Wait, paid a lot of money . . . Surely, they get paid a pretty penny for fighting in an underground fighting pool. It would only make sense! This could be the answer to all my problems!
“Does she get paid to do this?” I asked, trying to seem nonchalant.
“Mhm,” he muttered, turning his attention to me. “Pretty well, might I add.”
I looked at him, suddenly dropping my act. “How much?” I demanded, grabbing his arm intensely.
“I don’t know, but I know it’s more than me,” he said, frowning at my firm grasp.
I sent him an apologetic smile and shook off my desperation. That was what I was though—desperate.
I was so damn desperate and hopeless. I couldn’t even become a stripper if I wanted to because I was underaged until February. No good strip club where I could earn enough money would hire an underaged high school student. The only other option really was selling myself on the street, and I’d tell Demetri to kill me myself before I went down that route.
Hmmm, maybe the Underground was my Hail Mary.
After a few more minutes of the two girls beating each other up, Crystal finally knocked the girl out. She was a bit bloody and would surely have some bruises later, but none of that mattered because she won. She raised her fist up proudly in the air and then walked off the mats with everyone cheering loudly for her.
I finished three more drinks by the time she made it to the bar. The blood was wiped off her, and her hair was fixed. She looked less disheveled. She was still wearing spandex, but a tank top was placed over her sports bra.
“Crystal,” I said, nodding at her amicably.
“Aubry,” she said cordially but had a scowl on her face when she spoke to me.
She never really liked me. I think it had something to do with the fact that Jace and I were kind of friends, and she saw me as a threat, but who knows what goes through the girl’s mind? She was crazy, so I’ve been told at least.
“Jace, babe, can I get a vodka cranberry please?”
He smirked at her and nodded sweetly. “Anything for the champ. Good job, as always.”
I looked at her for a few moments, debating on whether or not to ask her about how much she got paid for fighting. Eventually, my curiosity and desperation won out, and I asked her.
My question must have caught her off guard because she choked on the drink that she had just received and didn’t even offer me a scathing comment.
“Well it depends,” she said after a few moments. She didn’t say anything else until I prompted her with a look.
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“The minimum per fight is a hundred dollars, but you can make way more than that . . . thousands even. There’s also a tournament at the end of the main season with a hefty sum of money as a prize, anyone who is good enough competes in that. You can get bonuses and stuff too. Like I said, it depends.” She sneered at me and then walked off before I could question her anymore.
“Why the sudden interest?” Jace asked suspiciously.
I felt like I had just been caught stealing or something, but I kept my cool. “No reason, just super curious . . .”
He didn’t look very convinced.
“Plus, I’m tipsy, remember?” I stated, quickly sending him a sloppy smile and let my eyes droop slightly.
He seemed to accept that with a smile as he handed me another drink. I wasn’t that tipsy.
“Last one,” Jace reminded me.
“Death! Death! Death! Death!” Everyone around me began chanting.
I looked around, confused at everyone’s chanting and realized that they were all looking at the mats.
I quickly turned my attention up to them and froze for a second.
There was a youthful and tall guy standing up there, looking incredibly menacing but attractive at the same time. He had lightly tanned skin and a muscular body that was well-built. His facial features were sharp and sculpted even as he stood there with a deep-set scowl on his face. His messy and choppy black hair reached to the collar of his tight t-shirt, and it looked like it could use a good trim even if the style suited him well, and probably looked just as good when it wasn’t so messy. His non-textured ebony locks were glistening (with sweat presumably) and messily fell over his face no matter how many times he kept it pushed back away.
The dude was very attractive and could obviously pull practically anything off and make it look hot.
That wasn’t why I froze and stared at him for so long though.
I knew him. I knew him from somewhere, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on where I had seen him before.
“What is his name, Jace?” I found myself asking before I could even stop myself.
“Oh um . . .” he said, thinking for a moment. I knew he usually only knew the people’s stage names, but I was hoping on an off chance that he knew this guy’s real name.
“Aiden,” Crystal answered sourly and shoved her glass at Jace.
I didn’t take my eyes off the guy up on the mats and nodded.
Aiden . . . ? It sounded so familiar to me, of course, Aiden is a pretty common name. The guy smirked for a moment, and I instantly knew how I knew him.
Aiden Clark, he went to my school. How could I not know him? Literally everyone in that whole building was obsessed with him; it was quite annoying. It was typical; all the girls wanted him, and all the guys wanted to be him. I mean, sure, the guy is hot and all, but it wasn’t like he was royalty or anything. He was just a hot dude, nothing special, and certainly nothing to lose your mind over. He was also just an overly cocky, self-obsessed jerk from what I had observed. He was rude and cold to people who weren’t in his zone and had a major attitude problem. From what I had heard, he was mean and bad, but I didn’t think that meant this bad . . .
How did a guy like Aiden Clark end up in a place like the Underground?
I rolled my eyes at my thoughts. Who cares? I looked back up to the mats and finally looked somewhere other than Aiden. There was some guy who looked to be a bit older getting ready to fight him. He looked big and very strong.
Hey, maybe I can see him get knocked on his ass! It would serve him right with the way I’ve seen him act.
Suddenly, I felt Crystal’s breath in my ear. “Stay away from him, slut.”
I furrowed my eyebrows at her. I was confused about a couple of things. For one, was she calling me the slut or was she just confused and talking to herself? Because I certainly was nowhere near as promiscuous as her. How was a slut going to try to slut-shame someone who isn’t even a slut? It made no sense.
On top of that, I looked from Aiden and then to Jace. Which one of these guys was she even talking about? She didn’t get all defensive until I asked about Aiden, but she was sleeping with Jace, so which one was she trying to keep me away from?
Also, did the bitch honestly think that I’d fear her and that I’d stay away from whichever one she wanted me to stay away from because she told me to? I didn’t like either of these guys, but I had half a mind to go and mess with one just to spite her. I dealt with men two times bigger than her for my whole life, she didn’t faze me even in the slightest.
“From both of them,” she finally stated when she saw the questioning look in my eyes. Then she walked off before I got a chance to tell her about how much of a bitch she was.
And she called me the slut? What?
I rolled my eyes at the psycho bitch. All of this just grated on my nerves more and left me itching for another drink. I just needed the pain and anxiety to dull further.
I frowned deeply while looking up to the ring as the announcer began the fight.
Ten seconds. That’s how long it took for Aiden to knock the other guy out. Two punches: one to his chin and one to the side of his face.
“Wow, I guess I was wrong,” I muttered to myself while turning around painfully to face Jace who stuck another shot in front of me. I eyed him with a questioning look in my eyes.
“From the guy over there,”
Jace said while pointing across the bar.
There was a guy slouched on a barstool and eyeing me. It was too dark to see him clearly, but I could easily make out his shaggy pale blond hair. His skin was pale as well, but it had a bit of healthy color to it; not sickly pale like mine was. He was obviously very lean, and his arms were big as well. He was probably one of the fighters. He seemed familiar to me as well, just like Aiden.
Then again, I could just be going crazy . . . I did just get the shit beaten out of me earlier in the day, and who knows how many times I hit my head?
No matter how much I questioned my sanity, I was definitely not turning down a free shot. I smiled nicely at the guy who was already looking at me. I lifted the shot glass and waited for him to do the same to his. When he finally followed my lead, I downed the shot quickly.
I nodded to the blondie in thanks and averted my attention. I couldn’t handle entertaining anyone enough into continuously buying me drinks. No matter how much I wanted them, I was in too bad of shape for socializing. Besides, it was already very late, and the last call would be soon.
“I’ll see you later!” I called out to Jace while standing up from the stool.
He nodded with a soft smile. “Don’t stay gone as long as last time!” he said and kissed my cheek. I had to bite my lip from screaming out in pain. I knew he felt the cut with his lips, but he didn’t say anything.
That was one of the things that made Jace so cool; he would never pry.
I forced one last smile and walked out of the Underground with my bag grasped firmly in my hand.
Where was I supposed to go now?
Chapter Four
Plan
“Ma’am?” I heard from somewhere seemingly far off, but kept my eyes closed. Maybe if I’d ignore it, it’d go away. “Ma’am?” I heard again this time with someone touching me.
I jerked away instantly as soon as the person made contact with me, and my eyes shot open widely. I groaned in pain and almost cried as I blinked my bleary eyes. There was a lady standing in front of me glaring.
“What?!” I demanded loudly.
I was so tired, cranky, and in horrendous pain. Turns out, it’s extremely hard to find somewhere to sleep when you have nowhere to go. It’s even harder to allow yourself to go to sleep, and you must stay on guard so no one can mess with you. Therefore, sleep doesn’t come easy when you’re homeless . . . Who knew?
“If you don’t have a ticket for a bus, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We can’t have the homeless clogging up our seats for the paying customers,” she said as she looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of her shoe.
There were two other people there . . . two. Yep, I was surely taking up too many seats for all the hordes of customers. Note the sarcasm.
“That’s what shelters are for,” she added finally as I got up from the chair that I was laying in.
She watched me like a hawk until I walked to the door leading outside. Before I walked out, I looked at the clock above the ticket booth.
“Fifteen ’til seven.” It read. That’s just under two hours before school starts. I needed to find somewhere to sort myself out and change clothes, then off to school, I go, though that was the last thing on my mind. I had much more pressing matters to deal with in my doomed life. I had nowhere else to go though, so I just kept trekking down the road.
School was quite a few miles away. I guess it was a good thing that the mean lady woke me up. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have had enough time to stop and clean up. That’d be a disaster. I was sure that I needed a touch-up on my makeup, and I was a proper mess.
I walked at least a couple of miles before I made it to a twenty-four-hour grocery store. Luckily, there was hardly anyone in the store because it was so early in the morning. No customers meant very few employees as well. This was already working out great for me.
I went straight to the bathroom and changed my clothes which was pure agony. I dressed in the first articles of clothing right on top. Thankfully, it was pretty much my standard attire: comfortable black yoga leggings and a way too big, boxy long black sweater that hung past mid-thigh.
I decided that the sports bra I already had on was a good enough under shirt. I didn’t want anything squeezing my body more than necessary, and I knew that taking off that article of clothing was going to be too painful to even bear. I was in so much worse pain than I was the day before.
I guess it is true what everyone says, the second day is always much worse.
Was that actually a saying? Or was I just making stuff up in my very fuzzy head?
After getting dressed, I looked in the mirror. Most of my makeup stayed intact throughout the night, and I just had to do a few touch-ups and reapply some lipstick to cover up my busted lips. As I changed my lipstick, I studied my lips. They were very cracked and swollen, making it look like any soft touch would cause blood to pour out of the battered flesh. In fact, I had to be gentle with the application on my lips, so I don’t smear blood all over my trying-to-be nude lip color.
My nose was considerably swollen, crooked, and so incredibly sore. I couldn’t even breathe out of one of my nostrils. I put on some highlighter and tried to contour it to make it look smaller and more normal. Once again, I didn’t look great, but it was passable.
The strangle marks on my neck weren’t covering up too well, so I braided my long hair to the side and let the long braid cascade over my shoulder. That covered it up decently enough, at least enough for people who just glanced at me in passing wouldn’t notice. I never got more than a quick glance or once over, so I wasn’t too worried.
When I was finally done readying myself for school, I walked out of the restroom. I quickly and quietly made my way to the medicine aisle, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. I poured all the contents of an Advil bottle into my hand and put them into my sweater pocket. After I had them all hidden, I put the bottle back on the shelf and then walked out of the store quickly. I hoped to myself that no one saw me while simultaneously wishing I could figure out how to break into the pharmacy so I could get some actual good pain relievers. It hurt just to breathe.
I made it to school about thirty minutes later. It was eight in the morning, thirty minutes before classes started. When I entered the building, I found a water fountain instantly. I took four pills and prayed that they’d kick in quickly. I felt like death.
Hell, I bet death actually felt better than how I felt at that moment.
I quickly went by my locker and stuffed the bag in it to avoid drawing attention to myself by carrying around a big bag. Instead of going to the cafeteria or library like most people who got to school early did, I went to the gym where I knew a punching bag was. I was almost positive I decided the night before that my best bet on staying alive was to join the fighting pool at the Underground.
Granted, it wasn’t a great plan. I mean, in reality, I had no idea how to fight, but I had been hit around enough for most of my life that I could take some pretty gnarly hits and get back up. So really, I just had to learn how to hit. Hence, why I needed the punching bag to practice on.
When I opened the door to the gym, my ears were met with the sounds of grunting and hard breathing. I crept up silently and peeked around the corner to see what was going on.
Of course, much to my dismay, Aiden was already there using the bag. Does that boy ever not punch something?
I was extremely annoyed. I needed practice! Aiden, obviously, at least according to his fight the night before, did not. Really though, it was probably for the best. The Advil has yet to kick in, and I was still in a lot of pain.
I watched him for a minute, the dude was like a beast when he hit the bag. He was good; scary good. He paused his hitting for a moment and was talking to someone who was out of my line of sight. I was curious so I stuck my head a little further around the corner.
That’s when I saw him; the blond guy who bought me a shot. My eyes went wide, and my mind immediately began to panic.
I knew I knew him from somewhere! I should’ve known when I saw Aiden that one of his idiotic friends would be there too!
I quickly left the gym and made my way to the girls’s restroom.
“Shit.” I breathed in and out heavily while pacing around dizzily. My head was swimming, and I truly just wanted to pass out so I didn’t have to deal with this stuff. Unfortunately, this was my life, and I had to deal with it.
I couldn’t have anyone knowing who I was, or that I hung out at the Underground! I especially couldn’t have someone like Aiden and his friends knowing where I spend my time, they could use that against me! I was perfectly content with being invisible.
My breathing was becoming too fast, and my legs were too shaky to continue carrying me, so I locked myself in a stall and fell to the ground tiredly as soon as I closed the door.
After a while of panicking, my mind finally returned back to being rational again. There was no way he could tell who I was; it was way too dark. Plus, I looked a bit different and less frumpy the night before. Also, if they tried to use the Underground against me, then I could turn it around on them.
They had much more to lose than I did by being associated with that place. I knew that a lot of their friends couldn’t have known about it. If they did, then Aiden’s little fangirls would be at each fight. Soon enough, the whole school would know about it, and that would eventually get the whole place shut down. No matter how much the owner of the Underground paid the cops to ignore the place, they wouldn’t be able to ignore a whole entire school’s worth of kids hanging out at an illegal warehouse club. It just wouldn’t work.
With all of that in mind, I calmed down and exited the restroom. It was almost time for class, and I spent almost a whole twenty minutes panicking over nothing.
I needed to quit getting myself so worked up over things. I didn’t need my mind creating problems that weren’t even problems yet. I already had enough of those.
I couldn’t help it though, my whole life seemed to be working against me.
Fighting For Life Page 3