening in the rough cement wall. Light flickers inside a glass case next to it. It almost looks as if it is a real fire burning. I trudge along, making my way to the entrance, relieved to see a door with a toilet behind it. It’s nothing extravagant, a toilet and sink, but to my relief, it is clean. I do my business and wash my hands as quickly as I can. With the last swipe of my hands under the water, the air suddenly changes, becoming thicker. I finish rinsing and reach to turn off the water. A creepy feeling that someone is behind me makes my gaze shoot up to look in the nonexistent mirror. I take a deep breath, knowing my nerves are playing a part in my uneasiness. It’s damp and the lights are dim which makes it scary. My stomach flutters. Gooseflesh robs my skin of its smoothness. Short, shallow breaths take up residence in my diaphragm. I turn from the pedestaled sink to see if someone else has entered the drab space. I shake my head, talking myself off the ledge, then flick my hands free of the remaining water since there are no hand towels to dry them. My internal senses tell me I need to get back to my cousin. I know when I am at his side, I am safe. With quick steps, I rush out the door. Nervous energy makes my feet move faster than they should in the heels I’m wearing. My rational thoughts become overshadowed by a pulsating fear.

---