Ruin Me (54 page)

She lowers her voice, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. “Go around back, take the rear entrance by the stairs. Down the first hall, you’ll see a door marked basement. Then, just follow the noise and you’ll find it.”

“Find what?”

Her smile spreads wider. “There’s a fee, but it’s affordable.” She passes me my change.

I open my mouth to ask for more information, but I catch sight of Charlie out the window behind her. He’s left the law office and is now walking slowly towards the truck. “Thank you,” I say as I grab the bread.

“See you tonight,” Amy mutters with a full smirk crossing her face.

I turn back to look at her one more time before pushing the door open. I look around for Charlie again and see him just across the street. I sprint fast, bolting through the nearly abandoned street and make it back to the truck a few seconds before he does.

Charlie pauses and stares at me with amused eyes.

“There was a line,” I say as I climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. I hold up the bread and smile.

He chuckles and moves to the passenger’s side.

Chapter 4

Follow The Noise

I sit quietly in my room and wait.

Charlie’s been in bed for a few hours now, just long enough to get into a really deep sleep. And for what I’m about to do, I need him to be really,
really
deep in sleep.

I leave my room and close the door behind me. It took a long while for me to talk myself into doing this. Charlie’s just starting to trust me and if I get caught sneaking out, all of that will be over. But the more I thought about it, the more my curiosity overwhelmed me.

I step lightly down the stairs. Charlie keeps his truck’s keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen. Luckily, he hasn’t had the mind to hide them from me at night. I pull them off the hook and silently walk out the front door.

The headlights stay off until I reach the turn for the highway. My heart races, scared of getting caught. I keep with the speed limit, hoping not to attract any attention to the truck I literally just stole.

Earlier, I watched the street signs in town, hoping to find Third Street. Unfortunately, I didn’t, but I did see a First Street. Where there’s a First, there’s a Second, and, hopefully, a Third.

The town is deserted, just as I expected at an hour like this. I turn onto First Street and travel south through town. I take the next street over and smile when I find Second Street. I pause at the stop sign and spot a car speeding up the street crossing mine. I wait for them to pass and I don’t have to wait long. The vehicle charges through the intersection with the windows down, ignoring the stop sign in the process. Music blares out of it, along with the whoops and hollers of those inside.

I quickly hit the gas and turn the truck to follow them. My gut tells me they’re here for the same reason I am. I come within distance of their license plate and spot the words St. Louis County. I’m guessing people from St. Louis don’t make it a habit of traveling out to towns in the middle of nowhere unless they have a good — and fun — reason for it.

I follow them through town and just as I suspected, they lead me to Third Street. A few miles later, we reach an abandoned school just outside the city limits, just like Amy described earlier. It’s old, unkempt, and surrounded by other cars. I park in the back and watch as three people tumble out of the car I followed here. They’re laughing, obviously inebriated, but they head towards the back entrance like they’ve been here a hundred times before. I climb out of the truck and follow them up the stairs.

Their voices echo through the halls. I keep my distance and follow them, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. They don’t seem to notice me, but if they have, they don’t care. They pull open a door marked basement and it falls closed behind them.

I pick up my pace and pull it open.

Follow the noise.

By the time I’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, I’ve lost the travelers from St. Louis, but I can hear the screams and shouts of voices echoing through the dark hallways. I make my way through the black, relying on my ears to guide me until I finally come to a set of double doors with a bright light shining out from beneath them.

I push the door open and my jaw drops.

It’s an old basketball court, disheveled from years of abandonment and disuse. A circular stage, shaped like an octagon, sits in the center of the arena, surrounded by a chain-link fence — obviously tossed together with whatever pieces they could find at the local junkyard. The lights flicker above it, just barely hanging on with what little electricity it still pumping into this place.

Two fighters stand in the center with their fists engaged in fighting stances. As my eyes land on them, one takes a firm punch to the jaw and falls flat to the floor. I flinch and my own hands fly to my mouth as I watch the blood spill off his teeth.

“Hey, Claire!”

I look up to find Amy stepping into my view. She appears entirely different than before, sporting a tight tank top and denim shorts. I blink, noticing her tight and toned body, which was well-hidden before behind long sleeves and pants. “Amy…?” I greet, shouting about the roaring crowd. “Hi.” I look around. There has to be at least fifty people cramped together in this makeshift arena.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” she says.

“I almost wish I hadn’t…” I say.

“Entrance fee is ten dollars,” she says, holding out her hand. “But for you, I’ll take five. It’s your first time, after all. I like to be gentle.”

A body slams into the fence and the crowd goes wild. I reach into my pocket and pull out the wad of cash I brought with me. I give her the money and look back to the ring as the same fighter takes another fist to the jaw. “What is this?” I ask her.

“It’s an illegal MMA fighting ring, obviously,” she jokes as she stuffs my money into a large, glass jar. She twists the lid back on and holds onto it tightly against her breast. A metal whistle hangs down from a chain around her neck. I say nothing in response and stare back at her with confusion.
“Mixed martial arts,”
she explains.

“I see…” I look at the ring, unable to take my eyes off it. “Are there any rules?”

She shakes her head. “No — well, no weapons. Fists and skin only. The fight goes until someone is knocked unconscious or taps out.”

The crowd lets out another scream as one fighter lands a serious jab against the other’s throat.

“Are these
locals
?” I ask, scanning their wild faces.

“Oh, hell no,” she answers with a giggle. “Well, a few, like myself. The others come from all over the state just to bare witness to the best fighters in the whole Midwest.”

I blink, feeling queasy, as the same fighter takes another bloody punch. “What do they get out of this?” I ask.

“Underground fame and glory, baby!” she smirks. “And this.” She holds up the glass jar.

“The winner gets the entrance fees?”

“I take a bit off the top for organizing the event,” she says. “Then the local on-duty cop takes a bit for his silence. The rest gets stashed away for the final tournament fight and the winner of that takes home everything.”

“You pay off the cops?”

“We used to host these fights in Rolla, but the cops there were
total
pricks. The ones here in our tiny town are a bit more… persuasive.”

I scan her face again, staring directly at her big, bruised eye. “Do you fight, too?” I ask in surprise.

“I like to hit the gym with the guys every now and then,” she says, nodding her head. “I’m not super competitive about it though. I just think it’s fun. You should try it sometime. There’s nothing like it.”

“I think I’ll pass,” I say, staring at the purple ring around her eye.

“Suit yourself.” She looks back to the fight in progress. “Excuse me. It looks like he’s gonna tap out…”

My eyes fall back to the ring and sure enough, the fighter on the floor taps furiously against his opponent’s knee. The opponent, clad in white, blood-splattered shorts, has him pinned to the floor with his knee pressed against his throat. Silence falls on everyone, leaving the sound of gurgling in the air.

Amy enters the ring and shoots a warning glance at the fighter on top. He lingers on the other fighter’s throat, seemingly disinterested in his plight, and puts a little more force on his body before bouncing off of him.

I inhale deep, not realizing that I was holding my breath the entire time. A few guys enter the ring to the help the beaten boy off the floor while the winner in blood-splattered shorts walks around the ring with his red fists held high, drawing the shouts of the satisfied crowd.

“That’s another win for
Pike the Punisher
, last year’s reigning Alpha from St. Louis!” Amy shouts, gesturing towards the fighter as he steps off the stage. I watch with wild adrenaline, sliding further into the crowd, closing in on the stage with a morbid curiosity.

Amy signals to the crowd to silence them. “It’s the final fight of the night, folks,” she begins. The crowds goes wild, firing off shouts of excitement and disappointment at the idea of their fun ending so soon. “But it’s the one you’ve all been waiting for!” She points to the left as a fighter enters the ring. He’s as short as I am, but built like a truck from head to toe.

“In this corner, we have
Burt the Brute
from Jefferson City!”

This fighter is obviously popular, as the crowd begins a loud and slow chant of his name as he paces around the stage.

“And in this corner,” Amy continues, pointing to the right. She waits a moment and the crowd goes silent again. “We have our very own,
Tobias the Untouchable
!”

I freeze and my eyes fall on him as he steps into the ring. The piercing shouts for him rattle my ears, far louder than any other fighter so far.

Tobias stands still, wearing nothing but a pair of tight, black shorts. My eyes once again take in his body. The bruises have faded to a subtle blue, but I can’t say the same about his thick muscles. I bite my inner cheek, completely entranced by him. He doesn’t pace back and forth like the others to draw the crowd’s attentions. He lets them come to him, his face frozen solid like a marble statue, and the crowd adores him for it.

Amy backs out of the ring and closes the cage behind her. She grabs a whistle hidden on a chain around her neck and brings it to her lips.

A sudden wave of fear trembles me. Blood still lies splattered beneath their feet inside the cage. I look up at Tobias again, remembering the mess of a fight I witnessed just moments before. I want to shout out and stop him, but it wouldn’t do any good in a crowd as loud as this.

Amy blows the whistle and the fight begins.

Burt moves in fast, his fists knocking blows at Tobias with hard precision. Tobias stands his ground, blocking each one of them, keeping his hands in front of his face at all times.

“Come on, pretty boy!” Burt cries out above the crowd. “Let me mark up that handsome face!” He lands a punch against Tobias’ already bruised ribs. Then another. And another. I see Tobias pushing out his hips, allowing for
the Brute
’s fists to rough him up.

He doesn’t even flinch. He waits with wide eyes until Burt drops his form. It’s only for a brief moment, but it’s long enough for Tobias to strike. His bare fist connects with Burt’s jaw, sending him backward into the fence. He hits him again with a flurry of moves, almost moving fast enough to be a human blur.

Burt stumbles forward and shoves Tobias backward. Tobias moves out of the way, but keeps a tight grip on
the Brute
’s arm. He swings him around and slams his knee into Burt’s stomach, sending him toppling to the floor.

I stand on my tippy-toes, begging to get a closer look at them both, but I can barely see what’s happening. The next thing I know, Tobias is on his knees, somehow knocked down by a sneak attack from Burt. I cringe as Burt digs his sharp nails into Tobias’ back. Tobias twists around to break free of him and slams Burt backward against the cage again. His fists collide with Burt’s face and a red mist spills into the air.

The crowd screams for him and chant’s Tobias’ name over and over again until Burt tumbles to the mat in a silent clump.