by J J Knight
“Keep talking,” Colt says.
And so the three of us make a plan.
Chapter Fourteen
These fights are at a much bigger venue. It’s an old roller-skating rink that still appears to be abandoned, surrounded with a sagging chain-link fence.
Hudson points out the window of his car. He and Colt are in front. Zero and I sit in the back. “There’s a gap on the southeast corner,” Hudson says. “You’re not allowed to park on the premises, but there’s a strip mall a couple blocks down that people use.”
Colt nods. I have to suppress a giggle every time I look at him. He absolutely refused to let Zero dress him as a woman, since being recognized that way would go viral in a heartbeat. They’ve gone the tawdry Vegas gambler route. His short blond hair is covered in a black shaggy wig and topped with a straw fedora.
His gold and black striped shirt is three times too big for him. His six-pack abs are padded with a belly pillow Zero snagged from a maternity shop. His silky pants are just a touch too short, showing white socks with expensive black sandals.
I can’t look at him without wanting to crack up. A giggle finally escapes, and he turns around to look at me. I had forgotten the pencil-thin mustache and the fake goatee. That’s it. I can’t take any more. I bust out laughing.
“I’m so making you pay for that,” he growls, but I can tell it’s in good fun.
“My work is unparalleled,” Zero says. He has decided to go as Colt’s cheap date, decked in Hawaii cliché. His floral sundress is skin tight. Three stacked fake-flower leis cover the neckline. His wig is black as night, curled at his shoulders, and held partially back with an enormous rose. I marvel at how he can walk in the stacked wedges that make him almost as tall as Colt.
Hudson and I are in fight gear. I make no effort to look different, since I want the boys to recognize me. If the fight ends up in a crowd, Colt has agreed to stay out of range of cell-phone cameras unless absolutely necessary.
We park among the crazy disorganized chaos of cars mashed together behind the strip mall. Zero and Colt get out first and walk ahead. They will go in and place big bets, ensuring that they are more than welcome at the fights.
Hudson and I hang back. We follow another group as they walk the block to the rink. Someone has shot out the streetlights, so it’s quiet and dark, easy to skulk through.
I wonder why the police let the fights go on if they know about them. Maybe it’s a way to catch people who don’t come out any other way, like Exterminator.
We squeeze through the opening in the fence. The half moon glows overhead, giving us a small amount of light. The other spectators are quiet, seeming to know not to draw attention to themselves. They don’t pay much attention to us walking a short distance behind.
When we get to the back door, two burly guys stand on either side. “Who do you know?” one asks.
“The Gunny Sack,” one says. “I train with him at Roscoe’s. These are my friends.” He deliberately points at the other four, but not us.
The man looks them over. “You betting?” he asks the others.
They all hold up cash. One of the men opens the door.
It’s clear we can’t follow them in. He holds out his arm for us to stop.
When the others have passed in, he says, “I don’t know you.”
“I fought Exterminator at Big Daddy’s,” Hudson says. “I’m here to bet against him.”
The man barks a laugh. “I would too.” He glances at me. “Who’s the girl?”
“I’m training her. She thinks she wants to fight.” He chuckles, like it’s an absurd idea, but I know to let it go. Part of the act.
He looks me over. “Girls don’t fight here.”
“She’s going to double down on whoever’s taking on Exterminator,” Hudson says.
“You’ll make some money tonight,” he says, and opens the door.
We pass through to a corridor. A light sputters midway, like it’s a haunted house. We don’t talk. We can’t give anything away. But it’s nice to know Exterminator isn’t well liked, even in these parts where he is trying to make a name for himself.
We pass some doors that were probably the offices for the rink. Then we open out into the area where kids used to put on their skates. There are colored lights revealing people sitting around on the benches. In the old snack bar, three women in skimpy outfits are taking money, supervised by a seedy man in a suit.
Beyond the short wall that separates the rink from the room, a couple hundred people are standing around, waiting for the next fight. The cage is the only brightly lit part of the whole building. Two oversized lights on rolling stands shine down on it.
I spot Colt and Zero off to one side. They are watching the weigh-in. So it’s an organized match where fighters are put up against their own weight class. That’s at least one plus.
“Can anyone step up and fight or do you have to be signed up?” I ask Hudson.
He shrugs. “All I know is that Exterminator’s friend is supposed to fight at some point. He’s certain to show.”
There are very few women here, most of them hanging on boys in fight gear. The crowd is primarily middle-aged men holding bet tickets.
A man in a shiny fight suit climbs into the boxing ring. He’s got a wireless microphone. Now I notice the two large speakers sitting below each light stand. It’s a decent setup, no doubt run by people more organized than Big Daddy.
Two fighters, heavyweights by the looks of them, step off the scales and strap on boxing gloves. Hudson and I merge into the crowd.
The man in the ring starts talking. The reverberations make him difficult to understand, but he’s announcing the fighters. The crowd cheers and one of the boxers climbs through the ropes.
Then there’s another roar for the opponent.
I look through the crowd now that their attention is focused. I spot two guys with the same stylized skull-and-roses tattoos as the boys who stopped us in the trees, but I’m not positive either of them was there. Still, I shift behind a tall man to avoid their easy direct gaze at me. I want to be a surprise to Exterminator when it’s time.
I check the other side. A slender figure in a ball cap catches my eye. The bulky sweats don’t give anything away, but when she turns, I recognize Officer Su.
She spots me and her eyebrows shoot up. I look away. She won’t come up to me, I can just sense it. But I’ve probably complicated her night.
The announcer stops talking and ducks out of the ring. A man in all black steps in. A ref? I nudge Hudson. “Why didn’t you fight here instead of at that crap match?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I wasn’t in the loop. Should I have a go tonight?” He smiles and I punch his arm.
I try to stay calm and focused. It’s like my mother said. Determination, not fear.
The match begins with the ringing of a bell. Actual rounds too. I shake my head. Hudson made the worst decision possible. He could have been here. He could have stood a chance.
The two men are amateurs and not even in great shape. The crowd is unenthusiastic about their half-hearted jabs.
Hudson grabs my elbow. “He’s here.”
I follow the direction of his gaze. Then I see him, Exterminator, with the fighter he was sparring with in the ring that night. Joey, I think. I’m hoping Axel, the towel boy, will show. He was the worst. Sure enough, a few seconds later I see him too.
They’re all wearing caps pulled down tight, just above their eyes. They aren’t cocky or making an entrance. They hang on the fringe of the crowd, looking around.
“We have all three,” I say to Hudson. We talked through every scenario ahead of time. Exterminator alone, with only one of his pals, or with the whole group. I honestly don’t care a lot about the punks from the trees or the car vandalism. It’s these three who matter.
Hudson nods. We agreed that unless we were outnumbered more than two to one, we’d move forward.
“Now?” he asks.
“Let him get co
mfortable.”
The crowd is agitated at the match, but as their noise level rises, the boxers start to put more energy into their fight. We pretend to watch, keeping tabs on Exterminator and his friends. They walk over to the weigh-in station and greet some of the people they obviously know.
A woman with a clipboard approaches him, but he shakes his head no. I think this means he’s not going to fight tonight. He wraps his arm around the neck of another fighter who is lined up to step on the scale.
Suddenly I feel tired. Tired of the bad blood between fighters. Tired of fighting. It feels like it will never end. Cocky adrenaline-fueled jerks — men and women both — who can’t keep their attitudes in the ring.
I’m not any better.
I turn to Hudson to tell him this isn’t worth it. That it doesn’t matter. I can take him to LA to train with huge important people. His career will move faster.
Then I see it. Exterminator goes up to a girl standing alone. She must have come with one of the boxers, as she looks anxiously into the group waiting to get on the scale.
He drapes his arm around her. She throws it off. His face contorts.
I’ve seen this look a thousand times. The I can’t believe you’d diss me look. I know what will happen next. He’ll pressure her, and if she keeps refusing him, he’ll get physical.
What they were doing to me the other night is the way they are. They’ve probably done it before. And they will probably do it again.
No. They won’t. I won’t let them.
I push through the crowd. I’m pissed. I’m beyond pissed. I’m enraged. I want vengeance on this boy. For me. For this girl he’s messing with. For every girl he’s probably pushed around before.
I tap on his shoulder. In the instant after he turns around, but before he can really pin down who I am, I crack my elbow straight into his ugly mouth.
The girl backs away. Exterminator spits, his hand to his face. Within a second, blood pours from the split lip. “You little bitch!” he says, and rushes me.
Suddenly there’s no sound. I’m pure focus, watching his legs move, the forward lean of his torso. I see his elbow move back, his arms propelling him forward. I see the weak spot. He’s not thinking about fighting. He’s angry.
And he’s going down.
As soon as he’s in range, I fasten my hand around my opposite wrist and spin into him, plowing my braced elbow into his gut. This drops him, bending over, sputtering. I’ve knocked the air out of him.
As soon as his head is bent, I leap, bringing that same elbow down on the back of his head. I could aim lower, and possibly damage him permanently. But I don’t. He sags to his knees.
His friends don’t come forward. The crowd has backed away. The boxers are still going, their round moving forward. But nobody’s watching them.
I want to keep going. I want to kick him while he’s down. I want to see blood pour out of him. Maybe I even want to watch him die.
But I bring it down. The hurricane threatens. I can feel its roar. But I don’t let it whirl. I breathe in and out, focusing on every breath. I’m hyperaware of the people around me, anyone who might move forward. Who might be a threat.
A figure pushes through the crowd. It’s Officer Su. She’s pulled off the bulky sweats and shows her uniform now. “That’s enough,” she tells me. “I’ll take it from here.”
She slaps cuffs on him and hauls him to his feet. He stumbles but keeps walking.
I turn to his friends. “You next?” I ask Axel. “Because I’m ready for more.”
But I don’t get that chance. Shouts erupt as several more police officers storm into the room. Spectators run for the door. The boxers in the ring dive between the ropes. The girls taking bets snatch the money boxes and disappear in the dark.
Axel tries to make a run for it, but Hudson grabs his arm and jerks him to the floor. I look for Joey and spot him dashing for a door. I sprint through the room and leap onto his back. I bring him down with rapid elbow strikes to the ears until a male officer pulls me off him.
Another officer comes up and puts cuffs on me. I don’t care. The three I want arrested are done. He kicks my feet out from under me, so that I fall on the floor.
In an instant, Colt is there, yanking off his wig and reaching for me. “You better be careful,” he says to the cop. “She’s the victim here, and this is going to hit the news really big. Every move you make is going to go public.”
The cop hesitates. Officer Jones, the funny cop who drove me home, walks up and thumps the other officer on the arm. “This ain’t the one you’re after,” he says, and helps me up.
My shoulders sag as he releases my wrists from the cuffs. My elbows are screaming.
“You okay?” Colt asks.
I nod.
The room has mostly cleared. Exterminator, Axel, and Joey are on the ground, along with the shiny-suited announcer and the seedy man behind the counter. They don’t seem too alarmed. I get the idea this has happened to them before.
“I want to take her home,” Colt tells Officer Jones. “You know where to find her for a statement?”
He nods. “We’ll come by tomorrow. Don’t leave town.”
Colt shakes his hand. “Thank you. Glad you were here.”
When we’ve walked a bit away, Zero bursts out, “That was crazy! Jo-girl, I want to live with YOU. Your life is way too exciting.”
Colt wraps his arm around me. “A little more excitement than we ought to be getting,” he says. “Let’s get this girl home.”
* * *
We hang out at my mother’s house, since that’s where the police know to find us. My mom produces a bowl of ice for my elbow. She can’t take her eyes off Zero.
“You’re very pretty,” she finally says.
“Why, thank you.” Zero pushes his hair behind his shoulders. “I can see where Jo gets her good taste and fine cheekbones.”
Zero heads back to the mansion after midnight, but Colt and I sleep curled together on my mother’s sofa. Officer Su and her partner come by midmorning.
“You’re one crazy girl,” she says. “Taking on Exterminator in the middle of his fighter friend crowd.”
I shrug. “Witnesses are usually a good thing.”
“What’s going to happen to them?” Colt asks.
“Joey’s dad is on the force, so he made bail,” Officer Su says. “But I think that’s it for him. He’s getting sent to some boot camp.”
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Seventeen,” Officer Su says. “Starting young.”
“What about Exterminator?” I ask.
“Priors,” Officer Su says. “His bail is serious and nobody’s come forward to pay it yet.”
I nod. “You think he’ll be in until the wedding?”
“When is it?” she asks.
“Two weeks,” I tell her.
“I’ll try and make sure of it. You pressing charges from the other night would help. That’s a whole new case to open.” She holds up her notebook.
I look at Colt. If I file attempted rape, it will hit the news.
But then I remember that girl at the fight. Exterminator’s attitude. He’ll do it again. It has to go on his record, even if he only gets probation. He has to be called out on it.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll press charges.”
Colt wraps his arm around my shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Jo,” he says.
I glance up at my mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I know how hard it is for her to see me wrapped up in these things. But I’m doing okay. I want to tell her I’m fine. I won’t make the mistakes she did. I won’t let this cost me anything. Certainly not my freedom. Or my family.
“Are we done?” I ask Officer Su.
“For now,” she says. “I’ll need you to come down to the precinct when you can so we can file.”
“Okay, I’ll do that.”
The officers stand up. “Have a wonderful wedding day,” she says. “I’ll make sure there are so
me patrols around.”
“I have a feeling you’re not going to need to worry about us,” I say, looking over at Colt. “If I know The Cure, we’ll have every former heavyweight boxer that ever fought in the ring on detail that day.”
Colt nods. He knows it is absolutely true.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite six straight days of rain on the island, the morning of the wedding dawns warm and clear.
Zero knocks on my door with his special code. I’m already up, staring out the window of the beach mansion. I have to smile, hearing the sequence of taps. I used to open my door only for him, back when I was alone and scared of everybody.
I walk across the hardwood floor, straightening my tank. Colt stayed in my room most of the night, but left early so we could be somewhat traditional and not see each other until the ceremony.
I open the door. Zero wears a nondescript gender-neutral bathrobe. He’s been easygoing about how he dresses since The Cure and Eve arrived a few days ago. I don’t think anyone’s told The Cure that my maid of honor will be in drag. It’ll be a good surprise.
He’s got an armful of bottles and creams. “Time to start the wedding-day rituals!” he says. His eyes are alight with happiness. “You’re a dream bride! Unlimited budget!”
I sit on the edge of the bed. He heads into the adjoining bathroom and arranges everything by the sink. “I’m going to start running your bath,” he says with a sigh. “Every day should start with a long hot bath.”
I take a deep breath. I knew when I agreed to marry Colt that I’d be handing over control of the wedding details to other people. At least now it’s my people, and not The Cure’s publicity department. I try to imagine some uptight woman in a wool suit standing in my bathroom with a clipboard and laugh.
“I’m so glad my Jo is happy today,” he says. “It’s a happy happy day.”
I have to agree. He turns to look out the window at the view I was admiring. “I don’t think anything could be more perfect than this,” he says.