Page 18 of Ruthless Salvation

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s fight night, and I’ve wanted to go to one since Blaze told me about them. Torin has a match, and I wouldkillto see him in the ring. Something tells me he’ll be incredible.” She bit her lip in a way that made me unexpectedly stabby. I decided not to examine the odd reaction.

“I’m not sure that’s my scene.” I’d never understood how people could enjoy watching two men beat one another to a bloody pulp.

Micky was on her feet, hands on my shoulders like a coach pep-talking her star player to bring home the win. “Please, Storm. I don’t want to go alone, and I really,reallywant to go.”

“Aren’t those fights illegal?” I couldn’t risk getting arrested, and it was just as important that Torin not think I’d gone to watch him fight, though I had to admit to having a degree of curiosity.

Her head cocked impatiently to the side. “From what I hear, there aretonsof people. And they have these things down to a science; there’s hardly any risk of it being busted.”

“Tons of people?” It was the wrong thing to say. I realized my mistake the second the words were out, and Micky’s lips spread in a giddy grin.

“Yes!” She threw her arms around me. “You won’t regret it. We’ll have so much fun watching all those rippling muscles.”

I hadn’t technically agreed, but I couldn’t seem to refute her either. She was so dang excited, and her mention of rippling muscles had conjured a mental image of Torin that made my throat suddenly dry. Surely, if there would be loads of people, he wouldn’t notice us in the crowd. I could assuage my curiosity and indulge my friend. It felt so good to have friends again that I wanted to do what I could to keep them.

“Alright, alright. You can figure out the plan and text me. I need to set up the bar before Jolly comes looking for me.”

“Shit, yeah. I don’t even have my eyelashes on, and I need to make some cash so I can put money on the fights tomorrow. It’s way more fun when you have a little stake in the game.” She gave me a wink, then turned back to her mirror, a grin still lighting her face.

I got to work without any run-ins with Torin. A small part of me had worried how he might react to seeing Luke, but when he stopped by the club briefly, he never even looked my way. As far as I could tell, my ploy had paid off. There were no awkward interactions, and I didn’t detect a shadow tailing me on my way home.

The successful turn of events reassured me that a night at the fights wouldn’t be an issue. My daddy used to watch pay-per-view fights. I was never a fan of the violence, but I could endure one night for a friend.

* * *

“I didn’t knowyou were into wigs!” Micky trailed her fingers through the long auburn strands of hair draped over my shoulder.

“I’m not really.” What I was into was not being seen by my stalker boss. “I just have a couple for fun.”

“I’ve thought about it, but those things are pricey. Maybe when I’m out of school and not watching every dime.”

“Like the dimes you plan on gambling tonight?” I razzed her with a playful quirk of my eyebrow.

She reflected my attitude right back at me with an epic side-eye. “We all gotta have our priorities.”

We both stared at one another for a pregnant second before bursting into laughter.

Thirty minutes and three subway stations later, we walked up to a crumbling old building with a faded sign reading Electric Avenue Skating Rink. The entire neighborhood looked forgotten in time. It was the perfect place for a pop-up fight night.

We filtered inside the front entrance past a pair of scowling thugs. Each person to enter was then patted down for weapons in what used to be the rink lobby. The wood paneling original to the 1970s was still present, though warped in areas. The floor was checkerboard with what was probably asbestos tiles, and the speckled drop ceiling was missing in sections. Otherwise, the place wasn’t in terrible shape. Brightly colored prints still hung in their frames, and ornamental light fixtures that reminded me of the oldJetsonscartoon hung overhead.

However, the vibe was different once we entered the main part of the building. The rink had been gutted. The room retained almost nothing related to its original purpose save for a giant disco ball hanging from the ceiling. An elevated boxing ring had been set up directly underneath it in the middle of the room, and several hundred people were packed in around the ring or standing in lines at the row of booths housing bookies along one wall.

The air was thick with moisture and anticipation. And sound. So much noise that pressure built in my ears. An announcer commentated from a microphone but was still hard to hear over the cacophony of shouting and music.

The energy was overwhelming.

My heart thundered in my chest as I watched a fight already underway. I knew from seeing bits of pro fights with my dad that a series of smaller fights took place leading up to the main event. I had no idea where Torin might fit in that line-up. For all I knew, his match could have already ended.

The possibility brought on a wave of unexpected disappointment. I shoved the emotion into a cute little Mason jar and vacuum sealed that sucker shut. I had no business wanting to see Torin in a fight or any other capacity aside from a paycheck.

That’s why you’re wearing this ridiculous wig, remember? No entanglements with dangerous men.

Adequately chastened, I stood dutifully in line with Micky. As soon as she placed her bets, we squeezed our way through the crowd of bodies.

Micky said something over her shoulder, but I couldn’t make it out. Between the hearing trouble I had in my left ear and the ruckus everywhere, it was all a blur of sound.

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