Cashing Out

by Pierce, Nicolette

  Roy winced as my eyes narrowed and my knuckles turned white from strangling the glass. “I think we’ll just need the bill,” he said.

  My safe place. Gone. Desperation for a vacation grew stronger. Dangerously strong.

  * * *

  “Just the person I was looking for!” Frankie called.

  "Where are you?" I asked, scanning the chapel to locate him in the mass of fabric and stuffing.

  “I’m up here.”

  Frankie teetered on a ladder, attempting to hoist the balloon.

  “You’re going to kill yourself.”

  “I nearly did three times already! Can you raise the balloon so I can hook it?”

  I gathered the fabric and lifted what I could. “Why don’t you have Lenny help you?”

  “He’s busy getting the soda machine operational.”

  “Do you think you’ll win the challenge?”

  Frankie scowled at the fabric. “Of course we’ll win. I checked the calendar. The new moon is in ten days. It gives us this weekend and next weekend to bust ass. You’ll need to put in extra hours.”

  “I was hoping for a vacation.”

  “Take a vacation later. It’ll give you time to pack and plan. We can still go on the LA vacation.”

  “That would work. I can take on extra hours; I’ve been somewhat stale at the tables. Will you help me find a different casino?”

  Frankie looped fabric on a hook and glanced down. “It took us forever to find Backlash." He held up his hand to tick off the reasons on his fingers. “It’s not owned by Rotunda. It’s off the strip. And it’s fairly clean and safe.”

  “Greyson just bought it.”

  Frankie hissed a low breath. “Damn, he’s going to be even richer.”

  “I need money, and fast. I have to get out of here. I’m losing my mind. Everywhere I go is a reminder of Greyson.”

  “I have the perfect solution, but you’re too chicken.”

  “You mean the fight?” I eyed him.

  “You saw the girl on the website. She’s a lightweight.” Frankie climbed down the ladder and marveled at his balloon that spread across the ceiling, giving the viewer a three-dimensional impression of a balloon in flight. “Help me spread the stuffing so it looks like we’re floating in the air.”

  I broke open a bag. “Do you think I could win?”

  “You don’t have to win. Just stay down and they’ll pay you five grand.”

  “I don’t want any more black eyes.” I tossed white fluff.

  “We’ll practice . . . like when actors pretend to get hit. They don’t actually get hit, but it looks like it.”

  I was desperate. It couldn’t be any worse than the other gigs he’d signed me up for. “I guess we could practice.”

  Frankie tossed fluff into the air in celebration. “We’ll be on a beach in eleven days!”

  “When’s the fight?”

  “Tomorrow night. They’re desperate to find a replacement. One boxer bowed out. Maybe her arm was broken. I can’t remember.”

  “Tomorrow night! And they haven’t been able to fill the spot with a real boxer?” My Frankie alarm blared.

  “It helps to know important people. I told them not to worry because I have the perfect boxer. I’ll fix up my black silk robe for you. It already has a dragon on the back. We’ll call you Lady Dragon. Or Dragonette. Oh! How about The Dragon Slayer?”

  “You told them I’d fight before I agreed?”

  “You were going to agree eventually. In fact, you just did. A gig like this is too good to pass up.”

  Anger flicked and burned. I stomped to the staircase with a growl before my reactive fists could flatten Frankie.

  “We should practice soon!” Frankie called to my retreating back.

  Chapter 3

  “I’m not doing this, Frankie!” I barked as he shoved boxing gloves onto my hands.

  “I told you before, you won’t get hurt. Just take a dive like we practiced and we’ll get paid five thousand dollars. Do you know how many sunsets and margaritas that will buy? Think of sculpted volleyball players glistening with suntan oil and sweat . . . or toned surfers in skintight rubber. We need money for all those sights and sounds. Just get in there and drop as she swings. Make it look real, otherwise we don’t get paid . . . and there’d probably be a lawsuit or two. Not to mention, you’d look like an idiot.”

  “Refresh my memory; how did you get this gig? I’m not a boxer, and I’m banned from Lost City Casino.” I scanned the Lost City main events room, praying a security guard would spot me and escort me from the premises. I never expected my eyes to fall on Greyson.

  Damn, not again.

  I figured he was locked in his penthouse playing boss and secretary with Fiona. Or maybe at the Backlash Casino he stole from me.

  “I know a guy who knows a guy,” Frankie explained, not noticing I’d stopped breathing a minute earlier. “Anyway, you’re on the bill as Dragon Breath. No one knows it’s you.”

  “Dragon Breath?! So, I’m supposed to slay her with my bad breath?”

  Frankie’s nose wrinkled. “Didn’t you brush your teeth?”

  “Of course I did. You’re the one who named me Dragon Breath.”

  “As in fire-breathing dragon, not . . . oh. I didn’t think of that. That’s unfortunate."

  My eyes followed Greyson as he skirted the room to reserved seats. Fiona was barely a step behind. Her aqua dress clung to her perfect body, accenting her fashionably styled strawberry blonde hair, and other . . . ample features.

  “I can’t do this! Greyson’s here.” I fumbled with the gloves. “Get these things off!” I demanded in a near shrill.

  “You go in there and show Greyson that you’re not afraid of him or his lame ban. Show him how strong you are. You don’t need his fancy tailored suits and intoxicating scent.”

  “How would I do that when I’m taking a dive?” I bit down on the glove to yank it off. “I’m getting the hell out of here!”

  “Then go in there and win. Prove yourself.” He shoved the glove back into place. “Just duck if she comes at your face. There’s nothing worse than trying to impress a man with a black eye. Of course,” he said thoughtfully, “he’s already seen you with a black eye.”

  A chiseled man with a clipboard stopped near us. The way his nose appeared broken and healed several times made me suspect he was a former fighter. “Are you ready? We go live in two minutes.”

  “We’re ready,” Frankie said with a peek at the man’s biceps.

  “What do you mean ‘live’?” I halted the man.

  “ESPN is covering the fight,” he said and hurried off.

  “You signed me up for a nationally televised fight?” My head was drowning. “And I’m supposed to lose? Is this legal?”

  “Please,” he tisked. “This is fighting.”

  “I have no idea what that means!” I screeched.

  Frankie clapped his hand over my mouth. “Shush, woman! Everyone’s going to think you’re chicken.”

  I shoved his hand away. “I am chicken! I’m very chicken! I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. I’m out of here!” I only made it two steps when the lights dimmed and a spotlight halted me.

  I vaguely heard the announcer greeting the fans. Shouts and whistles shot through the arena as I froze to my spot. I should be running, I thought as my legs remained solid and heavy.

  Did the announcer just say my name? Frankie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the edge of the ring.

  “Look like you want to be here or they'll make fun of you for years,” he scolded. “Do you want to be known on the blooper reel as Chicken Breath for the rest of your life?”

  Thoughts flew through my head, jarring my reasoning. Seething anger pumped through from this situation and all the crap over the last few months. Greyson . . . sitting smugly in the damn front row with damn Fiona. In that moment, I felt like punching something . . . really hard. I guess it’d have to be someone.

  Frankie shoved a
mouth guard into my mouth.

  I might have an anger-management problem, I thought as I jumped into the ring. I'll sort it out after the fight.

  I heard a few cheers and a couple of catcalls. Greyson’s eyes caught mine. His jaw tightened as he made a move to stand. Fiona stopped him and whispered something into his ear, pressing her breasts against his arm.

  How I wished it was Fiona up here in the ring. Unfortunately, my opponent appeared as her name was announced. A burst of applause carried her up to the ring.

  Heaven help me! I gulped.

  She was muscular and mean. Her manly biceps pulsed. Her short black hair was slicked back. Her dark eyes glared as if she wanted to gouge out my heart and eat it raw.

  Crap! My anger dissolved like sugar in hot coffee; fear was all that remained.

  “Damn, she didn’t look like that on her website,” Frankie choked. “See, that’s why Photoshop should be banned.”

  A man in a striped shirt popped into the ring and told us to shake. I put my glove out; the woman turned her back. Booing and cheering had me at a loss. I never watched fights. All I knew . . . we were getting ready to fight. I gulped. Scratch that. She was ready to fight. I was ready to flee!

  A bell rang. My eyes popped open wide as muscle woman came at me with her gloves up. Her feet moved in rhythm; her gloves covered her face. Narrowing her eyes, she punched through the air, catching under my jaw in a force that plowed me back. I barely had time to find my stance when a blow to my abs blasted the air from my lungs. A right hook followed, landing squarely on my jaw. Teetering and stumbling, I fell to my knees and onto my face.

  I shook out the internal ringing bells as I attempted to stand. The mat kept tipping and sending me back down. The world was topsy-turvy. The man in the ring began counting.

  “1 . . . 2 . . .”

  Frankie made a diving motion off to the side.

  “3 . . . 4 . . .”

  I pushed myself to stand. Why am I trying to stand? I can make five grand just by lying down on this nice soft pad. It’s quite comfortable.

  “5 . . . 6 . . .”

  I looked up to see Greyson in his seat, barking into his cell phone. He attempted to stand up. Fiona grabbed his arm, keeping him in his seat. She pointed to the cameras that were still recording.

  “7 . . . 8 . . .”

  Recording me lying on the mat like a person who’d lost all hope. I shook my head to clear the dull ringing and pushed up. Fury coursed through me as I found my footing.

  I don’t know how I’ll get through this fight, but it will be a fight!

  Gloves up!

  Muscle-bound She-Ra came at me with a jab that whizzed by my ear as I dodged. I didn’t know I was capable of dodging, I thought as I dodged another jab only to get pounded in the stomach.

  Wind gusted from my chest. Her lips twisted into a mouth-guard smile. She knew she was beating me. I knew it too. Hell, everyone knew it.

  The bell rang.

  She-Ra glared as she strutted to her corner. I limped to mine.

  “Why didn’t you stay down?” Frankie scolded as I plopped on the stool.

  “Mm ick uf ivin oup,” I said.

  “What?” He yanked out the mouth guard.

  “I’m sick of giving up. I’m sick of everything.”

  “Do you know what happens when a fighter gets knocked in the head too many times? She gets stupid. Like brain-dead stupid.”

  A figure moved next to Frankie.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Greyson barked. Fiona was at his heels; her lips thinned and pressed. Her eyes were as mean as the fighter’s. “Get out of the ring.”

  “I’m working. What do you care?”

  “Have you lost your mind? You’re fighting with a woman known for knockouts. She’s as blood thirsty as they come. Get out now. I'll find a way to smooth this over.”

  “That’s what you always do.” A dry laugh filled me. “Smooth things over and walk away. On to the next project. I’m not your project! Not this time. And back off my casinos!” I growled and shoved the mouth guard back into place as the bell rang.

  Not this time, I repeated as She-Ra came at me.

  Many things happened in that round that I can’t recall. I remember her first jab. Then my hook. As the hook connected, something happened. Something changed. Just like it did when I’d punched Dagor. A burst of subconscious surfaced. It wasn’t a fight for money; it became survival.

  How that switch flipped, I’ll never know. The only part I remember was being lifted off a laid out She-Ra. Her red swollen face matched mine. The metallic taste of blood seeped from my split lip.

  The man with the striped shirt counted as I limped away. I won. But it didn’t lighten the heaviness that settled like a thick fog.

  “She’s up!” Frankie jabbed his finger to a place behind me.

  I turned on my heel just as a blow caught me off guard. My head whipped to the side, sending me flailing into darkness.

  * * *

  “What was she doing in the ring?”

  I blinked my eyes open to the voice edged with vexation. I squinted through the bright spotlights to find faces peering down. They were darkened in shadow with bright halos illuminating them.

  “This is not heaven,” I muttered.

  “Are you sure?” a kind voice asked with a chuckle.

  “God wouldn’t be so cruel to leave me with an eternal headache.”

  “I’ll be happy if all you have is a headache.”

  I focused on the voice. A man wearing a medical-team uniform slid into view.

  “I’m not happy with a headache,” I countered, attempting to sit. He pressed me to the mat.

  “Let’s just do a quick check to make sure you’re okay before you stand.”

  “Will she be okay?” the exasperated voice asked.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine, Mr. Miller,” the man said. “We’ve had worse knockouts.”

  “Greyson, you’re due at the Backlash in fifteen minutes,” a pert voice said. “We’re meeting the CEO and VIPs.”

  My gaze slid to focus on Greyson and Fiona standing outside the ring.

  “They can wait a few minutes,” Greyson said.

  “The deal could go south if we don’t act,” she urged.

  “They’re desperate. They can wait.”

  The medical officer helped me stand. After a slight wobble, I was able to walk without assistance. An erupting cheer surprised me. The crowd is still here?

  “Give them a wave!” Frankie said.

  I gave a wave to show them I had miraculously survived the beating. Applause escorted me off the mat. I held onto the ropes while the medical officer assisted me to the floor where Greyson stood. And was furious.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Just a minute or two,” he clipped. “If I leave you with Frankie, will you survive until tomorrow?”

  I ripped the gloves off my hands. “Would it matter?”

  There was a small spark of surprise before he growled, “Don’t test my patience, Nadia.”

  “Then don’t test mine,” I growled back.

  Fiona touched Greyson’s sleeve. “We should go. We’re wasting time.”

  “Call them and tell them we’re on our way,” he said, fixing his glaring eyes on me. “As for you, if I find you in the ring again, I’ll pull you out myself.”

  He turned on his heel and strode to the exit with Fiona following in his wake.

  “He’s an ass,” I gritted.

  “He’s got a fine ass,” Frankie said as his eyes trailed Greyson.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke to the sound of the front door clicking shut. I stirred and opened my eyes to find Greyson looking down at me. His narrow eyes were filled with an emotion I couldn’t peg.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you get in?” I struggled to sit up. Pain clawed through my head, stopping me cold. I sank back.

  “Frankie let me in. I want to talk.”

  �
��As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to talk about. You banned me from your casino when I needed your help. Where’s Fiona?” I asked, wondering if she was hexing poor Gus as he slept on the couch.

  “She’s at Lost City where she’s needed. Why did you get into the ring?”

  “I needed vacation money. Had I known it was going to be at your casino with a muscle-bound gorilla, I never would have done it. Especially since I’m banned from your precious casino.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I was angry. I’ll lift the ban.”

  “No need. I’ll never step foot inside the casino again. And now I have to find a new casino because you stole Backla . . .” I stopped.

  “I stole Backlash?” he finished. “How did you know I was buying it?” His gaze hesitated on my bruised face.

  “I saw you. It doesn’t matter; I’ll find a new casino. It’s not like there’s a lack of them.”

  All I wanted was for Greyson to shut up and wrap his arms around me. This conversation was going terribly wrong. But when has anything ever gone right? I swung my legs from the bed to sit, catching myself before I toppled over.

  Greyson sank next to me. “What happened to us?”

  “You hired Fiona and turned your back on everyone. We needed your help.”

  “Just because I’m busy doesn’t mean I turned my back on everyone . . . especially you. I don’t see how Fiona has anything to do with this. She’s just my assistant.”

  A laugh rolled through me, brittle with anger. “Do you know Dagor is dead? Do you know he almost killed me again? How about Ian? Do you know he was back to see you? He stayed at your hotel. Did you know?” My accusatory questions flew.

  Greyson’s brow furrowed. “Ian came back? When did all this happen?”

  “It doesn’t matter. No one could contact you. Fiona severed all contact. She placed you in a bubble beyond our reach. Even Remy couldn’t get through.”

  Greyson’s lips thinned. “That explains why he quit.”

  “He quit?”

  Greyson nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s why you tried to knock down my door with a crowbar.”