by Meg Watson
“Whatever,” Bryce muttered sullenly. He elbowed past Auger and stood for a moment on the upper deck, getting his bearings.
Auger kept carefully silent as Bryce scanned the crowd on the busy upper deck, looking for some sign of the promoter, Orion. Music played from the DJ booth in the corner which almost everyone ignored as they leaned in toward each other, laughing and chatting. A certain buzz hung over the crowd, a sound like a wasp nest that hadn’t been disturbed yet. Everyone was waiting for the same thing.
There were men in suits with the top buttons of their custom-tailored shirts casually undone. A few women clustered in small groups or hung on the arms of their dates. People looked around for other people just like them, as though it was some kind of competition just to be rich.
So these were wealthy business types looking for entertainment only, just like Bryce had said. They probably wouldn't even watch, just place a few bets to show each other up. Auger held back a sigh of relief.
Easy money, he thought. Finally, something easy.
“We’re going below deck,” Bryce muttered, his eyes sweeping the crowd again for good measure.
“What?”
“Follow me.”
Auger stepped in behind Bryce as he crossed the busy upper deck and ducked through a door and down a short flight of stairs. The boat was enormous. It was like an office building or restaurant on the water.
As they descended a couple levels to more casual surroundings, Auger started to feel slightly more at ease. The upper deck had been a throng of nattily dressed rich guys who looked like they had stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Auger was sure he had spotted at least two famous people. It was certainly not the secret gathering of gamblers and bloodthirsty promoters he was expecting. Not like every other grungy, dark fight he’d ever done before. It was practically… boring.
Some part of him loved this, and another part of him knew that loving it was exactly the wrong thing to do.
Just get in, dance around, accept a couple body blows, and collect the cash, he reminded himself. You can do this. Easy money. No matter how civilized these people look, they’re still paying to see somebody get their ass kicked.
Bryce walked ahead as though he knew his way around, and Auger just followed him like his big, dumb pet. Around a corner, he saw a commercial kitchen and a huge dining room with gleaming walnut walls and windows on three sides. Down one more flight of stairs, Bryce hesitated briefly then turned a quick right and shoved open a blank door.
“Jesus, it’s about time, Bryce!” came an annoyed voice like a tornado siren.
“Yeah, yeah, traffic,” he muttered, pushing his way in and dropping his gym bag on the nearest chair.
Auger came up close behind him and looked around. The small cabin had been set up like a backstage dressing room with tables on each wall and three other guys staring into the lighted mirrors. It smelled close and fetid like a locker room.
“Traffic, my sweet ass,” the voice drawled. Auger squinted at the scrawny blonde as he dropped an eyebrow pencil on the table like some kind of diva and pursed his lips. “And who’s this?”
“Oh…” Bryce stuttered, standing aside so everybody could get a look. “Everybody, this is Aug— Odin. Odin, this is Nickie, Trent, and Twister.”
Auger choked back his opinion of the ridiculous stage names and held his hand out to each in turn.
“Nice manners, country boy!” slurred Nickie in that same sneering sing-song. Auger just pasted a smile on his face and nodded, moving on to shake the next guy’s hand.
“Ignore him; he’s an asshole,” Trent said confidently and stood with his hand out. He seemed all right, smiling at Auger for real like a regular guy he could see hanging out with.
“You watch your mouth!” Nickie yelled to Trent.
Auger turned to the last man sitting in front of a mirror. He was about the same size with the distinctly knobby, striped muscles of a long-time steroid user.
Twister turned in his seat and raised his heavily muscled arm in the air. He shook Auger’s hand briefly, too hard. Then turned back to the mirror, silently greasing up his pecs and shoulders. He had smooth, sleek skin that gleamed like tanned leather.
Jesus. This asshole, Auger sneered silently. He measured him up mentally. Something told him he should have shaved his chest after all. Twister would be next to impossible to get a good grip on. He looked as slick as a seal.
Bryce elbowed him to get his attention and pointed at the line of small lockers. “Just stuff your clothes in there. Jimmie should be here somewhere… he’s the other lightweight. You probably guessed you’ll get Twister.”
Auger raised his eyebrows, his breath coming out hot from flared nostrils. Bryce stubbornly looked away.
“He used to be MMA,” he muttered quietly, trying to not draw attention to himself. “But none of that shit is legal here, OK? No leg strikes. No elbows. Strictly fists. All that Mixed Martial Arts bullshit cost Orion a fortune in broken noses.”
Auger glared meaningfully at him. No MMA sounded suspiciously like for-sure MMA, in his experience. It also sounded like exactly what Bryce promised they wouldn’t be doing.
Bryce sighed as Auger just stared at him and refused to look away. Finally he cringed and shrugged. “Look,” he started unconvincingly, “you saw who was on the upper deck. These guys aren’t looking for a serious fight. They’re here to party. They just want to throw some money around and talk to their dates.”
Auger hoped that was true. He finally just nodded and ran his hands through his hair, trying hard not to stare at Nickie’s shiny silver trunks. He was scrawny and snake-like with wispy blonde curls and a small patch of scraggly chest hair. Despite his loud mouth, he looked about nineteen years old.
The other guys looked like they ranged from late teens to mid-twenties, Auger figured. They all had the angry, balled-up muscle of youth. Those kind of guys fizzled out fast. He was glad he wasn’t fighting them because he would likely break any one of them in half in about thirty seconds.
Everybody except Twister. His age was harder to figure: years of tanning bed had permanently burnt his skin and the steroids took his hairline. But his muscles were longer. Auger figured him for early thirties. He hoped so.
Those guys only get stronger as they got older, he reminded himself.
The door opened again and another lightweight strolled in with an easy, athletic gait. Auger turned and started pulling off his tank top and nylon track pants. When he turned back around, the new kid was staring at him.
“Jimmie,” the kid said, and stuck out his hand. Auger shook it, instantly noticing a big brother-sort of warmth rising in his chest. Jimmie looked like the type of kid he had to protect from beatings in high school. Like Bryce, only hopefully with half a brain left in his head.
“Auger… Odin,” he muttered, trying a friendly smile.
Jimmie shook his hand quickly, then held a fist full of paper slips over his head. “OK!” he said loudly, so everyone would stop their chatter. “Let’s draw for order… then get out there… they want to get those side bets going. Orion’s all over me…”
He held out his fist to Auger and let him draw first. Bryce took the next one, then Nickie. They all held them up to show our numbers.
“Whoa man, you’re up first,” Bryce said, nodding. “Way to jump right in.”
“And jump right out,” Auger reminded him.
“Yeah… I got third. That’s cool, whatever,” he shrugged, crumpling the slip and tossing it on the counter. “Just tape up and let’s get out there.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, reaching for the roll of hand wrap and looping the end over his thumb. As he unrolled the protective wrap over his wrist and hand he met Twister’s gaze in the mirror. The other fighter had no expression as he watched Auger’s hands closely.
Slow down, Auger told himself. He’s probably trying to figure out how practiced I am. Don’t seem confident. Don’t seem… eager. This is not a dare.
“
Hey let’s get a move on,” Jimmie announced. “We’re looking at a grand a round, plus sponsorships. Everybody stay safe out there.”
Auger shot Bryce a look as everybody got their gear in the lockers and stood up to go. Trent and Nickie rolled their necks and stretched their arms, bouncing in place. Bryce still looked away, so Auger got right up next to him.
“A grand a round?” he growled. “That was not our deal.”
“Keep your voice down,” Bryce muttered, trying to edge away. He nodded as the other guys filed out of the tiny, smelly room. “So you’ll hang in there for two rounds… What’s the big deal, man?”
Auger’s fists clenched at his sides, straining the tapes. “The big deal is that I have no intention of staying in the ring longer than two minutes.”
“Well…” Bryce tried to get a breezy tone into his voice without making direct eye contact. “Dude, just make it up in sponsorships, then. You’ll get paid even if you tap out. I mean… he won’t like it…”
“Who won’t like it?”
“Orion! I mean… but whatever.”
“Fuck Orion!” Auger snarled and grabbed Bryce by the elbow, turning him around so their eyes met.
Bryce tried to dodge but couldn’t escape the steel grip of the larger man. Finally he just set his jaw and met Auger’s eyes. A light shine covered his face. Auger’s eyes flickered back and forth as he inspected Bryce’s expression.
He maybe isn’t high, but he is something. Scared? Jonesing for the fight? Or scared of me, maybe?
Bryce twisted meekly, hoping to be let go. “Listen, I didn’t want to mention this, but these sponsorships can get pretty… substantial,” he said in a low voice. There was a light in his eyes.
Auger held his arm until everyone else had left the room, then released him roughly.
“We gotta get out there, man,” Bryce whined.
“This is bullshit,” Auger spat.
“I know, I know, I know…” Bryce said quickly. “But…. two rounds is two grand… Sponsorship is maybe another two grand…”
“That’s fucked up. I’m out.”
Panic flashed across his face. “No! Come on, man,” he pleaded. “It’s for charity or some shit…”
“Oh fuck off.”
“OK, OK… yeah what do I know about charity…. right…” Bryce admitted, backing away with his hands up. Auger hadn’t actually hit him since middle school, but he never wanted to go through that again. He looked around the small room desperately.
Auger shook his head, rage building in his chest like a tidal wave. A sponsor was not a one-time deal. Bryce was trying to rope him into Orion’s crew, and he knew it. Once a sponsor invested with Orion on his behalf they would expect to own him, and he wasn’t about to be owned by anyone.
Never again.
The door burst open and Jimmie stuck his head in. “Get your asses in the line, NOW!” he yelled with a surprising amount of authority.
Bryce spun to face Auger, clapping his hands together in a praying gesture. “Please, man. Please!! I am begging you!”
Auger’s stomach heaved as though he might be sick, but the look of desperation on Bryce’s face tugged at him.
One thousand is better than nothing, he reminded himself. Just tap out, fuck the sponsor, move on.
Nostrils flared, he took a few more breaths to make Bryce suffer. Jimmie bounced impatiently in the doorway.
“Fine,” he growled under his breath and shoved past him.
***
They walked out into a huge room filled with people craning their necks around to get a good look. Auger stood up straight, letting all the fury show on his face and posture as he followed Bryce and Jimmie to the front of the room where Nickie, Trent and Twister were already standing.
Despite everything, his senses were electrified like he was turned on way too high. Every pair of eyes seemed to singe his skin, and even the sensation of not having shoes on bothered him with too much texture. He felt trickles of sweat already falling in crooked paths down the back of his shoulders as adrenaline began its predictable upward surge. He could hear every light buzzing faintly, and every whisper that discussed his brooding, hulking body as he walked past.
A light, leaping feeling swept through his heart and he stamped it down viciously.
Do not enjoy this, he repeated to himself over and over.
But still, just knowing he had to tell himself that felt like a failure.
Shaking his head to clear it, Auger found Twister and scowled at him. Twister curled one half of his lip up and looked Auger up and down, measuring him out. Auger focused on that: watching Twister size him up. It should have triggered his defenses, making him nervous or angry. But instead it reinforced the part of him that really thought this was… fun.
Get serious! he shouted to himself. This is not a game!
Orion grinned widely as he came up, staring at the guys like beauty contestants along the wall. Auger swallowed a mouthful of stomach acid and managed to keep his expression unchanged.
“You made it,” Orion purred in his deep, oily voice.
Auger nodded shortly and looked for an empty spot in the row.
“Bryce tells me you’re going to save his ass… Again,” Orion said.
Auger glanced at Bryce, who frowned immediately and shook his head.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he growled.
Bryce stepped into the line and turned to face the crowd. “Get in line!” he muttered insistently, pointing to the far end.
Auger stepped forward and pushed Trent firmly aside, taking a place beside Bryce.
“You’re supposed to be down there,” Bryce objected, trying to shoo him toward Twister at the end of the line.
“What is Orion talking about?”
Bryce shook his head, smiling thinly at a fat old guy in shirt sleeves and suspenders. “I have no idea.”
“You’re fucking lying to me!”
“Fuck! Keep your voice down!” Bryce glared, clenching his jaw as the old guy shuffled away, scowling. He paused, clearly fighting the urges in his mind and choosing his words carefully. “Just… yes. I need you here. Just win. OK?”
Auger turned to the crowd, watching them mill around, their eyes roving over each fighter like they were sizing up race horses or 4-H pigs at the county fair.
“You need me here for what, exactly?” he said through clenched teeth. “What are you into?”
“Ehhhhhh,” Bryce groaned, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m a little… behind. I’ve been having a rough month.”
“Behind who?”
He took a determined stance and stared out at the crowd.
“Behind on what?” Auger insisted, raising his voice. He knew the answer already but wanted Bryce to admit it. Bryce just shook his head silently. “How much?” he asked finally.
Bryce sighed through his nose. “Ten.”
“What?!” Auger bellowed. Trent flinched next to him and a couple of charcoal-suited gamblers shot him a snarky expression.
“Ten grand. Yes. But tonight, I am clear. This is it. It doesn’t cost you anything, man… Just… win. Please.” He finally turned and looked at Auger, his eyes bright and desperate. Auger could see the pride it took for Bryce to admit it, but still.
Fuck.
“God I hate you sometimes,” Auger muttered, flexing his pecs and trying to calmly breathe through his nose. A trio of identically blonde women in designer cocktail dresses strolled by, inspecting him. One gave flirty, subtle sniff. Auger clenched his jaw.
“I hate you right back,” Bryce sighed, blowing out his cheeks.
Some big part of Auger wanted to just knock him out, leave him on the carpet and go home. Finish it. It would be for his own good and he wouldn’t be able to get into any more trouble, at least not tonight. But Auger had made that stupid promise to Callie and wanted to keep what was left of it. Treating Bryce like a little kid was never going to teach him anything.
So he just stood there, trying t
o shake out his muscles, trying to feel his body all fall in without getting too happy about the prospect of beating somebody’s ass in a few minutes.
It was like second nature. As soon as he allowed it, all his nerves converted to the bright, sparking vibration of energy ready to be unleashed. The sound turned up the joy in his heart, no matter how hard he tried to tamp it down. The anticipation was thrilling.
He didn’t even notice he was smiling until the man in the expensive suit turned around and smiled suddenly back. Auger flinched and corrected his expression to something more serious. The man took a half step forward, his perfect white teeth gleaming. He had a twinkle in his eye and cocked one eyebrow curiously, but he was close. Way too close.
Auger returned his stare with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt. Something about his three-piece suit and slicked-back hair set Auger slightly off his game. He figured the smile did it. Everything about the stranger looked super-controlled, but the smile cut through like the brightest bulb in a string of lights. Instinctively, Auger refused to look away. Alpha male rules are clear: you don’t back down.
“Odin!” Orion said with a slimy grin, sliding into view. “Mr. Cooke would like a word.”
Auger felt himself hesitate as the man stuck out his hand formally. The pinstripe suit hugged his bulky bicep, and he wondered why Cooke wasn’t heading for the ring, himself. But his mission was obvious, and Auger fought to control his disgust.
“Winsor,” he said with his hand out. Auger shook it without enthusiasm.
“Uh, Odin…” Orion stammered, sensing a change in the mood. “Mr. Cooke has offered to sponsor you. Winsor Cooke.”
Auger shook his head automatically. “No, thank you.”
Orion barked out a surprised laugh, tipping his head back far enough to reveal his molars. “Oh ho! I don’t think you understand!” he said hurriedly. “Odin just joined us… he’s not familiar…” he stammered.
Winsor nodded and raised his eyebrows without breaking Auger’s gaze. Auger knew they were going to have to start throwing punches very soon.
“Oh, I know,” Winsor nodded with a deep, confident voice. His hazel eyes bored into Auger’s, daring him to make a move as he spoke in a slow, arrogant drawl. “I would have remembered seeing someone like this.”