Playing with Fire

I heard East groan.

Max sighed. “I’m gonna go talk to Shaun. See if we can postpone it by a few hours. But we can’t cancel. They made that pretty clear, and I want both my balls intact.”

“The fight is happening,” I heard myself say as I dusted myself off, rising up to my feet slowly. I felt seasick. A reasonable side effect to polishing off an entire bottle of the cheapest whiskey I could find at the grocery store. “I’m getting into that ring and finishing this thing.”

“Are you crazy?” Tess thundered behind me.

I turned around to face her. I had a bone to pick with Miss Davis. Not only as she appeared in front of me, but I saw multiple images of her. They blurred into one another, like an accordion of cut out Tesses.

“What kind of heinous crimes have I committed in a previous life to deserve seeing six Tesses?” I pondered aloud. The need to barf in my mouth punched me in the stomach. “And to think all it took was one fucking Tess to screw things up between me and my girlfriend.” I leaned forward, tapping her nose. I missed by a few inches and poked her eye. My bad, take two.

Reign stepped between us, swatting my hand away and furrowing his brows.

“Ex-girlfriend now, and don’t dump this on Tess. It’s not her fault you kept this from Grace. Did you really think no one was going to tell her?”

“I was hoping to tell her closer to the fight. You told Tess I was holding back on Grace, and she told her because she missed my dick too much.”

My snarl came out with a burp. Extra classy.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Tess winced. “Really sorry. I never thought it would be this bad. I didn’t want to ruin things for you. Just make them … difficult.”

My phone rang in my pocket. Ignoring Tess’ apology, I fumbled to take it out. Max was pacing back and forth, talking on his phone, explaining shit to Appleton and his crew, probably.

I checked my screen.

Mother.

How drunk was I to think it might actually be Grace?

I had my chance. A few of them, if I was being honest with myself. And I blew ’em all to hell. Good news was I was finally thinking clearly. I knew what I had to do to make sure Grace would be saved.

“He looks like he’s planning something, which cannot be good, considering his current state.” Easton’s voice stabbed through Reign and Tess’ simultaneous groveling. They said they were going to get me water and something to eat. It took me a few minutes to gather myself before someone propped me against the wall, like I was a piece of furniture. Upstairs, I could hear the crowd roaring and cheering.

Full venue. Sold out tickets. The whole enchilada.

And I was unfashionably late.

A few minutes later, Max killed the call. A senior lab nerd jogged toward us with a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water.

“Here.” He passed it on to Easton, who shoved the food and the drink in my face. “Chug it down. All of it.”

“Want me to piss myself by round two?” I murmured around a stale bite. Who’d made this sandwich? It was next level bad. The bread was sour, the cheese too soft, and the ham was probably my age.

Fuck, I missed That Taco Truck’s food.

“I’m not against you soiling yourself if it means it’d stop the fight,” East gritted.

“Nothing will stop this fight,” I said flatly. “And don’t you fucking try.”

“Why is it so important to you?” Reign crouched beside me. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but you ain’t gonna win this, not in your sorry ass state. Damn, I could put you against a cheerleader right now and you’d still lose.”

“A dead cheerleader,” Max pointed out helpfully.

“I don’t lay a hand on chicks,” I murmured. Unlike that idiot Appleton.

“It’d never come to that. You’d confuse her for a cardboard box before she throws the first punch.” Reign clapped my shoulder reassuringly.

Sometime later—an hour, a week, a freaking minute, I wasn’t sure—Max clapped his hands together and announced, “Okay, the moment of truth has arrived. I can’t postpone this any longer. I’m an event organizer, not a magician.”

“You’re a class-A cunt, and you’ll be paying for tricking him into a fight he can’t back out of.” Easton bared his teeth, offering me a hand. Max visibly winced. Reluctantly, I let Easton hoist me up to my feet. I glanced at the stairway leading up to the ring, as footfalls pounded on the concrete.

“Hey.” Tess put her hand on my chest. I slapped it away. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to the person who’d made this shit snowball into a fucking storm.

“Hands off, Tess.”

“I’m sorry, okay? Look at me.” She bracketed my cheeks.

Even through my state of drunkenness—which was a goddamn lot—I could still see the regret swimming in her eyes.

“I never thought it would go down this way. I was bitter and jealous and couldn’t understand why Grace was getting every single thing I’d wished for myself. I wanted a little crisis, not a full-blown catastrophe.”

I grabbed her wrists, shoving her hands away. “Sorry my tragedy is not tailor-made for your ass.”

I turned around, about to go upstairs and get the fight over with, when my pecs collided with someone else’s.

I looked down.

Appleton.

He was sweaty and bare-chested, his face smeared with enough Vaseline to lather the Statue of Liberty.

“St. Claire. Heard you have a girlfriend and that she is into … toast.”

He oinked out a rancid laugh, showing off his crooked teeth as he pushed me. Shaun and another clown from his team stood on either side of him, cackling evilly.

Not that I expected anything better from three people with the combined IQ of twelve, but I found myself unable to resist throwing a punch square to his nose, making him tumble backwards as blood shot out of his nostrils in two thick streams.

“Dafuq!” Appleton whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. He waved a hand in my face. “He is doing it again. Getting a few punches in before the bell rings.”

“You sent people to my workplace, asshole.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I can prove that I can kill you.” I bared my teeth.

“All because of a chick.” He tsked, blood dribbling down his chin. “Talk about pussy-whipped.”