My stomach plummets. I’m so glad I was too distracted to look his way, because seeing him visibly upset would’ve destroyed all my composure. I grimace. “I feel so bad. I wish I could call him.”
“Why don’t you call him now?”
“He’ll probably never want to speak to me again anyway, so I deleted his number to keep me from making a fool of myself.”
“Really?” Beth rolls her eyes and hands me her phone. “If there was the beginning of something between you two, you at least owe him an apology, Celeste. It’s the decent thing to do.”
Beth appears to have the compassion gene her sister lacks, making her fairly likable. I take her phone, my brows pulling together. “How did you get his number?”
She grins. “When I teasingly told him I might need a security evaluation, he sincerely offered to give me one. I have to say, Celeste, I didn’t mind that delicious hunk of a man leaning in close while I added his info to my contacts one bit. He smells divine.”
Annoyed, I pull my phone from my pocket and pretend to add Calder’s number to it. Instead, I make sure to block the caller ID before I paste his number into a message to Talia.
Me: Give this to S. Now he can locate C. Don’t reply back. This isn’t my phone.
I hit send, then pretend to dial Calder while I’m really deleting the text message from the trash folder. I might not be able to officially apologize to Calder for today’s events, but helping Sebastian reconnect with his cousin is my way of putting the one person Calder claims to trust—at least he felt that way four years ago—back in his life.
Holding Beth’s gaze, I speak into the silent phone. “Hey, Calder. I hoped you’d answer, but I guess I’ll have to leave this on your voicemail. I just wanted to apologize. I had no idea my dad would announce my engagement today of all days. I should’ve told you about my obligation to the Hemming family. As Carver Enterprises’ CEO, I’m obligated to keep my father’s wishes of merging our families via marriage. The arrangement was established a long time ago. I hope you can forgive me.”
I glance at Beth’s bummed expression and sigh as I put my phone back in my pocket. “At least I put it out there.”
Disappointment creases Beth’s smooth skin and she drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “The point is…you tried.” Waving her hand to clear the heaviness in the air, she brightens. “Let’s have some fun tonight and forget about regrets and obligations for a bit, agreed?”
“Agreed,” I say, nodding.
My stomach tightens as we head into the revitalized area of the Lower East Side. The city has been working hard to spruce it up and turn it into a hip place to eat out. And for the most part it’s working. Except at night. Its proximity to the dodgier areas makes it a place you only visit during the day.
Yet here we are, pulling up outside an abandoned warehouse at nine in the evening. Granted, we’re not alone. A long line of Audis, BMWs, Jaguars and other high-end cars are waiting behind us to enter the security patrolled parking deck.
We drive under the garage’s automatic arm after Beth waves a ticket in front of a sensor, and I say, “Where’d you get that ticket? What is this place, Beth? It’s as silent as a tomb.”
She parks and cuts the engine. “The ticket tells us where to go. The secret locations change every three months. Just trust me. You needed to get out and cut loose. And I know you, Celeste. This is as far out of your comfort zone as you’ll ever get.”
“That’s not comforting,” I say, following her across the parking lot. Normally I would find my comment amusing. Between Talia and me, I’m usually the more adventurous one, but right now, I’m not technically myself. When we walk in the opposite direction of the elevator that other patrons are waiting for, I tilt my chin toward it. “Um, isn’t that the way we’re supposed to take?”
Beth giggles and punches a button to a smaller elevator. “Not us. We’re extra special VIPs.”
“So they’re VIPs as well?” I ask Beth as the elevator takes a short trip up. “What kind of place is this?”
“It’s called the Elite Underground Club or EUC for short.” The second the elevator opens at our destination, the roar of a crowd drowns out the rest of what Beth says.
My jaw drops when she drags me out of the elevator. “You brought me to a fight match?”
I stare at the official-looking fight cage in the center of the room below and the mass of people still pouring in through another entrance. Beth and I are standing on a kind of balcony at the highest point in the room. The only way down to the main floor is via a ramp to our left. The ramp circles the entire massive room all the way down to the main floor, where a couple hundred chairs are set up in a circle around the ring.
Beth lets out a full-bellied laugh. “It was totally worth bringing you here just to see that look on your face. Come on. We need to hurry.” Before I can protest, she grabs my hand and pulls me down the ramp.
While we make our way through the crowd of men and women starting to seat themselves, I say over the general murmur of pre-fight talk, “I can’t believe how many women are here.”
Beth pauses once we reach the center aisle that leads right up to the stairs outside the cage. “Why? You don’t think women can enjoy a good MMA fight?”
I glance around the packed place. “You don’t usually see this many women at a boxing match, do you? In the past, women just haven’t enjoyed watching violent sports.”
“Ha! The times have changed, big sister,” Beth says, proceeding down the aisle. “Not only do we enjoy it, we get turned on by it.”
I hurry to catch up to her, my eyebrows raised. “Okaaaaay, then. That was TMI, but whatever floats your boat, LL.”
Beth’s cheeky grin softens. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”
The way she’s looking at me makes me wonder if I’ve just blown my own cover, but then Beth throws her arm around my neck and yanks me into a tight hug. Pulling me along, she whispers in my ear, “I kind of miss it.”
Relieved I didn’t screw up, I smile and elbow her lightly in the ribs. “So do you have extra VIP front row tickets too?”
Beth wrinkles her nose at my teasing before she tugs me into a huge group of girls all calling out to one of the organizers—a beefy bald guy with a hard expression who’s wearing a black T-shirt that reads SECURITY in bold white letters.
“Pick me!” A high-pitched voice calls from the gaggle of women.
“No, I’m the one you want!” a perky blonde says.
A tall, busty brunette elbows the short blonde in the head, and when she screams out, Big Boobs sneers, “See what happens when you pinch people?”
Snickering at them, Beth says to me in a low tone, “We’re not sitting. We’re joining the greeting party.”
I soon discover what the “greeting party” is when the bald guy picks Beth, me, and eight other women, then points to the edge of the stairs leading up to the caged ring and says in a rumbling voice, “Line up on the left side of the aisle, ladies.”
Beth giggles mischievously as she pulls me to her left and murmurs, “This is going to be fun.”
Standing next to the stairs, I’m at a loss as to what I’m supposed to do. Do we wave and scream for the fighters like cheerleaders? The only reason I was picked is because Beth insisted we were a package deal once the guy chose her. Of course he chose her! She might not be dressed in skimpy skin-tight, mid-drift clothes like the other ladies, but her tall black boots, black mini skirt and fitted red sweater with a deep-vee shows off her assets well. She definitely competes. I feel completely underdressed, but I’m here…may as well get swept up in the fun. I ignore the other girls snorting at my basic outfit and whistle and holler right along with Beth.
The music amps at the same time the lights suddenly dim. A single spotlight focuses on the center aisle and a man’s deep voice announces across the speakers. “Are you ready for the championship fight tonight?” The crowd goes nuts, screaming and whistling, while the announcer begins to r
attle off fight stats for the first fighter as the spotlight shifts to the top of the aisle where the fighter stands. “Give it up for Stone Cold Jack Hammer!” the announcer finally booms.
Other than the red tape crisscrossed around his hands and fingers, the fighter is wearing a pair of red shorts with a white waistband and no shoes. While he punches one hand into the other and flexes his thick chest and ab muscles, obviously soaking in the moment of undivided attention, I ask Beth, “What’s up with that tight mask covering his whole head? It makes me feel like he’s going to rob me.”
“Ha, yeah, on top of the required use of stage names, the mask’s intimidating factor is a side benefit.” Beth’s chuckle dies down as she leans close to whisper, “Did you notice the guys in suits who walked into that booth?”
I follow her line of sight to a glassed-in sky-box to the right of the elevator where we exited. I can’t believe I missed seeing it when we first got off, but then the fight cage pretty much drew my undivided attention. The sky-box glass is tinted so we can’t see inside, and several massive guards of different ethnicities stand around the outside of the booth, watching the crowd below with protective scrutiny stamped on their faces. “No, I didn’t.”
Beth nods and gives a knowing smile. “Those are the true VIPs of the night. The men enter the booth with masks on too, though I hear theirs are more comfortable. They’re here to be entertained, but with all that muscle up there protecting them, I’m sure they’re men of influence. One thing is for sure…they’re staggeringly wealthy. I’ve heard those tickets are over a million each.”
I gulp. “A million? How much was our ticket?”
“It was a gift,” she titters. “As for the major VIPs up there, my guess is they place massive bets on these fights. This championship bout is the penultimate for the fighters who’ve worked so hard in the amateur arenas to get chosen for the EUC. Only a few were hand-selected and offered the chance to fight in four bouts total over the course of a year. Three previous elimination bouts lead to this one main event. Tonight’s winner will not only be well paid, he’ll also get an audience with those men if he chooses.”
“I would think the fighters would want all the glory and fame in the arena,” I say. “Why wouldn’t they want all the fans to know who they are?” Frowning, I continue, “And more importantly…how do you know all this?”
She tsks and fluffs her hair. “I have ways to get people to talk. I’m charming like that. And as for the fighters keeping their identities a secret, in the three other EUC fights that lead up to this main event, the fans do get to know the MMA fighters through their stage names.” She gestures to the fighter in red shorts who’d stopped to sign autographs on his way toward the ring. “Since only amateur—aka unpaid—MMA fighting is allowed in NY, the fighters’ identities are kept secret. They can’t get in trouble for being paid if no one knows who they are. The masks protect their identities so they won’t have problems with the law, which could hurt them if they wanted to go pro later.” She stops talking and laughs at my dumbfounded expression. “Yes, I’m a fan.”
“A super fan more like.” I snort. “But…headgear aside, wouldn’t their stats give them away?”
Beth smirks. “I can tell by their accents that the guys who fight aren’t always native to New York. But since we don’t have a name or city to compare their stats to, it would be hard to figure out who the fighter really is.”
“Wait…so when they’re not fighting for this underground outfit, they fight in amateur bouts here in New York?”
She nods. “At any point an amateur fighter could get picked up to go pro, but this secret organization gives them a chance to make some good money in the interim.”
“Illegally,” I add with a bit of censure in my tone. “It’s amazing how those masks protect not just the fighters but the group sponsoring this event.”
Sweeping her hair back over her shoulder, Beth smirks. “Yes, I’m sure that’s a very true statement. You know, you should hire one of these guys to be your bodyguard. I mean, look at him? No one is going to mess with you if you had someone like that beside you.”
He’s definitely bulkier than Celeste’s guard. The fighter is halfway down the aisle now, so I can finally see what he’s carrying. As the spotlight following him shines on us too, I have to shield my eyes to make it out. It’s a white carnival-style mask. Just when I start to ask Beth what the mask is for, the bald guy touches the blue-tooth headset on his ear, then immediately narrows his gaze on Celeste’s sister.
“Damnit,” she mutters when he stalks straight for us.
“Come with me,” he says in a clipped tone and grips her arm.
I step out of the line, following him as he leads her away. “Let go of her!” I try to pry his meaty paw off, but Beth pulls my hand free, laughing. “Don’t make a scene, Celeste. My boyfriend’s just pissed that I’m standing here. One of these days he’s not going to catch me. Go get back in line. I’ll be right back.”
Her boyfriend? Before I can say anything else, the bald guy hands Beth to another security person and she’s escorted into the darkness.
With no ticket for a seat, I step back in line to wait for Beth. Jack Hammer currently has the ladies all stirred up as he makes his way down the line. It’s hard not to roll my eyes at the obvious display of cleavage the girls put on when he walks past them.
Once he sees the tall, well-endowed brunette standing next to the short blonde on my right, he stops and grins. Just as he starts to place his white mask on her, he gives the blonde and me an afterthought glance and then suddenly pauses.
Stepping in front of me, he ignores Big Boob’s angry wail of frustration and slips the mask on my face. Tracing my cheek with his thumb, he tilts my chin up and says, “Meet me after.”
Before I can tell him that I won’t be meeting him later, he starts up the stairs. As soon as he steps into the fight cage, the crowd explodes with excitement.
While everyone’s cheering as he raises his arms and circles the ring, getting the audience hyped-up, someone yanks hard on my hair. “Ow!” With unshed tears stinging my eyes, I glare over my shoulder at Busty Girl.
“What are you looking at, midget?” she snaps, her chest puffed out in bully mode.
I narrow my gaze. “Don’t touch me again, or you’ll go home with deflated boobs.”
Sneering, she folds her arms over her fake breasts, but the announcer coming back on the speaker drowns out her words. “And tonight’s next fighter is Steel, aka Fists of Steel. This man has moved up fast in the amateur MMA ranks, his bout stats earning him a coveted spot in Elite Underground Club’s tournament bracket when Ramp, aka Rampage, had to drop out earlier this year.”
While the announcer continues on about the contending fighter standing up at the top of the aisle in black shorts and a black mask, the bald security guy retrieves a stack of round cards the size of a stop sign from one of the men manning the judges’ area right in front of the cage. Handing the angry brunette a card marked with the number one, he says, “Take the first round, ring girl, and stop complaining or you’ll be banned from EUC for good.” Ignoring her unappreciative “ugh”, he gives four other girls the rest of the signs numbered two through five.
Sighing her frustration that she didn’t get picked to be a ring girl either, the blonde next to me whispers in my ear, “Better watch your back. Amanda has had her eye on Jack Hammer all season. The fact he not only picked you over her, but invited you to be with him later…she’ll be after you for stealing him from her.”
I grip her arm. “Wait…be with him. As in have sex with him?”
Her blue eyes flutter, appearing extra large on her petite face. “Every once in a while the fighter will ask the girl to stay. That’s code for…he wants you. The rules are super clear though…neither of you can take your masks off. Oh, I’m Tilly by the way.” I start to say my name, but she quickly turns away as the other fighter comes within yelling distance. “Steel, pick me, baby!”
Who would have sex with someone whose face they’ll never see? This can’t be what Beth intended. She might not be my real little sister, but that’s nuts. I need to talk to her. I try to step out of the line, but a group of girls have crowded behind me in an effort to get a closer look at Steel. I’m forced to stay put while the fighter turns to shake someone’s hand and sign several fans’ tickets. The ink covering his entire back draws my attention, and, just like the girls tittering all around me, I can’t help but stare.
A massive bird’s wing spans between his shoulder blades and around his left shoulder. The black ink feathers unfurl down the left half of his body from the middle of his broad back, around his sinuously muscled arm and along his ribcage. Taking up the entire right side of his back is an amazingly realistic half skull that starts just below the few feathers touching his right shoulder. Deep eye-sockets lead to hollowed-out cheekbones just above a toothy mouth. The impressive ink follows the slabs of muscle along Steel’s lower back before disappearing into his black shorts. The realization that the skull’s chin must curve around the top part of muscular butt cheeks makes my stomach clench in full appreciation. That’s a hell of a tattoo.
I whisper to Tilly, “Someone must know who he is. His tattoos are a work of art and highly memorable.”
She shakes her head in fast jerks. “No one knows. Believe me, I’ve asked. He must’ve gotten tattooed right after he signed up for this years’ EUC tournament and has only fought in those bouts so far. Here he comes!”
The Fists of Steel contender only has a couple inches on Jack Hammer, but his bearing is far more menacing. Unlike Hammer, who obviously likes the showmanship of the fight, this guy holds himself with the presence of a street fighter. Like he’s seen his fair share of no-holds-barred, bare-knuckle fighting.
Pulse thrumming, I fold my fingers around the edge of Jack Hammer’s mask, intending to give it to Tilly. But something about this Steel guy’s intimidating look as he walks down the line of girls makes me decide to leave the flimsy layer of protection on until he passes by and enters the cage.
Gold Shimmer Page 13
