The Gender Fall

by Bella Forrest

  “Don’t forget you raised me, Auntie Abigail,” Amber said as she pushed back her hair, sliding an auburn wig over her head, disguising her undercut beneath the thick mass of curls. “Why, I would’ve been lost without you.”

  I snorted at the sugary voice she used, turning to Cad. “And you?”

  “Why, I’m Kurtis, Kurtis MacDougal,” he replied. He met Amber’s gaze as she leaned forward slightly, arching her eyebrow in question, and I bit back a laugh as a dull blush began to form on his cheeks. “I’m—uh—engaged to Vivian here.”

  “Don’t worry, Kurt,” Amber said, giving him a salacious wink. “Your wife doesn’t have to know about us.”

  Cad’s blush darkened, his cheeks becoming mottled, and I gave Amber a little nudge. “Be nice to the happily married man,” I chided, but I was unable to keep the smile completely off my lips.

  Amber pouted playfully, and then dramatically swept her long hair over her shoulder. “Oh, all right,” she said. “But only as long as I get to tell his wife this story later.”

  “Let’s get to a later first, and then we’ll discuss who you’re telling what to,” I suggested, knowing it was time to rein in the playfulness. I could see Thomas in the corner, glaring at us as he threw aside his ill-fitting EMT disguise, clearly trying to let us know that he was tired of joking when there was work to do.

  I checked my watch. “We’ve got to meet Jeff in seven minutes. Is everybody ready?”

  “Wait!” said Amber, reaching into her bag and pulling out a few little plastic tubes and containers. “I’m going to cover up your scar real quick. And I’ll get rid of some of those bruises while we’re at it.”

  I stood still as she quickly applied a cream, then a powder to my right cheek, masking the scar from view. I’d actually almost forgotten about it, but I supposed it was one of my more distinguishing features, and she was right to cover it up. I also had a sneaking suspicion Amber would be pretty keen to tell Violet about how she got to put makeup on Nerdy Viggo Croft. I was going to have to think up a fun form of retaliation. Later, I reminded myself.

  Amber shut the compact with a click and nodded. “All right. Now we can go.”

  “Are we good?” I asked Thomas.

  We grouped close together as the small man made his final inspection. “It’s flimsy,” he finally announced, his eyes beady, but then he nodded. “But most humans aren’t as observant as I am, so it should work.”

  I smiled at him. “Are you good to go?”

  In response, Thomas dropped down to a knee and pulled at a ring that had been pressed flat in a circular groove on the plain concrete floor. There was a heavy groan as the section of floor lifted grudgingly, and I resisted the urge to gag at the stench that wafted up from the dark opening. Thomas pulled a flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on, angling it down into the sewer below. He had chosen this room in the hospital as our dressing room for a reason. “It would appear so,” he said after a moment. “I should be at the stadium in four minutes, and in their system within eight. I’ll keep you all updated.”

  I nodded, suddenly apprehensive, and extended my hand. “Be careful,” I said.

  Thomas looked at my hand, and then took it, shaking. His grip was surprisingly strong. “You too,” he replied, meeting my gaze. Then, turning, he grabbed a satchel full of his computer tools off the floor and swung it over his shoulder, quickly heading to the sewer access ladder and climbing down. As soon as he was clear, Cad shut the floor panel behind him.

  I let out a breath, checking my watch again. Four minutes ‘til our rendezvous. “All right. Let’s go take a leisurely stroll to the stadium next door for a super fun family outing! Isn’t it just lovely that it’s only a few minutes away?”

  Holding out my arm to Ms. Dale, I smiled as she rolled her eyes at me before slipping her arm through mine. “Whatever you say, Jacob.”

  34

  Viggo

  Anello Cruz stared at me, his dark eyes studying the planes of my face, a half-asked question floating in them. It was taking everything I had to keep from adjusting my hat or my spectacles again.

  Jeff stood by Cruz’s side in the lobby of the stadium, which we’d reached one minute late, after having to explain to a curious but gullible doctor that our entire family had gotten lost during a visit to a relative in the hospital. The former valet’s suit was well tailored, colored navy blue instead of the standard black. He stood with a straight back, a smile playing on his face as he introduced each one of us to the fighter. Cruz’s suit was a bit more ostentatious—a deep purple in color, a black shirt slightly visible underneath—but he wore it well. Nothing else about the man had changed from what I remembered. He was still muscular and tall, close to my height, although he probably had several pounds of muscle on me.

  “It really is a pleasure to meet you, madam,” Cruz said, his eyes withdrawing from mine as he leaned stiffly over to press his lips against Ms. Dale’s hand.

  Ms. Dale tittered—a sound so unfamiliar I had to hide my cringe—and then affected a truly horrible pout as she reluctantly drew back her hand. “No, really, the honor is all mine! I was—am—such a fan. It really is unfortunate about all this.”

  Cruz straightened, nodding in agreement, but his smile seemed to grow despite the sad tidings they were supposedly discussing. “I wholeheartedly agree, of course. It is a shame about all this. But we survive, eh? Learn to carry on. And who is this lovely gem behind you?”

  Amber, somehow—I couldn’t imagine how—managed to blush as Anello’s eyes fell on her, and she released Cad’s arm to come over to him, her hand outstretched and trembling as she slid it into his for a light shake. Cruz leaned over to kiss it, and Amber gave a little catchy gasp, her flush deepening.

  “Mr. Cruz, it is so… I mean… words cannot describe how much of an honor… oh dear.” She reached down and tugged her skirts, looking completely flustered.

  Cruz laughed, a warm, throaty sound, as he released Amber’s hand. “Please relax, my dear. It is quite all right. I promise I won’t bite.”

  Amber burst out into a giggle, and suddenly, I was disappointed Violet wasn’t there to see this display. It didn’t seem like it was going to be difficult to get dirt on Amber after all… I was going to have plenty to tell Violet.

  “I’m sorry,” the redheaded girl gushed, smoothing her skirts out. “I’m just so nervous. I am such a big fan. My name is Vivian. I’m Auntie Marks’ cousin, although I just call her Auntie Abigail. She practically raised me since I was nine.”

  “I did raise you since you were nine,” Ms. Dale said smoothly. “And let me tell you,” she added to Cruz, “this one was a handful.”

  Amber flushed prettily while simultaneously pouting. Turning around, she reached out for Cad and drew him forth. “This is my fiancé,” she gushed. “Kurtis. Kurtis MacDougall. He’s not quite as handsome as you, Mr. Cruz, but he’s the love of my life.”

  Cad gave her a mortified look, and then turned to Cruz, shaking his head, almost ruefully. I wondered if Cad was having any doubts about this act now, but it was too late to back out.

  “Hello, Mr. Cruz.” Cad’s voice was stiff as he accepted Cruz’s hand, gripping it tightly. I could hear Violet’s cousin grunt as Cruz squeezed back, but he didn’t back down, instead firmly meeting the taller man’s gaze. Then Cruz slowly withdrew his hand, giving Cad a brilliant smile.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. MacDougall.” His eyes returned to me, and I stepped forward.

  “Jacob. I’m Jeff’s younger brother. Much younger, I know.” I held my breath as he accepted my hand, squeezing it tightly. I didn’t bother to play the male posturing game Cad had played with him, just squeezed a polite amount and relaxed my grip, indicating the handshake should be over.

  Cruz didn’t let go, his fingers tightening slightly. Then the light of recognition flared in his eyes. “Your name isn’t Jacob,” he said softly. “You’re Viggo Croft. You’re that punk who was supposed to fight me but didn’t have the ston
es to show up.”

  I met his gaze head on and scowled, though my heartrate had shot up at the sound of my real name. Now wasn’t the time to panic… it was just the other shoe. Dropping. A part of me had expected this.

  “Jacob is my middle name,” I replied, now tightening my own grip. “You’ll excuse me for wanting to be out of the spotlight down here. And there were… extenuating circumstances that came into play that night.” It was better to hold back the truth—avoid linking myself to Violet in any way.

  “Extenuating circumstances?” he drawled, his voice turned toxic.

  “It was me,” Amber cut in smoothly, fidgeting with embarrassment. Cruz’s mouth made an ‘o’ of surprise as his gaze was diverted from our staring contest over to her. “Kurtis and I were out walking, and… well…” A sob caught in her throat, and she turned away slightly. Cad came forward to take her shoulders.

  “Actually, it was my fault my nephew lost his chance to best you,” announced Ms. Dale. “Jeff here was busy at his job, and I couldn’t find Vivian anywhere. I panicked, you see, and I called Viggo. It turned out to be a bit of a misunderstanding—apparently she had written me a note, you see, alerting me that she was going to be out with Kurtis, but it somehow slipped off the counter and under the refrigerator. I was so embarrassed, and by the time Viggo showed up, they were just returning. I feel terrible he missed out.”

  “If something had happened to Vivian and I’d still gone on with the match… well, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” I said, my voice heated as I realized how close that lie was to truth.

  Cruz gazed at me, our hands still locked in a private grappling match. “Why didn’t you ask for a rematch?” he asked, curiosity lining the nooks and crannies of his face. “I was so excited to beat down the upstart from the amateur leagues.”

  I jerked my hand from Cruz’s and took a step back, tugging on the edges of my coat. “Because it’s none of your damn business,” I growled.

  “Mr. Cruz!” Jeff cut in, rounding on the man with his hands crossed over his chest. “Now, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my brother was the Viggo Jacob Croft—to be honest, I have never approved of his love for fighting. Not that I don’t enjoy a good fight.” He held up his hands in badly formed fists, his shoes slapping loudly on the floor as he did his best to dance and weave. Cruz watched him, a sort of bemused wince coming across his features. Thankfully, after a second, Jeff stilled and resumed his position. “But Viggo had responsibilities that took priority, and he had shirked them for too long. After that night, we asked him to stop fighting. We couldn’t keep worrying like that. With myself gone, and young MacDougall courting Vivian here, well… we wanted to make her safety a priority. Since my work took me out of the city, it fell to Viggo to pick up the reins of our familial obligation.”

  Cruz gave me a hard look, and I shrugged, grimacing noncommittally. After a pause that seemed to stretch out forever, he nodded. “I understand. Life is constantly complicated by our need to protect our women, eh? Well, it really is a shame, if you don’t mind me saying so, Jeff. Jacob was quite the fighter, from what I heard. And I do honestly believe he had a chance. Probably not a good one, but hey—we underdogs have to stick together, right?”

  “I guess so,” I said with another shrug. “I hope you understand the need for my disguise, though. Since my brother asked me to give up the career and focus on family, my fans haven’t really taken well to the decision. I just want them to get a nice private tour of the stadium without people interrupting.”

  Cruz clapped me on the back—harder than was necessary, but I held back my natural response to shrug him off—and laughed. “Well, it’s no matter, and hey! You’re here! It would be my pleasure to escort you around the stadium you almost got to fight in.”

  It was meant as a jab, but I had no regrets about missing that night. Violet’s life had been on the line, and my fight with Cruz.... it had only been a fight. One I hadn’t even been keen to sign up for in the first place. But I had a part to play now, and so I winced appropriately. The gesture seemed to appease him, because he immediately turned to Ms. Dale and Amber, extending his arms.

  “Now, ladies, let us get on with the show. We only have a short amount of time to see everything.”

  Ms. Dale and Amber beamed up at him, manifesting the sense of joyous awe only really seen on the faces of fans, and slipped their arms through his.

  “You know, Jacob is really underplaying the love of his fans,” said Amber. “Auntie Abigail, do you remember when that one girl, Samantha something or another, followed him home from a fight? She tried to sneak into his window!”

  “It was positively disgraceful,” Ms. Dale gaped. “And you shouldn’t bring that up in Mr. Cruz’s company. It’s not polite for a young woman to talk about.”

  “Oh, no, madam, I would love to hear more,” said Cruz with a chuckle. “I too have had a few more… zealous fans put me in compromising positions. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.”

  Ms. Dale studied him, then leaned over conspiratorially. “A woman tried to force her way into the shower room after one of Viggo’s fights. I was so mortified when I heard! And grateful to stadium security for catching her! Can you imagine? Oh, it is a shame, a real shame, that more women don’t seem to understand how to be a proper young lady.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Cruz laughed again, and I tuned out of the conversation. He led us toward the stairs, ones I knew well. An odd feeling was coming over me—the sensation of my current life meeting my former one in strange ways.

  The stadium was seven stories in total, with the ground floor entrances leading directly into the stands, and the middle stories of the building widening out from the fight ring. Concentric hallways around the outer sides of the building contained the many things needed to run the show behind the scenes: the changing rooms, bathrooms, concessions stands… and, somewhere, a projector room. I’d never been there in my many times in this building.

  Jeff, Cad, and I followed Cruz, as the two women and former fighter turned manager continued to chat about me. I tried to focus on the conversation again, to be present and leave the strange feeling behind me. And promptly felt my face turning into a permanent grimace when the women’s stories grew even more risqué than the previous two. All the same, I couldn’t help but admire the way Ms. Dale and Amber seemed to play off each other, inventing tales and adding details with ease. No matter that it was at my own personal expense—as long as it kept us moving, it was all good.

  The stadium was dimly lit, but that was normal. We headed up the handful of steps leading up to the wide hall that encircled the outside of the stadium. I could see the posters from past fights had been torn off the walls, which were now covered with announcements of when the news could be viewed, and instructions on how to proceed. My gaze narrowed in on signs announcing the restrictions on where one could go—namely the second floor and above.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” I asked, cutting through Ms. Dale and Amber’s banal chatter and pointing at the sign.

  Cruz gave it a smug glance, and then smiled. “Not at all. I’m sure your brother has told you I am the facilitator of the stadium now.”

  “Does that mean you tell the guards what to do?”

  His eyes considered me thoughtfully, but he shook his head. “Not exactly. But I was a popular figure, which helped attract crowds, initially. Because of that, I am afforded certain… luxuries.”

  “Pardon me, Mr. Cruz,” said Cad. “But you said initially? Forgive us, we live out in the country. We have no idea how things have been happening in the city.”

  “Ah, well, when they were first trying to get the news out, it was most difficult for them to attract anyone to the stadiums. People were scared, you see. So they hired celebrities to coax in crowds and spread the news, even made us responsible for it. But now that they’ve devised a method of displaying it on the screens, I’m mostly here in case the equipment fails.”

  There was
no more time to interrogate him after that, as we rounded the corner and saw our first glimpse of a checkpoint, past which the stairs to the second floor could be reached. Sandbags were stacked up, making a barrier across the wide hallway tall enough to come up to the top of my thigh, while guards held their positions at various areas inside. I felt tension straighten my spine as one woman leaned on the sandbags, her gaze calculating as she took us in.

  Cruz smiled as he drew closer. “Good evening, Ms. Capote,” he greeted warmly, but I could see the tension in his jaw as he flashed his teeth at the woman. Her insignia marked her as a lieutenant.

  “Mr. Cruz,” she said, her voice clipped as she took in our group. I could see her frowning at the dresses Ms. Dale and Amber were wearing, but the expression quickly disappeared. I wondered if she was concerned about hidden weapons, or if she was just assuming the typical Matronising disdain for Patrian women’s garb. “What’s all this?”

  “Ah, yes. These are my guests. I’m taking them on a tour of the stadium. They’re allowing me to relive my glory days.”

  Ms. Capote’s eyes took us in, a slow graceful arch developing in one eyebrow. “I see.” She checked her watch and frowned. “It’s only twenty minutes until we transmit. Will that be enough time…”

  “It will, it will,” Cruz smoothly cut in, flashing her a brilliant smile.

  She gave us all a considering look, and then nodded. “I can’t see what the harm is. I’ll need you to log them in here. I’ll radio the checkpoints to alert them of your coming. You’ll need to be fast, though—I don’t want them near the control box when the presentation is about to begin.”

  Cruz laid a hand against his heart and bowed slightly, a smile on his face. “Thank you, madam.”