Reckless Attraction Vol. 2

by JJ Knight

  “The police came really fast,” I say. “And they had really tight security there. I guess they don’t want people going in and out without them knowing. It was hard to find an exit.”

  “Well, I’m glad you managed to get out of jail,” she says. “I guess we’ll straighten all the legal stuff out on Monday.”

  “Okay,” I say weakly. I’m pretty sure that Hudson’s lawyer will be assigned to me for the whole case. I don’t know how Clarissa will react if she figures out that the attorney also represents one of the fighters we busted. Hopefully that isn’t public information.

  “At least we got those suckers,” Clarissa says. “Sounds like they arrested almost a hundred people. They’ll think twice before they set up the next one.”

  “Actually, they’ve already got a new location,” I say.

  “Really?” Her eyebrows go up. “That’s excellent information. If we bust another one and they start feeling the heat, we can really make a difference here.”

  “You think so?” I ask.

  “Absolutely. The fans will get spooked. No spectators, no bets, no fights.” She beams at me. “You’ve been a really great addition to our team. I don’t think we’ve had anyone as committed to our causes as you are right now.”

  “Does this mean I will be at the next fight?”

  “Of course,” she says. “You have a way in?”

  “I do,” I say. “I befriended a couple of the regulars. They got me on the list. I gave them a fake name, of course.”

  “See, that is the type of freedom fighter that I’ve been looking for. I bet we can raise more donation money based on what we’ve done here. We can interview Carlos and use some of your footage. Try to get some really good stuff next time.” She smacks her fist into her palm “We’ll bring down this scourge. Expose the ugly underbelly of the sport.” Her cheeks glow pink. She’s really into it.

  “Thanks,” I say. “This particular issue means a lot to me personally.”

  “I can tell,” she says. “If we get another bust, and the donations flow in, I bet we can fund you a scholarship to get you back into school. With your degree, you’d be able to take on a lot more responsibility for the organization.”

  Wow. My degree. I wouldn’t have to wait.

  We all know how lean our operation runs. If she thinks she can spare money to help me with my degree, she must know some donors who are sensitive to this issue.

  Clarissa raps my car. “I’m really pleased, Chloe. See you Monday.”

  “See you then.”

  Clarissa takes off down the street to the paid parking lot. Her cherry head and yellow dress catch the attention of pretty much everyone on the block.

  I pull the ride sign out of my window. I no longer feel as bad as I did that morning. I’m a freedom fighter. Clarissa said so. And breaking up these illegal matches, where people get hurt, where people raise blood money, that is really something. I can take down people like the man who killed my father. The ones who hurt Carlos and Jamison.

  This is my work. My legacy. I will continue to do it.

  Hudson or no Hudson.

  Chapter 6: Hudson

  Sundays are always interesting now that I live in LA. Our team doesn’t work out, and it’s a family day in every sense. We all meet at The Cure’s house and have a big fancy dinner.

  It’s like something from a movie. The girls all wear formal dresses—well, except for Jo, who won’t wear a dress for anything except maybe a wedding. Still, she has silky pants and nice shirts.

  The guys wear suits and ties. Jo hooked me up with a couple of those when I moved here.

  Waiters in formalwear serve the food. All the plates are covered with silver domes. I mean, I never could have pictured myself having a meal like this, much less every Sunday.

  The Cure often invites other famous people for these dinners. You never know when Ronda Rousey or George Foreman or some other big sports star is going to show up at the table. And you have to act cool when it does.

  Because you can’t go all fan crazy You have to act like you belong. If anything, these dinners help me learn that I do in fact belong. Even if I don’t always feel that I do.

  When I get there, Colt, Jo, and Bear are already inside. Bear has climbed up on the dining room table and stuck his hands in a mountain of strawberries. His perfect little white button-down shirt is covered with red stains.

  Jo pulls him down. “Hello, Hudson,” she says, trying to wipe the worst of the strawberry off his shirt and face. She’s not too keen on the dress-up part of Sundays. Not for her or for Bear.

  “Looks like you got a head start on dinner,” I say to Bear.

  Jo pries open his fist to pull out a smashed piece of fruit. “I don’t know why we have to do this, and why they insist on the baby coming.”

  The Cure strides up behind her. “Because he’s my grandson, that’s why.” He picks up Bear and holds him upside down by a leg. Bear giggles madly.

  “Besides,” he says, “Otherwise you would stay home and not put up with all of us.”

  “You have me there,” Jo says.

  This is an old familiar conversation. The Cure’s wife Eve glides in, elegant in a glittery dress and perfect upswept hair. She turns Bear right side up and fits him on her sparkling hip. “Come with Mimi Eve,” she says. “This is a lovely dinner and you must be a young gentleman.”

  “Mimi,” Bear says. Like the rest of us, he puts on his best behavior for Eve.

  Jo follows them out to the living room. The Cure turns to a sidebar and pours two glasses of something fragrant and most certainly expensive.

  “So did you find that girl you went after Friday night?”

  I think about what to say. He sets down the crystal decanter and turns with the two glasses, passing me one.

  His eyes are intent on me. I know he wants me to tell him that I never spoke to her again. But I won’t lie.

  “I made sure she got to her car safely.”

  “You seeing her again?” he asks.

  This is as much a threat as a question. He wouldn’t have said the things he did to her in the limo if he wanted her to stick around.

  “What happens with her has nothing to do with my fighting.” I say. That’s the truth.

  The Cure watches me as he takes a sip from his glass. “She was a cute little thing, but trust me when I know that they’re not worth the trouble.”

  “Advice noted.” I work hard not to feel intimidated by him, but it isn’t easy. He’s footed my bills for six years. Taken me under his wing. Much of what I’ve become in that time is due to his guidance.

  But it’s like Colt said Friday night. I never crossed him before.

  “Do a lot of people protest MMA fighting?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “All over the place,” he says. “A lot of people think boxing and MMA and even regular martial arts are too violent to be a sport.”

  “Really?”

  “They delayed the legality of MMA fighting in a lot of states right up until last year,” The Cure says. “It took a lot of hard work by dedicated people to get it legalized in every state. New York was one of the last hold outs.” He inclines his head toward Parker, who is talking to Colt in the room next door.

  “Before Parker moved back here, he was in New York. He had to cross state lines to do matches.”

  “I guess I came at the right time then,” I say.

  “You have, indeed,” The Cure says. “You have a very promising career ahead of you.”

  The implication is don’t blow it.

  “It looks like Buster is going to set up a regulation fight for me.” I take a sip of the drink. Dang. It’s scotch, smooth as butter.

  “Good, good,” The Cure says. “It’s more than time for you to get started.”

  Jo must have been listening on the other side of the wall, because she pops in the room.

  “We have several possible opponents lined up,” she says. “Buster’s working on a date.”
/>   “Then it sounds like you’re in good hands,” The Cure says. “Seems like it might be time to increase your monthly stipend. I hear you’re living at a hotel.”

  “It’s temporary,” I say. “And it’s fine. It’s close to the gym.”

  The Cure examines the liquor in his glass. “I’ll have a real estate agent contact you next week about buying something suitable. I think a permanent residence is something you should be looking into.”

  Jo raises her eyebrow at me. I’m not so sure she’s pleased at how indebted I’m getting to her father-in-law.

  “You better start winning, so you can start making your way up the ranks,” she says.

  “I intend to.”

  Everything feels like it’s moving really fast. Regulation fight. Increasing the money that I’m already getting. A place of my own. Whose life am I living anyway? It sure doesn’t feel like mine.

  “It might have been a rough start,” The Cure says, “but I’m not disappointed that you took it upon yourself to get a fight under your belt. Here’s to many more successful matches.” He holds up his glass.

  I clink my drink against his. I sure hope he’s right.

  Chapter 7: Chloe

  I’m not sure what to expect when I walk into the offices of Action for Action on Monday morning.

  What I definitely do not expect is a great cheer going up. And cake.

  Cake!

  Declan, Clarissa, and the others congregate around the scuffed-up work table where we have meetings. In the center, a pale blue cake sits surrounded by printouts of news stories about the bust.

  Declan sits on the edge of the table, his decoratively shredded shoes resting on a metal chair. He entertains the others with his impression of how I sounded when I called from jail.

  He pulls his dreadlocks around to the front of his shoulders. “Pretend these are blond,” he says. He holds an imaginary phone to his ear.

  “Declan, Declan!” he says in falsetto. “Halp me! Halp halp!”

  I shove him on the shoulder. “My voice doesn’t go as high as yours.”

  That gets a laugh.

  Clarissa cuts the cake and passes plates around.

  “Chloe, you’re the biggest badass in the group,” Declan says. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

  As the cake gets eaten, the others wander to their desks, leaving me and Declan by the table.

  “So what happened in the clink?” he asks. “Have you forgiven Clarissa yet?”

  “I got out on my own,” I say. “When Clarissa blew me off, I did not want to spend the night there again. It sucks.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” he says. “If I never see the inside of a city jail again, I’ll die a happy man.”

  Frosting sticks to one of the three piercings in his lip, a pale blue that complements his dark skin. He has four rings in his nose and about ten in one ear. Sometimes he takes them all out for protests, especially if the risk is high of getting arrested. He says there’s nothing worse than having that many piercings in jail.

  “What does she have on your agenda for the next few weeks?” I ask him. “Anything risky?”

  “No. She’s keeping me on the down-low for a bit. Nothing radical. Things on public byways. Some hearings. As long as I don’t get too rowdy, they won’t do anything but escort me out from the City Council Chambers.” He picks up his plate and takes another bite. “Mmm. Frosting for breakfast.”

  “You like council duty?” I ask.

  He licks his fork. “Nobody likes council duty.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  Action for Action attends most every council meeting. In fact, you can be sure that if you’re a new employee, that is one of the first things you will have to do. They like sending the noobs. You’re more likely to get on the agenda for the public speaking portion if they don’t know who you are. And they get to know us pretty fast.

  “At least you’ll avoid arrest,” I say. “Apparently I’m going right back into the fire to bust another match.”

  “Already?”

  “They just can’t stop holding fights.”

  Clarissa walks up and catches that last line. “They can’t help themselves. It’s too profitable.”

  Today she’s in bright green, like a human-sized watermelon.

  “What I want to know is how they got the money people out so quickly,” I say. “They had a blackout the moment the cops walked in. It was chaos.”

  “They’re organized,” she says. “And I hope you don’t stick around long enough to see that next time. Three strikes on your record in this close proximity are going to mean I can’t use you for much of anything.” She nudges Declan’s knee. “Like this big lump.”

  “It won’t happen again,” I say. “I will make absolutely sure I have a solid exit strategy before I greenlight the cops.” I set my half-eaten cake on the table. “By the way, how did they assemble so many police officers and arrest vans in that short amount of time?”

  “They didn’t,” Clarissa says. “I have a contact on the force I was working with. They were only a few blocks away.”

  “So they were going to bust it without me?” I ask. My skin prickles. Why was I risking my neck if they were already going in?

  “You were a huge help,” Clarissa says. “And it gives us credibility if you’re there. We want the donations flowing to us.”

  “That’s how she blows,” Declan says. “Money makes the world go round.”

  I try to contain my annoyance that I was only there for show. “If the police knew all this, why did I get arrested at all? I told them who I was.”

  Clarissa cuts another piece of cake. “My influence doesn’t go that far,” she says. “They use me for information. I use them to get my point across.”

  “Do they already know about the next fight? Why can’t they bust that one without me?”

  “We have to be there,” Clarissa says. “We need our own footage, our own information to show what impact we’re having.”

  Declan doesn’t seem too pleased either. “You have donors specifically going after fights? Is that the deal?”

  Clarissa swirls her fork through the frosting. “Of course I do. The same people who kept fights illegal for years. They’re livid that they’ve lost all fifty states at this point. They take aim where they can.”

  Declan glances at me. I shrug. Probably I’m the only one at Action for Action with a personal reason to chip away at fighters.

  I’m not thrilled to be doing this only to keep money flowing. How is that any better than what they’re doing?

  Shelley walks up, tossing her empty plate into a trashcan by the table. She’s the muscle of our operation, clocking in at six feet and built like a soldier. She goes to events whenever we need bodyguards or intimidation.

  “Nice work, Chloe,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind getting in on that action.”

  Clarissa turns to me. “You want Shelley to go along with you on the next one?”

  I have to think fast. Do I want Shelley there? I did feel a little out of my element. But then, she would’ve seen that I knew Hudson. And there is the problem of the list. Only my name is on it. I’m not sure I should push my luck by bringing a guest of my own.

  “I’m sort of working these three guys who know where all the fights are,” I say. “They put me on a list so that I could get in. That might mean I can bring someone else, but I’m not sure.”

  “Sounds me trying to get me in might not be a good idea,” she says. “If they get suspicious, I might stop Chloe from making it.”

  “We can’t risk it,” Clarissa says. “Two busts in two weeks will really make us look good. They will fear us.”

  “Maybe next time,” Shelley says. “Really good work, Chloe. I hope we do get to do a job together somewhere.”

  She walks away. Clarissa gives me a little smile and leans in close. “I’m serious about what I said Saturday. Your degree is important to us. I’m the only social work pers
on here.”

  I glance around. It’s true. Declan only did a year of junior college. Shelley is ex-military. The other two in our group are English majors.

  My stomach flips at the idea that I could go back to school. A job that would pay my tuition is like a dream.

  Clarissa pats my arm and heads to her office.

  I sit down at my own desk to do the usual rounds of phone calls to Congress, email campaigns, and protest letters. Working for Action for Action is not all covert operations, arrests and busts. There’s a ton of drudge work.

  But after the emotional highs and lows of the last few days, I look forward to a little paperwork.

  It won’t stay easy for long. In two weeks, I’ll be at another MMA fight. Another bust.

  I can only hope Hudson isn’t there to get arrested again. He might be completely in the wrong. He might do things that I can’t live with. But I still know him to be someone amazing, and I don’t want him to get in more trouble.

  I glance at my phone. I know his number. I can text him not to go to the fight in Manchester Square.

  But I don’t know if I owe him anything. If he’s going to break the law, that’s his decision.

  So, I turn to my ancient desktop computer, a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down from an organization with little money but lots of heart. Definitely lots of attitude.

  I chose my side a long time ago. I have to stick with it.

  Chapter 8: Hudson

  I swear my sister is trying to commit murder by workout. All week, she’s made me hit it hard. More than squats and kicks and caveman throws and punching routines. More than just sparring. She’s a woman on a mission.

  Jo and Buster came up with a list of potential opponents for my first legitimate match, but the list is held up by the venue. Most of the good places are booked well ahead, including Buster’s Gym itself.

  They both promise they will absolutely drop me into any opening that comes up in Buster’s schedule. Otherwise I’m a ridiculous three months out. That’s not soon enough for me by a long shot.

  On Friday night, a week since the infamous night with Face Wrecker and my night in jail, I head to the bar with Mike and Josh.