I inhale a slow, calming breath and release it. “I’m really glad you’re next to me, because I’m gonna need to hold your hand. I swear I’ll try not to break it.”
“You got it, girl. Whatever you need.”
I give a wide smile to the entire audience as I scan it before turning to sit down. One face almost makes it falter.
See. You. Next. Tuesday. Herself.Lucy Byers.She’s at the end of the row, near the door to the cage.
I turn and drop into my seat before my smile turns into a jealous-for-no-reason glare. “What is she doing here?” I whisper to Harlow through clenched teeth.
“Who?”
“Lucy.”
Harlow turns to look before I can tell her not to. “That fucking bitch. I didn’t see her earlier. You want me to have security tell her to get the fuck out of here?”
I shake my head. “No. Because then she’ll cause a scene and I’ll have to kill her, and I don’t want to be stuck with only seeing Gabriel naked during conjugal visits for the rest of my life.”
“Wait, are you getting married?” Harlow asks loudly enough for Monroe’s head to turn on a swivel.
“Whoa. What did I miss? Did you get a ring?” she asks, reaching for my hand.
“No. No, I was just saying—”
“Lucy Byers is here,” Harlow says, explaining to Monroe before squeezing my hand. “If she bothers you, I’ll handle her. Okay?”
“Me too.” Monroe lifts her chin. “I hate that bitch.”
“Everything good?” Kelsey asks from the row behind us.
“We’re perfect,” Harlow replies with another squeeze.
The lights dim in the club, and everyone goes quiet before the music starts playing.
I don’t recognize the song, but then Jon Pak says from behind us, “Whoa. ‘Sweet Revenge’by Motorhead. That’s one hell of a message.”
Those nerves I felt earlier? They’re rising strong as Bodhi walks out down the aisle toward the cage, looking like a giant in all black.
Jesus Christ. I forgot how big he is.Gabriel’s not small, but Bodhi is massive.
“They’d never be able to fight if it wasn’t catchweight,” Jon Pak says.
Part of me wants to turn around and tell him to shut the hell up before I freak out ... and the fight hasn’t even started.
Bodhi strips down to his shorts and waits while a man smears what appears to be Vaseline on his face. A second man, a ref, steps up and checks his nails and mouthpiece, then makes Bodhi tap his cup. When they’re finished with the ritual, he climbs the short set of stairs leading into the cage. It’s the shape of an octagon, with eight black-coated chain-link sides and padded rails at the top.
My former self-defense instructor jogs around the center before the music goes silent for a beat, then changes to a Tom Petty song that I’ve heard many times before. But it’s never given me chills like it does tonight.
The entire club is on its feet as the lyrics of “Won’t Back Down” blare through the speakers, and we all wait for Gabriel to make his entrance.
As soon as I catch sight of movement in the aisle, my heart skips a beat. I squeeze Harlow’s hand tightly.
“Here he comes!” She squeals, bouncing beside me. “Gah. This is happening!”
Fifty
Legend
I waiteduntil the last minute to decide on my walk-out song, but I think “Won’t Back Down” sends exactly the right message as I jog down the aisle, slapping the hands of people in the crowd.